Alienation

By David W. Wright and Avery Blake

He had to betray his species to save ours.

 

Ash thought he was a normal guy with a normal life: a wife he loved, and a stepdaughter who resented him.

 

Until the day he gets pulled over by a cop who is more than he seems, and that illusion is shattered in one violent revelation.

Ash isn't who, or what, he thinks he is.

 

His memories have been wiped to protect him from himself and the world, but the only way to save the world from the looming alien invasion is to rediscover his past and destroy The Puncture, a powerful device the aliens are seeking.

 

Now he'll have to rely on the last person in the world who wants to help him: his step-daughter, Darcy, who hates him.

 

Set up for a crime they didn't commit, and hunted by an alien posing as an FBI agent, Ash and Darcy must race the clock to find The Puncture before the aliens do. The fate of humanity hangs in the balance.

 

But first, they'll have to survive one another.

 

Alienation is the new standalone novel set in the bestselling Invasion Universe. Pick up your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sterling & Stone
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393912033

Book preview

ONE

We’re in a hurry, the woman said to Ash.

Of course. He offered his best smile and extended his hand.

She shook it, clearly not wanting to, but it wasn’t like the woman had much of a choice.

Why don’t you sit inside while I tell you all about it? Ash gestured to the gleaming silver Mercedes. It wasn’t the nicest on the lot, nor too far down the ladder.

The woman smiled at the man standing beside her — twenty years younger, at least — opened the door, then nodded for the kid to take a seat first.

It used to be that if a man opened a car door for his wife, it was either a new car or a new wife. These days it worked the other way, as well. But this surprised him, and Ash was rarely surprised.

He always paid attention to everything, but today was especially important. The last day of the sales cycle, and this month’s bonus was extra big. Ash wanted to bag it for Lena and Darcy, but even if he didn’t, he still didn’t want Gary to get it. There was a big difference between being a great salesman and an absolute dickbag.

Only after the woman was comfortably seated in the Mercedes Spirit did Ash finally ask for her name. He hadn’t even inquired while they were shaking hands. He only wanted it once she was sitting, looking up at him, a supplicant without even knowing it. Only after Ash was closer to closing the sale.

I’m sorry, Ash said, as if it were a genuine mistake, I didn’t catch your names.

He looked at the boy toy first.

I’m Taylor. The kid was grinning like he’d just won some sort of prize. Maybe he had.

Jessica. Then she repeated, We’re in a hurry.

Of course, Ash smiled, fully in control, and thrilled to have this couple — or whatever they were — just where he wanted them. How can I help you most?

I’m sick of seeing those fifteen second spots for this bullshit car following me around everywhere I go, she said. It’s ridiculous. I pay extra so I don’t see any commercials on my juke, but there they are anyway. You want to explain that?

I wish I could. Ash really couldn’t have given a shit. But we only show the cars here. We have no control over where Mercedes advertises, or how they go about it.

But Ash knew all he needed to know.

Jessica wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t seriously interested in the Spirit. There wasn’t a single fact she couldn’t unearth online, and she’d get a much better deal buying her new car that way. What Jessica wanted more than anything was to feel rich, and for Ash to readily remind her, even if she didn’t precisely know that’s what she wanted.

Ash was an observer above all else. That’s what made him one hell of a salesman. He adapted quickly to every situation. His first goal was always to make the other person comfortable. To put them at ease. To place their repose forever in front of his own.

Not everyone wanted to buy a car — or anything — in the same way. Quiet, thoughtful customers tended to focus on the facts and take their time to steep in what they had to feel was a rational decision. A salesperson who walked over and grabbed their hand, clapped them on the back before leading them over to the shiniest, reddest car on the lot would never close the deal. That kind of customer required a calm greeting. An offer to help and an ear to listen.

