The Rain: The End by Marietta Standlee (good summer reads TXT) 📕

the wall to my right, two stalls, painted auburn red to my left. Across from me is a small sitting area, completed with a short side table, offering water and glasses.

Missis McFarland leans against one of the stall doors while Missis Fedorov takes a seat on the couch. With a sigh, she slips off her shoes, exposing her swollen ankles, eliciting instant sympathy from me for her.

"I didn't want to speak with Ka in the room," I explain; my throat is suddenly dry, and I scold myself. These are just people. Married to the most powerful men on Earth, yes, intimidating, you betcha, but women, nevertheless. I have faced enemies with more bravado; I really need to get a grip on myself.

Missis McFarland arches an elegantly plucked eyebrow; in her forties, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

The last time I was in a girl's bathroom comes back to me. It was in high school, just before we were attacked, and I faced those girls with more courage than I seem to possess right now, and those girls were hostile; these women are not.

"Are you suggesting Ka is not to be trusted?" Kathleen McFarland asks.

"Yes. I mean, no." I absolutely hate myself right now for being so tongue tied. "He tried to kill us. He ordered his sister killed."

Thoughtfully she rubs her chin while Missis Fedorov remains quiet, massaging her feet.

"You know that for a fact?" Kathleen double-checks.

"I don't have proof, if that is what you're asking, Missis McFarland, but yeah, I'm sure."

"Please call me Lee." The President's wife offers.

Missis Fedorov pipes up for the first time. "Oksana. Our men might have to be formal but thank God we don't any longer." She laughs out loud; it's warm and teases a smile from me.

"Thank you, Lee, Oksana. Will you tell your husbands that we need to talk to them, alone?" I finally seem to be able to find my wits again.

They both nod. "I didn't trust that Ochre from the beginning," Lee says with vigor.

"Didn't he save your life?" Oksana inquires.

I lean against the sink. "Yes, he did, mine and some others. I don't understand what is going on, what made him change, or if this is a ploy, I really don't know; I'm not good at politics."

"Well, thank God, our men are; they'll figure it out," Oksana states with conviction.

"We'll better get back before the Ochre becomes suspicious," Lee suggests.

The way Lee says Ochre makes produces a smile from me, I think this is the most fitting name for the aliens I have heard so far.

We return to the main room, where the men are quietly talking to each other, Colin just said something, and the Russian President laughs out loud, smacking McFarland on the shoulder. Lee saunters over to her husband, who puts his arm around her, and Oksana waddles more than she walks. Her husband watches her approach with a worried expression on his face, says something, and she nods.

"It is getting late; my wife needs some rest; if you'll excuse us, we can talk more in the morning," Fedorov announces.

Ka watches the other two women and me carefully, suspicious of what might have been said. I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry about Vren. There was nothing we could do; by the time we realized what happened, she was already dead."

He looks at me surprised. I force myself not to flinch and appear innocent. As if I don't suspect him of double crossing us at all.

"Do you think it was the IFC who tried to kill us?" I ask, referring to the alien's Intergalactic Farming Corporation, responsible for most of the destruction on Earth.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. I have him; in my mind, I pat myself on the back. Who knew? There might be a small possibility I'm learning politics after all.

Chapter 8

Litvin and Dimitrov are still waiting outside for us, ready to take Colin and me to our room. After promising somebody will be by with refreshments, they take their leave. The room is smallish, cave-like, with two bunk beds and an adjoining bathroom. On two bunks, we find clean clothes and a set of toiletries. Letting rock, paper, scissors decide who can use the bathroom first, Colin wins. Which is fine by me; I use the time to lie on one of the bunks and stare at the rocky ceiling. By a small table is an analog clock, the only thing that will tell us when it's morning; right now, it pronounces nine thirty-two pm. I hear Colin shower and smile as long as we're together; I can pretty much handle anything.

When I'm done with my shower, I find the small table turned so that Colin and I can sit on opposing bunk beds and eat. The table itself has been loaded with two trays of steaming food.

"About time; I was just going to start without you." He grins.

I roll my eyes and take my seat, carefully smelling the food. It's a sort of stew, with some kind of sausage and what appears to be sauerkraut. Next to it, is the greyest bread I've ever seen.

"Here goes nothing," I say courageously.

Colin looks amused. "Drama queen. You ate dinosaur meat." He winks at me. "It's actually really good."

And it is. The bread is crunchy on the outside and just the right amount of gooey on the inside. The stew itself is so delicious that I find myself using the bread to get the last of the sauce out of the bowl once it's all gone. Happily, I lean back and am just about to call it a night when somebody knocks on our door.

"Come in." Colin invites.

It's Dimitrov, "The Presidents would like to see you now, privately."

I groan, no rest for the weary, I guess. The clock shows a little before eleven pm; I suspect this will be a long night as we follow the two men out into the hallway. Dimitrov leads us back the same way we