Title: Find You Here (3/?)
Title: Find You Here (3/?)
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: NC-17 overall.
Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was once a human, technically…). Gore.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this work of fiction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I must say that I am impressed.” Elizabeth politely accepts the sealed plastic water bottle which Wikus has dug out from the small cache inside an old ice chest, the prim, properly dressed woman an odd fixture inside his claustrophically small shack. The MNU agent doesn’t seem to notice how her rickety seat moans under the strain of her slight frame. She drinks from the bottle, taking tiny measured sips before placing the smooth container upon the rough lopsided tabletop. “You have spruced up your quarters, beyond my expectations.” She takes another look around the room, and eyes the corner where Donald has laid a spare nest, “I suspect that you are still a bit overprotective of your young one, since you still won’t allow your partner to share your nest, but I will let that slide.”
“Thank you.” Wikus isn’t brave enough to try and sit in the seat opposite from her. He had splinters in odd areas after the last time the three legged chair crumbled underneath his weight.
“You still have your license, correct?”
“Yes.” Wikus motions to the tiny metal lunch box partially concealed by the fringe of his nest of blankets and newspaper, “The documents are safe.” The prawn rarely allows the tiny ‘safe’ out of his sight, or out of mind.
Donald putters around the small shack, acting as a dutiful mate and father, gently bouncing Barry in his arms. The tall prawn keeps a wary, marble-bright eye on the strange human female, closely watching her as if waiting for the MNU agent to suddenly leap to her feet and pounce on him like a vampire out of legend.
“Do you ever have a day off?” Wikus asks, his voice lightly teasing.
Elizabeth chuckles, face glowing like a young child’s, “Don’t get me started!” Her fingers pick at the label of the water bottle, “I can’t believe the last six months. Moving from the United States to Johannesburg with a work visa…Long hours…seem as soon as I lay my head down on my pillow, I’m up and at ‘m bright and early.”
The MNU agent’s smile turns poignant. “But in a couple of years, it will all be worth it. It doesn’t matter that people look down their nose at me because I’m young, or white, or a woman…I don’t care that the other women snicker behind my back because I’m a workaholic and I can’t hold onto a good man. I’ve got bigger, better dreams than resigning myself to a desk and a stuffy husband and two screaming children strapped to my hip just because my dear Mom wants grandbabies.”
“A desk job isn’t so bad…” Wikus mumbles underneath his breath, remembering what he had taken for granted a year prior to his transformation into a prawn.
Donald stiffens, and Wikus fumbles, “…I mean! It must be nice to have work, and make money.”
Elizabeth didn’t appear to notice his folly and Wikus breaths a small sigh of relief when she does not become suspicious, or try to connect the dots with the small prawn’s unintentional slip. She chuckles. “Yeah…It isn’t so bad. But I always wanted to work at becoming an ambassador, so it made sense to work for MNU and develop more fieldwork experience. All I need is enough time, and I can update my resume and get out of here.”
“Bigger, better dreams,” Wikus can remember how it was to be so young and idealistic. His stomach twists, heart in his throat as he remembers a younger, still so beautiful Tania who had welcomed him at the MNU orientation for their newest promising employees. Wikus had been so nervous, and not knowing any of the other hired men and woman, had skulked about the periphery of the chattering, laughing crowd.
“You’re such a wallflower!” Tania’s vibrant laughter rings in his ears like the melody of chimes. She valiantly pulls at his wrist, “Come on! I’ll show you around. Just ignore all the rumors. My father isn’t such an ogre.” She whispers playfully.
“B-B-But I…” He digs in his heels, “What should I say to him?” He stutters.
“Let me do all of the talking.” Tania pulls Wikus alongside, and hails her father. Her soft blond hair swings about, a feathery halo floats around her head like a cloud. “Daddy! I want you to meet someone!”
“Ah, thank you, Donald.” Wikus accepts his son back, Barry’s chatter broken with little happy trills. “Dad-ddddy!”
“Ooh, sit down, Donald!” Elizabeth can longer sit back and watch the tall prawn dither and hover in the periphery, “You’re making me dizzy. Constantly circling!” Her laughter is not cruel.
