HE’S BEEN HOME FROM THE hospital for almost six months now,” Fort’s aunt Cora said, on the phone in the kitchen. “I can barely get him to eat. And now he’s been suspended from school for fighting, of all things! The other boy made some comment about Washington, pretended to be that . . . that creature, and Fort just went berserk. And then after, he said he barely even remembered doing it.”
Fort ran his fingers over the brochure of the Gettysburg Address in various languages, the last thing his father had given him, then turned back to stare at the muted television in front of him, showing scenes of the destruction from the attacks six months ago.
First, it panned over the headquarters of the National Security Agency in Fort Meade, Maryland, a black-windowed office building that was now half rubble. One of the creatures apparently had ripped its way straight up through the middle of the building before it disappeared back into the ground. The entire facility was now abandoned, with armed guards surrounding it. A military helicopter even intercepted the press copter, forcing it away from the area.
Then the news turned to D.C., where black domes covered the Lincoln Memorial and what was left of the National Mall, with soldiers guarding the perimeter. Beneath those domes was a massive hole that went, well, somewhere. The government wasn’t saying where, or how deep it was either.
But somewhere down there, the creature had taken Fort’s father.
“I don’t know what to do, Lin,” his aunt had continued. “I really don’t. I don’t think he even sleeps more than an hour or two at a time.”
That was true. Every time Fort closed his eyes, he saw the creature emerging from its green circle of fire, coming straight for him while someone shouted in a low, guttural voice in some language he didn’t recognize. Whenever Fort tried to scream, it wasn’t even his voice. It was a girl’s voice, the same one every time.
And then there were the reminders. Everything he saw made him think of his father. Several times a day, Fort found himself imagining his father joking about something, or paying him ridiculous compliments for no reason. Each time it happened, the pain and grief threatened to drown him, and—
A pinch in his hand distracted him, and he looked down to find he’d clenched his fist around the brochure from the Lincoln Memorial, crumpling it. When had he done that? He carefully smoothed it out, then put it down and flipped channels over and over, not caring where he landed.
“There’s this boarding school that offered to take him,” his aunt said, and Fort glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “The headmaster heard about how my brother-in-law . . . everything that happened. Said he had experience dealing with grief and trauma, so maybe he could help Fort. It sounds almost like some kind of military academy, though. And I don’t know if I can just send him away. I’m the only family he has now!”
She was thinking about sending him away? That made sense. Fort nodded to himself, digging his nails down harder. After all, it was at least partly his fault that she had to take care of him to begin with. Cora was his mother’s much younger sister and had just graduated college. She’d been broke ever since, paying off her college while working as a waitress in spite of having a degree in computer science. His father’s life insurance had provided some money, but not enough, especially when Cora had to skip work to pick up Fort from school after his fight.
First she’d lost her sister, Fort’s mother, and now he’d been thrown on her without any warning. And all because he’d run instead of helping his father carry the old woman down, get him off the stairs before—
Fort squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, trying to force the memories out of his head. Not that it would change anything. His aunt would still have Fort to take care of, something she’d never asked for. All he was doing was making her life harder, just by being there.
Fort turned back to the television to find he’d stopped on a press conference in the White House. Some man in a uniform with a massive number of medals and stripes was speaking, introducing the man next to him, another soldier. Fort frowned and turned the volume on.
“—name is Colonel Charles,” the second man said, smiling grimly. “As General Matheson mentioned, I’ll be heading up the new joint agency based around these threats. The Thaumaturgic Defense Agency, or TDA, has already developed specialized deterrents against future attacks, based on the lack of response to traditional weaponry we witnessed in Washington.”
Specialized deterrents? What did that mean? What could they possibly do to stop those things?
“Do we know where those creatures came from, and what they wanted?” a reporter shouted.
Colonel Charles stared down at the podium for a moment. “The origin of the monsters is still unknown. Certainly they’re nothing we’d seen previously. But leads have suggested a motivating factor behind the attacks. There seems to have been some outside force either controlling them fully, or setting them upon us. We have extensive investigations happening now, but you’ll forgive me if I can’t provide further information at this time. As soon as it’s appropriate, I’ll share everything I can.”
“Was this a terrorist group, or the actions of another country?” a different reporter asked.
“Will there be more attacks?” another shouted.
Colonel Charles frowned. “The people of the United States should sleep soundly. We have no indication of any further attacks and are working day and night to prevent them from happening again.”
“No indication? But you didn’t know about the first one, right?” the same reporter asked.
“What do you mean, unknown origin?” yelled a second. “Where could they have come from?”
“What kind of deterrents are you using? How do you know they’ll be of any greater use against the creatures if you don’t even know what they are?”
“I’m afraid that’s all the time I have,” Colonel Charles said. “I’ll update with further information as the situation warrants.”
He walked off to more reporters shouting out questions, and Fort muted the television again, not sure why he’d even bothered.
Six months later, and they still wouldn’t say who’d done it, or why. Not to mention that all anyone could think about was if and when another attack was coming. Schools had started holding earthquake drills in case one of the creatures tunneled up nearby. The internet was filled with rumors and conspiracy theories about what the creatures were, where they’d come from, and why they’d attacked. But all anyone knew for sure was that there’d been no warning the first time, so they couldn’t expect any the next time.
“Maybe, but you can’t live in fear, Fort,” his father would have said. “Because it’s not a place. Now Cape Fear, that’s a real region of North Carolina, so there, you can live.”
