Aliens, page 12
“It will be one less thing for you to worry about, or at least Robert,” Leticia joked.
“I have something for you, mija. You weren’t as excited as I thought you would be during breakfast. I know it’s a big moment bringing up so many thoughts, fears, and emotions.” Roseanna opened her palm. There was a gold cross on a gold-linked chain. She placed it around Leticia’s neck. “Your mother died with the one that belonged to your grandmother, but this one belonged to our father, and it was passed on from Seraphin. It belongs to you now.”
“Are you sure?” Leticia touched the chain. “You always wear this.”
“Yes. Let it remind you that we are each one of those links. Our memories, pain, hope, and blood. In the end it all comes full circle because we are connected. Unfinished business in this life or the next. Where one generation cannot, the other strives for more and is capable of more because we demand more from ourselves and others. Hold your head high, mujer.”
Leticia threw her arms around Roseanna. “I love you so much.”
Her aunt returned the embrace. “Before you leave I was hoping you would do the temazcal with me, and a shaman I know. Just a little something to deepen your journey. The temazcal has been used by the ancestors for centuries, even before boats landed on the shores of what is now Mexico. Every time I step into that little limestone hut, I find clarity.”
Leticia took a step away, giving her a suspicious look.
“What will I see, you think?”
“I don’t know. Whatever the spirit world or your subconscious is trying to tell you.”
Leticia thought about it for a moment, then replied, “I’ll do it. I want to see.”
“Great. PJ has reserved an afternoon spot for us tomorrow.”
* * *
Christopher Orozco lived half an hour away. He had been a curandero for fifteen years. Aside from his usual blessings, handmade candles, barridas, and advice, he had built a temazcal in his backyard. He brought lava stones back from Mexico and placed them inside the small, adobe hut to create the steam. His clients who tried it once always returned. It was better than any sauna. The guidance and re-centering they experienced was enough confirmation to reveal that they had to follow through.
Leticia and Roseanna sat cross-legged on a floor covered in sand, wearing their bathing suits and towels. PJ had to squat as he poured water on the stones.
“The best advice I can give you is focus on the moment you are in. If the mind is chattering, playing tricks on you, focus on your breath. Not just here in this place, but for any situation you find yourself in. You will be tested, Leticia. Be true to your breath because it comes from inside of you.”
White clouds of hot vapor filled the small space. Leticia closed her eyes and could feel herself drifting as the heat of the steam took over her mind. Droplets of sweat landed on her folded legs, reminding her of the tears she had cried, not understanding why both her parents were gone.
“They say the ancestors are never far from us,” the curandero said. “They act as guides to help us reach our full potential and correct broken generational paths, some predestined by the organization of the particles of dust that created everything. Each one a miniature dream that created a bigger one we lived in and on, and swam in.”
Leticia’s body lost all its weight as she was pulled through the darkness of space and back in time. High in the sky a cold disk, what looked like a planet, took shape. She could see the Aztec goddess Coyolxauhqui, her body in severed pieces slain by her brother, the god of war. It was a story she read about many times in the books Roseanna owned. The ancient tales of Mexico before it was called Mexico.
He shook a shaman’s rattle, and the hypnotic rhythm bordered on a monstrous hiss as it carried her deeper into a lucid dream world.
Leticia shuddered, her joints ached. The hiss of the rattle and sizzling hot stones filled her head. The sweat falling from her body became viscous, no longer the tears of her mother but coming from the jaws of something waiting in the dark. In her mind she moved closer to the disk of the ancient goddess flung into the sky with veins, bone, and ligaments hanging from shredded flesh. Instinctively she brought her arms toward her face in protection as she crashed through a veil of blood and the thick atmosphere of whatever planet she approached.
Drums pounded, or was it her heartbeat thumping in her ribcage? Something wanted to emerge, to crack her wide open. She clutched her chest and opened her eyes. Lying on a stone altar below her was a large alabaster body split from the jugular notch to the bottom of the sternum. In her hand was a large blade. The open cavity of the body was a pool of black liquid. It wasn’t human, even if the form vaguely resembled one.
Drums, the drums of war rang in her head.
Creatures cloaked in shadow and humanoids like the one in front of her fought at the foot of the pyramid where she stood. She watched the carnage of white flesh and creatures that resembled armored dragons moving with the speed of hungry locusts. Screams and shrieks rose above the fight to where she stood.
She looked into an obsidian pool of blood that resembled a scrying mirror. Within she could just see her reflection, but there was something else. The hiss. The hair on her body standing up and the shadow rising behind her in the reflection. Leticia slowly turned to face one of the creatures from the foot of the pyramid. It lunged toward her.
She screamed and lifted her blade to fight.
* * *
“Leticia! Leticia, it’s okay. You’re safe!” Roseanna wiped her neck and shook her out of her stupor. Leticia touched her chest, and then removed the bandana around her forehead. The cloth made her think of the Aztec warriors in their cotton armor. She wasn’t the broken woman. She would survive, and do what others in her family could not do.
This meant something.
She could feel it growing inside of her, and only time would tell.
“What was any of that?” she asked.