Donald hesitates. Elizabeth pats the seat beside her.
“It’s okay.” Wikus’ lowers his voice, a gentle coax.
But Donald does not budge. “….she…is a strange creature.”
“Hey!” Elizabeth affects a look of hurt.
“You look funny.” Donald continues. “Not like the boys who shot down my friends. You have funny lumps on your chest. You…bounce, putter about everywhere and your voice is like a sharp harmonica when you get riled. And your skull is covered by long…things all tangled together.”
“Yeah? Well…you’re green.” Elizabeth mutters childishly. She pats fretfully at her frizzy hair. “And I can’t control the humidity!”
Wikus rolls his eyes. “She is a female.” At the young woman’s glare, he quickly edits his words, “She is Elizabeth. That is what makes her unique. Special. Like how I have one blue eye, and one gold. Special like you, Donald. You gather all kinds of little pretty stones and things, and hang the baubles on strings inside your shed so that the rays of the sun make them sparkle.”
“…William says to be careful. That she’s MNU. And…I’ve seen neighbors taken by MNU, and they never come back.”
Barry gurgles, gnawing avidly on Wikus’ tough finger. Wikus flexes the trapped appendage, and tickles his son’s chin.
“William worries.” Wikus knows that the black and white prawn cares about their safety, but secretly, the small prawn also wonders if their elder is somewhat jealous of the two prawns sharing a shack, while he has to live alone, the larger prawn holding little company beyond Wikus and Donald.
Wikus dares to glance out of the corner of his eye, stealing a look in Donald’s direction. ‘One wonders if William’s worries conceal a deeper affection for one particular neighbor.’ It would make sense for the older prawn’s hovering nature, and his irritation whenever Donald risked being sighted every time he ventured outside the District. On countless occasions, Wikus has also dared to squeeze through the thick fence line to leave a small metal flower for Tania. Only once has William ever gone searching for him in particular, and only the one time he happened to be around to catch Wikus in the act of wriggling in between the tight, jagged broken teeth of the slashed fence.
Wikus hasn’t tried escaping ever since, not wanting to endure for a second time the humiliation of being dragged by the root of his antenna through the District and back to their neighborhood, William hurling vile insults and threats while Wikus keened and apologized profusely, their various neighbors rolling across their yards with delighted mirth.
“He sounds like a good friend.” Elizabeth manages to smile once again, relived by the lack of discontent and insults.
“He’s bossy.” Donald mutters.
“Can be a bit of a brat at times,” Wikus helpfully adds. Elizabeth laughs behind her hand.
“Fooker!” Barry cheeps.
“Barry!!”
Elizabeth startles them all with a series of snorts, a shock of unbridled laughter, and immediately slaps her hands over her face in mortification.
“You sound like a piggy!” Donald crows, pointing accusingly.
“Oh be quiet!” Elizabeth moans, thumps her forehead upon the surface of the table and tries to hide her tomato red face in the folds of her arms.
“Piggy pig!” Barry mimics with a bright ripple giggles, Wikus’ ‘little parrot’. Donald howls with laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now watch.” Wikus scratches the letters into the dirt, Barry huddled in between his crossed legs, in awe of the strange symbols his father stencils into the hard packed soil. “B-A-R-R-Y. And this spells…”
“Me!”
Wikus laughs, “Yes!” He says, pride suffusing his words, “Very good, Barry!”
“Barry! Barry!”
“All right…” Wikus swipes away the human calligraphy, lest any MNU agents stumble across the evidence. It would not do for anyone to realize that ‘Walter Pemberton’ could write and read, not while the MNU office showing no signs of readiness to give up their search for the invaluable biological marvel.
And Wikus would die before they even dared lay their hands on his son.
‘When did it all change?’ He allows Barry to manhandle the long stick, his son scratching a crude caricature of his name, ‘When did I start looking at them as, ‘those humans’? When did I stop thinking of them as Mom and Dad? When did they start to be known as the enemy?’
With William distracted with chasing after Donald for another countless time to try and keep the young prawn within the District, Wikus seized his chance. With Barry laid down for a nap, Wikus dared the long trek to the dwelling that he and Tania had once shared.
