Heartbeat Away from Death

Chapter 11

(A/N: This chapter includes Casey Taylor, an OC by my friend, littletonpace. You can read about Casey in her fic When Skies Are Grey on fanfiction.net)

They arrived back at Sonya's apartment, Weaver banging on the door furiously.

"Easy. We don't wanna scare her," murmured Tom.

"You wanna talk about fear? We nearly got blown to hell because of this woman," Weaver snapped.

The door opened and Sonya was standing there, forcing a timid smile. "You're back," she said. Then when Weaver stormed through the door, she took her rifle out from behind her. "If you're coming in, I don't want any trouble."

"Too late for that," said Weaver. "We know it was you."

Grace followed them inside, Tom closing the door behind them. Sonya looked confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what we're talking about," said Tom. "You told them where we were going."

"Who?" she replied cluelessly.

"Who do you think? The aliens!" Weaver almost yelled.

"Alright, alright," Tom said, his hands signalling for calm. "Sonya, how about you put down that gun? We only want to talk."

Sonya sighed and placed her weapon against the wall. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt," she murmured.

"Hurt? They nearly killed us," said Hal under his breath.

"They just wanted to know where you were going," Sonya babbled. "They told me if I did what they said, I would have company again. I would have my children. I never wanted anyone to get hurt."

Tears began spilling from her cheeks as she blubbered into a hanky. But Grace wasn't listening anymore. A framed photograph on the wall took her attention. A family portrait of four. She recognised one to be Sonya, and a man beside her who must have been her husband. Two children were sat down in front of them, both brunette, both looking nearly in their teens. Amy and Joel. She remembered the spare room from earlier. The boxes of junk. The toys, the teddy bear. The little blonde boy. Then she suddenly felt sick. Those things weren't junk at all. They didn't belong to Sonya.

She pictured the boy in the grass, smiling cheerfully. Where was he now? Harnessed or dead?

She snapped. She took her knife from her boot and grabbed Sonya by the throat. Everybody took a step back in surprise. Grace had surprised even herself, holding Sonya down in the armchair, the knife against her throat.

"This isn't the first time, is it? How many other people have you given over to them? How many parents? Kids?"

Sonya was choking out words Grace couldn't hear, her eyes wide with terror.

"Grace, what are you doing?" demanded Tom. Grace couldn't see his expression but she knew he would have been looking at her with astonishment.

"She's been doing this since day one! Haven't you?" she yelled at Sonya, whose face was bright pink and wet with tears. "That's how she's still here. She's been selling people out. The spare room is full of other people's stuff. Stuff she took from them when she handed them over to the enemy! Tell me I'm wrong!"

"Grace..." she heard Hal say behind her. Even he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Grace, please. There's another way," Tom said.

"No." Grace could see red, and she could feel pain. The pain those people must have felt when they realised they had been betrayed, the fear when they saw the aliens had come for them. How many lives was this woman responsible for? This explained everything. Her safe, comfortable home. The food. The damn tea. It was all because she was working for them. "She'll do this again. She'll get people hurt, we can't let her go."