Terrestrial Alien ✔

Chapter 66: Reunion

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    That night, Marlowe jerks awake to the sound of screaming.

They surge up in bed, their blood roaring in their ears and their heart lodging in their ribcage. Their vision spins around the room as Marlowe grapples with such abrupt wakefulness, and they try to place the source of such an awful sound. It has to be their imagination, Marlowe thinks.

Listening to the silence that follows the cry, Marlowe strains their hearing. They begin to think that maybe they did merely dream it up and startle themself... when it comes again. Faintly, somewhere, from through the walls. A strangled, urgent cry.

It chills Marlowe to their bones.

Lurching into action, Marlowe throws off the covers in a frantic, disoriented scramble. In a place like this institution, one learns not to take too much time to think: one needs to just do, lest one gets caught up in something abrupt and paranormal.

    Prying open the door to their temporary living space, which they'd been given upon taking on this new project (Joshua and his alien, that is), Marlowe searches the hallway for the source of the sound. It's died down again, though Marlowe can almost feel the ghost of it reverberating down the corridor of this deep institution tunnel.

It sounds like it's coming from...

Joshua's room.

Marlowe's face pales, and they start towards his door with a jerk, no less than a moment's hesitation. Snatching up their keycard from the slot by their door, Marlowe clutches the plastic tightly.

Thoughts and baffled hypotheses dart through their mind. Their fight with Joshua last evening is still a fresh sore that they'd deliberated over all night—they don't want to hurt Sundo, they truly don't. How can they balance this with their job, though?

Marlowe squeezes their eyes shut and gives their head a shake. They push these thoughts aside for now, letting themself be just a flurry of movement as they rush to Joshua's door. They're still dressed in their flannel pajamas, their bare feet padding over the cold stone.

Slapping their card against the scanner, Marlowe flings the door open, prepared to barge into the room and fight off any attacker. They are not, however, prepared for there to be no attacker.

The assistant jerks to a halt in the doorway, blinking into the dark, confined room given to the detainee Joshua Gonzalo. Light from the corridor behind them stretches into the room like a searching hand, catching in frightened eyes.

The sheets of the bed have been tangled up and tossed over the edge of the frame. Joshua sits up, blinking rapidly in the half-light, his eyes roving the room unceasingly, unseeing. He's backed himself into a corner of the bed, against the corner of the room, and his chest is shuddering and heaving. His hair is matted and mussed against his head in a cold sweat, and his lips tremble and mutter with incoherent words.

Marlowe can make out the words, "Don't touch me. Don't— Don't hurt—"

Joshua chokes up at what he sees. He sounds sleep-worn and groggy, not fully here, yet still, Marlowe first thinks he's talking to them. They draw back a step, startled, until they hear his next babbled yelp, "Don't hurt him! Go away!"

In an instant the scene clicks, and Marlowe sucks in a sharp breath. Pushing into the room, they swiftly move to Joshua's side, stepping over the knotted-up sheets.

"Joshua! Joshua, look at me! Wake up! No one's hurting you, you're alright!" Marlowe tries to take his hands away from his head, prying his fingers from his hair. "Joshua!"