“Facing your demon, yourself,” the curandero replied. “All the parts no one sees, like the secret shame we all carry. Perhaps also signs of the future.”
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
“You can,” Roseanna said firmly. “Let me tell you a story. Before you were brought to me, I went out with a group of friends, ready to stay sober, but those old habits creeped up on me, the anxiety that sometimes wraps me up in a cocoon of death. I drank so much I fell asleep on my bedroom floor. I woke up in the middle of the night and vomited everywhere. Still drunk, I could feel myself choking on the undigested food.
“I sat there on the floor crying for help, beating myself up. All I could think of was if I died, where would that leave you and your brother when you arrived? Or myself? I wanted to live, and dedicated myself to change. That night I had let my fears get the best of me, so I drank until I couldn’t see my reflection. I fucked up, and put the hard work in to not do that again.”
“I’m so sorry, tía,” Leticia said, her voice low. “You have to know you have been amazing all these years.”
“I was so ashamed,” Roseanna answered. “Been sober ever since. Don’t ever underestimate the power of unfinished business.”
PART 3
OBSTACLES
12
“She wants us to do what?” Dr. Moon shook her head, her mouth open wide as she stared at her companion. “They really don’t give a damn…”
Dr. Patel stared back, her gaze devoid of expression. “I mean, aren’t you a little curious? Plus, we don’t pay ourselves. This is what we signed up for—and I rather they be in there than us.”
“So the science project will be in charge of the science project… great.” She glared. “Why was I not informed before? This is my gig.”
Her expression turning sheepish, Patel looked off. “Most likely because of this reaction,” she said. “Look, we have to go now. It’s happening whether you like it or not.”
The two scientists walked from Brenda’s office to the elevator on the opposite side of the hallway. They remained silent as they descended to the facilities reserved for the research requiring the most security.
The viewing room for Lab 10 wasn’t far from the elevator. It was the largest and most secure research room in the facility—and they would need it. The large rectangular oneway glass was the only barrier that separated Brenda from the thing she feared and hated the most, yet was the key to everything she ever wanted to accomplish.
She hated the Xenomorph.
And the heartless creature that was Weyland-Yutani even more.
Three synthetic technicians stood beneath bright lights, observing two human bodies—one male, the other female. None of the androids spoke a word. One of them, Natasha, typed on a tablet, her eyes shifting periodically to the bodies.
Moon studied her own tablet. At first glance, the inside of the male appeared as if the cardiovascular system had morphed into a black overgrown tangle of jungle vines. Viscous slime seeped from every orifice, including the incision from the top of the neck to the pelvis. Sticky pools of the stuff formed on the floor. They quivered as smaller larvae and eggs began hatching.
The parasites had eaten through every morsel of flesh until the skin and skeleton were the only things left intact. The hybrids that combined Xenomorphs with Taenia solium—the pork tapeworm—squirmed and violently whipped their tails. Miniature jaws snapped at other parasites, competing for scraps of sinew, tiny fangs scratching into bone.
The other body appeared somewhat normal. However, the female human was still alive, with her chest rising and falling as she breathed. One of the androids stepped toward the sleeping woman and took her temperature, then pulled down the sheet to uncover her distended belly. Her flesh rippled.
Though unconscious, she winced and one hand moved to her abdomen.
Brenda gasped. “What is inside of her?” She peered at her tablet.
Patel took a deep breath. “The synths suggested that the female body could carry the parasites for longer before expiring. We call them Xenosites. It also takes longer before any visible signs manifest.”
Brenda clenched her jaw. She knew for certain she was going to pay for this and dreaded the moment that would arise, when she would be forced to make a decision between right and wrong. She glanced toward Gilda, who was staring at the mirrored window. The woman smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant or friendly, and Brenda imagined it was sheer delight.
We are the experiment, and always will be, Brenda thought to herself.
2190
Ramón stood out of a crowd—especially here—and he knew it. Tall, with dark brown skin and thick black hair. His teeth were perfectly straight because Roseanna led an Alcoholics Anonymous group that included a dentist she knew well. He gave her a huge discount. In middle school it was an inconvenience, but now whenever he smiled and spoke, people looked and listened.
Being the smartest and best-looking was always a plus when in a place where everyone had out-earned you for generations. Sure, Roseanna never struggled to provide, but he had never seen so much concentrated wealth, saturating everything from the cars driven by the freshmen to the accommodation upgrades.
Whenever he passed a watch shop, he promised himself his first would be a Rolex. Then a sleek Porsche. He would never be caught driving some hooptie around like a vato out of the hood. The shoes and suits would be bespoke Italian. Eventually the right woman to give him children to inherit the empire he would run.
His tía often talked about the power of intention, and his was crystal clear.
The Vasquez name would carry weight.
Ramón sat in the third row of the small auditorium. Not too close, but not in the back where he might miss anything. He’d lost any desire to look cool back when he was a freshman in high school.
“Hey.” A young man slid next to him. “Nice to see you again.” Ramón recognized him from the dorms—he’d moved in across the hall the day Ramón had arrived. The memory stuck because he brought in three monitors of the latest design, explaining that they were meant for trading. It wasn’t unusual for corporations to begin cherry picking early.
