Starseed

by Gruder, Liz

  Out of eyesight, she slowed the horse and stripped off the wig and plastic, tucked it beneath her. She wanted to be free, to tell the truth, to find answers, and not to have to hide.

  I missed you, Perseus said telepathically. That’s why I was mad.

  Kaila patted her neck. “I missed you too,” she said. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t ever leave you again. I made a mistake.”

  Boy, had she made a mistake. The inside of her chest ached, as if those bony fingers squeezed her heart.

  As she rode through the forest, inhaling the odor of damp earth and leaves, she recalled riding here with Jordyn on her birthday.

  She went to the stream. Fall’s chill hung in the air, and she was grateful she wore her hoodie.

  She dismounted and sat by the stream. She’d kissed Jordyn here. The stream blurred. How could he kiss her with such passion then shut off and become like a robot, involved in something so sinister?

  Because he is controlled, she heard in her mind. Same as you were.

  She felt like she’d never recover from this betrayal.

  Kaila put her head in her hands. Please help me. I don’t know what to do. My heart is broken. I can’t stand the pain!

  She wept. Perseus bent, nudged her shoulder with her nose.

  “I’ll be okay,” she sobbed.

  Sunlight filtered through the leaves. Yet across the stream appeared another light. Kaila froze, watching the ball of light.

  Kaila jumped up, clenching her fists, her eyes going black. She’d been tutored in alien mind tactics. Now, she’d use those tactics on them.

  The light floated over the bubbling stream then hung in the space a few feet away.

  Priscilla Snowden took form.

  Her long white hair was loose; she wore a long white dress. Light radiated from her edges.

  “What do you want?” Kaila asked.

  “I want to help you.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “This is good you ask questions. I say: don’t trust me. Learn who you can trust. Learn for yourself what is good and what is not.”

  “I don’t want to hear any crap!” Kaila shouted.

  Priscilla smiled. “I know you’re tired.”

  “Tired? I’m ready to kill myself.”

  “Don’t say that. Words have power. Same as thoughts.”

  “Look,” Kaila said, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to hear any mumbo jumbo. What are you? Why are you so interested in my life?”

  Priscilla gazed at her. “Kaila, know that we are not all here to harvest people.”

  “We?” Kaila cried. “Are you one of them?” She stepped back.

  “No, I’m not one of them.”

  Perseus approached Priscilla, nudged her arm. Priscilla petted her nose.

  “What I meant was that I’m not of Earth either.” She looked left, then right. “They’re trying to come to you now.”

  Kaila noticed the blue patches of sky through the leaves. Listened with her mind. She heard nothing. Only the stream bubbling over the rocks. They must have erected mind blocks.

  “I can offer some protection,” Priscilla said. “And there are many more of us. We want to help you.”

  “How?” Kaila asked.

  “You’re on the right path,” Priscilla said. “You heard us in meditation today. Know that where you put your attention is what you get. Call to those you hold sacred and everything that is good. But more so, look into your heart.”

  She started to fade. Her edges went blurry and her form transfigured to ethereal white light.

  “Wait!” Kaila called.

  Take the light in you and form a golden shield, Priscilla said to her mind. Help your friends. And we will help … if you are receptive, and if you ask.

  The glowing ball lifted, floated through the trees. Then evaporated to nothing.

  Kaila listened. Heard the wind rustling the leaves. The stream gurgling over stones.

  She folded her hands. Give me strength. Help me, please.

  And then she had an idea. She pulled out her phone and texted Pia.

  “Go to drugstore. Get a preg test. You’ll see you are not preg anymore. Do it!!! Will explain ltr. C U tonight.” She added three emoji hearts.

  “How did you know I wasn’t pregnant anymore?” Pia asked later. Kaila, Melissa, and Pia had suffered through dinner answering the typical boring questions about school and grades, while the girls were dying to get upstairs behind closed doors.

  Kaila locked her bedroom door then sat on the sleeping bags on the floor. “Because I was there when they took the baby,” she said.

  We should run out of here now.

  Is she trying to trick us? Kaila heard their thoughts.

  “Listen,” Kaila said. “You remember when we made a triad and formed a pact of secrecy?”

  Melissa and Pia nodded, looking like scared lambs.

  “Well, I’m honoring that. I made a mistake. I went with them because—”

  Because I loved him! Her mind shouted.