Much to his dismay and surprise, he found the front yard overgrown with weeds, and strangely no vehicle in the driveway. When he peered indoors through the stained windows, he found that the rooms were silent and unoccupied, furniture lightly coated with dust.
His claws tap across the window sill, Wikus pondered the strange mystery. Was Tania now living with her father? Was that rat-bastard whispering more lies into her ear?
Mournfully, he was forced to abandon his vain search for answers, more questions bubble to the surface faster than he can scrounge up answers. Like a thief, a stranger outside the home he knew and loved, he skulked within the shadows, cutting across yards and the interstate in the dead of night to avoid any human or vehicle traffic.
Barry still slept on when he closed the door behind him.
Donald, half asleep, guarding the slumbering young one, raised his head at Wikus’ entry. “You went outside the District.” The prawn’s antennas droop in a sullen pout. “William smacked me on the head when he caught me trying to leave. Why didn’t he catch you?” Donald scratches at a plate on the back of his skull, indicating where William had struck him.
“I’m sure he didn’t hit you that hard.” Wikus knew that William held back from seriously injuring Donald whenever his temper flared and he was pushed as far as to strike the younger prawn, the loud crack of his hand against carapace startled the young prawn more than it truly hurt him. Wikus lies down in his nest; Barry sleepily burrows towards the new, familiar source of heat. Wikus drags his fingertips down Barry’s back, pinching the soft yellow cloth of the oversized children’s shirt, “And William doesn’t catch me because unlike someone I know, I don’t casually announce ‘I’m going outside today’ whenever I feel the need to treasure hunt beyond the perimeter of the fence.”
Donald mumbles something.
“I heard that.” Wikus’ grin is hidden underneath the pile of blankets. Donald finally shuffles over to his nest, pouting, but Wikus knows that by morning, he will be forgiven for leaving Donald behind, and William will be forgiven when he offers something shiny to the young prawn as an apology.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wikus holds out his arms, and Barry runs into his embrace.
The little prawn whimpers as the MNU armed officers swarm their neighborhood, another quarterly routine inspection. Barry all too well remembers the traumatic moment when his father had been held at gunpoint, another armed man staring down at him, as cold and untouchable as a marble idol.
Wikus coos gently, sitting underneath the shade of his shack. Donald, thankfully, hides inside, mostly due to Wikus urging him to stay out of sight and to not cause a scene, the prawn still very protective of his roommate and young son.
“Sir,” A young MNU agent speedily writes down a series of symbols across his clipboard, thick white paper stack firm and stationary. “Do you have any contraband or weapons on your property?”
“No.” Wikus offers no protest when the armed men begin tossing the few toys and debris peppered throughout his small yard, the men searching in vain for any illegal devices.
“Everything under control?” Elizabeth taps her pen on the rim of her clipboard. She can hear Donald inside the shack, a clatter of worried chirrs. She halts the men before they can open the door. “Leave it. I’ve searched here before. They do not have a history of violence or tickets.”
“Are you sure?” The MNU agent frowns, looking Elizabeth up and down, “I mean, it must be hard, having to sift through the trash just to make sure there is nothing to hide. Not want to risk breaking a nail?”
The two armed officers’ snicker behind the male agent’s back.
Elizabeth’s expression darkens. “Why don’t you focus on doing your job, rookie, before you try to have the balls to question how I do mine?”
The ricochet of bullets cuts off any further slurs. The MNU men and woman drop to the ground and shield their heads, clipboards and paperwork scattered.
“Fooking Nigerians!” The officers cover the two agents, guns at the ready. Barry keens, while Wikus curls around him while he shoves his back against the sturdy wall of the shack. Inside, Donald clacks in alarm, but he is smart enough to remain inside and out of danger.
“Stay down!” Elizabeth curses as the armored officer pushes her flat, his heavier bulk a shield that lies on top of her. “Infantry 1! Requesting assistance! Hostile fire!” The man shouts for reinforcements into his handheld radio.
