Cave Alien (Ancient Earth Aliens 1)

“That’s no mirror. That’s an inter-dimensional gate. And you’re damn lucky there was one there. You would have been dead forever without one.”

I don't understand what they’re talking about, but I understand the tight grip Vulcan has on me. I understand that I am alive, and that is all that matters.

Vulcan

I get up and walk over to the mirror. Given what Krave just told me, I’m not done with that.

As I approach it, the faun-king appears before my eyes.

“I hope you realize that all living things come to me in the end,” he says. “Every blade of grass, every insect, every woman, every man. You will return to my realm, perhaps sooner than you think, and when you do, there will be nobody to save you.”

“Fuck off, faun.”

He laughs.

I gather my hand into a fist and punch the mirror, shattering it into trillions of pieces and a puff of smoke.

“What are you… idiot! We could have used that,” Krave growls.

“The faun was still in it. Somehow. I don’t…” that doesn’t actually make sense, but I know what I saw.

“Well,” Krave says. “I hope you’re happy.”

“I’m happy you brought us back. I knew you would find us.”

“You knew no such thing,” he says, scowling.

“Of course I did. You wanted me back. You were going to get me back.”

“It was reckless,” he says. “And foolish, and it has consequences which ripple far beyond your lives. Do you not see what has been done?”

“No?”

“We ripped the door between the living and the dead wide open.”

“Seems to me that was always a fairly arbitrary distinction,” I say.

“Tell that to the humans. Who are now surrounded on Earth by the rotting corpses of their ancestors, risen from the grave. The process wasn’t as clean for them as it was for you and Tres. There are shambling half-dead almost human creatures all over Earth. We’ve unleashed an ancient zombie apocalypse.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That is all you have to say for yourself?”

“It wasn’t my fault, Krave. If the universe decides that the thing that most makes sense is having several hundred ancient humans rise from their graves and shamble around for an indeterminate period of time, then I cannot be held responsible. I was just doing what every sentient creature does: try to survive.”

“You’ve caused zombies to enter the human consciousness,” Krave growls. “They will be talking about both for tens of thousands of years.”

“Good.”

“Good!?”

“We leave them with a few strange stories and legends, so what? Nothing is as strange as the realms which intersect with that world. Humans are awash in legend and strangeness, the unnatural and natural woven together. We think we understand them and their world, but look what it did. It pulled me out of the future to save its favorite daughter, a female who was allowed to die the first time, and the second, became mine.”

Tres

They’re arguing over what sound like horrible things. I shrink away, slightly afraid that a real battle might be about to break out between them. I might die again, moments after I began to live.

“At least we now know who was responsible for it all,” Krave growls.

“Me?” Vulcan sighs. “Of course it was me.”

“Not you,” Krave says, his stare settling on me. “Her.”

“Me?” I squeak the word.

“You,” he says. “Your song caused a resonance which split time and space just enough to allow Vulcan to slip through, and a couple of extras who were dealt with. It pulled the Earth from its original timeline, and performed, for want of a better term, a hard reset.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You know what,” he says, flickering a wink at me. “Nor do I. But it tells me you and Vulcan are a match. The two of you destroy worlds, cheat death, and make a mess of my ship like no other.” His expression becomes temporarily stern, then clears. “Welcome, Tres. You’ve come a very long way to be here. We will do our best to make sure that your future is brighter than your past.”

Vulcan’s arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me up against his body and snuggling me tight. “No more dying,” he says.

“No more dying,” I agree.

“And no more singing,” Krave says. “At least, not that song. We can’t have you opening up rifts in space and time every time you get a tune in your head.”

“That’s not how it works. At least, I don’t think it is. And…” I pause, trying to think. Then I shake my head. “I can still sing.. but that song. The one that bought Vulcan to me? It’s gone.”

“You mean you can’t remember it?”

“I mean, it’s gone,” I say. “It’s just… not there anymore.”

“We should check you for brain damage,” Vulcan says. “You did die from a head injury once. You may not have gotten all the bits of brain back.”

“I’m not brain damaged,” I snort. “I just… I think I don’t need the song anymore. I think it has gone to someone who does.”