Fire in the Woods

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  The general’s nose flared. “You can make friends with a cobra, even call it your pet, but it could still turn around and bite you.”

  I raised my chin. “David would never hurt me.”

  A soldier approached, saluting the general. “Sir, we have set up a base for you. We can begin reporting at any time.”

  He nodded. “Tom, get Jess out of here. This is going to be a long night.”

  Dad’s grip tightened on my arm. “No. She stays. She’s had more contact with the aliens than anyone else, and I want her here.”

  A dull hum emanated from the ship above. The general grimaced. “Just keep her out of the way.”

  24

  We walked across the landing strip, past the smoldering debris of the gas tank. The blacktop indented and smoked, sunken and melted from the explosion. The heat in the ground seeped through my sneakers.

  As we neared what was left of the small airport’s control building, paramedics lifted two soldiers from the tarmac onto gurneys. A sheet covered one of the soldier’s bodies.

  “Unnecessary losses,” the general grumbled.

  My chest heated. “What do you mean? If you didn’t attack them, David would have gone home and everything would be fine.”

  The general turned and pointed to me. “You seem to forget, missy, that there is still a ship carrying enough firepower to wipe out a planet hovering over us. We’ve seen what these things can do. I think you have too much faith in your little purple friend.”

  Dad tugged my arm, keeping me back a few steps. “Just keep quiet, Jess. Stay out of the way.” He placed a gray sweat jacket around my shoulders. I hadn’t realized until it surrounded me how cold I’d become.

  We followed General Baker beneath a large khaki canopy. Dad sat me beside one of the tent poles and joined Maggie’s father. I zipped my jacket and shoved my hands in my pockets to fight off the chill.

  “Why haven’t they left the atmosphere?” Dad asked.

  The general tossed a paper report on the table in the center of the tent. “Because there is still a shiny green planet here, ripe for the picking.” He turned to the man at his side. “Are our people at the ready?”

  “They are in the air, sir.”

  “You’re not going to attack them,” Dad said. “That’s suicide.”

  “Suicide is sitting here and waiting.”

  A slight radiance edged up behind the trees to my right, illuminating the sky with a hazy pink hue. The fallen control tower cast an eerie presence with the bright glow behind it.

  Sunrise.

  The soldier working the communication station lifted the headphone from his ear. “Sir, we are getting reports from Jacksonville, Florida. The ship above their city is moving.”

  “Is it leaving?”

  “Negative. It appears to be rolling, sir.”

  I peeked out from beneath the canopy. David’s ship remained still.

  “Reports from New York and South Carolina are the same, sir. The ships are rolling.”

  “Are they taking the stance we saw in Zone One?”

  “Negative, sir. They are just rolling.”

  I pushed into the conversation. “What’s Zone One?”

  The general darted me an angry glance.

  Dad moved between us. “What happened in Zone One, Jack?”

  Maggie’s father threw his hat on the table. “As far as we know, it’s not there anymore.”

  Dad backed away. All signs of color drained from his face as he joined the others in staring at the liquid ship above. A twinge of doubt settled into my chest as Maggie’s father joined mine. The general nodded as Dad whispered something into his ear.

  I rose from the chair and slipped my hands in my pockets. Just sitting there and waiting was driving me crazy. I strode a few feet from the canopy for a clearer view of the black, swirling lake hanging above us.

  As I approached, a guy in a white lab-coat lowered some kind of laser-thingy he was pointing in the air and backed away from me, his expression grim. He blinked twice, and headed toward General Baker’s tent.

  They didn’t understand. David was going to save us. They had nothing to worry about.

  A cool breeze shanghaied leaves from the surrounding trees, funneling them across the field and dropping them onto the tarmac. Simple, ordinary nature. Dawn approached as it did every day. Nothing special. Unless we looked up.

  The communications officer beneath the canopy stood from his chair. “Sir, Florida and New York are both reporting tilt.”

  “No,” Dad said, moving to the man’s side. “It can’t be.”