Simple emotional intelligence was the key to everything great in Ash’s life. It was a simple code to follow, once you knew the rules and stuck to them. Always observe and note the behavior of others. Slowly move toward them, shifting your actions to match theirs, never confusing what you do with who you are. Some people, maybe even most people, shied away from such tactics for fear that they might be seen as inauthentic. But Ash knew that the best lives were always found through …

He lost the thought, focused on that one word.

Lives?

Ash shook off the thought. Another stray. He’d been having a lot of those lately. Odd ideas and random notions that didn’t quite make sense. Images outside of his experience, like discolored conceptions from a recent dream, not yet faded.

They shouldn’t advertise at all. Jessica finally finished her thought.

You’re right, Ash said, nodding. "No one believes anything an ad says, anyway. We only trust what our friends have to say about something. We know Mercedes will lie to us."

Ash laughed, and surprised a chuckle out Jessica.

Taylor joined them, probably like he thought he was supposed to.

Jessica looked up at him, clearly curious to see what Ash might say next. So he told her precisely what she wanted to hear, so he could set her up for the next thing — the series of phrases that would earn his commission.

The problem is that life is a lot harder than the commercials make it look. It’s bullshit, if you don’t mind my saying so. We’re not all going to walk through our lives without any challenges, and yet advertising wants us to believe that living is easy. Ash leaned down, looked right into Jessica’s eyes, and lowered his voice. We know the best stuff comes from working harder than everyone around us. That’s the only way to get what you want in this life.

Surely Jessica knew he was full of shit, but she still heard just what she needed to shift the tumblers in her internal lock. She smiled and gave Ash his cue to continue.

So he told her everything she needed to hear, and in the right order, while her boy toy dutifully watched and nodded.

Ash reminded Jessica that cars these days were a true luxury. No one needed to own one. Especially new. There were millions of previously owned vehicles, mostly manual, that could be bought for next to nothing. The Spirit was more like a living room, with chairs that faced one another and a heads up display that was as good as Ash’s widescreen at home. He detailed what was special about the vast doors with pillar-less frames. Fingerprint sensors, iris scanners, and other biometrics to identify Jessica, and Taylor if she wanted it to. Touchscreens and gesture controls, not just on the windows and dash like most models, but on every surface in the car.

It’s not just the media center, or the way it ties into whatever OS is running your life. The Spirit is the smartest car on the road. It’ll get you where you’re going, head to the nearest charging station, then pick you up when you’re done. Mercedes used to rely on German engineering, now it’s all about sustainable chemistry.

People always loved to hear that last part, especially people like Jessica.

She got out of the car — proving to Ash she was still in a hurry — then Taylor followed. Time to close the deal.

But Ash was distracted by Gary’s looming presence on the other side of the showroom floor. He was manipulating an elderly woman into a model she probably wouldn’t be able to pay off before the taxes on her coffin. It was one of the asshole’s specialities and made Ash want to break him in half.

It’s expensive, Jessica said.

Ash looked her up and down. She was expensive. And she could clearly afford Taylor.

He took a step toward her. That’s why you want it. Ash looked down at the car, taking his time despite her hurry. Raking the gleaming finish with his gaze. "You don’t need any of this. Owning a car is stupid. And I bet you have at least two already. If I’m guessing, this is for him more than you."

Ash nodded at Taylor then started circling the car, brushing the gloss with his fingers. There are still reasons to own a car, I suppose. But it’s never been easier to get by without one. And a model like this … Another glance at the gleaming Mercedes. All the reasons come down to one thing.

I told you we were in a hurry, she said.

Ash expected that. A woman like Jessica didn’t get where she was by accident. People probably thought she acted like she did because she was rich, but she only got rich by acting that way.

What is it you still want to know? The car is everything you want it to be. I’m happy to kiss your ass, but that would only be wasting your time. Ash opened the door, leaned into the cabin and said, "Sleep."

A slight whir, then the seats settled themselves into a bed.

Ash looked between them. But of course you can use it for whatever you want.

Taylor looked away.

Jessica chewed her bottom lip, deciding what to do with him.

