Apocalypse Before Finals, Julie Steimle [black authors fiction txt] 📗

now standing along the wall near the trashcans, clearly out of the strangers' range of vision, he then looked to Zormna who had maintained her cool like a surgeon. He could see her mind already calculating what she had to do. The perfect soldier. More than ever, he was glad he had her on his side.

Returning to the order window, Zormna handed the top sheet of her order pad to the cashier inside. "They want two large Cokes with that."

The college freshman handed her the full tray of food and started to fill up two large cups with soda. Lingering near the window until he finished, Zormna pretended to pull out straws and ketchup packets while she watched the occupants of the stolen FBI car conversing together.  

"Two Cokes," the college freshman said, handing Zormna the cup tray so she could take them.

"Thanks." Zormna lifted the tray off the counter and started off again. She skated past the sedan one more time, lifting her finger at them to let them know she'll be with them in a moment.

Perhaps that gesture was wasted on them because one of the men in the car called out to her, rolling down his window and whistling at her.

"Hey!" he said in his thick accent. "Ge-rrl. Swee-ty come herrre and takes we ourrr orderrr."

"One second," Zormna said with raised finger in her best un-accented English possible. She found it ridiculous that the People's Military sent operatives who were not fluent in English.

From their own hidden position near the burger place, the FBI watched her take care of her tray of food while they listened intently to the following exchange between 'the bait' and 'the perpetrators'. What the agents heard and saw startled them.

Zormna skated to the driver's side of the stolen sedan, pretending she did not recognize it. She put on her best fake grin possible and lifted her head in that cheerleader way - which everyone in the FBI who had ever watched her knew was for show. It was her ditzy excited girl look.

"Like, can I take your order?" were the first appalling words she said. Her Irish-like accent had vaporized. But then it always had when she spoke in that affected way. Jennifer McLenna had taught her how to do valley girl speak a year ago as a joke. The cheerleaders on her team didn't like it when Zormna did the ditzy act, as they thought she was making fun of them. Especially Michelle Clay and Stacey. But Joy had thought it was funny. Yet here it worked wonders that speech pathologists could not do. Zormna had received a completely new identity. In fact, the FBI could hardly even tell Zormna was a Martian. Suddenly, she was a displaced, pale, California girl.

"Yes," said the man on the driver's side of the car. His English was profoundly better than his companion's. "We would like to see a menu."

Zormna gave them a perky grin and pointed to the plastic glowing screen in front of their car with a ditsy flick of her wrist. "It's, like, right here sir."

The man blinked at her, as if trying to understand her English, but he turned his eyes to the sign. He gazed at it for a moment then leaned in to talk with his traveling companion. They deliberated in their foreign tongue, which the FBI recorded for future reference, and one Zormna knew perfectly well but pretended not to understand. After a few minutes, the driver returned to the window. Smiling up at her, he asked, "What do you recommend?"

Zormna smirked, but quickly changed it to a ditzy grin because her smirk just might have given her away.

"Well," she glanced at the screen as she tried to sound cheerfully helpful. "There's, like, a lot to choose from. I personally like the Classic Burger, but some people don't like the cheese. So if you are, like, one of those people, I'd take the California Burger. Unless you don't like tomatoes. Then I'd recommend the Big Beefy Burger. Of course, ya' know, you should get the combo. That gives you the burger, fries, and a large soft drink."

The man almost understood that. Zormna said it really fast. She figured the faster the better since she wanted to sound as native and ditzy as possible.

With a smile and a nod, he said, "We'll take that last one. Two, please."

Zormna checked off both orders on the paper. "That will be ten eighty-five."

The two men looked at each other. An argument ensued in that strange tongue, but ended when the one on the far side fumbled through the wallet that belonged to a dead FBI agent. Zormna saw the agent's card when he flipped it open, wondering how utterly stupid these men must be to steal a car from the FBI, let alone still carry their wallets. She thought smugly that at least it would be easier to prove to the FBI that these men were the murderers and not she or Jeff.

The man extracted a twenty-dollar bill and handed it out the window.

Zormna smiled with a "Thanks," and immediately skidded around on her roller-skates toward the order window.

The FBI watched her zip right up to the window, place the top sheet of the pad on the inside counter, and say - "Two large Cokes" as if the exchange had been a routine order. This intrigued the FBI, as it was clear those men in the car did not recognize her. And she seemed extremely keen to pretend not to know them. Her change in accent especially showed she had no intention of being recognized. It also explained why Jeff had abruptly changed locations inside the fast food place. By their very actions, they were proving to the FBI they were not affiliated with the car hijackers. And Agent Palmer noted that Jeff was aware of their presence as well. He had seen Jeff give one nod to an undercover agent the boy had spotted...which Jeff didn't usually do.