  A woman at a computer screen turned. “Visual confirmation from Jacksonville. Their ship has tilted.”

  I ran beneath the tent and leaned around the general. The screen flickered with a staticky video of a ship similar to David’s. The gelatinous form spun and arched, the oval tilting perpendicular to the Earth.

  Dad hauled me back from the screen. I startled, finding Bobby standing beside him, his eyes reddened.

  “Jess, I want you to go with Bobby. He’s going to get you out of here.”

  “What? No.” I folded my arms. “What happened to me staying with you?”

  “That was when I thought David had a chance.”

  “Why are you giving up on him?” I pointed at the sky. “Look, our ship isn’t moving.”

  “Jess, please. I need to know you are…”

  “Sir, Jacksonville is reporting activity.”

  My father’s attention flung back toward the screen. The base of the Jacksonville ship mottled. A luminescence appeared. A painful pang coalesced in my throat as the glow turned from amber to orange. Blinding light flashed from the screen, illuminating the tent before leaving static in its wake.

  “We lost the feed, sir.”

  “Sir, New York is reporting heavy casualties. Massive damage. The Marines are engaging.”

  “Jess,” Bobby said. “Come on, let’s go.”

  I dug my heels in. “No. I’m not leaving.”

  “Sir, South Carolina is reporting tilt.”

  The general slammed his fist on the desk. “Tell the Marines to engage. Call out the Navy. And we are evacuating now. Someone get me the President!”

  A dull moan filled the air, and the breeze shifted. Sunlight cleared the treetops as the massive ship above began to spin.

  “Bobby, get the civilians out of here!”

  Chaos ensued as the people below the craft grabbed essentials and made for the waiting lineup of jeeps. Bobby reached for my arm.

  I flung his hand away. “No. Get off!”

  “Jess, we need to go. Now.”

  I weaved through the running people. “Dad! Dad, where are you?”

  Bobby caught up with me. “Major Martinez ordered me to get you to safety. Come on, Jess. Please?” His eyes pulsed with fear.

  “No. David won’t hurt me.” I backed away.

  “I really doubt your friend is at the controls of that thing.”

  The wind whipped up, blowing my hair over my face. Above, the ship rose slightly, and began to tilt.

  “Come on,” Bobby yelled, grasping my jacket. I struggled against him, but he dragged me back toward the road, and a jeep waiting with its lights on.

  Thomp.

  Early dawn turned to day. Bobby stopped pulling, but continued to hold my wrist in a death grip. Above, sparkling amber light illuminated the runways.

  “We’re leaving, now!” Bobby yanked my wrist.

  My hand tingled. Pins and needles numbed my fingers as I fought him. Twisting madly, I released the zipper on my jacket and wrenched away. My arm jostled free as the fleece slid off. I ran toward the center of the ship and the growing tube of light beneath.

  “David. David stop!” The hum drowned out my desperate pleas. The ground shook beneath my sneakers. “David!”

  The asphalt cracked. Dry, brown earth billowed from beneath, raising the tarmac, blocking m
e from the light.

  “David!”

  I tripped over the shaking gravel and slid down the newly formed slant of earth. Before me, the ebony ship lowered. Flickering amber sparkled, widened, and changed to deep, angry orange.

  “No,” I whispered, through gritted teeth. “No!” I shouted with all my might, but the shaking earth and increasing wind sucked the word from the air. I screamed, frustrated, but my voice was lost—even to my own ears.

  “David!” My lips moved, but the roar overcame. The orange glow expanded.

  I raised my hands into the air, and stepped into the light.

  The roaring stopped. Orange swirls surrounded me, dancing and swaying in a non-existent breeze. My eyelids lowered, heavy, demanding.

  Tired. So tired.

  I forced them open, struggling against the intense need to sleep.

  The lights above darkened, and I fought to hold my breath. My body shook as my skin heated.

  No. This was not happening.

  I clamped my jaw shut. Pressure invaded my nostrils. Tendrils searched me—clawing, gnawing with invisible fingers.

