Forging Zero Read Free Page A

tried to ignore them, but he was head and
shoulders taller than anyone else in the room and his size drew their anxious
gazes.
    They
wanted his help.  He could see the fear and desperation in their eyes.  They
wanted him to do something, like their parents would have done something for
them, and for days Joe had resented them for it.  He hated their stares.  Their
need.  Who did they think he was?  What made them think he could help them?  He
wasn’t their dad .  He was just a kid, just like them, and they were
captured by aliens .  A big kid, but still just a kid .
    I’m
not supposed to be here.
    The
thought wrenched at Joe’s spirit, just as it had a thousand times already.  He
hated his brother.  It was Sam who was supposed to be on this ship, listening
to children whimper and smelling kiddie pee as they wet themselves.  It was Sam
who’d been strung out in a line of kids bound for the ship.  And it was Sam
who’d run away while Joe got caught.
    His
mother’s words from the day of his capture still haunted him.
    Go
to Hell, Joe.
    The
agony of that moment was still raw in his chest, so raw it hurt to breathe. 
His mom had begged him.  Begged him not to go after Sam.  “You’re all
I have left,” she kept saying, through tears.  “Please, Joe.  Please
don’t do this.  You can’t help Sam…”
    And Joe
had turned his back to her and walked out the door.
    Go
to Hell, Joe, had been his mother’s last teary
words she shouted after him as she stood there, shaking, on the front porch,
watching him go.  I hope you go to Hell.
    She’d
gotten her wish.
    Miserable,
he got up and stumbled over to one of the tiny holes spaced along the circular
edge of the room.  He pissed in it, then zipped up and looked out over the
ocean of children.  He saw one kid in fake cammies, the kind you could buy at
the PX to dress your kid up like a soldier.  It even had cute little rolled
sleeves, though they were flat and lifeless from mechanical pressing.  Nothing
like his father’s.
    Stupid
kid.
    Joe
tore his attention away from the boy, his eyes stinging.  He let his gaze
wander around the edges of the obsidian dome, looking once again for an exit, a
seam, a lock, any indication that they weren’t trapped here forever.
    The
silky black surface of the room was flawless.  Two feet out of reach, a scarlet
globe protruded from the ceiling and cast the space in an eerie red haze, but
there were no doors, no windows, nothing but hundreds of little kids watching
him.
    Joe’s
angry, frustrated scowl fell once again upon the little groups of children
huddled against the walls.  The boy who was brave enough to meet his gaze
flinched and looked at the floor between his legs.  Moments later, his thin
shoulders began quaking in tiny sobs.
    In that
moment, Joe felt like he’d been slapped.  Watching the kids whimper and cringe
away from his angry look, he realized that they all just wanted someone to tell
them they’d be okay.  Just like Joe had wanted, back when his world was falling
apart.  When Dad disappeared, and nobody would go looking for him.  When he
found Dad’s friend Manny, slumped against a bent parking meter in a pool of
blood, Dad’s knife in his hands.  When they came for Sam.
    Though
Joe’s nerves were screaming at him to curl up against the wall somewhere and
pretend they didn’t exist, he went over to the boy and squatted in front of
him.  The kid glanced up, the hope in his eyes so strong it was painful.
    Swallowing
hard, Joe said, “How you doing?”
    The kid
blurted, “Do you know when they’re gonna let us go home?”
    Hearing
the innocent desperation in the kid’s voice, Joe felt a tiny part of him die. 
Nobody had told him.  Nobody had even bothered to even tell him. 
    I
can’t help these kids, Joe thought, in despair.   What the hell did he say to them?  Who the hell was he, Joe Dobbs,
to tell them they were never going to see their families again?
    But he
had to tell him