“I’m Luke Grant,” he added. “Since we’re neighbors, I might be asking you for notes once in a while.”
“Sure thing. Ramón.” He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “I specialize in providing notes, helping people get the grades… the ones they deserve, of course.” Luke’s dorm was filled with the newest tech and his watch a Patek Philippe.
“Whoa.” He nudged Ramón’s arm with his elbow and pointed toward the entrance. “That’s Mary Anne Kramer. What a body—and she’s insanely rich. Banking family.” The woman Luke indicated scanned for a seat, and caught Ramón’s gaze. As she climbed the short steps, Luke leaned closer. “Damn, she’s heading this way. Might have to try my moves… later.”
Mary Anne chose a desk two seats away from Ramón. He gave her a shy smile and looked away to avoid appearing as thirsty as Luke. She was pretty, though with features that were pleasant enough not to be distracting, and dressed well. Hazel eyes and wavy strawberry blond hair cut to just above her shoulders. From this distance he could smell her light fragrance of vanilla and maybe cherry blossom.
Luke probably had a million Mary Annes, and she was probably used to a million Lukes trying to get into her panties. Ramón looked straight ahead, determined not to give her any more obvious attention.
For the next hour the professor droned on about grades, attendance expectations, and the breakdown of the Philosophy course he would be teaching. Before it was done, Ramón decided he wanted to know more about this girl, and he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. Halfway through the class he took a sip from his water bottle and placed it on the empty desk between them.
At the end of the hour, he got up to leave.
“I think you’re forgetting something.”
Ramón turned around, giving her his full attention.
“Oh, thank you. I’m Ramón,” he said coolly. “And you are?”
“Mary Anne. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied. “I’ll see you next week.”
He turned and headed toward the stairs. Best to leave her wanting more. Luke’s reaction was of pure disbelief.
* * *
The following week she took the seat next to Ramón and smiled as she sat down. He’d already decided to ask her out for coffee, but not for a couple of weeks. Until then, he would give her just enough attention to keep her coming to him.
* * *
She wore a lavender mohair sweater that showed only a hint of cleavage at the top opal button. Her lipstick was pale pink, and she wore minimal mascara to cover her light brown eyelashes.
He paid for the coffee, but showing an impressive amount of class, she offered to pay her portion. Although she came from a wealthy banking family, and ticked all his boxes for the perfect partner, she had a mild-mannered demeanor and didn’t appear to be overly ambitious.
She didn’t need to be. The Kramer family’s wealth had been there for generations. Mary Anne could pursue any career she chose without worry of pay, as long as it fulfilled her, and expressed the hope to raise the next generation of Kramers. But he wasn’t looking to be the husband of a Kramer. He wanted a woman who would be the wife of a Vasquez.
After their coffee date they walked back to the entrance of her dorm, and he kissed her on the cheek. With both hands she pulled his face to hers and kissed him on the lips.
“Next time let me cook dinner,” she said. “Sorry, though—it will have to be in the communal kitchen.”
“I would like that.”
He left, feeling settled in pursuing Mary Anne, and confident that he would succeed.
With that decided, he had to turn his attention to other, more tangible concerns. Although he had a scholarship that covered his tuition, and had saved a substantial amount in high school, he relied heavily on credit to pay for the costs of living. At times, the rate he went through the cash alarmed him.
The day was approaching when he would need to find a job.
* * *
Julia Yutani entered the Modern History class late, and showed no concern over how much noise she made. He was fascinated from the start—she was the opposite of Mary Anne. Julia’s sharp tongue and dark eyes captivated him, though he couldn’t escape the fear that he might end up “that guy with the famous woman.”
Even so, a relationship with her could be very… advantageous.
He knew she was interested, as well, when they received their grades for an essay that would account for a large portion of class credit. Julia leaned over to peer at his tablet.
“Smart and sexy,” she said. “You’ll be first pick on my team, any day.”
He pulled the tablet away and leaned in close, focusing on her eyes.
“Do you make it a point to be nosy?”
She matched his gaze. “I make it a point to be just what I am, and just what I want to be,” she replied. “Why hide or fight it?” Then she added, “I’d wager you feel the same way. I’ll bet you want to know what everyone in this room got, so you can zero in on the ones you’ll have to beat for the top spot.”
That captivated him all the more—here was a woman who knew she wasn’t a hundred percent good, but didn’t care. She had teeth, and was willing to use them to get what she wanted out of the short experience called life.
* * *
Unlike the one with Mary Anne, his relationship with Julia wasn’t entirely in his control, and it took months to move it to the next level—but he was determined to have them both. Each woman served a purpose in the grand plan he had for his life. A plan that included money and power.
Toward the end of the semester, a handful of students met at Julia's place—a nicely accustomed two-bedroom apartment near campus—for a group project.
“I have to throw you all out now,” she announced. “It’s ten, and I have to be up and out by six a.m. Believe me when I say I won’t miss any of you after we graduate.” With that Julia began to usher everyone out. Ramón gathered his things, but she motioned for him to stop.