Something unusual, was definitely up.

"Here are your meals," Zormna said after bringing the tray to their window. "And here is your change. That's nine dollars and fifteen cents. Have a nice day!"

She skated off to return her tray to the order window.

Patiently waiting, the FBI watched these two men eat their hamburgers, or at least try to. The interlopers struggled with it, like the very act was foreign to them. And if they had not been two murderers, the sight might have been funny.

It neared six forty-five when the stolen sedan pulled out of the burger place parking lot. Waiting FBI operatives followed them at a safe distance. It drove right to the edge of town and up the hill beyond it, parking in the Pennington forest not far from Stargazer's Hill.

Zormna and Jeff stayed at the burger place to the end of her shift, which was seven-thirty. Then, as part of their routine, they rose together to Jeff's home where he grimly inspected the kicked-in front door, especially the knob and cracked doorframe. He and Zormna went in, where he went into the garage, got the tools out and they both fixed the broken door. When it was locked, it looked like they intended to have dinner together as usual. However, when the FBI did a thermal scan of the house, no one was home.

Chapter Seven: Smoldering Fire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you wait until all conditions are perfect before you act, you'll never act.

 

Jeff and Zormna crept up the forest hill from Jeff's backyard and through the neighbor's yard. They had left everything in his place and locked the back door, expecting to never see it again. In fact, they expected the FBI to kick in the door again and loot the place, as if there was anything to find. Despite that, Jeff had dropped the key to his house in the rose bushes. They both glanced at the door, giving their goodbyes.

It was dark, and the underbrush was a pain to climb through because they had not brought their flashlights. However, they knew exactly where they were going. Not far from Stargazer's Hill, or Make-out Hill as the teenagers called it, was a bald patch, easy to see from the sky and not exposed to the city. In fact, it was the same place where the ship that left Zormna in Pennington had landed. She knew that spot well enough to find it in the dark.

More than once they slipped on the pine needles under their feet, and more than once they scared a few squirrels crawling around in the underbrush. But still, the two moved silently in the forest, undetected by the two People's Military officers who sat in the clearing next to their spaceship. Zormna swallowed a gasp when she saw the spacecraft, as she had expected a regular Surface Patrol ship or one of those transport shuttles the government used for emigration. This one was a stealth level, bona fide fighter jet. 

"That's not Surface Patrol issue," Jeff murmured.

"No, it's not..." Zormna hissed so low a whisper would have sounded loud.

"Have you ever seen one of those before?" he asked, his eyes fixed on it.

Zormna cringed. "Yes."

He turned in a stare at her.

Cringing more, Zormna whispered, "Years ago. When I was still a cadet. I was waiting for my results to the Adult Test. It wasn't supposed to see them at first, but I ended up messing with the programming of a few of the cast offs. At the time, the P.M. that claimed me for the project didn't think I would rise so far in our ranks. It was top secret. Only Salvar and Alea Arden knew about it. I don't even think the Kevin believed Arden when he told him about it."

"This is not good," Jeff murmured. "There is no reason for the People's Military to have fighter jets."

Zormna nodded. "Not unless they intended to take on the Surface Patrol."

"Or take it over?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sure they are already working on that." She then crept toward the camp.

Jeff gazed over the camp, crawling after her. The two blond, pale men crouched over a small campfire made from pinecones and dry sticks - not a very safe fire at that. One spark and the whole forest could start up in flames. They had apparently parked their ship over the fire pit. A pair of weak beds were spread out next to the campfire.

"Do you think you could fly that?" he whispered with a gesture to the space craft.

Zormna suppressed a snort. "Who are to you talking to?"

Repressing the urge to laugh, Jeff nodded to himself, gazing once more over the clearing. "Two of them, two of us. They're armed, we're not."

Zormna whispered close to his head, rising a little, "Their weapons can easily be ours."

"They're wearing theirs," he hissed back.

She shrugged. "So? That's not a problem. You go around toward the ship, and I'll greet them up front. They've seen me already but not you. I'll be the distraction."

"Yeah, but they're looking for me," Jeff breathed.

Zormna smirked with fondness as she said to him, "My plan will work. You and I together can do anything."

Sitting back, he watched her go, warmth swelling in him from what she had said. "Ok."

 

Pale, like ghostly devils of