HUMAN/SUPER First Contact 275

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” Genesis said. “Now I’m going to be even more reckless, since I’m basically immortal as long as I’m by your side.”

“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” Angela said.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”


The storm continued through the day and into the night. Their phones had long since run out of juice, so they spent much of the evening reading by candlelight. They found some board games in a cupboard and managed to kill some time that way, too.

By morning, they decided it was time to make a break for it. It was still raining but the wind had mostly died down. So while Angela made breakfast, Genesis started packing for the trip home.

As Angela slid a pile of sausages from the pan to the plate, she heard a noise; a high-pitched keening that cut through the patter of the rain. She went to the door and peered outside.

A little grey kitten, no older than a month or two, stood in the sand, wailing desperately. It was soaking wet and matted and looked like it hadn’t eaten in days.

“Oh my god!” Genesis gasped, leading in beside Angela. “That poor thing. It looks so lost.”

“I don’t see a collar,” Angela said. “It’s probably a stray.”

“Either way, we can’t just leave it there,” Genesis said.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Angela asked.

“Because you would have if I hadn’t,” Genesis replied.

She opened the door and took a step toward the cat. It shrank back, arching its spine. Genesis froze.

“It’s okay, kitty,” she said in a singsong. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Angela put her hand on Genesis’s shoulder.

“I have an idea.”

She summoned telekinesis and a sausage rose from the counter. It floated out the door and drifted slowly toward the kitten. The little animal crept forward, sniffing the meat. Angela pulled the sausage back, reeling it in like a fish. The cat hesitated at the doorway, but the lure of food proved too strong.