The Mimics

Chapter 19

Aurora POV

We had been at Fort Hood for exactly one week when the atmosphere of the base shifted from cautious optimism to high-alert dread. A convoy of blacked-out armored transports rolled through the gates, escorted by soldiers in tactical gear I had never seen before. There were no unit patches, no names—just a strange, polished efficiency that made the hair on my arms stand up.

The announcement came over the comms within the hour: an immediate evacuation was underway. They were moving everyone to Fort Bliss in El Paso, which had apparently been converted into a massive, secret underground fortress. But there was a catch that felt like a punch to the gut. They were only taking the youth first—ages five to twenty-one—and they were separating us. One bus for the boys, one for the girls.

I watched the soldiers as they organized the lines. They moved with a synchronized, almost robotic precision. Their eyes didn't track like a normal person’s; they didn't seem to blink, and their voices were flat, lacking any of the nervous chatter I’d grown used to with Miller’s crew. I tried to shake the unease, telling myself they were just elite, highly-trained units, but my gut was screaming.

I couldn't let them take Theo away from me. Not after everything. I pushed through the crowd, searching for anyone in charge, until I found a man standing by the lead transport. He looked older, his face a map of scars, and his uniform bore the markings of a high-ranking officer. His nameplate read Marshall.

"Sir," I said, stepping into his line of sight. "I’m Aurora Smith. My brother is seven. He’s been through... a lot. Is there any way we can stay together? I can watch him, make sure he isn't a burden."

Marshall looked down at me. His gaze was cold, clinical. It felt less like a man looking at a girl and more like a predator evaluating a specimen. "There are no exceptions, Miss Smith," he said, his voice a low, gravelly monotone. "The separation is for processing protocols. Boys and girls are handled differently once we reach the sub-levels of Fort Bliss. It’s for efficiency and safety."

"But he's just a kid," I pleaded, my voice cracking.

"He will be safe," Marshall replied, already turning his back to me. "The decision is final. Return to your line."

I tightened my jaw, the familiar fire of defiance sparking in my chest, but I forced myself to nod. I knew the weight of rank in this world; talking back to a man like Marshall wouldn't get me on that bus—it would only get me thrown in a holding cell.

Two days later

The morning of the departure was gray and suffocating. We were in the barracks, stuffing our meager belongings into rucksacks. Theo sat on the edge of the bunk, his lower lip trembling as he tried to keep his composure. He hadn't let go of my hand since the announcement.

"It’s okay, Theo," I whispered, kneeling in front of him and smoothing down his hair. "It’s only for a few hours. El Paso isn't that far in these fast trucks. I’ll be right behind you in the girls' bus. I’ll see you the second we get to the new base, okay?"

"Promise?" he sniffed, a single tear escaping.

"I promise," I said, though the lie felt like a stone in my throat.

I walked him out to the tarmac where the engines were already idling. The "robotic" soldiers were ushering boys onto the lead bus, their movements stiff and unyielding. I pulled Theo into a tight, rib-crushing hug, kissing the top of his head and then both his cheeks.

"I love you so much, Theo. Remember what I taught you. Stay sharp. I'll see you in El Paso."

He nodded bravely, gripped his small bag, and stepped up the accordion stairs of the bus. I watched him find a seat by the window. He pressed his hand against the glass, and I pressed mine against the outside, a thin layer of reinforced acrylic the only thing between us. As the bus began to pull away, a cold, sinking feeling settled in my chest—a premonition that the "safety" Marshall promised was the biggest lie of all.

I stood at the base of the stairs to the second bus, the air smelling of diesel and the metallic tang of the coming freeze. Before the soldiers let any of us up the steps, one of them—a man with that same unblinking, hollow stare—stepped forward. His voice didn't rise or fall; it was just a flat, mechanical command.

"Attention. Any female who has begun her menstrual cycle or is projected to begin within twenty-four hours, step to the left for a separate transport. Do not lie. Your biology will betray you."

The girl standing next to me, a redhead with a face full of freckles, turned as white as the frost on the ground. She looked around nervously, her hands trembling as she clutched her bag, but she stayed in line. I felt a cold shiver go down my spine. I still had a few days before mine was due—thanks to the stress, my body was like a clock that had been smashed—so I moved forward. I was safe. For now.

We boarded the bus, the interior cramped and smelling of old upholstery and fear. The journey from Fort Hood toward El Paso was roughly 550 miles, a grueling trek across the desolate Texas interior. For hours, we sat in silence, watching the skeletal remains of towns flicker past.