“You shouldn’t watch that,” his aunt said from the doorway, making Fort jump, thankfully pulling him out of his daydream.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I know that anniversaries, like six months . . .” She trailed off.
Fort nodded at her, just to show he heard. He’d quickly learned that when he didn’t respond, she just asked more questions. He clicked off the TV and slumped back against the couch, closing his eyes. Maybe she’d take that as a hint and leave him alone.
At least then he wouldn’t be dragging her down too.
“I’m going to order us pizza for dinner, okay?” she said, and he felt the couch shift as she sat down next to him. “Whatever you want. Let’s go nuts. I’m talking, like, three toppings.”
He shrugged, not opening his eyes. Food didn’t taste like anything anymore, so it didn’t really matter what she ordered.
“And after that, there’s someone I want you to talk to, okay?” she said. “He’s . . . well, he’s a doctor, but not like that therapist you didn’t like. He runs a boarding school, and he says he can help you. He heard about you from, you know, the news, and reached out to me. He said his school might be a good fit.”
Fort opened his eyes and gave her another shrug, but this time forced the barest hint of a smile, not wanting her to feel bad about sending him away. At least then she could get on with her life.
She hugged him gently and put her head on his. “I miss them too, so much. Your dad and your mom. I’m so sorry you didn’t have more time with your dad, or get to meet your mom. They were amazing people.”
No. Fort pulled away, realizing he might be making her feel bad, but he just couldn’t . . . every time she brought up . . . no. He couldn’t listen to this, not now. He grabbed the Gettysburg Address brochure and stood up, heading for the kitchen. “I’m going to get a soda. Do you want anything?”
She stared at him sadly. “No, I’m okay.”
He nodded and left, passing right through the kitchen to Cora’s bedroom, where he turned on her little TV. More news, but it was covering the protests outside the U.S. Capitol, where thousands of people had gathered to demand military action on whichever country had caused the attacks. Assuming anyone even knew. Several of the signs had suggestions, and they only got more angry and bitter from there.
He flipped through the channels, desperate to keep his mind occupied so he didn’t have to remember, until he landed on some cartoons, something he wouldn’t have to think about. Minutes passed slowly, but eventually he heard Cora call for the pizza, and later, answer the door for the delivery. His aunt had ordered pepperoni, which was fine, since she liked that, and he barely ate more than a slice these days anyway.
“Fort, if you decide you don’t want to go to this boarding school, that’s okay,” his aunt said as she put plates down on the table for dinner. “It’s your choice. If you’d rather stay here with me, we’ll figure things out. Your dad left enough money for us to maybe find another school around here. Or maybe we can try a new therapist?”
Fort didn’t respond. The previous therapist hadn’t gotten more than his name out of him, which he felt bad about. But the last thing in the world he was going to talk about was what happened in D.C., especially with a stranger.
There was silence while they both ate, so Fort tried to keep it going by chewing through his slice as slowly as possible. It made her even sadder when he didn’t eat anything, so he always forced himself to eat at least a little. It also helped because it meant she wouldn’t try to ask him any questions.
The doorbell rang as Cora was putting the rest of the pizza into the refrigerator. She gave Fort a nervous look, then left to go open the front door. From the other room, he heard the deep voice of a man introducing himself, and then, oddly, a girl’s voice as well. They moved into the kitchen, and Fort looked up, curiosity fighting its way through the haze in his brain.
A slightly pudgy man around his dad’s age came through the doorway and smiled at Fort, who forced a smile back. The man wore a black suit and was holding a black briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, which didn’t seem exactly normal for a schoolteacher, but maybe boarding schools were different.
Behind him, an African American girl with short curly hair wearing a green army uniform looked around the kitchen. Her eyes fell on Fort, and she grinned widely, then waved.
“Fort, this is Dr. Oppenheimer,” Aunt Cora said, and the doctor stuck out his hand for Fort to shake, which he did. “He’s here to talk to you about that school I mentioned.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Oppenheimer said. “And this is Rachel.” He gestured toward the still-smiling girl. “She volunteered to give you a student’s perspective of what it’s like at my school. I’ve found that can be very valuable for prospective students.” He glanced at Rachel, who nodded excitedly.
“Ma’am, can I ask a favor before we start?” Rachel said, dancing from foot to foot. “Would you mind if I used the bathroom? It’s been a long trip.”
Fort’s aunt blushed. “Of course! Let me show you where it is. And you don’t have to call me ma’am.”
Rachel waved good-bye to Fort as his aunt led her away. Dr. Oppenheimer placed his briefcase on the table and thumbed the locks open. Feeling curious for the first time in months, Fort moved to look inside, but he was disappointed to find a pack of papers filling it.
“You can call me Dr. Opps, by the way,” Dr. Oppenheimer said, not seeming to care that Fort was looking. “All the children do.”
“Okay,” Fort said as the doctor removed the stack of papers from his briefcase, then felt around the bottom. Something clicked, and Dr. Opps lifted the bottom of the briefcase out, then reached back in and pulled out a long silver chain with some sort of round metal ball at the end.
“Silver works better than any other metal at this,” he said to Fort as he placed the chain around his own neck. “We still don’t know why.”
Fort stared at him in confusion. “Better at what?”
“Can I get you anything, Dr. Oppenheimer?” his aunt said, coming back in, then stopping as she saw the empty briefcase and the silver medallion. “Um, what is—”
Dr. Opps touched her arm, and Cora instantly collapsed to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“Now,” the man said, sitting down at the table as Fort leaped to his feet in shock. “Let’s talk about the Oppenheimer School.”