Colliding Skies

by Debbie Zaken

  After an extensive security check that made airport security look like a joke, we were allowed into the White House. In the East Room, the President and the First Lady waited to greet the guests. My dress suddenly felt like it had shrunk while going through the X-ray machine. I could barely breathe as I shook the hands of America’s number one power-couple. The grand gold and white ballroom of the White House had seen many important moments in history, but this dinner would change the course of humankind, and I was about to be a part of it. We were all overwhelmed by the grandeur, except Dad, who was in his element. After shaking hands and taking a picture, he and President Soto chit-chatted like they were old friends.

  “Glad you could make it, Jonathan.” President Soto gave Dad a pat on the back. “I know those aliens have been keeping you busy.”

  “Just a tad, sir. Yes,” Dad answered.

  I wasn’t the only one who realized how important Dad’s position in the CIA was now that he was working with the Celeians. Mom beamed as bright as the gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling while Dad joked with the most powerful leader in the world.

  “Well, bring your lovely family over here for a picture,” President Soto smiled at Mom. “I’ll even let you put it on social media, as you young folks like to do.” He winked in my direction and his gaze dropped to my neckline, lingering there a bit too long. A ripple of revulsion slid down my back.

  Ugh. Creeper.

  Once inside the ballroom and away from President Creeper, I took a Diet Coke from the white-gloved hand of one of the waiters and surveyed the room. Everyone who was anyone in Washington, D.C. had shown up. Politicians, diplomats, military elite, prominent business people all dressed in elegant tuxedos and beautiful evening gowns, assembled to greet the Celeian delegation. But even among the distinguished guests, the extraterrestrial gods stood out. About ten of the beautiful aliens talked and mingled with the average-looking Earthlings. The eerie sight made a few strands of hair on the back of my neck that had loosen from my chignon stand up.

  I recognized Abigail at once. From her angel face, to her long, golden locks, and perfectly curved body, her beauty was unnerving. In person her presence was more imposing, more otherworldly. A trail of goose bumps ran down my arms as I watched her standing by the famous Lansdowne portrait of George Washington. She looked as regal as a queen in a fitted flesh colored gown with red embroidered leaves running from her neck to her shapely hips, like molten lava on her bare skin.

  Next to her were two more extraterrestrials: a tall, statuesque brunette with vibrant violet eyes, accentuated by the purple gown she wore, and a slightly older man with light blond hair and cat-like green eyes. An almost imperceptible glow accompanied their skin, like the kind promised by beauty products yet never really delivered. The three stood quietly observing the Earthlings schmooze at what had to be the most bizarre cocktail party in history.

  And then my eyes fell on him. Recognition socked my head like a sledge hammer; I gave it a shake. I’d seen him in a dark field for less than five minutes. Still, he looked too familiar. The tall, lean frame, the jagged layers of tousled hair—a lighter brown under the soft glow of the chandeliers. Even in the dark and scared out of my wits, I’d noticed how handsome he was. But now, in a classic black tuxedo and no weird sunglasses covering his face, he was exquisite. And not human. Although he stood slightly apart from the trio of aliens, his shocking neon-blue eyes left no doubt that he did not hail from Earth.

  Eye surgery, my ass.

  I gaped at him, stunned and slightly entranced, while he wandered at the people in the room. His eyes met mine, and the contemplative look on his perfectly chiseled features disappeared. Disbelief slackened his jaw. Our gaze locked, and the flickers of neon blue light in his eyes intensified. The same tingling warmth I’d felt the night before spread through me. In a blink, the room disappeared. I found myself gliding in the air, being pulled by some invisible force, until I came to stand face to face with him.

  “Skye? Skye!”

  Dad’s voice snapped me back to reality. I returned to the grand ball room, standing exactly where I’d been before. With my breath coming short and fast, I gave my head a shake. I had no idea what had just happened, but I had to get hold of myself. Avoiding the handsome alien’s gaze, I took one last deep breath and faced Dad. He stared back at me with a puzzled look on his face.

