Contact (Alien Invasion, #2)

by Sean Platt

there, Trevor?” “He’s not.” “You don’t know that.” Trevor shrugged — he didn’t have an answer but wasn’t ready to obey. The same shrug he’d give his sister, if Lila had asked. But Piper wasn’t his sister. And with Heather around, she clearly wasn’t his mother. But she was something, and dammit, she didn’t like being ignored. “Go on, Trevor. We all have our jobs.” “Why, though? Dad made the place a fortress with everything we’d want or need. You keep making up things to do that don’t need to be done. ‘Check the air filters, Trevor.’ ‘Check the cameras, Trevor.’ ‘Bring out more cans, Trevor,’ as if anyone can’t just grab whatever food they want. And what exactly

her temper rising. At first, she’d felt nothing but fear. Then Meyer had vanished, and intense worry mingled with her terror. A halfway sense of loss followed a few weeks of missing him, but even the emptiness had been hard to maintain over the past three months as the bunker’s day-in, day-out routine composed life’s underground ritual. Wake, chores, kill time, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Crowds gathered on the grounds above, then swelled to a small colony. They’d stopped being able to go outside, and cabin fever worsened. Resentment was Piper’s newest emotion. She had to shoulder this burden herself. She seemed to be the only one willing to do what was needed to keep them together, safe, and sane. It was a responsibility she hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. Meyer might have saved them, but he’d also left his wife holding the

rolled his eyes again then stalked toward the control room next to the storage pantry. His shoulders were slumped, and she caught his put-upon look. She wanted to shout after him to improve his attitude but couldn’t stand the sound of those words from her mouth. “No sign of Dad on the cameras,” Trevor said, emerging a few minutes later. “Though I don’t know why you couldn’t just look.” Piper held her tongue, forcing herself to remember that Trevor was as scared, cooped-up, and angry as she was. It was inconvenient that his method of coping made it harder for Piper, but it was what it was. The thought softened her mood. She eased onto the ottoman beside the couch as he lay back and resumed his game. “Trevor. Look at me.” His eyes found Piper’s. She saw his angry glare melt into a boy’s dark and injured gaze. Then his eyes flicked