We hit the halfway point—somewhere near the outskirts of San Angelo—when the convoy slowed to a crawl. The lead officer announced a ten-minute "tactical bathroom break." We were shuffled off the bus in small groups, told to stay within the perimeter of the armored vehicles.

I had just stepped back toward the bus door when the silence was punctured by a frantic, rhythmic thudding. The soldiers who had been scouting the treeline suddenly burst through the brush, they were sprinting.

"GET ON THE BUS! GET ON THE BUS NOW!" one of them screamed, firing a blind burst into the shadows of the woods. "THEY'RE COMING! THEY’RE ALREADY HERE!"

Panic erupted like a physical explosion. Girls were screaming, shoving each other up the narrow stairs, dropping bags and blankets in the dirt. I scrambled into my seat, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I couldn't breathe. I pressed my face against the reinforced glass, my breath fogging the window.

Out from the dark line of the trees, they emerged. It wasn't just a pack. It was a tide. A massive horde of Changelings, their leathery limbs moving in that sickening, disjointed blur, were pouring over the hills. They weren't just running; they were hunting with a collective, terrifying purpose. And we were sitting ducks in a metal can.

The roar of the engine was a desperate, mechanical scream as the driver floored it. The bus lurched forward, tires screeching, before the doors were even closed. I watched through the back window, my stomach twisting, as a dozen women and a handful of soldiers were left standing in the dust.

The horror that followed was a blur of gray flesh and crimson. It was like a scene out of a nightmare—the Changelings didn't just attack; they swarmed. They were vaulting over each other, leaping ten feet through the air to tackle people into the dirt, their limbs moving with a frantic, twitching hunger as they tore into the civilians.

But in the midst of the c*****e, I saw something that made my blood run colder than the ice cloud. Three of the soldiers stood perfectly still. They didn't raise their rifles; they didn't even look afraid. One Changeling literally brushed past a soldier's leg to get to a screaming girl, completely ignoring him. The soldier just watched with that same blank stare I’d noticed back at the base. It made no sense. Why weren't they eating them?

The bus slammed into a stalled sedan, the impact throwing me against the seat in front of me. We were weaving through a graveyard of dead cars on the highway, the engine whining as we tried to outrun the tide.

Thump.

The roof buckled. I looked up just as a leathery hand with jagged claws punched through the metal ceiling. The girl sitting next to me—the redhead who had been so nervous about her cycle—didn't even have time to scream. The creature reached down, snagged her by the hair and shoulder, and hauled her bodily through the jagged hole into the wind.

Another Changeling slammed into the windshield. The safety glass shattered in a sparkling spray as the creature lunged at the driver, ripping his throat out in one fluid motion. The bus jerked violently to the left, the steering wheel spinning uselessly. We hit the guardrail, and the world began to tilt.

Everything went into a sickening barrel roll. I heard the screams of the girls around me, the sound of metal grinding against asphalt, and then a deafening crack as my head slammed against the side window.

When the world finally stopped spinning, the bus was resting on its side at the bottom of a steep embankment. My vision was a hazy, blurred mess of red and gray. I could hear them—the wet, tearing sounds and the shrieks of the things that had followed us down. The smell hit me next: gasoline, burnt rubber, and the copper tang of blood.

A Changeling crawled through the broken glass near my feet, its pale eyes locked on mine. It lunged, its claws snagging the leather of my boots.

"Get off me!" I screamed, kicking out with every ounce of strength I had left. My boot connected with its face, sending it reeling back.

I scrambled toward the back, crawling over twisted seats and bodies that weren't moving anymore. Smoke was beginning to billow from the front of the bus, and a flickering orange glow told me the engine block had finally ignited. I reached the emergency door, kicked the lever, and tumbled out into the dirt.

A white-hot spike of pain flared in my side, making me gasp for air, but I forced myself to my feet. I turned to run for the darkness of the trees, but something snagged the back of my jacket—a clawed hand reaching from under the wreckage.

Without thinking, I shrugged out of the sleeves, leaving the jacket behind as I dived into the thick brush of the treeline. A split second later, the gas tank went.

The blast knocked me flat, the heat singeing the back of my hair as the bus turned into a towering funeral pyre. I didn't look back. I crawled into the shadows, clutching my side, the sounds of the dying fading behind the roar of the flames.