The Betrayal

The real reason aliens have to wipe out the human race. . . .

 

The concept was so simple, yet at the moment too difficult for Kendrick to grasp.  More memorable than love, longer-lasting than sadness and the overwhelming, bitter taste of failure.  At the same time, it was a mixture of all those feelings, and they all swelled, churned, and festered in Kendrick’s chest.  He couldn’t breathe.  His eyes stung with tears that, even in the face of death, he was too proud to spill.

            At his feet, achingly familiar eyes gleamed up at him.  The owner of that gaze appeared emotionless, and the irises, completely swallowing the pupils, were so blue.  Inhumanly blue.  Alien blue.

            “You were clever,” Kendrick finally admitted.  He was ashamed at how upset he sounded.

            “My species thanks you,” the alien wheedled.

            Kendrick’s hands shook, making him nearly drop the gun in his hand, his trusty SIG Sauer.  He should pull the trigger; had to.  There was no guarantee his weapon would even faze the strange creature, but it was all he had.  Now it, as well as himself and the being beneath him, was all he knew as reality.

            Instead of pulling the trigger, he found himself asking, “Why?”

            Molten eyes glittered at him.  The creature’s fingers wiggled—at least, Kendrick thought they were its fingers.  While it possessed a human-like figure, the skin was tough, almost scaly in appearance, a deep crimson that bled into a sickening greenish color at the end of each limb.  Rather than extend from its sides, the arms—all four of them—emerged from its spine, all spindly and long enough to easily grab Kendrick from its position on the ground.  When it spoke, it had no mouth that Kendrick recognized, just a large slit under its chin that flapped in synch with the words.

            “You ask me why without looking at yourself, first?” it inquired.  The voice that came forth was strangely melodious, yet thin and reedy, like the music filtering from an old brass piccolo.  “It is simple, human.  Your species is imperfect.”

            Kendrick had been prepared for almost anything else.  He had expected a reply that the human race existed only to be conquered, or that they were useless and only ruining the planets, or even that the aliens found the humans fascinating and wanted to study them.  The response he received instead was unnerving.

            “Imperfect?” he echoed weakly.  “That’s . . . what a ridiculous notion.  No species is perfect.”

            “But in your imperfections, we perceive you as a threat,” the alien replied.  Even in its position, it did not seem frightened.  Maybe it was confident it would live—or worse, it was so sure of its race’s victory that it calmly greeted death.

            Kendrick shook his head, tightening his finger imperceptibly on the trigger.  “I don’t understand.”

            “You would not,” the alien agreed.  “And from our studies, you would not comprehend our reasoning if we simply told you.”

            “But—”

            “And yet, you seek answers anyway.  Very well.  I will explain it in a way you would best understand.

            “Think back several decades, human.  Ever since the notion that other life forms may exist in the universe, your species has played upon their darkest imaginations.  Each scenario you developed into a ‘movie’ or ‘story’ involved the enslavement of the human race, or experimentation.  Something that would essentially destroy your lives.”

            Kendrick wet his lips nervously.  “But they’re just movies.  Just the imaginations of people.  Entertainment.”

            “There is more to it than that,” the musical voice said.  The tone was now grave, with a touch of underlying anger.  Throughout the universe, even on your backwards planet, it is well known that creativity has to spawn from something.  In this case, it was fear—and certainty.  You were so sure that any species not your own was evil.  You may claim otherwise, but why else would so many take interest in such films?  Do those not sell best amongst your people?”

            Kendrick shook his head furiously.  His hands were slickening with sweat, making the gun slip in his grasp.  “That’s not true,” he protested.  “There are several movies where we befriend the aliens!”

            “And many more in which you, in turn, destroy them,” the creature pointed out.  “This is why we must strike first.  You must understand it is only a preventative measure.”

            “How does this make you any better than us?” raged Kendrick.  Sweat poured in rivulets down his face, stinging his eyes.  He switched his hold on the gun so he could blot his hands on his pants.  It didn’t assuage his fear any.  “That makes you hypocritical,” he snarled.  “How dare you make such assumptions?”

            If the alien had a normal mouth, it would have smirked.  Only the pitch of its voice gave away its smugness.  “You were the first to make the assumptions.  Your downfall will be no one’s fault but your own.”

            “But we  . . . we were married for ten years, Faith.”

            It was the first time Kendrick had used the alien’s alias since the unfortunate discovery, and saying it aloud drained his rage and caused him to tremble.

            That was the concept: betrayal.  They had known each other for thirteen years, married for the last ten.  Kendrick had met her at an ice skating rink in Vallejo and had, to his surprise, fallen hard and fast for the charming, soft-spoken girl.  He had always been captivated by her intensely blue eyes and how amazingly intelligent she proved to be.  Faith rarely tackled the big questions, always preferring the abstract, seemingly meaningless concepts—just as Kendrick had found the movies of aliens to be meaningless, never truly giving them a second thought.  Yet look what consequences the imagination of many had inflicted.

            Worst of all, it was ten years of laughter, love, and enduring romance that hit him so hard now.  All an amazingly intricate façade so she—it—could observe Earth and decide when and where to attack.

            “You may pull the trigger anytime,” Faith sneered.  “You will not gain any more useless knowledge by questioning me further.”

            Kendrick didn’t want to believe that, but at the same time he realized there were no other options open to him.  Though this alien had once been his true love, his wife, it was also the enemy.  It had lied to him for years.  It had beguiled his trust.

            Unfortunately for the human race, Kendrick wasn’t the type of man to shoot someone—or something—he cared for.  Especially not when it was helpless on the floor, waiting for death.  With a curse, he finally let the gun slip.  Hot, bitter tears finally overcame his pride and scoured his face.

            There had been no helping it.  This time, the humans had lost before they’d even been given a chance to fight back.  Whether or not he killed Faith would make no difference in the grand scheme.  The aliens were already encroaching; they had been infiltrating their civilization for a decade, possibly even longer than that.  For so long the humans had been welcoming these foreign beings blindly, with open arms . . . and not once had they realized what they were doing to themselves.

            The alien stood, something akin to sympathy shadowing its eerie blue eyes.  Before he had discovered Faith’s true nature, Kendrick had always thought he had never seen such a remarkably mysterious shade of blue, so bright they almost glowed.

            “My species thanks you,” said the alien, its symphonic voice murmuring a soft song.  Using one of its multiple limbs, it picked up the fallen gun.

            The last thing Kendrick saw was the never-ending darkness of the barrel.

Author's Note

I originally wrote this three years back for a high school assignment. I found it, got excited, and decided to re-touch and rewrite some parts. To this day, I consider this one of my most creative concepts yet. So if you've got some critique, let's hear it!

Reviews

[JelliFyshKissUs]

I love your story. Your imagination and description is not easily found. Just have one suggestion: Prob'ly would have put, 'Instead, he found himself asking, "Why?" after 'had to' in the paragraph before it. Then finished with the thought in the paragraph. Other than that. Superb!

[Leah Elisabeth]

Wow, this is absolutely incredible. You surprised me and sucked me in and didn't take a million years to tell a minimal story. It was concise, creative and well-written. You are very talented. Thanks for entering this in my contest.

[Ice Queen of the Vampir..]

Hey, this is a really cool story!!! Very creative and fabulously written, I enjoyed every minute of it. Awesome work!!!

Heather