Writing in Public: Story 4, Chapter 30
[image error]CHAPTER 30
The landing party looked beaten up, but not whipped. Their faces were fierce, eyes determined. Jian and Brooks crowded around Mel and Dr. Sanger protectively.
Jian was hunched over in a strange way. Brooks had a broken arm. Mel had a frightening cut on her forehead. Sanger cradled his arm … maybe shoulder or collarbone.
Hope hugged Jian, carefully, because she didn’t want to hurt the officer. Jian gave her a wan smile.
“Colonel Graul can hear us,” Hope murmured. “We do have a plan. How bad are you?”
“I think I’m the worst,” Jian said. “I got hit by one of their bullets. The CTU deployed, but …”
Yup. Hope knew how that felt. Jian would have a massive impact bruise.
Hope resisted an urge to glance over her shoulder to see what the 49ers and the ghosts were doing. She knew there wasn’t much time before the 49ers got impatient.
“We’re going to play some music. When it gets to the crescendo, be ready to run.”
“You’d better go,” Mel said. “The aliens–”
She broke off, then grabbed Hope’s arm.
“Eric, I love you.”
“You can tell him that in person,” Hope said.
She turned away, reluctantly and walked out into the middle of the square. A nod at Zuver.
A moment later, a speaker crackled. Then a drumbeat.
Please work, please work.
Zuver had found the music on one of the planets he visited. It was a tribal piece, both primitive and eloquent. Drums, and then kind of flute, notes trilling in the desert air.
Hope stomped one foot in time to to the beat, then the other.
As the music rose around her, she became to move. Dance was not what she would call it. She spun, the scraps splaying out around her. One fell off, ground into the dirt beneath her boots.
She stretched her arms to the sky, shaking her wrists so the bells jingled. A part of her brain told her this was absolutely, totally, crazily insane.
The ghosts watched, hunger replaced by puzzlement.
Pluck. She snatched a handful of scraps free and hurled it at the 49ers crowding along the edge. The scraps fell short.
Hope allowed the music to carry her away. Three 49ers surged at the scraps, passing them back through the crowds for tasting.
Across the square, Jian watched the faces of the aliens, and the hope that seemed to light them up. She drifted a few steps closer to the shuttle, while trying to look like she was just getting a better look at Hope’s dance.
A gun barrel blocked her. The guard was definitely still watching.
A tentacle snaked towards Jian. Mel smacked it. Glared at the three eyes.
The 49er backed up, but kept watch.
The music continued its drumbeat. As Hope tossed more scraps at the aliens, one of the ghosts appeared in front her.
Angry. It wanted to talk.
She circled around it. The aliens couldn’t see it. But in time to the drumbeat, she stretched her arms out dramatically at the ghost. She made a throwing motion like she was tossing sand on the ghost.
The 49ers were stamping their feet to the drumbeat. All eyes were on her.
Hope tore off more scraps, hurling it at the crowd.
The aliens pounced on them, fighting to grab it.
Like groupies.
She shuddered. The music carried her away, bumping up against another ghost.
She tried not to look too closely, but she could feel the anger.
“Why you not kill?” the ghost demanded.
The ghostly energy was building up. As if the air was charged from a lightning storm. Not just this ghost, but all the ghosts out here.
She spun away from the ghost, jingling her bells. Trying to hide her fear.
“Signal them to go now,” she said, praying Graul heard. “We’re out of time.”
The ghost energy swelled.
The 49ers fell silent. The only sound was the music.
Then one of the buildings facing the town square exploded.
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