  “This is General Steven A. Manning, the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Dr. Laura Green, NASA Administrator, and her husband, Jason.” His hand signaled to the two men in black tuxedos and the woman in a long, black evening dress that on any other day I would have jumped at the chance to meet. But it was the second name that caught my interest and sobered me up completely.

  General Manning?

  Taylor’s father. Having no idea if he knew about me, I decided to feign ignorance. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  My smile was polite, while my eyes searched for even the slightest resemblance, but I could not find Taylor in the round face, long, broad nose and thin, almost non-existent lips of the man shaking my hand.

  “You have a beautiful family, Dr. Reilly,” he told Dad.

  I shook hands with the doctor and her husband and then took another quick glance at the general. He radiated authority—plain features, baggy chin, receding hairline and all. His proud, rigid stance and his austere, deep set eyes left no doubt that his orders were always followed. At a military base and at home.

  “Thank you,” Dad responded. “Is your family here?”

  General Manning gave him a tight, lipless smile. “No, they couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Well, we’re going to get a drink before dinner starts,” Dr. Green interrupted, putting her hand on her husband’s arm. “It was a pleasure meeting you all.”

  The three made their way through the crowd to the bar at the end of the room.

  “Come on,” Dad said. “There are a few other people I need to introduce you to.”

  He pushed Mom, Chase and me along to where the four Celeians stood with the same detached look on their faces. My eyes fell on I Just Had Eye Surgery alien again and my pulse skyrocketed.

  What is wrong with you? Sure, he’s beautiful. He’s also a liar.

  But with every step, my blood pumped faster. Eye Surgery alien seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed on the far side of the room. Yet, his face tensed the closer we got.

  “Hello Jonathan,” Abigail greeted my father. Her voice was heavenly, like the sound of a beautiful choir rising to the dome of some ancient cathedral.

  “Abigail, this is my wife Dannah.” Dad placed his hand on Mom’s back, almost as if to encourage her.

  Mom remained frozen.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Abigail flashed her a smile.

  Something about her eyes caught my attention. They were a deep shade of blue, similar to the handsome Celeian who was doing such a good job at ignoring me and making my heart sprint. But whereas his were galvanizing, even as they glanced past us, hers appeared flat, showing no emotion at all.

  Not flat. Cold. Artic cold. And sharp. Like jagged pieces of ice-blue glaciers.

  “Likewise,” Mom replied. She made an effort to smile, but her gaze dropped to the floor.

  “And this is my daughter, Skye, and my son, Chase,” Dad continued.

  Abigail looked at me and I shivered. Being face-to-face with her was too intimidating, too much beauty to take in all at once.

  “Skye, what a lovely and unique name.” Her full red lips curved up for half a second. “And Chase…”

  When she turned the full force of her glacial eyes on Chase, he gulped audibly. I was sure part of him wanted to hide behind Mom, wrap his arms around her the way he used to when he was little.

  “Please, let me introduce you to some of the other leaders of our delegation,” Abigail said. “This is Aaron and Naomi.” Her delicate hand pointed to the blond male and the stunning brunette in purple.


  Biblical names. All of them. Familiar, comforting…and not a coincidence. I’m sure of it.

  “And this is my brother, Ethan,” Abigail continued.

  Ethan. Good choice, Eye Surgery guy.

  I instinctively glanced up at him, but he looked past me to my mother and brother. He gave them a polite nod, and my gaze sunk to the floor. Humiliation flared my face. A little recognition would have been nice. After all, he’d been the one creeping around in dark bushes, almost giving me a heart attack.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Mom said in the same tense manner.

  Just then an announcement came from the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight. We have a splendid evening planned for you. Our program is about to begin. Please follow the ushers to the South Lawn, where a wonderful dinner is waiting for us.”

  “Well, we should go find our seats,” Dad said.