This was the moment. It could go either way. But Ash played people like an instrument, and if Jessica didn’t buy the car now, then she never intended to — she was only in here showing off. But if she wanted it even a little, and had already pictured herself driving it off this lot, this next exchange would nudge her over the edge.

Ash didn’t know how he knew it, but the truth was algebra in his mind.

Logic and Truth. Human facts that flowed like a fountain.

He wasn’t a psychologist, but for whatever reason, people were easy to read. Lena could go into any kitchen, open their fridge, take four to seven ingredients, then make something amazing in less than an hour, dessert included. But she couldn’t say how she did it and had never taken a cooking class in her life.

His people skills were like that. He was never wrong. Ash would know from Jessica’s response how hard he would have to push. It wouldn’t be difficult, getting her signature on the tablet then watching her leave the lot with twice as many toys as she had come in with. But he didn’t like to do that. He only sold cars to people who wanted them.

Gary was outside the showroom, opening the car door for a woman who’d already been old when Teslas were new.

Ash, was it? Jessica was still staring at him, chewing her bottom lip. She waited for him to nod, then said, Are you implying something?

Only that this car would be perfect for you.

What do you know about me?

Ash could give her a list. Instead he took a big bite from the lowest hanging fruit.

You always know exactly what you want. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the bedroom or the boardroom, though I get the impression your boardroom is wherever you are. You’re paid well for your brain. I mean no disrespect, you’re brilliant, but everyone thinks you’re smarter than you actually are. Brilliant isn’t enough. For you, I mean. You’re working so hard to prove yourself, you’ll never catch up. You live in constant fear that people will see you as a fraud, despite how hard you try. That’s why you’re always exhausted. Why you spend an average of four figures a day on candy. Like Taylor.

Jessica was staring at him.

Ash took a beat to smile, then he continued.

But you deserve the fruits of your labor. You give more to charity than you want people to know. You’re going to feel guilty about how much you make whether you buy the Mercedes or not, but it’s the best and you earned it. You’ll experience slight regret either way, but you’ll feel worse not getting the car than you will the other way around. If you don’t drive it off the lot today, you’ll be back in less than a week.

Jessica looked slapped. Ash, distracted, had gone a little too far.

Gary opened the passenger side door — though really wasn’t everyone a passenger these days — and climbed into the car across from the old woman. Ash was clenching his fists.

Is something wrong? Jessica looked behind him, outside where there was nothing to see since Gary was inside the car massaging that poor old woman into a sale.

No, I’m sorry. Ash smiled, hoping he hadn’t blown it.

But he might have. He’d done the one unforgivable thing, by giving Jessica the attention she needed — probably too much of it — then immediately taking it away.

Did you not understand when I said I was in a hurry?

Losing this sale meant losing the bonus. To Gary.

I’m sorry—

"So you know I’m in a hurry and yet you decide to waste my time with your armchair psychology?"

She said that as though Ash hadn’t been right on the money. So yeah, he was losing the sale.

And still, Ash was distracted.

He could close this deal if he wanted, if he could keep his gaze from straying outside.

Are you listening to me.

I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, Ash said, lightly touching Jessica on the shoulder as Taylor watched him bug-eyed.

I’m serious about being in a hurry. If you—

I’m sorry, Ash repeated, then started outside.

The passenger door swung open the moment he got there and Gary planted both feet on the ground, grinning like a predator with bits of prey still caught in its teeth.

He smirked at Ash. You come out here to congratulate Mrs. Washington on her brand new Mercedes?

Ash glanced at Mrs. Washington as she gently closed the driver’s side door, as though afraid she might injure it. The woman looked half-baffled, exactly as Ash had expected.

Congratulations. He gave her a smile.

No talking her out of it, at least not without losing his job. Gary was a terrific salesman. If closing the deal was the only thing that mattered — with getting people into cars they didn’t need and might not be able to reasonably afford the only criteria — then he bested Ash to become best salesman on the lot.

He glanced back inside, but Jessica was already stomping off toward the far exit with her boy toy Taylor in tow. His sale and bonus now gone in a huff.