The rising gale of incoming helicopters appears to do their job, and manage to scare off the gang members. The trio of choppers trails the whoops and catcalls of the young men hanging out the passenger doors of the stolen souped up truck.
Once the calm begins to set in, the male agent suddenly breaks down with a low wail, shaking violently. The roar of bullets, the screams, and the roar of violence too much for him, and succeeds in a glass-like shatter of his courage.
Elizabeth grunts with relief when the soldier crawls off her, allowing an intake of breath through her sore chest cavity. “Get him out of here.” She growls in disgust. The other soldier helps the MNU agent onto his feet, propping him up as he begins to half-walk, half-carry the young man back towards the armored truck.
“I’m fine.” Dust clouds puff off her clothing as she pats herself down. “Just…Just go and secure the truck. Make sure that a medic is on standby. I don’t think Stanford will be helping us to finish our inspection.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Barry starts to calm down as the choppers disappear over the rooftops, summoned by another distress call from a distant team of officers.
“God damn it.” Elizabeth mutters, crouched down and in vain tries to scrape up all of the paper documents scattered throughout the dirt. Wikus assists, his claws proving slightly difficult when he tries to pick up the thin, delicate leafs of paper. Barry stretches out his tiny claws towards the soft ripple and crack of the breeze across the surface of paper, the glow of stark white paper a natural lure for a curious sprawn.
“I’ll never find the D-79 spreadsheet in this mess…” The MNU agent mumbles to herself, packing handfuls of paper into an irregular pile at her feet.
Without thinking ― ‘No, when do you ever bother to stop and think, Wikus’ ― he recognizes the format of the illusive document, scoops up the tarnished spreadsheet, and holds it out for the young woman.
They both freeze. The paperwork hangs frozen in between their outstretched hands.
Barry snags the illusive piece of paper, and happily gums at the corner, the corner of the leaflet becoming sticky and bunched in between his soft mandibles.
A strange combination of elation and sadness spreads across Elizabeth’s features. She raises her gaze from Barry to meet his.
“We finally meet, Mr. Van der Merwe.”
Author: dreamerchaos
Pairing: ChristopherxWikus.
Rating: NC-17 overall.
Warnings: Language. Slash between an alien and a human(Or who was once a human, technically…). Gore.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this work of fiction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I must say that I am impressed.” Elizabeth politely accepts the sealed plastic water bottle which Wikus has dug out from the small cache inside an old ice chest, the prim, properly dressed woman an odd fixture inside his claustrophically small shack. The MNU agent doesn’t seem to notice how her rickety seat moans under the strain of her slight frame. She drinks from the bottle, taking tiny measured sips before placing the smooth container upon the rough lopsided tabletop. “You have spruced up your quarters, beyond my expectations.” She takes another look around the room, and eyes the corner where Donald has laid a spare nest, “I suspect that you are still a bit overprotective of your young one, since you still won’t allow your partner to share your nest, but I will let that slide.”
“Thank you.” Wikus isn’t brave enough to try and sit in the seat opposite from her. He had splinters in odd areas after the last time the three legged chair crumbled underneath his weight.
“You still have your license, correct?”
“Yes.” Wikus motions to the tiny metal lunch box partially concealed by the fringe of his nest of blankets and newspaper, “The documents are safe.” The prawn rarely allows the tiny ‘safe’ out of his sight, or out of mind.
Donald putters around the small shack, acting as a dutiful mate and father, gently bouncing Barry in his arms. The tall prawn keeps a wary, marble-bright eye on the strange human female, closely watching her as if waiting for the MNU agent to suddenly leap to her feet and pounce on him like a vampire out of legend.
“Do you ever have a day off?” Wikus asks, his voice lightly teasing.
Elizabeth chuckles, face glowing like a young child’s, “Don’t get me started!” Her fingers pick at the label of the water bottle, “I can’t believe the last six months. Moving from the United States to Johannesburg with a work visa…Long hours…seem as soon as I lay my head down on my pillow, I’m up and at ‘m bright and early.”
