Dirty Liars

Percy’s back hits the concrete wall, heart pounding, reining in his breathing as he listens to the Fallen war party meander through the town square. There’s a man next to him, looking just as put out.

“Ay, Germaine,” he whispers.

“Hey.”

Their captain speaks in guttural tones. Maybe talks a little too long.

“So,” Germaine says. “How long you kept your cover here?”

“Shit, man,” Percy mutters. “You? I knew you were a dirty liar.”

“Eh, yeah. No more than you.”

“…Right. Makes sense. Two years.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

Germaine listened for a moment, and swore under his breath. Knew the language better. “They smell humans.”

“Hell. You goin’ out there?”

“Hell no, brother.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Hey, you too, man. Y’know what they say, YOLO.”

“I’m gonna get you grenaded,” Percy told him. “I swear.”

Germaine sucked on his teeth for a moment. “That’d be a damn shame.”

Percy filled his hand with the shape of a heavy hand cannon. He peeked past the edge of the wall and grimaced at the dozen aliens milling about decoy homes, but they were headed towards real people.

He sat back. “I’ll get you Marian’s chili recipe,” he told Germaine.

Germaine squinted for a moment, thought about it, and heaved a sigh. “Shit, okay. Let’s go.”