  “I made a mistake. I thought it was cool what they could do. But it’s not cool. Not at all.” She petted Lucy’s head, searching for the right words.

  “I’m gonna tell you the truth, but you have to swear to secrecy.”

  Kaila told them about the abductions and how they impregnated females with mixed DNA of alien and human, how they let the fetus grow in their belly, and later re-abducted them to take the baby to create hybrids.

  “But why are they doing this?” Melissa asked.

  “Look,” Kaila finally answered. “Aren’t you freaked out just to know that everything you suspected is true?”

  “What can we do?” Melissa whispered.

  “For starters, sleep here,” Kaila said. “I’ll kick anyone’s ass that dares come here.”

  After that, Melissa and Pia started to trust again. They spent the night catching up then raiding the kitchen for midnight snacks. As they ate fried chicken with red beans and rice, Kaila explained mind-screens. It was easy for them to understand for they’d experienced many owls, cats, and mysterious shadow people. Even those were but a whisper of a remembrance.

  Kaila revealed that she planned to put a mind-screen on Mrs. Bourg and her teachers to make them believe she was in class but that she couldn’t go back to school now. She could not risk being around the hive or seeing Jordyn. She’d either kill him or collapse blubbering at his feet.

  “If anyone says anything about you not being there, I’ll tell them to shut up,” Pia said.

  You won’t have to, Kaila thought. For she’d extend the mind-screen to everyone but them.

  Later, in her bedroom, they sat on the sleeping bags. Glassy eyed, they needed rest. Kaila closed her eyes and visualized energy emerging from her heart and surrounding them as a golden light shield.

  Melissa gasped. Kaila opened her eyes. It was visible, this radiating light.

  “Awesome!” Pia said.

  They sat in silence as her light surrounded them.

  “It feels wonderful,” Melissa said.

  Kaila lay on her sleeping bag on her stomach, her face on her pillow. Melissa and Pia did the same, on each side of Kaila. Kaila spread her arms over her friends’ backs, like a cross.

  “I’ll protect you,” Kaila said. “Sleep.”

  When she heard Melissa and Pia’s soft snores, Kaila stifled her own sadness. She had to be strong.

  A heavy shroud wrapped around the home. Paw Paw was dying. And everyone knew it.

  Even the dogs tread lightly.

  Lee spent more time in her yoga studio, meditating.

  Mike sat in his recliner, for once having no commentary on the news; he worried about Paw Paw who spent more time in sleep. Nan stayed in her room reading the Bible.

  It came to where Paw Paw could not stand, so Kaila, Mike, Lee, and Nan all carried him upstairs.

  Kaila stood by his bed watching him sleep. She remembered him taking her shopping that f
irst day after school to help her fit in; she remembered him barbecuing on her birthday; she remembered riding horses with him; she remembered sitting in his lap and him reading her Green Eggs and Ham; she remembered setting out cookies with him on Christmas Eve in his Santa suit. How would she bear this? No one she loved had died before. Out of necessity, she’d calcified her heart. She could bear no more pain. It was too deep to realize, to touch, to know—to accept. How she’d get through this, she didn’t know.

  They called hospice. They put a stretcher in the living room and put Paw Paw on the stretcher.

  “I don’t want no drugs,” he murmured.

  Ever a proud Southern man, he refused to dull his pain, though the cancer had claimed his body and was eating away at it.

  Nan hid in her bedroom, weeping. Lee hid in her yoga studio. Mike hid with the horses in the barn.

  The hospice nurse visited.

  “Here,” the nurse said, handing Kaila drugs. “Though he says he doesn’t want it, you will know. She gave her a dropper. “Morphine. Every three hours. Squeeze it into his mouth, inside his cheek.

  Kaila nodded, scared.

  “You can do it,” the nurse encouraged.

  “How much time does he have?”

  “No one can say for sure. But probably by the weekend.” The nurse packed her stethoscope and blood pressure monitor into her bag. “Call if you need help.” Then she was gone.

  “I can’t do this,” Nan said, weeping.

  “You don’t have to,” Kaila said.

  She wanted to run and hide, but there was no place to run and hide. She’d learned that by running to … them. No matter where she ran she still was herself. She just had to suck it up and face it, dig down and find the strength, no matter where she was, what she faced.

  She glanced at Paw Paw lying on the stretcher, snoring, covered by a sheet.