The MNU agent’s smile turns poignant. “But in a couple of years, it will all be worth it. It doesn’t matter that people look down their nose at me because I’m young, or white, or a woman…I don’t care that the other women snicker behind my back because I’m a workaholic and I can’t hold onto a good man. I’ve got bigger, better dreams than resigning myself to a desk and a stuffy husband and two screaming children strapped to my hip just because my dear Mom wants grandbabies.”
“A desk job isn’t so bad…” Wikus mumbles underneath his breath, remembering what he had taken for granted a year prior to his transformation into a prawn.
Donald stiffens, and Wikus fumbles, “…I mean! It must be nice to have work, and make money.”
Elizabeth didn’t appear to notice his folly and Wikus breaths a small sigh of relief when she does not become suspicious, or try to connect the dots with the small prawn’s unintentional slip. She chuckles. “Yeah…It isn’t so bad. But I always wanted to work at becoming an ambassador, so it made sense to work for MNU and develop more fieldwork experience. All I need is enough time, and I can update my resume and get out of here.”
“Bigger, better dreams,” Wikus can remember how it was to be so young and idealistic. His stomach twists, heart in his throat as he remembers a younger, still so beautiful Tania who had welcomed him at the MNU orientation for their newest promising employees. Wikus had been so nervous, and not knowing any of the other hired men and woman, had skulked about the periphery of the chattering, laughing crowd.
“You’re such a wallflower!” Tania’s vibrant laughter rings in his ears like the melody of chimes. She valiantly pulls at his wrist, “Come on! I’ll show you around. Just ignore all the rumors. My father isn’t such an ogre.” She whispers playfully.
“B-B-But I…” He digs in his heels, “What should I say to him?” He stutters.
“Let me do all of the talking.” Tania pulls Wikus alongside, and hails her father. Her soft blond hair swings about, a feathery halo floats around her head like a cloud. “Daddy! I want you to meet someone!”
“Ah, thank you, Donald.” Wikus accepts his son back, Barry’s chatter broken with little happy trills. “Dad-ddddy!”
“Ooh, sit down, Donald!” Elizabeth can longer sit back and watch the tall prawn dither and hover in the periphery, “You’re making me dizzy. Constantly circling!” Her laughter is not cruel.
Donald hesitates. Elizabeth pats the seat beside her.
“It’s okay.” Wikus’ lowers his voice, a gentle coax.
But Donald does not budge. “….she…is a strange creature.”
“Hey!” Elizabeth affects a look of hurt.
“You look funny.” Donald continues. “Not like the boys who shot down my friends. You have funny lumps on your chest. You…bounce, putter about everywhere and your voice is like a sharp harmonica when you get riled. And your skull is covered by long…things all tangled together.”
“Yeah? Well…you’re green.” Elizabeth mutters childishly. She pats fretfully at her frizzy hair. “And I can’t control the humidity!”
Wikus rolls his eyes. “She is a female.” At the young woman’s glare, he quickly edits his words, “She is Elizabeth. That is what makes her unique. Special. Like how I have one blue eye, and one gold. Special like you, Donald. You gather all kinds of little pretty stones and things, and hang the baubles on strings inside your shed so that the rays of the sun make them sparkle.”
“…William says to be careful. That she’s MNU. And…I’ve seen neighbors taken by MNU, and they never come back.”
Barry gurgles, gnawing avidly on Wikus’ tough finger. Wikus flexes the trapped appendage, and tickles his son’s chin.
“William worries.” Wikus knows that the black and white prawn cares about their safety, but secretly, the small prawn also wonders if their elder is somewhat jealous of the two prawns sharing a shack, while he has to live alone, the larger prawn holding little company beyond Wikus and Donald.
Wikus dares to glance out of the corner of his eye, stealing a look in Donald’s direction. ‘One wonders if William’s worries conceal a deeper affection for one particular neighbor.’ It would make sense for the older prawn’s hovering nature, and his irritation whenever Donald risked being sighted every time he ventured outside the District. On countless occasions, Wikus has also dared to squeeze through the thick fence line to leave a small metal flower for Tania. Only once has William ever gone searching for him in particular, and only the one time he happened to be around to catch Wikus in the act of wriggling in between the tight, jagged broken teeth of the slashed fence.
