by Gina Ranalli
-No arguing. It’s after nine. Come on in. Both of you.
Jo and I give each other sad looks but relent without further complaints. She races ahead and I grab the now empty popcorn bowl, carry it inside and close and lock the sliding glass door behind myself.
I look out one last time at the sky and see a bright blue light skimming just over the distant trees. Cocking my head, I frown, wondering what it is. A plane, I think, but then the light goes up, flying higher into the sky vertically. The speed with which it moved was astounding. I’m still staring when another blue orb joins the first one and they both proceed to do a kind of dance together, bobbing up and down like mating gnats.
-Beth?
I swallow hard and slide the door open again.
-Beth!
-Hold on, babe.
I barely hear her reply. I step back out onto the deck and the popcorn bowl slips from my fingers, clattering to the pine boards.
Bending over, I peer through the telescope, trying to get a fix on the flying objects but it’s difficult. They’re bobbing too fast, doing their strange dance around each other.
-What are they?
Jo’s voice, from behind me, makes me jump.
-I’m not sure.
I try to keep my voice level but inside I’m buzzing with both excitement and fear.
-Go tell your mom to bring the video camera out, okay?
-I don’t want to miss it!
-Just go tell her, honey.
She huffs a sigh and marches off and I go back to the telescope, wondering if I should call someone. But who? The police? Of course, they’re probably already getting bombarded with calls so it might not be the best idea.
-Jeff?
I quickly glance over my shoulder at Beth and then point at the orbs. Her jaw falls open.
-Get the camera, okay, babe? I think this is important.
-What are they?
For some reason, I smile.
-I have no idea.
But I do have an idea. Of course I do. Anyone seeing the UFOs will have an idea.
Beth hurries away just as the objects get closer. Not close by any means but closer. I’d estimate they’re still at least ten miles away. Assuming they’re the size of an average airliner, which I suppose isn’t that safe an assumption.
When Beth returns she has the camera, Jo trailing behind her. She’s already recording what we see, Jo clinging to her leg, staring up at the sky with more wonder than I’ve ever seen on her face. She doesn’t look frightened exactly, but not particularly excited either.
-I’m sure there’s a good explanation for this.
The lights bob and dance, drawing closer still and then, like a lightning strike, a realization comes to me.
-Someone is watching.
-Huh?
Beth is still recording and doesn’t glance at me. I don’t glance at her either but I can’t shake the feeling.
-Who’s watching? The neighbors?
-No. someone else. From far away.
Now she does look over at me.
-Are you okay?
Slowly, I shake my head. I can’t look away from the dancing lights now. I’m mesmerized and even though I’m completely aware of my surroundings, I suddenly feel as though I’m in a trance. My own voice sounds foreign to me.
-Who is that?
From the corner of my eye, I see Beth lower the camera, staring at me.
-Babe?
She touches my shoulder.
I repeat myself.
-Who is that?
-Who’s what? In those things?
The lights continue to bob and dart in the night sky, the most beautiful blue I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like the irises of God.
-Something isn’t right.
Beth, maybe unconsciously, takes a step forward, getting between Jo and the deck’s railing.
-What’s not right? You’re starting to freak me out a little, hon.
I’m sweating, my palms damp, and I tip my head to one side, studying the nearing UFOs.
-Two of them?
An agonizing pain shoots through my skull and it takes everything I have to keep from screaming as I bend over clutching my head in both hands. I don’t want to scare my daughter. I cannot scare my daughter.
-Get her inside!
Beth, trusting me in that amazing way she always has, doesn’t question the command. She just takes Jo by the hand and they disappear into the house.
When I think they’re a safe distance away, I cry out.
-Who are you? What are you doing in there? Get out!
I grip my hair in both fists and pull, for some reason thinking this will ease the pain that I’m positive is splitting my head in half from the inside.
It doesn’t.
Falling to my knees, I look up and see the strange lights are closing the distance. They might be ten miles away now. Might be.
They’re bigger than I had first thought. Much, much bigger.
-Please. You can’t take my life.
And I’m sure that’s what he—or they—want. They want my life. He’s watching me now, so closely, with such a studious interest, desiring everything I have.
He means to replace me. I can feel his intent, almost hear his thoughts, which are so oddly similar to mine. It’s almost my own voice in my head, but not quite.
Not quite.
-I won’t let you! Go away! Go the fuck away!
-Jeff!
Beth is back, crouching on the deck beside me and I can feel him taking her in. Wanting her for his own.
The sweat is pouring off me now, soaking through my shirt, running in rivulets down my face and neck.
The next time I look up, the lights are nearly upon us and I realize…I realize…
-Come on!
Beth begins to drag me into the house, seizing one arm and pulling as hard as she can. She’s so damn strong, my wife. So strong. Like our kid.
-They’re mine, you fucking bastard!
From somewhere in the house, I can hear my daughter. She’s crying now.
I’m crying too and fall down on the living room floor, still clutching my head.
The bastard is me.
