Stripping off their masks and black, sealskin headgear, they each reveal short, platinum-colored hair. They’re Alameeda. Spitting out breathing devices, they leave them on the beach. One digs weapons out of a waterproof bag and hands them out to the others.
Without a sound, they spread out over the beach. They’re hunting. I move with them, a gazelle following lions. Soundlessly, they surround Kyon’s main house. Just as one almost makes it to our bedroom doorway, a squelch tracker emerges from it. It locks onto him, and a long spike projection ejects from its silver body. The metallic assassin device jets forward. A high-pitched scream comes from it as it impales the wetsuited soldier in the abdomen. He screams too, but it doesn’t sound like a seal’s wail when lasers flail out of the squelch tracker and cut him to ribbons.
An explosion on the far side of the house indicates that another soldier has found a trap set by Kyon. Two more squelch trackers find the Alameeda soldiers, reducing them to piles of flesh and bone.
Kyon silently emerges from beneath the white sand. He cuts the throats of two soldiers before they can even set foot on the stone patio. Kyon moves off the beach. He’s near our bedroom when a projectile tears through his side. Swinging around, he fires his automatic freston at the Alameeda soldier who shot him. They both unload hollow-pointed ammunition into each other. The enemy soldier falls to the sand without half of his face, but Kyon is a bloody mess too. He drops to his knees. His nostrils flare as he tries to gulp in air. Holding his hand to his side, he looks down at his abdomen and finds a large chunk of it missing. Unable to walk now, he crawls to the door of our bedroom.
Screams of pain come from inside—my screams. The pale moons shine on the bed where I’m fighting and clawing to get away from a soldier who is holding me down. At the same time, I kick my legs and struggle against another vicious soldier as he cuts my clothes from me. “The Brotherhood sends its love,” the one with the knife snarls. Kyon lifts his freston and shoots the soldier in the head. The soldier’s brains explode all over the bed. Before the other soldier can react, Kyon is able to get off a few more shots, killing the one holding me down.
Kyon collapses onto the ground. I see my future self sit up on the bed and crawl onto the floor to Kyon’s side. Placing a hand over his wounds, the future me tries to stem his bleeding, but it’s futile. Kyon’s injuries are far too serious.
More soldiers enter the room. They don’t attempt to take me hostage. Two shots ring out: One tears through my heart, and the other goes through my head. My corpse falls next to Kyon’s on the floor.
What happens next is chilling. One of the soldiers kneels down next to my body. He injects a tube into my vein and extracts my blood. While he does that, another soldier slices open my abdomen and extracts my ovaries from my corpse. Horrified, I can’t stay any longer. I escape from the house through the starlit rush of time.
CHAPTER 6
HAUNTING IDLE
Pain greets me as I fall into my body, reclaiming it. My back arches as I grasp my chest where I’m shot. I gulp in frantic breaths of air, trying to alleviate the pain in my aching heart. The tightness in my chest is strange, though. My fingers search for the massive, gaping wound, but I find nothing wrong with me. In a few more breaths, the pain eases and begins to fade away.
Kyon’s eyes are a soft blue as I look up at him. My head is on his lap. His hand is gentle as he strokes my hair in a slow, rhythmic way. My teeth chatter, not just from the pain and fear I just experienced, but also because I’m so cold. My whole body quakes.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “Breathe slowly.”
We’re still in the boathouse. Water laps against the support beams below us, making soft sounds.
“They’re—” I wheeze “—coming!” I take a few more straining breaths. “Soldiers—”
“Shh, I need to get you warm. You’re freezing.” He gently lifts my head from his lap and rests it on the wooden floor. He lies next to me, takes me in his arms, and holds me against his chest to share his body heat. My cheek rests against his shoulder as he rubs my arm, dispelling some of the goose bumps. It takes a few minutes for my breathing to slow and my teeth to stop chattering.
Kyon’s lips brush my hair before he murmurs, “When do they come?”
Fear is the unmistakable quality in my shaky voice when I whisper, “Tonight.” I try to sit up, but Kyon tightens his arms, not allowing me to move.
“How many?” he asks in a calm tone.
“At least a hundred—maybe more—”
“How do they come?”
“What?” I close my eyes, feeling his hand gently rub my back. It eases some of my anxiety.