I'm one, too," he said. "What?" He spit a wad of blood and mucus into the dirt. "A virgin." What a shock. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?" I asked. "You wouldn't have hit me if you weren't.

It was the price of survival. The cost of his people's last, desperate gamble: To rid his new home of humanity, he had to become human. And being human, he had to overcome his humanity.

Because promises matter. They matter now more than ever.

What were they thinking? 'It's an alien apocalypse! Quick, grab the beer!

Maybe you reach a certain point in evolution where boredom is the greatest threat to your survival. Maybe this isn't a planetary takeover at all, but a game. Like a kid pulling wings off flies.

But monsters, I now know, come in all shapes and sizes, and only their appetite for human flesh defines them.

It's an either/or world now.