The Mimics

Chapter 8

Aurora POV

The wood hissed as a bead of sap hit the embers, the sound echoing off the damp stone walls of the cave. I sat huddled over the small, flickering flame, feeding it twigs I’d gathered earlier. Beside me, Theo was curled into a tight ball on a pile of dry leaves, his breathing heavy with the kind of exhaustion no seven-year-old should ever know.

I pulled my thin jacket tighter around my chest. Something was wrong with the air. It was late October in Texas, but the humidity had vanished, replaced by a biting, crystalline chill that made my breath bloom in front of my face. It shouldn't have been this cold. It felt like the sky was being drained of its warmth, turning the world into a giant freezer.

Three days later.

We were moving through a suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of Austin. It was a ghost town. Luxury SUVs sat dead in driveways, their windshields covered in a fine layer of frost. We hadn’t eaten anything but half a jar of peanut butter in two days, and the "Safe Zone" Mom talked about was still miles of highway away.

"Stay behind me," I whispered as we stepped into a house with a shattered front window.

The kitchen had been picked over, but in the master bedroom, I found something better than canned beans. Tucked under the bed was a soft-shell case. I unzipped it to find a hunting rifle—a .270 bolt-action—with two boxes of ammunition. I checked the chamber just like Dad taught me, slung the strap over my shoulder, and felt a jagged spark of confidence.

We managed to find a few cans of peaches and a box of granola bars in the back of a pantry. I was stuffing them into my bag when the sound of a gunshot cracked through the neighborhood, shattering the eerie silence.

I lunged for the window, peering through the slats of the blinds.

A group of four men stood in the middle of the street. They weren't soldiers, and they weren't infected. They were scavengers—human vultures dressed in mismatched hunting gear. They had a man and a woman cornered. The woman was on her knees, her face distorted by silent, heaving sobs as she begged for their lives. The man was curled into a ball on the asphalt, clutching his stomach, his shirt soaked in red.

The leader of the group, a man with a scarred neck, gave a curt nod. Two of the others grabbed the woman by her hair, ignoring her screams as they began dragging her toward a nearby house.

The leader didn't even look down as he leveled his pistol and fired a single shot into the back of the man's head.

My stomach did a violent flip. I started to pull back, but my boot scuffed a fallen picture frame. The leader’s head snapped up. His eyes locked directly onto the window where I was standing.

"s**t," I hissed, ducking down until my back hit the wall.

"Rory? What was that noise?" Theo was standing by the pantry, his eyes wide with a terror that made him look like he was shrinking.

"Theo, listen to me," I grabbed his wrist, my voice a sharp, urgent whisper. "You have to be a ghost. No talking, no crying. Stay on my heels."

The heavy thud of the front door being kicked in echoed from downstairs.

"Upstairs! Check the rooms!" a voice barked.

We didn't have seconds to spare. I grabbed a heavy dresser and shoved it with every ounce of gymnast-strength I had left, wedging it against the bedroom door.

"The window, Theo. Now!"

I shoved the screen out and looked down. It was a twelve-foot drop onto a patch of overgrown shrubbery. I didn't think; I just grabbed Theo and swung my legs over the sill.

"Jump on three. One, two—"

We hit the bushes hard, the branches scratching at my face and arms. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the jar of the impact in my ankles, and hauled Theo up. We didn't look back at the house. We didn't look back at the woman’s screams. We ran straight for the tree line, disappearing into the woods as the sound of the dresser being smashed away from the door echoed behind us.

The world was freezing, and the monsters weren't just the ones falling from the sky. They were us.

The burn in my lungs felt like swallowing broken glass, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Every time Theo stumbled, I practically hauled him off his feet, my fingers digging into his wrist. Behind us, the forest wasn't quiet anymore. We could hear the crashing of brush and the muffled curses of the men. They were hunting us like sport.

"Rory, please, I can't—" Theo’s foot caught on a gnarled root, and he went down hard, his weight jerking me sideways. We both went sprawling into the dirt and rotted leaves.

"Get up, Theo! Move!" I hissed, but the sound of heavy boots was already too close.

I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him behind the massive, moss-covered trunk of a fallen oak. I pressed my back against the damp wood, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would crack a rib. I put my finger over my lips, staring into Theo’s wide, tear-filled eyes. Don't. Make. A. Sound.

The crunch of footsteps slowed. I leaned my head back, peeking through a gap in the splintered wood.

A man stepped into the small clearing. He was wearing a grease-stained trucker hat, his yellowed teeth bared in a jagged grin that made my skin crawl. He held a rifle loosely, his eyes scanning the floor with a predatory hunger that had nothing to do with food. He looked like the kind of person my mom always told me to stay away from at gas stations—the kind of man who looked at you like you were a piece of meat.

My hands shook as I reached for the rifle on my back. I'd never pointed a weapon at a person. Not once. Targets were paper; they didn't have eyes. They didn't bleed.

"Theo, cover your ears. Look behind us. Watch the trees," I whispered.

He obeyed, trembling as he pressed his palms against his head and turned away.

I propped the barrel on the edge of the log. My vision was swimming, the world turning into a blur of grey and brown. I remembered Dad’s voice, steady and cold. Sight, breath, squeeze. I aimed for his side, just like the diagrams. If I could just stop him, we could get away.

I took a shuddering breath and pulled the trigger.

The recoil slammed into my shoulder with the force of a hammer, the roar of the shot deafening in the tight space of the trees. The man let out a gurgling shriek as the bullet tore through his side, sending him spinning into the dirt. He clutched his wound, his screams echoing off the trees.