CHAPTER SEVEN—The Junkie (4)
I’m still in the basement and still not particularly happy about it. That last jaunt into Whereverland was a rough one—left me feeling rattled and exposed. Like a trespasser.
Halleck isn’t around at the moment and Hoop is upstairs doing his barkeep thing. They say I’m not a prisoner but I sure as fuck feel like one.
When I told them what happened with the family man me, they both seemed fascinated, Halleck even took notes. They wanted to know every detail and I told them everything except one: Jo was my little sister’s name. She was raped and murdered when we were kids. I was twelve and she was ten. I kind of always thought if I had a daughter—god fucking forbid—I’d name her Jo. But so far I’ve managed to not get caught in that particular prison—again, thank fucking god. I’m smart enough to wrap the rascal on the few occasions I do get lucky. The last thing I need is a brat running around or at the very least some woman nagging me for money because she has a brat running around. No thanks. Those of the snot-nosed variety are not for me.
But the whole thing gets me thinking. Did family man me have a sister too? He must have, right? I mean, he’s me. And yet, he was so happy. He’d stayed in school, not dropped out at thirteen like I did, and then gone on to meet the love of his life. Would that have happened to me had I not let the death of my kid sister consume me? Would I have developed a love for the stars? For life?
He clearly had a good job, though I have no idea what that might have been. Could I have found out though, had I been curious?
I think I could have.
And the blue lights? What were they? Aliens? Or am I the alien? The one he sensed watching him?
It seems more than likely. Probable, even.
This is so fucked up. I can’t really wrap my head around it.
> I need to get out of here. Get some fresh air. Maybe find Harvey and ask him what he really knows about all this shit, if anything. Maybe he really is, like Halleck said, just a parrot, telling me only what Halleck had told him about the drug. It seems out of character for Harvey though. The guy is a pain in the ass but not stupid. At least, I’ve never known him to be.
Climbing the stairs, I open the door at the top of them, entering the back room of Sennacherib’s. There are cases of alcohol everywhere and it’s more than tempting to help myself. I also have to wonder where Hoop is getting so much booze. It’s not as attainable as it used to be.
I shrug these thoughts away, making a mental note to get back to them later. For now I just want out of here.
Poking my head into the bar area, I see the place is nearly deserted. Only one guy inside except for Hoop himself who, as usual, is busying himself with a dirty magazine.
There’s no way I can walk out there without him noticing, so I decide to just do it and if he gives me any shit…well, I hope he doesn’t. I’m not really the fighting type. Too skinny and not all that crazy about pain either.
I walk out, acting casual, like I’m not a prisoner at all. I have every right to leave the bar if I want.
Hoop looks up from his magazine just like I knew he would.
-Going somewhere?
-Yeah. Anywhere but here. You gonna stop me?
-Nope.
He looks down at his magazine again, completely indifferent to me.
I hesitate.
-You’re not? For real?
-I don’t give a fuck what you do, Eon. But a word of advice. Be back tonight if you still want to continue your little trip fest. If not, we’ll just find someone else. No skin off my dick.
Thinking about this for a moment, I stay right where I am. About fifteen feet away from the door and, potentially, freedom.
-I thought you guys wanted me specifically.
-You think you’re special?
He laughs a little.
-Like there are no other junkies in the world? Are you shitting me?
The word junkie makes me bristle when he says it, even though I know good and goddamn well that’s exactly what I am.
-Fuck you, Hoop.
I head for the door.
He chuckles again.
-Be back in time for dinner, sugar tits.
Ignoring him, I push open the door and step into the gray day. Afternoon, it turns out. Telling time in that dungeon of a basement is next to impossible, especially given the constant cloud cover and the fact that the windows only afford a view of the Northern sky and the lower half of people’s legs as they pass by the bar on the sidewalk.
I start strolling in the direction of the rooming house, another headache teasing at my temples. I feel like shit again. Just drained. And I still have the thirst, whatever that’s about. Tired, even though I haven’t been up to anything particularly strenuous.
As usual, there aren’t many people on the streets but I do pass by a pack of dogs surrounding a homeless dude sitting on the ground, his back against an old abandoned shop of some kind, now all boarded up and tagged with graffiti and crude drawings of tits and dicks.
-Change?
-Nope.
I keep walking, picking up the pace. I’m trying to decide if I even really want to go back to Sennacherib’s or not. The trips are crazy. Good crazy or bad crazy—I don’t know. And the whole being a guinea pig. Not sure how I feel about that either. Halleck hasn’t told me shit. Why am I doing this? What’s he getting out of it, besides the information he’s always grilling me for? The whole thing is pretty fucking strange and I can’t help but think it’s probably dangerous somehow. It’s gotta be, right? Or they’d be taking the shit themselves. Finding out what they want to know without some junkie having to relay everything and maybe not even coming back one night.
When I get to my building, I go inside and start fishing around in my pocket for the door key, climbing the stairs without really paying much attention to my surroundings, which isn’t a good thing. I could get jumped for any number of reasons, none of them good.
Leaning against the wall beside my door is a chick I’ve never seen before. A tall blonde in black leather, from head to toe, looking as thin and dangerous as a razorblade.