Let’s go inside and get you all taken care of, Gary said to Mrs. Washington before turning back to Ash. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, Maybe next month, loser. But probably not.

Gary covertly gave Ash the bird and a shit-eating grin before turning to guide Mrs. Washington into the air conditioned offices, leaving him standing by the old woman’s brand new car, squeezing his temples as yet another headache came to claim him.

Hopefully not a migraine. He’d had two so far, the first in his life, though something nagged at the back of his skull, taunting Ash and suggesting that might not be true. Sometimes it was like he could see memories like fields of flowers, but only the blooms and never the roots.

It had been happening more and more. Ash would get a glimpse of something he didn’t understand and couldn’t quite see, no matter how much he focused. The harder he tried the more it hurt, so he always gave up eventually. He didn’t know when it started, how he could possibly stop it, or what the headaches might even mean.

Was he sick? If so, Ash didn’t want Lena to know. She worried about him, too much, and that was the last thing she needed.

He ignored the lost bonus, told himself he’d do better next month, and headed inside to close out for the day so he could head home.

A pair of tire kickers grabbed him on his way out. Ash knew they had no chance of buying, but still he stopped to answer every one of their questions, working — and failing — to will away his headache.

Ten minutes after Gary went inside to finish Mrs. Washington’s financial molestation, Ash was sitting in his twenty-year-old Honda Pilot. Manual, of course, since they were saving money for college. Ash wasn’t sure it was the right move for Darcy, especially given her grades and the crazy expense of another four years she clearly wouldn’t care about. But it was important to Lena, so of course that made it important to Ash.

He gunned the engine and turned on the radio, hoping the classical station might help clear his head. Immediate relief. Not as much as he wanted, but still the shot of mental solace he’d been hoping for. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major. One of his favorite composers, and certainly among history’s best. And Ash should know.

And wasn’t that an odd thought to be having while swinging a hard right onto Manchester?

This particular piece had an effect on him. Fifteen majestic minutes that felt like a pure distillation of everything that made Bach so resplendent. Opulent notes woven into a lush, lavish landscape of sound. The inventive harmonies were more than majestic, they were spiritual.

Not that Ash only liked classical. He appreciated all kinds of music and had plenty of opinions. The best rock riff in history was a tie between the Stones’ Satisfaction and The White Stripes’ Seven Nation Army. The best hip-hop song of all time was still "Nothing but a G Thang, although that was a track you could never play too loud. And it was hard to argue with Whitney Houston’s version of Dolly’s I Will Always Love You" as the most crystalline pop song in history.

All three of those songs were well before his time, and yet Ash felt a deep and undefinable connection to each of them.

Thinking about it hurt his head, so he stopped.

Suite No. 1 finished then Ash changed the station, needing something more modern.

He heard the sudden bray from the cop car behind him a second before looking into the rearview and spying the flashing lights.

Goddammit.

Ash didn’t have the best history with cops, even though he couldn’t remember ever having been pulled over a single time in his life. Except for that time in the late 1950s, when he was driving through Atlanta in a crappy ’48 Hudson Commodore.

Clearly another one of the odd dreams that kept infiltrating his psyche. It didn’t matter how real it felt, Ash was still a half-century or so from being born in the 1950s. And he was white, not black like the man behind the wheel of that Hudson.

But real or not, that officer had beat the shit out of that version of Ash, and the memory was making him sweat.

He put on his blinker then pulled over to the side of the road, trying not to panic.

His instincts were screaming, yelling at Ash that everything was wrong. He was in danger. But that dread and hysteria seemed to be born from some kind of lie inside him.

Ash rolled down his window, waited for the officer, ignoring his headache and hoping this would all be over soon.

I’m sorry, officer—

Out of the car!

What the fuck?

Ash had no idea how to respond. He didn’t even finish his sentence and the cop was already opening his door.

I said out of the car!

The officer took a step back and drew his gun.

