When Earth is conquered by the sinister Greys and the alien who killed Evie's husband returns seeking her help, she must find a way to enact her revenge and fight the growing feelings for the creature who is an exact replica of the man she loved.
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Tom looked down to where my fingers encircled his forearm. He seemed transfixed by it, lost in some random thought or memory and it was all I could do not to grab him and shake him back to reality.
After a few seconds, he sighed and pulled his arm away, scratching idly at his skin, whether to rid himself of the goose-bumps or the ghost of my touch, I wasn't sure.
'Every one of us is important,' he said. 'We are the hive.'
'But there are so many of you. What does it matter if the hive loses one?'
'Does it only matter when you lose a large number of your kind? Does it hurt more when you lose a hundred? A thousand? I would have thought you would have understood the significance of losing just one, Evie.'
'Really?' I said, glowering at him. 'You really want to throw that in my face after I kindly didn't put a bullet in your chest downstairs?'
Tom had half the decency to look crestfallen, or at least, appeared to be. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to...'
'Yes, you did. You always do,' I accused. He flinched. 'Anyway, it's hardly the same,' I added.
'Why not?'
'Because...' I stopped. I wasn't sure if it was the same or not. Did the Greys even have loved ones? Family? Emotional connections, as opposed to this collective consciousness called the hive? Everything he had said and everything I had seen them do, just made me think they were cold, heartless, unfeeling – nothing but a tyrannical race intent on wiping out any species they chose. But the truth was, I didn't really know anything about them at all.
Tom looked down at his hands, pensive. 'You're right,' he conceded, softly. 'It's not the same. But that doesn't mean each one of us is not important to the hive.'
'You're expecting me to believe that they would still be hunting you after two years? I'm pretty sure they have more important things to be getting along with, you know, like conquering a whole world?'
'They did that already.'
I hated it when he did this, when he said these things that sounded so cold, so alien, that I couldn't work out whether his intention was to hit hard or whether he just had no idea of the impact of his words.
I moved away and shrugged the backpack off my shoulders, leaving it on the floor by the dresser. Sitting down on the end of the bed, I felt deflated and all of a sudden, wracked with a weighty exhaustion. I was tired of this. Tired of second guessing him all the time. Tired of being constantly on edge around him. Tired of my suspicions and paranoia. It was relentless, this never-ending circle of mistrust and fear and hatred.
'All I'm saying is that two years just seems a long time for someone who is apparently no one special in the great scheme of things. You must have some significance if they're going to send an army looking for you.'