-Eon.
It’s not a question.
I look around, expecting some guy to leap out from somewhere while I’m being distracted by the blonde, but there’s no one. It’s just me and her in the hallway.
-Yeah?
She peels herself from the wall with the sound of crackling leather and offers me her hand.
-My name is Luna. I need to talk to you about what you’ve been doing.
I take the hand, surprised by how firm her shake is, but play dumb for all I’m worth. She doesn’t look like any cop I’ve ever seen but I’m not taking any chances.
-What do you think I’ve been doing?
-You just came from Sennacherib’s, didn’t you?
Shifting my weight, I scratch my cheek.
-So?
-Can I come in?
-Uhhh…
-I think you’ll be interested in what I have to tell you.
-And you can’t do that out here?
-I’d prefer not to.
-Well…my place is a mess. And I don’t have anything to offer you, except maybe a glass of water.
-That doesn’t matter.
I’m not sure what to do. She’s gorgeous, so one part of me is buzzing, but another part is smarter. More wary.
-Can you give me a hint what this is about?
-You’re an intelligent guy. I’m sure you can figure it out.
This time I scratch my head.
-Are you a cop?
She smiles slightly, just one corner of her mouth rising a fraction.
-No.
-Promise?
Raising her right hand, three middle fingers up.
-Scout’s honor.
I sigh, thinking this is so fucked up, then nod and unlock my door, holding it open for her.
She crosses the threshold and I follow, closing the door behind us, but not straying too far into the room. I want to be near the exit if anything weird starts to go down. What weird thing that might be, I have no idea but better safe than sorry, right?
After giving the room a quick once over, she turns to face me.
-Do you know what’s going on?
-Uhhh…regarding what?
-You’re being used, Eon.
-Oh. Yeah. Well, I figured that.
-The drug you’ve been taking is more than just a fun time. You also know that, I presume?
-Uh…uh huh. Figured that too.
-And do you know what it is? Exactly?
-A way to travel between dimensions?
She looks surprised, then nods.
-Precisely. And do you know why this is important?
I think about it, then shrug noncommittally.
-This is something we’ll all have to do eventually, Eon. You’re paving a highway. An inter-dimensional highway.
Pressing my lips together hard, I don’t say anything. I have to keep from laughing.
She stares at me for a long moment.
-You don’t believe me?
I change the subject.
-Okay. Who are you again? What do you have to do with this?
For the first time, this Luna woman seems a little uncomfortable. Then:
-I’m a spinner too.
CHAPTER EIGHT—The Fisherman
Rowing back to the island with the paltry catch of the day at my feet, I look up at the foreboding sky. It’s dark and already raining but I can tell a serious storm is on its way and I’d like to get off the water before the first lightning strikes.
In truth, I should have gone back to shore a good hour ago, but a grumbling stomach kept me out longer than I should have been. I like to eat once in a while and lately my diet has consisted of some stolen fruit and rice from the
mainland and whatever my net can grab, which hasn’t been much lately. Not to mention the fruit is gone and the rice is running low. I might be able to eke out another small meal from it but even that will be pathetic.
Reaching the shore, I jump into the frigid water to drag the row boat (also stolen) onto the rocky sand and up to the tree-line, gathering randomly collected branches to camouflage it on the off chance anyone else invades my sanctuary.
No one knows I’m here.
I suspect they’ll think to look for me here eventually, but it’s been nine days already and to my knowledge, no one has. Luckily. I’m not sure how long I’ll last out here, with winter coming soon. Maybe if I’m out here long enough, in the elements and with little to nothing to eat, I’ll end up begging for that jail cell that waits for me. It’ll be warm, right? And dry. Hopefully, anyway. Both of those things sound pretty good right about now.
Taking my fish back to the campsite, I carefully pick my way around fallen trees and boulders. It would be just my luck to fall and break a leg out here. I’d most certainly die in a few days.
A voice inside my head—the nasty one—tells me the world would be better off if that happened. But I do what I always do: ignore it. I’m good at ignoring shit, even when that shit is me.
Everything I know now, I didn’t know two weeks ago. I didn’t know how to catch and gut a fish. I didn’t know how to make a shelter, little more than a lean-to, really. I didn’t know how to start a fire on my own. Thank Jesus for matches, but they’re getting damp and besides, they’re almost gone now.
I try to keep the fire low, so that it’s not spotted from the mainland or from a passing ship but I figure it’s just a matter of time before something gives me away. Teenagers will come out here with a case of beer and spot me skulking in the bushes or catch a whiff of smoke. It’s just a matter of time.
But I’ve already resolved to use the time wisely. I need to figure out a way to…to what? Evade capture forever? That’s what I thought I was doing at first. Maybe swim out and stowaway on a ship, let it take me to some faraway land where I can get lost among people who don’t speak my language and therefore won’t ask me any questions.
I was an idiot. The ships are too far out and the water is too cold. I barely made it to the island in the stolen boat. Being woefully out of shape has not helped anything I’ve had to do lately.