Alien Proliferation

Dejahl, things got started. “How are we going to protect the kids? I can’t figure out where stuff’s coming from, let alone come up with an idea of how to get everyone out of here safely.”
    “Maybe all we’ll be able to do is help them deal with their mutation. Not my preferred plan, but I’m not coming up with anything either.”
    I felt someone come next to us and I nudged White. “Rick, honey, when do you think this ceremony’s going to start?”
    “Soon, I think, Kathy. Let’s get closer.”
    “Or you could, you know, let those of us trained to do this handle it from here.” I looked to my right. Jeff was standing there, looking particularly annoyed. He was also in a T-shirt that said “Faire l’amour avec moi.” I looked down. He was in jeans and Vans sneakers. My jaw dropped.
    He closed it gently. “We bought out the gift shop down the street.” He looked at White. “Richard, get your hands off my wife.” He handed me my purse.
    “Sorry, Jeffrey, we’re undercover. Meet my trophy wife, Kathy.” White lifted his arm so I could put my purse over my neck, then put it back around my shoulders.
    I nodded. “Rick’s my sugar daddy.”
    Jeff shook his head. “I’m out of it for a little while and my uncle steals my girl.”
    I looked around. The rest of the team were in here, spread out. They were all in T-shirts. I’d never seen a group of A-C agents so casual in the entire time I’d known them. Christopher was across from us, Amy was with him. Abigail and Naomi were flanking Chuckie. The girls were in T-shirts and jeans, too. Jeff hadn’t been kidding, there was a happy gift store owner out of merchandise.
    “How’d you get in?”
    “Got out of the prison the way we’d been brought in, realized we looked like refugees, bought clothes, went to the ticket window, bought tickets. We got a group rate.”
    “I can only imagine. So they’re letting people keep coming in?”
    “Can’t keep anything from you, can we?”
    I noted Reader sauntering up the middle aisle. Unsurprisingly, he looked awesome and like he was on the runway. People looked at him, to the point where conversations stopped and heads literally turned. “Is it safe for James to be basically standing there saying, ‘Look at me, go for it, shoot the hottest guy in the room first’?”
    “My ego is what’s shot. My wife’s been stolen by my uncle and is casually telling me my gay friend is the hottest thing on two legs.”
    “I’m not the one wearing the pick-up shirt.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I’ll translate it for you later, Jeff. Are you guys going to do something, or should Rick and I go back to handling it?”
    Christopher looked over at us. He shook his head. “Good. No one’s altered yet.” Jeff sighed. “I think we can handle it.”
    “Christopher’s powers are scary.”
    “We’ll discuss scary once we’re out of this. I may never sleep again.”
    “Not to worry, Jeffrey. I’ll keep Kathy with me.” I could tell White was trying not to crack up.
    “Thanks so much.”
    “Oh, Jeff, Rick says Ronaldo up there is really Yates’ son, but likely not from Serene’s mother.”
    “Yeah, he hit like an A-C, so not a surprise. So you were right, then wrong, then right? Geez, that gives me a headache just thinking about it.”
    Reader took a seat in the front row. Literally. I wasn’t sure if there’d been a free one or he just moved someone over with the force of his cover-boy smile, but he was right up front. “Seriously, why is James the sitting duck?”
    An older man got up and started speaking in French. I could make out one word in about ten. However, it wasn’t hard to guess what they were saying. Only, words weren’t computing. My French wasn’t that awful. The person speaking wasn’t making sense, though. As far as I could tell, he was talking about Reader, not Al Dejahl.
    I looked over to where Christopher was. Chuckie and the Gower girls were next to Amy. I could see her talking to them. I watched her mouth move, then heard the words I was pretty sure she’d just said come out of the man who was giving the introductory speech.
    Wild cheering started, and then Reader stood up, turned around and waved. He was wearing a “Paris, je t’aime” shirt. It looked like designer-wear on him. The kids went nuts. The adults went nuts, too. “What’s going on?”
    “Top international male model, remember? The top. Before he retired?” Jeff was grinning. “He’s