Down the hill, a crew of aliens fanned across the roads, metal glinting from their claws. Dome-like armored vehicles ranged ahead, squirting flame into houses and condos. Thick white smoke bellowed into the skies and was blown inland in streamers by the steady offshore breeze.
Raymond's voice was soft as church. "What the hell are they doing?"
Sarah turned from the window, giving him a steady eye. "Burning out the vermin."
"That's it," Mia said. "Time to go."
Sarah cocked her head. "You want to leave?"
"I have a thing about getting burned to death."
"They got an army out there!"
"And we'll have a barbecue in here if we stay."
"Mia's right," Raymond said. "We've got everything we need. We're ready to go. We can bike south along the coast and slip through Long Beach. Find somewhere the aliens aren't."
Sarah shook her head in wide, slow strokes. "Middle of the day? We go out there, they'll cut us down. We don't know they'll get all the way up here. Even if they do, we can hide in the yard, use those rocks by the cliff's edge—"
"You haven't been here long enough," Mia said. "They keep coming, keep rooting out the survivors. They're going to keep at it until the entire city's dead."
"And you haven't been out there with them. There's no surviving out in the open. We wait this out, they're not gonna bother coming back when they think they've burned everyone out."
"We'll stay," Raymond said. Mia's head snapped his way. "Until nightfall. Then we get away from monsters for good."
Sarah's blunt face went red from brow to chin. "You'll be killed! You think a couple of housemakers are gonna survive where a company of trained soldiers gets slaughtered like cows?"
"We're not going to try to fight them. Running's much easier."
"And what about me?" She twisted, clawing up her shirt to reveal the scabby hole in her back. "How far you think I can ride a bike?"
"You'll be okay," Mia said.
"What if I'm not? What if this thing tears open and I can't keep going?"
Raymond let out a breath. "Then we'll stop and get you patched up."
Sarah laughed. "While they're shooting us with fucking lasers?"
"We're going," Mia said, low. "If you don't want to come? You can stay. You can have the house. All yours."
"No." Her eyes flicked between Raymond's, her lips parted. "No, I can't stay by myself. I'll come."
"Good," he said. "Get together anything you want to bring with. We'll be in the garage."
Blue light flashed from a flaming cul de sac at the base of the hills. A tiny figure raced across a lawn, one hand clamped to their mouth. A thick blue beam winked on for a full second. As the figure's upper body fell to the ground, severed across the hips, their legs stumbled forward and tumbled into the grass.
Raymond turned away. Sarah stared after him as he headed down the hall, eyes so bright he was afraid her fever had resurged. That would explain her mood, too. He and Mia tested the bike's chains and wheels, doublechecked the supplies in their packs. They hadn't collected any seeds from the garden. The bell peppers would have seeds inside, but for most everything else, they'd be out of luck. How many details had they overlooked? For all their work and preparation, how much would they wind up wanting in the next few days and weeks? But that was just how things always went. You couldn't waste too much time worrying about being perfect. They'd done their best. They'd make do.
"Think she'll make it?" Mia said, as if running her thoughts down a parallel track.
He toweled oil from his fingers. "I think she has a better chance coming than she does staying."
She smiled with half her mouth. "Beneath the surface of that optimism lies something very, very depressing."
There wasn't much work to do: their bikes and gear were perfectly fine, and any other tasks, sweeping or weeding or washing dishes, all that felt pointless now. Raymond wandered the house, staring at beds and counters, opening cabinets and gazing at the dusty glasses, and finally, after a long look out on the fires creeping up the hill—he could smell the smoke now, he thought, though the wind continued to blow inland—he stood by the back window to watch the foamy, everlasting sea.
"You gonna miss it?" Sarah said from behind, startling him.
"Nothing's more peaceful."
"Those waves sure are pretty." She'd changed into a tank top, a smaller one of Mia's. She wasn't wearing a bra.
"Feeling okay?" he said.
She nodded at the garden, the ocean beyond. "You sure you want to leave? Think what you could build with another body around."
"We'll find that out some place that isn't about to be burnt to the ground." He scratched his neck; he should go shave. "Though I think we may wind up with the Rebels."
Sarah ran her fingers through her choppy blonde hair. "I'd better go get the last of my things."
He watched the waves until sunset, then went outside to free the chickens and feel the sea breeze on his skin. Smoke-scent mingled with seaweed and salt. Goosebumps flushed his arms. Quite suddenly, he remembered it was November, and most of the north would soon see snow. It was so easy, down here where winter meant cool rains that could be replaced by 70-degree sunshine as early as New Year's Day, to forget how cold it could be and how long it would last. If they didn't wind up with the BRR, they'd have to stay in the Southwest until spring. Waste a couple seasons somewhere temporary before finding themselves a new home in the mountains. Well, it would only be a few months.
Back in the house, there was a strange stillness to the air, an anticipation. The floor creaked under his feet.
"Raymond?" Mia called from downstairs. "Raymond, can you come down here?"
The beam of his flashlight wobbled as he jogged down the steps. Candles flickered in the garage. "Time to go?"
"For her," Sarah said. She clamped one arm around Mia's neck. The other held a pistol to the side of Mia's head. "You and me are staying right here."
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