Breakers

  "That's it, then," David said under the sound of the surf. Down the beach, alien children tumbled in the waves. "There's no hope. They'll outbreed us."

  Raymond rubbed his mouth. "There's always hope. All we have to do is get to the nukes."

  "They could have these creches everywhere."

  "And if we take out their carrier, they won't have anything to defend them with."

  "You propose we stay the course," David said.

  "Let's get out of here before they see us."

  Anna wagged her head. "We can't leave."

  Raymond frowned. "It's dark. We'll just cross the street and sneak north."

  "Those are monsters in our ocean. If you see a monster, you don't say 'Oh, I hope the water's not too cold.'"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "We should...you know." She mimed a machine gun with her hands, made a "sh-k-k-k" noise down in her throat.

  He cocked his head. "They're kids."

  "For now."

  "No, that makes sense," David said. "Every day they continue to grow, they will become that much more threatening to whoever eventually contends with them."

  Raymond glanced between them. "What if we get hurt? Who will get to the missiles?"

  "What's going to hurt us?" Anna said. "I count three adults and a whole lot of nothings."

  "Kids."

  "So what? You find a baby rattlesnake in your bed, you grab the biggest boot you got. You think after we kill all their parents, we can just hug them up and say 'Hey, now who wants some s'mores?'"

  Raymond was struck with sudden mental vertigo. Who were these people? "We don't know how those things think. We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

  Anna laughed, cold as a Northwest rain. She kicked to her feet and sprinted from the alley onto the dry sand. She whooped and drew her laser. David glanced at Raymond, eyes wide as hubcaps, and started after her. Blue light streamed between her and the whirling adults. They fell as fast as she could press the button. Amidst the breakers, the children froze, silent as always, all the more terrifying for having no voice. Raymond raced after David, slowed by the sand.

  "Stop it!"

  Anna charged the nearest child, black hair flapping behind her. Her laser knocked the youth into the surf. David shot, too, screaming, not as a battle-cry, but something wilder, the scream of a man falling off a ledge. Electric lines criss-crossed the beach, lighting up those long, bug-eyed faces, their whipping tentacles and quivering claws. Raymond slowed, drifting to a stop beside a clump of stinking kelp. Anna whooped, surf splashing her knees. David held his gun in both hands with his elbows tucked tight against his belly. The last child ran parallel to the water, glancing behind itself, Anna high-stepping at its heels. She drew close enough to grab it, then shot it down.

  Bodies bobbed in the waves. Others twitched on the tideline, cold water foaming over their punctured shells. Limbs rolled in the shells and seaweed. Raymond felt thrilled and sick and frozen. His leg throbbed. David blinked by the water, clearing his throat. Anna shot the last corpse again, then turned and strode back down the beach.

  "Let's get the fuck out of here," she said. "It's starting to stink."