  “Of course,” Abigail responded. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Dinner was served in a large enclosed tent on the Southern Lawn of the White House. Inside, the tent was as spacious and elegant as any banquet hall I’d seen—made even more impressive by the elaborate chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and the dazzling views of the National Mall that could be seen through the clear panels. The tables were arranged with gorgeous bouquet centerpieces, gold plated flatware and porcelain china.

  The President, along with top government officials and their spouses, sat at a long, rectangular table at the front. Abigail, Naomi, Aaron and Ethan took their places at the head table. From my seat, only a few tables away, I had a clear view of him and I thought he could see me, too. But again, he did a fantastic job of pretending I didn’t exist.

  Unfortunately, I sucked at sneaking glances. Of their own accord, my eyes constantly drifted to him. I tried to focus on happenings at my own table, but the more he ignored me, the more I wanted to crack through his mask of indifference.

  A faceless waiter set a plate of food in front of me that I barely touched. The speeches started and I became faintly aware of different people getting up on stage. President Soto, Vice President Becker, the Secretary of State, and of course, the unmistakable dulcet voice of Abigail. I caught phrases—tidbits of the speeches here and there: peace, new era, humankind, advances in science, research, but they all jumbled into a buzz in my ear. The only thing I was truly aware of was Ethan. Still, he didn’t meet my gaze, his eyes engrossed in whatever they saw on the other side of the tent. His brows furrowed in a look of deep concentration.

  The dinner plates were being cleared, the last speaker stepped off the stage and the applause was dying down when an unexpected shrill noise pierced the room. People squinted and covered their ears at the loud feedback coming from the microphone. Ethan’s head snapped to attention. Our eyes locked and I was no longer in my seat.

  This time I flew fast. The room whizzed below me as I catapulted through the air. And just as quickly as I flew, my feet touched the ground. Ethan stood right in front of me. The dining hall had disappeared, and around us only the night sky. I gazed into his eyes, dark pupils surrounded by blue and white sparks. A pull drew me to him like a magnet, its pressure tugging my body forward. And then the force broke, unleashing me from its grip and I sprang back hard in the air. I gasped when I found myself sitting in my seat, having never really moved at all.

  My breath came in short spurts, my heart drummed out of my chest. I felt lightheaded, like I’d just gotten off a stomach-churning roller coaster ride.

  “Skye, sweetie, are you all right?” Mom looked at me with worried eyes. “Honey, you’re as white as a ghost. Are you sick? Do you want to go home?”

  I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and covered my eyes. It took a minute, but the room stopped spinning.

  “No, Mom. I’m okay. I think I just need some air.” I rubbed the clammy sweat from behind my neck.

  “Are you sure? Do you want me to go with you?”

  I shook my head. Waiters started serving dessert and coffee, and a string quartet played soft, classical music on the stage. “It’s okay. You stay here and enjoy dessert. I’ll be right back.” I dropped my eyes to the floor and rushed out.

  Outside, the cool evening air refreshed my flushed face. I let it fill my lungs, my heart slowing down to its normal rhythm. Crossing the lawn, I headed toward the South Portico that was now empty. I leaned my elbow on one of the cocktail tables, resting my head in my hand as I gazed at the Washington Monument. The alien craft had landed only a week ago; the shiny vessel had been moved to an undisclosed location within hours of its arrival. But the glowing blue Pillar of Knowledge in the distance served as a reminder that everything had changed.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Miss.”

  I spun toward the source of the gruff voice. A man in a black tuxedo stood a few feet away from me.

  “Sorry, I was just getting some...” I started to say, when I took a closer look. The man was not the secret service agent I was expecting, but he didn’t look like a normal guest either. His face was flushed and his breathing heavy. Little beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. The muscles in my stomach tightened. “Fresh air,” I finished.

  “No. You need go back to your family and leave. Now.” Signs of agitation were all over his face: the panting, the sweat that plastered his blonde hair to his head and streamed down his cheeks. I followed his wide, restless eyes as they bounced from the Pillar of Knowledge in the distance and back.

