Don’t ever pull a gun on anybody unless you’re prepared to use it,her dad’s warning echoed in her ears as she walked quietly and quickly down the hall. Although she hadn’t been able to shoot Grav when he lay helpless on the ground, she wouldn’t hesitate to defend her life against an imminent threat. But hopefully, the sight of a weapon would deter an attacker.
With a sigh of relief, she got to her vehicle unscathed, loaded in the supplies, and drove away.
* * * *
Laurel left the medical supplies in the SUV but brought in the suitcase with her clothing. She was anxious to change. Wearing her mom’s garments smelling of her, resurrected too many painful memories.
The washing had finished, so she transferred the laundry to the dryer. As soon as it was done, she’d head back to release her prisoner.
Funny, she’d been in such a quandary over what to do, and now the answer had resolved itself. Letting him go was the right thing. She had no fears he posed a threat to anybody. More likely, he’d be the one at risk from humans seeking vengeance.
She envisioned bitter battles between survivors and stranded aliens. Intellectually, she knew hatred was a weapon with the barrel pointed at the individual holding it. Hatred corroded from within, doing more damage to the person clinging to the animosity than the object of it. Festering resentments had fueled centuries of injurious tribal conflict.
But how did you forgive the unforgivable?
She’d absolved Grav of blame because she believed he personally had not committed any atrocities. He’d told her the truth about the end of the invasion. But she could not foresee ever forgiving those who’d massacred innocent people.
But if a lone woman and a Progg who had distrusted and feared each other could reach a détente, then maybe a glimmer of hope remained.
You’re too trusting, too idealistic,her brother’s gentle criticism rang in her ears.
Not anymore, brother dear.
Leaving the clothes to tumble, she strode across the house to the bath. As the shower warmed up, she unbuckled her holster and set the gun on the sink vanity, and undressed, dropping her clothes on the floor. Steam probably wasn’t the best for the weapon, but once wouldn’t hurt it.
She stepped into the hot shower. It was as glorious as before. Smiling, she lifted her face to the spray, feeling like an actor in a shampoo commercial. They always looked so happy while water shot in their faces—she’d tended to grimace a bit. Not today. This could be a million-dollar shower for the way she was grinning.
Shampooing her head, she shivered at a sudden draft and turned into the hot spray.
She could have stayed until the water ran cold, but she had a prisoner waiting to be released, although he didn’t know it yet.
With a sigh, she shut off the water. While drying herself, she realized she’d left the suitcase with clean clothes in the laundry room. She donned the robe hanging on the bathroom door hook and wrapped a towel around her head. She grabbed her mom’s clothes from the floor. They were still mostly clean, but she’d put them in the laundry room to wash later.
About to enter the living room, she sniffed.What do I smell?
Her gaze riveted on muddy footprints. I took off my shoes.
Her blood ran cold.My gun was on the bathroom counter, wasn’t it?
“Achoo!”
She whirled around and stared down the barrel of her own gun. The man behind it wiped his nose with the back of his free hand. Stringy, greasy hair hung from his mostly bald head while a long, dirty beard obscured most of his acne-scarred face. She caught sight of a neck tattoo under an open filthy fatigue jacket.
“What do you want? Food? Clothes? A car? I’ll give you whatever you want.” She managed to keep her voice steady, but her legs wobbled.Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.
Wouldn’t that be tragically ironic—to survive the invasion only to be murdered by a human? And if he killedher, he’d get a two-for-one special. Grav would starve to death. She had to stay alive for both their sakes.
“Sure, I’ll take all that since you’re offerin’ so nicely—but I’ll start with you. Let’s you and me go in the other room,” he said in a nasally voice.
“No, don’t. Please, don’t.” She shook her head. “You don’t need to do this.”
His laugh turned into a coughing fit. The hand holding the gun shook and dipped.
She swung out her right arm and knocked the gun from his hand. It went flying across the hall. She threw the clothes in his face and ran.
She didn’t get more than a few steps before he tackled her, his weight slamming her to the hardwood floor. “Fucking bitch!” He grabbed her hair and slammed her forehead against the floor, but the towel that had fallen off her head cushioned the blow.
Laurel screamed.