  Exhausted and suffocating, I exhaled. My hands reached for my throat as I gasped for a live-giving breath that didn’t come. The tarmac scraped my knees as I collapsed.

  Gazing up into the light, I used the last air in my lungs. “I trust you David. You would never hurt me.”

  My shoulder hit the pavement, and I rolled onto my back. The blinding light above singed my eyes. The world disappeared into an orange glow, pounding, throbbing, slowing with the pulse beating in my temples.

  “David?” I whispered.

  The world succumbed to darkness.

  ***

  Bright dark spots swayed before me.

  Breathe.

  Ringing accosted my ears.

  Breathe.

  The muscles in my chest burned. Ached. Needed.

  Breathe.

  I coughed, sucking in sweet, cool air. Orange orbs marred my vision. Eyes opened or closed, the strange lights taunted—blinding and searing. A push of my arm propelled me onto my stomach, and I inched up to my knees. I blinked three times as my eyesight struggled to return.

  Blurry, broken asphalt surrounded me. The earth, quiet below my feet, cooled to the touch of my fingers. Above, the glossy ebony orb swirled.

  Quiet. Waiting.

  I lifted up to my feet. Soldiers ran across the desolated airfield, shouting into the sky—shouting without voices. Their boots pounded noiselessly on the pavement. A frightening blanket of silence surrounded me, until the sound of my heartbeat reached my ears.

  A dull drone pressed my senses from above. Bobby came into focus across the airfield. His lips formed my name. He gestured for me to come to him.

  The hum deepened, the world quiet—but loud at the same time. The drone morphed, swirling into a buzz. The high-pitched squeal agitating, poking.

  “Jess, get away from there!” Bobby’s distant voice nudged through the piercing ringing in my head.

  A dismal thump sounded from the ship.

  The activity around the craft stopped. Soldiers froze in place, staring into the molded ebony above. The sound of my own heavy breathing reached my ears, and I wrapped my arms around my shoulders, unable to do anything but study the gelatinous mass threatening us.

  The ringing abated, replaced by a tingling hum from the air as the vessel’s shiny hull spun, glistening in the early sunrise. The ship lowered, floating lazily until it hung not more than a meter above my head.

  Bobby’s voice nudged me from a distant place as a swirl of calm settled within me, easing away my darkest fears.

  I smiled as the molten ebony coating the sky dappled and pinched, tucked and swirled.

  A small waterfall formed, inching slowly toward my face. The dark mass shimmered, forming a four fingered hand. Long digits reached out and rubbed my chin.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The cool fingertips gently stroked my cheek. The thumb brushed over my lips, the touch more tender than any I’d ever experienced. I relished the gentle gesture as the fingers drew tender lines down my neck and across my collarbone.

  “David,” I whispered.

  The hand began to melt back into the molten darkness. A lump formed in my throat as its animation slackened. I reached up and grabbed what was left of the fingers before they disappeared. “David, don’t go!”

  The hand reanimated, tightening around my wrist, drawing me upwards. I winced as the ebony digits melted into the hull of the ship, sucking my hand in with them. Frigid cold stung my skin. My wrist scorched, the pressure constricting and cutting. Something hot touched my palm, and a heated grip forced my fingers closed around it.

  The warm embrace released me, and the cold liquid propelled my fist downward. My hand slid free of the ship, leaving naught but a ripple in the shimmering ebony that quickly abated.

  My skin, cold and ghostly, prickled as it met the morning air. I opened my fingers, and the chain of my mother’s necklace tumbled out, catching on my pinky. The etching on the golden oval caught the rays of the rising sun, glinting happy sparkles of light onto the ship above.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” I whispered. “There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

  I reached up and dragged my fingers through the cool liquid metal. Short lines followed my hands, only to be swallowed up into glossy black perfection once again.