  Oh, no. This is what Taylor warned me about. How did this person ever get through security?

  The evening breeze turned into a chill. Instinct called to me. My feet itched to sprint, to get away and find help. But some part of me knew it was the wrong thing to do. I dug my high heels firmly into the ground. The way his right hand gripped in a fist at his side caught my eye. He was holding something; his fingers twitched around it. Tension, like bile in my stomach rose to my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. A trail of cold sweat streamed down my back.

  “What do you mean, sir?” I tried to make the question sound innocent, but I was stalling. The White House had more security than Fort Knox, so where were all the secret service agents when you needed them? Someone had to come soon. Someone with a gun.

  “You think this party and all this fanfare is good?” His voice creaked. “Why do you think they’re here? What do you think they want?”

  I took a deep breath and blinked, forcing my eyes not to search for any approaching help.

  Stay calm. The last thing you want is to make the guy possibly holding a bomb detonator in his hand any more jittery.

  “I don’t think you want to do this, sir.” I was surprised by how low and even the words sounded, different from the panicked screams in my head. “We don’t know for sure that they want to harm us. It doesn’t seem that way to me.” Another breath and I swallowed down the lump of nerves drying my mouth. “And think about all the innocent people inside. People with families and loved ones. You don’t want to harm them.”

  His dilated pupils zeroed in on me, his forehead wrinkling, like something I’d said had resonated with him. I remained silent and concentrated on breathing, and not puking the bile in my stomach. For a second, I thought my words had sunk in. Then he burst into a wild laugh.

  “You’re one of those who believes all this hippy-shit peace and love crap, aren’t you?” He took a step closer, his fist pumping the object in his hand. “Well, let me tell you something. I’ve served my country. Seven deployments, seven fucking deployments to Iraq, while you were still in diapers. I know war when I see it. And you know what, we lost. We lost this war before it even started.” Another step. The acrid odor of his sweat filled my nostrils. “Those people in there—they’re all going to die! Millions will, unless we do something. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  My gaze jumped from the glowing blue pillar to his right hand, running through the options as fast I as could in my head. Try to grab it? He was tall, in his late thirties or early for
ties, still fit and strong, probably as much as he’d been when he was in the service. No, physical confrontation was out. Make a run for it? Yes, I could do it. Toss these constrictive stiletto heels and run like my bare feet were on fire. But would it be fast enough to outrun him? And if he caught me, it would boil back down to physical confrontation. Not good.

  The only thing you can do is stall him. Someone is bound to spot us soon.

  “But this isn’t the way. You’re a hero, sir,” I said. “Hero’s don’t hurt inno—”

  “Lieutenant Daniels!” A sharp voice called from behind. “Step away from the girl and come with us.”

  Two men in black suits pointed their serious-looking guns in our direction, and next to them standing very still was Ethan. My jaw fell at the site of him, and for a second, I completely forget about Lieutenant Lunatic and the bomb detonator in his hand, until my eyes jerk back to him.

  “His hand!” I yelled. “There’s something in his right hand.”

  Secret agent number one met my gaze. “Lieutenant Daniels, I want you to stay very still while Miss Reilly walks toward us. Do you understand?”

  Lieutenant Daniels didn’t say a word. His face was blank, as if he had forgotten where he was.

  “Don’t move, Lieutenant,” the agent urged.

  I didn’t see how Lieutenant Daniels could move as he seemed to have gone catatonic, but then he gave a slight nod.

  “Okay, Miss Reilly,” Agent number two said. “Walk over here slowly, please.”

  With both barrels pointing at the Lieutenant, I suppressed the urge to sprint and lumbered toward the three figures in front of me. Maybe it was because of the tension that burrowed his brows, or the way his lips pressed into a thin line, or maybe because his gaze followed my every step, that I ended up coming straight to Ethan’s side.