Wikus hasn’t tried escaping ever since, not wanting to endure for a second time the humiliation of being dragged by the root of his antenna through the District and back to their neighborhood, William hurling vile insults and threats while Wikus keened and apologized profusely, their various neighbors rolling across their yards with delighted mirth.
“He sounds like a good friend.” Elizabeth manages to smile once again, relived by the lack of discontent and insults.
“He’s bossy.” Donald mutters.
“Can be a bit of a brat at times,” Wikus helpfully adds. Elizabeth laughs behind her hand.
“Fooker!” Barry cheeps.
“Barry!!”
Elizabeth startles them all with a series of snorts, a shock of unbridled laughter, and immediately slaps her hands over her face in mortification.
“You sound like a piggy!” Donald crows, pointing accusingly.
“Oh be quiet!” Elizabeth moans, thumps her forehead upon the surface of the table and tries to hide her tomato red face in the folds of her arms.
“Piggy pig!” Barry mimics with a bright ripple giggles, Wikus’ ‘little parrot’. Donald howls with laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now watch.” Wikus scratches the letters into the dirt, Barry huddled in between his crossed legs, in awe of the strange symbols his father stencils into the hard packed soil. “B-A-R-R-Y. And this spells…”
“Me!”
Wikus laughs, “Yes!” He says, pride suffusing his words, “Very good, Barry!”
“Barry! Barry!”
“All right…” Wikus swipes away the human calligraphy, lest any MNU agents stumble across the evidence. It would not do for anyone to realize that ‘Walter Pemberton’ could write and read, not while the MNU office showing no signs of readiness to give up their search for the invaluable biological marvel.
And Wikus would die before they even dared lay their hands on his son.
‘When did it all change?’ He allows Barry to manhandle the long stick, his son scratching a crude caricature of his name, ‘When did I start looking at them as, ‘those humans’? When did I stop thinking of them as Mom and Dad? When did they start to be known as the enemy?’
With William distracted with chasing after Donald for another countless time to try and keep the young prawn within the District, Wikus seized his chance. With Barry laid down for a nap, Wikus dared the long trek to the dwelling that he and Tania had once shared.
Much to his dismay and surprise, he found the front yard overgrown with weeds, and strangely no vehicle in the driveway. When he peered indoors through the stained windows, he found that the rooms were silent and unoccupied, furniture lightly coated with dust.
His claws tap across the window sill, Wikus pondered the strange mystery. Was Tania now living with her father? Was that rat-bastard whispering more lies into her ear?
Mournfully, he was forced to abandon his vain search for answers, more questions bubble to the surface faster than he can scrounge up answers. Like a thief, a stranger outside the home he knew and loved, he skulked within the shadows, cutting across yards and the interstate in the dead of night to avoid any human or vehicle traffic.
Barry still slept on when he closed the door behind him.
Donald, half asleep, guarding the slumbering young one, raised his head at Wikus’ entry. “You went outside the District.” The prawn’s antennas droop in a sullen pout. “William smacked me on the head when he caught me trying to leave. Why didn’t he catch you?” Donald scratches at a plate on the back of his skull, indicating where William had struck him.
“I’m sure he didn’t hit you that hard.” Wikus knew that William held back from seriously injuring Donald whenever his temper flared and he was pushed as far as to strike the younger prawn, the loud crack of his hand against carapace startled the young prawn more than it truly hurt him. Wikus lies down in his nest; Barry sleepily burrows towards the new, familiar source of heat. Wikus drags his fingertips down Barry’s back, pinching the soft yellow cloth of the oversized children’s shirt, “And William doesn’t catch me because unlike someone I know, I don’t casually announce ‘I’m going outside today’ whenever I feel the need to treasure hunt beyond the perimeter of the fence.”
Donald mumbles something.
“I heard that.” Wikus’ grin is hidden underneath the pile of blankets. Donald finally shuffles over to his nest, pouting, but Wikus knows that by morning, he will be forgiven for leaving Donald behind, and William will be forgiven when he offers something shiny to the young prawn as an apology.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wikus holds out his arms, and Barry runs into his embrace.