  A gentle breeze caressed me as the swirling fluid of the ship lowered and gently brushed its cool surface against my forehead. Bliss seeped into my skin, wrapping every inch of my frame in a blanket of pure, simple delight. My body trembled, soaking in the ecstasy of unadulterated joy.

  “I love you too, David.”

  The ship rose suddenly, sending debris scattering across the demolished airfield. Transfixed, I watched as the craft became a distant spec in the early daylight and finally disappeared.

  The weight of a blanket covered my back, and a gentle tug guided me forward. “It’s all right, Jess,” My father’s voice said. “I’ve got you.”

  A chair slipped under me. A light shone in my eyes.

  “The ships are leaving, sir.” An unfamiliar voice said. “All locations are reporting withdrawal.”

  Peace. Love. Contentment. Simply existing had become such an amazing gift. Joy swirled inside my very being, infusing itself and becoming part of me.

  “Her pupils are dilating.”

  Blurry movement drew my attention to the trees as a rack of antlers faded into the forest.

  “Jess, can you hear me?”

  I blinked hard, and Dad’s face came into focus. The creases in his forehead had deepened, matching the worry in his eyes.

  Inching out of my inner swaddling of paradise, I conjured a reassuring smile.

  “Thank God,” he cried, pulling me closer. “I was so scared, Jess. I was so scared.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, taking in his warmth.

  A flash blinded me, then another. I lifted my head in time to see a photographer back up a step and click off another round of shots. He had perfect placement: father holding daughter with the sun rising behind them. It was not quite how I wanted to get into National Geographic, but it would do for now.

  I settled my head back on Dad’s shoulder as the last traces of David’s euphoria ebbed away, replaced by the security of my father’s embrace. I reveled in his touch, finding love, comfort, joy, and safety despite the insanity still erupting around us.

  In the space of a few days, my life—everyone’s lives, had changed forever. I cuddled deeper into Dad’s arms and relaxed in his warmth. Sometimes change was good.

  I pressed the heated metal of my mother’s pendant into my palm. Its strength renewed me, coursing through the delicate gold and settling into my heart.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jess,” Dad said between tears. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  The l
eaves rustled in the forest, dancing in the dawn’s most beautiful sunrise.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I know.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Thank you so much for reading FIRE IN THE WOODS. I hope you had as much fun reading Jess and David's adventure as I had writing their story.

  As a special bonus, the first chapter of book two: ASHES IN THE SKY is included at the back of this book. Strap yourself in, because it's not over yet.

  Enjoy!

  Jennifer M. Eaton

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Everyone thinks of writing as a solitary endeavor. Believe me, it is far from solitary. Jess and David did not just fly out of my fingers one day. They developed over time. (One year and ten months, to be exact)

  I’d like to thank the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pens for helping me keep my head on straight through this whole process: Julie Reece, J. Keller Ford, Jocelyn Adams, Terri Rochenski, Joyce Mangola, Emaginette/Anna Simpson, Sheryl Winters, Claire Gillian, and Rebecca Hart

  Thank you, Georgia McBride, for “getting it” and loving Jess’s quirky voice as much as I did, and for your wonderful suggestions on making this story shine.

  Trial and error were definitely key to developing this story, as well as simple nudges (or sometimes slaps) in the right direction from my wonderful pool of beta readers and critique partners, some who read only small parts, others who labored over several complete drafts. I could not have done this without you.

  If I have forgotten to thank anyone, please attribute it to brain deterioration, and not to lack of appreciation.

  My partners in saving the human race:

  Julie Reece, Claire Gillian, Ciarla Rubertone (for checking Jess’s voice), Caitlin Stern, Ravena Guron, Kevin Stanley, Dawn Burne, Victoria Lees, Joy Eaton (for your insight into living on an Air Force base), Ron Grainger, Krista Magrowski, Danielle Ackley-McPhail, Mike McPhail (for your advice on artillery), Celia Lucente, Michael Kellogg, Georgina Morales, Dani-Lyn Alexander, Susan A., and Kevin Hanrahan of khanrahan.com (for your insight on police dogs).