Ash got out of his Pilot, hands raised and voice gentle. I don’t understand, but—

I didn’t say you could talk. The cop grabbed him by the arm and started marching Ash toward his cruiser.

---

His mind was flooded with ways to escape, adding to his delusion.

The officer was about to shove Ash into his cruiser when a black Escalade plowed into the back with a deafening crash.

A back door opened, then a massive black man landed on the ground with a THUMP.

The gun magically appeared in the man’s hand before the officer could respond with anything more than widened eyes and registered shock.

The first bullet made a neat hole right between the officer’s eyes, then he sent another three into the officer’s chest, all of them obviously unnecessary.

He tucked the gun somewhere behind him before turning to Ash and pointing to the open Escalade door. Get in, motherfucker, we ain’t got all day.

TWO

Pamal sat in his car in front of the target’s house in the quiet suburban house in Las Orillas.

The vehicle was stopped, but he wasn’t yet getting out. He had a call to make first, but the other line kept ringing and ringing without any answer.

He hung up and tried again, knowing it was pointless.

Pamal told himself there was nothing to worry about. So what, she wasn’t answering the phone. That didn’t automatically mean there was something wrong. Shannon was probably sleeping. He was just letting the fear get to him. He’d been doing that more and more lately, though it made sense, considering what was happening to the world. What had been happening all over the planet for too long.

He would have to enter this house and deal with whatever was waiting inside. Do whatever the situation demanded. Pamal would be looking forward to it, if everything wasn’t about to change. The world was teetering off the track, leaving Pamal in the dark and not knowing what to expect. Getting a hold of Shannon would ground him, and that would be good for everyone.

But still, no answer.

Again he told himself not to worry, as he hit the call button for one final try.

Five rings then voicemail. Pamal had already left the one message and didn’t need to leave another. He dropped the phone into his pocket with a heavy sigh, then got out of the car.

Pamal only recently realized how much he hated working for the FBI. It might be his age — of course it was his age — but it was a lot of other things, too. All the rules and red tape. All the standing in line to beg for permission he technically didn’t even need. All the second guessing with intellectually inferior cretins who couldn’t — by nature of their inferiority — understand the stakes.

He glanced at his agents as a pair of cars appeared next to his.

It wasn’t in his nature to call the shots, but he had been doing this long enough that he was perfectly used to it by now. Pamal was the Special Agent in Charge, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. And right now, as tired as he felt and as worried as he was about Shannon, it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

But considering what was going to happen — or was already happening — Pamal didn’t have much of a choice.

If Kian wasn’t inside that house, then Pamal at least expected to find the breadcrumbs that would lead the FBI to him.

Agent Downey approached him, looking uncertain. You still want to go in there alone?

Pamal nodded. Give me five minutes. But stay on the porch. I’ll probably call out to you.

Downey didn’t appear any more certain, but he clapped Pamal on the arm and wished him luck. A good enough guy, all things considered. It wasn’t his fault he’d be dead soon, along with everyone else.

Standing on the porch, Pamal felt less sure than he wanted to.

If Kian was inside, he would be able to feel it.

Same for if the Puncture was in there.

Right now, Pamal felt nothing, except for maybe the hope of a clue.

He closed his eyes and thought of Shannon again. Wondered if he was making a mistake. Thought about the hidden implement that could cure or perhaps condemn the planet. This was the beginning of the end, and more than ever, Pamal questioned his role in this saga.

He knocked on the door and waited.

His heart was pounding, and that felt new. It wasn’t because of the chase, he’d been doing that long enough. But this time was different. Pamal could feel it. Soon the world would join him.

THEY had been hiding among the humans for so long, especially this one.

Kian was a white whale for Pamal, and now a threat to the entire planet, at least according to the Overseer. Even if the world didn’t know it yet, time had already run out. It was now or never. The clock had started ticking, even if it was a century or several ahead of schedule. The stakes had never been bigger, and Pamal was grateful for the lead. Kian had come back online,