The little prawn whimpers as the MNU armed officers swarm their neighborhood, another quarterly routine inspection. Barry all too well remembers the traumatic moment when his father had been held at gunpoint, another armed man staring down at him, as cold and untouchable as a marble idol.
Wikus coos gently, sitting underneath the shade of his shack. Donald, thankfully, hides inside, mostly due to Wikus urging him to stay out of sight and to not cause a scene, the prawn still very protective of his roommate and young son.
“Sir,” A young MNU agent speedily writes down a series of symbols across his clipboard, thick white paper stack firm and stationary. “Do you have any contraband or weapons on your property?”
“No.” Wikus offers no protest when the armed men begin tossing the few toys and debris peppered throughout his small yard, the men searching in vain for any illegal devices.
“Everything under control?” Elizabeth taps her pen on the rim of her clipboard. She can hear Donald inside the shack, a clatter of worried chirrs. She halts the men before they can open the door. “Leave it. I’ve searched here before. They do not have a history of violence or tickets.”
“Are you sure?” The MNU agent frowns, looking Elizabeth up and down, “I mean, it must be hard, having to sift through the trash just to make sure there is nothing to hide. Not want to risk breaking a nail?”
The two armed officers’ snicker behind the male agent’s back.
Elizabeth’s expression darkens. “Why don’t you focus on doing your job, rookie, before you try to have the balls to question how I do mine?”
The ricochet of bullets cuts off any further slurs. The MNU men and woman drop to the ground and shield their heads, clipboards and paperwork scattered.
“Fooking Nigerians!” The officers cover the two agents, guns at the ready. Barry keens, while Wikus curls around him while he shoves his back against the sturdy wall of the shack. Inside, Donald clacks in alarm, but he is smart enough to remain inside and out of danger.
“Stay down!” Elizabeth curses as the armored officer pushes her flat, his heavier bulk a shield that lies on top of her. “Infantry 1! Requesting assistance! Hostile fire!” The man shouts for reinforcements into his handheld radio.
The rising gale of incoming helicopters appears to do their job, and manage to scare off the gang members. The trio of choppers trails the whoops and catcalls of the young men hanging out the passenger doors of the stolen souped up truck.
Once the calm begins to set in, the male agent suddenly breaks down with a low wail, shaking violently. The roar of bullets, the screams, and the roar of violence too much for him, and succeeds in a glass-like shatter of his courage.
Elizabeth grunts with relief when the soldier crawls off her, allowing an intake of breath through her sore chest cavity. “Get him out of here.” She growls in disgust. The other soldier helps the MNU agent onto his feet, propping him up as he begins to half-walk, half-carry the young man back towards the armored truck.
“I’m fine.” Dust clouds puff off her clothing as she pats herself down. “Just…Just go and secure the truck. Make sure that a medic is on standby. I don’t think Stanford will be helping us to finish our inspection.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Barry starts to calm down as the choppers disappear over the rooftops, summoned by another distress call from a distant team of officers.
“God damn it.” Elizabeth mutters, crouched down and in vain tries to scrape up all of the paper documents scattered throughout the dirt. Wikus assists, his claws proving slightly difficult when he tries to pick up the thin, delicate leafs of paper. Barry stretches out his tiny claws towards the soft ripple and crack of the breeze across the surface of paper, the glow of stark white paper a natural lure for a curious sprawn.
“I’ll never find the D-79 spreadsheet in this mess…” The MNU agent mumbles to herself, packing handfuls of paper into an irregular pile at her feet.
Without thinking ― ‘No, when do you ever bother to stop and think, Wikus’ ― he recognizes the format of the illusive document, scoops up the tarnished spreadsheet, and holds it out for the young woman.
They both freeze. The paperwork hangs frozen in between their outstretched hands.
Barry snags the illusive piece of paper, and happily gums at the corner, the corner of the leaflet becoming sticky and bunched in between his soft mandibles.
A strange combination of elation and sadness spreads across Elizabeth’s features. She raises her gaze from Barry to meet his.
“We finally meet, Mr. Van der Merwe.”