"Run!" I yelled, grabbing Theo.

We bolted, but the woods erupted in response. Crack-crack-crack! Bullets whizzed past our heads, splintering the bark of a pine tree next to me and showering us in wooden shrapnel. They weren't just searching now; they were furious. I didn't look back to see if I’d killed him. I just ran until the ground suddenly vanished beneath my feet.

We hit the edge of a steep, leaf-slicked ravine and tumbled. It was a chaotic mess of dirt, rocks, and sky. I felt the rifle strap slip from my shoulder as I rolled, the weapon flying out of my reach and disappearing into the thick underbrush.

We slammed into the bottom of the hill, the wind knocked out of me. Theo scrambled over, his face streaked with mud. "Rory! Rory, wake up!"

I groaned, trying to push myself up, but the shadows above us moved. I looked up, my blood turning to ice.

The three remaining men stood at the top of the embankment, looking down at us like we were cornered rats. The leader—the one who had shot the man in the street—slowly began to slide down the hill toward us, his pistol leveled at my chest.

"Well now," he drawled, his voice a low, oily rasp. "That was a hell of a shot, girlie. But you're out of bullets, and I'm out of patience."

They surrounded us, their silhouettes blocking out the grey light of the dying sun. I pulled Theo behind me, reaching for the handgun in my waistband, but my fingers were numb, and the leader was already standing over me, the barrel of his gun inches from my forehead.

The air in the ravine felt thick and stagnant, the silence of the woods replaced by the wet, rhythmic breathing of the men circling us. Fear didn't just fill my chest; it felt like cold lead poured into my veins, paralyzing my muscles. Theo’s grip around my waist was an iron vice, his small body vibrating with a terror so profound I could feel his heartbeat against my ribs.

These weren't just scavengers. As they edged closer, I saw the way they looked at us—their eyes traveling over my body and Theo’s small frame with a sickening, predatory hunger. They licked their lips, their gazes lingering on places that made my skin crawl with a feeling of deep, oily uncleanness.

"You two all alone out here?" the leader asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He toyed with the safety of his pistol, his eyes never leaving mine.

"No," I spat, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound like Dad. "We're scouts. Part of a massive military battalion. They’re... they’re less than a mile behind us, looking for survivors. If you don't let us go, they’ll level this entire forest."

The leader scoffed, a dry, rattling sound. "The closest safe zone is six miles east through dense timber. You traveled a long way for a couple of kids on a 'scouting' mission."

One of the men—a wiry, twitchy thing with yellowed eyes—leaned down toward Theo. He took a long, deep inhale of my brother’s hair, a slow, disgusting smile spreading across his face. Theo whimpered, burying his face so deep into my chest I thought he’d suffocate.

The other men closed in on me. I felt hands—rough, calloused, and filthy—grabbing at my shoulders, sliding down my waist, touching me in ways that made the world start to tilt and dim.

"I'll take the little one," the twitchy man giggled, reaching out to rip Theo away from me. "I'll take real good care of him."

"NO!" Theo shrieked, his fingers digging into my jacket.

"Leave him alone!" I screamed, lashing out, but another man pinned my arms. I managed to wrench one hand free, my fingers brushing the cold grip of the handgun at my waist, but I was too slow.

The leader stepped in and swung the butt of his pistol. The heavy metal connected with the left side of my skull with a sickening crack.

Stars exploded across my vision. White-hot pain radiated through my head, and the world dissolved into a blur of grey dirt and dead leaves as I hit the ground face-first. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything except Theo’s frantic, high-pitched screams for my name.

I tried to push myself up, my limbs heavy and uncooperative, but I was slammed back down. A man’s weight pinned me into the mud, my face pressed into the rotted compost of the forest floor. I felt hands tearing at my clothes, forcing my legs apart. I thrashed, crying out, but they were too heavy, too strong.

The leader stood over me, his shadow blotting out the dim light. I heard the distinct, metallic slide of a zipper. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the ground to swallow us both.

Then, the world went silent.

The men froze. The hands holding me down went still.

Above us, the sky suddenly turned black. A massive, deafening roar of wings filled the air as a flock of thousands of birds erupted from the trees, flying so fast and low they clipped the branches, desperate to get away from something deeper in the woods. Then came the animals—deer, foxes, even a pack of wolves—sprinting past the ravine in a blind, primal panic, ignoring us entirely.

The man holding my right hand down let go, his head snapping toward the treeline in terror.

It was the only opening I needed.

I didn't think about the pain in my head. I rolled onto my back, my hand blurring as I drew the pistol from my waistband. I didn't aim for the chest. I aimed for the leader's groin and pulled the trigger.

The roar of the gun was deafening. He let out a choked, horrific scream, collapsing into the dirt. I didn't stop. I pivoted the barrel toward the man still clutching Theo’s arm and fired again. The bullet caught him squarely in the neck; he let go of my brother, clutching his throat as he slumped over.

The other remaining man didn't even look back. Terrified by the gunfire and whatever was coming through the woods, he scrambled up the embankment and vanished into the timber.

Theo collapsed onto me, sobbing hysterically, his small arms wrapping around my neck so tight I could barely breathe. I held him, my own body shaking so hard my teeth rattled.

"We have to go," I whispered, the copper taste of blood in my mouth. "Theo, we have to run. Now."

I hauled him up, not even looking at the men on the ground. We didn't head for the road. We ran deeper into the dark, following the path of the animals, fleeing into a world that had forgotten what it meant to be human.