  Kaila sat on the couch observing her grandfather. She was frightened but knew what she had to do.

  She did not sleep. She and her mother changed him. He protested, waving them away. Kaila, realizing that his dignity was deeply affronted, retrieved the eyedropper and filled it with morphine. She pushed the dropper into her grandfather’s mouth and squeezed.

  No grandfather should have to see his granddaughter change him like a baby. He was so much more than that. His lips and tongue were dry. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in days. She rubbed a moistened swab to his lips, watching him suck the water like a baby bird. She rubbed the swab on his parched tongue.

  As the morphine took effect, he slipped into the protective veil of sleep.

  Nan, Lee, and Mike hovered, looking scared and lost.

  “Y’all go to bed,” Kaila said. “I’m sleeping here. I’ll take care.”

  Her phone chimed an alert she’d downloaded. The voice stated in a mechanical tone: “You-have-another-sucky-text-message.”

  It was Pia. “Spending night at Melissa’s. U got nuff goin on.”

  “No. Come.” Kaila texted.

  “We OK,” Pia texted back.

  Kaila sighed. She was but one person; she could not save the whole world. Plus, now, she would not leave Paw Paw. There was no need to put a mind-screen on her family regarding her absence at school, for now they wanted her home.

  She slept on the sofa in her jeans and t-shirt, called Lucy and Woofy up next to her. She wrapped her arms around Lucy’s soft black fur, cradling her head next to hers.

  She dozed, with one eye open, listening. The grandfather clock tick-tocked and chimed on the hour. Every three hours, Kaila rose, filled the dropper with morphine, and put it inside Paw Paw’s cheek.

  “Sleep,” she said, caressing his bald head. He dully tried to shake his head. She marveled at his pride and resolve as his life slipped away.

  She did this for three days, refusing food and care.

  “Leave me alone!” she said to her mother, who begged her to eat and shower.

  She was on death watch and everyone knew it. She was the one who had the strength to do this. And everyone knew that too.

  At three a.m. Kaila rose, filled the eyedropper with morphine. Determined that Paw Paw would never feel pain again, she inserted the dropper inside his cheek, softly rubbing.

  She felt numb, a robot. She had to stuff her emotion; she had to function. Just think and perform … just like them … no, don’t think it!

  Kaila lay down on the sofa. Paw Paw’s snores deepened, resonant and long with a pause, like the blankness between words in a sentence. Where was that space? She dozed, delirious, not having slept in days. That space beckoned. Quiet. Solitude. Peace.

  She slipped into a superficial slumber, ever listening.

  And then, all grew quiet. A deathly silence filled the room. Kaila was so exhausted she couldn’t open her eyes.

  She felt like the Caribbean sun shone above. It enfolded her with warmth. She saw Paw Paw when he was younger and strong. He was smiling, radiant, infused with golden light.

  I am so happy, he said.

  Kaila opened her eyes. It was silent. Paw Paw was not snoring anymore. She ran to the stretcher.

  “Nan, Mom!” she shouted. She ran to the stairwell. “Come down here! Now!”

  Nan, Lee, and Mike scrambled down the stairs in their bathrobes.

  They clustered around Paw Paw on the stretcher. Kaila placed her palm on Paw Paw’s forehead. He drew in an inhalation, then deeply exhaled.

  “Oh,” Nan gasped. “His last breath.” She started to cry.

  “Stop that,” Kaila said. “Paw Paw,” she said, nuzzling her face next to her grandfather’s. “I know you can hear me. Don’t worry about us. Go. Go!”

  She cradled her cheek against her Paw Paw’s withered face.

  As she closed her eyes, she again saw Paw Paw smiling. Felt his warmth and his love, the wholeness of himself in spirit.

  What will you do? he asked.

  “Oh, Paw Paw,” she said. “Don’t worry. We will be okay.”

  She felt his light, his spirit evacuating his body.

  Her mother started shaking and sobbing.

  “Stop that,” Kaila said, instinctively knowing that grief might bind a spirit to earth.

  Mike put his arm around Lee, pressing his lips together, not knowing what to do.

  “Go,” Kaila urged Paw Paw, keeping her hand on his forehead, her cheek to his.

  Then, emerging from his emaciated body, Paw Paw’s spirit lifted. He hovered near the stretcher, smiling and luminescent. He embraced Kaila with his golden light. His spirit held her, infusing her with a love so profound and true, she was dumbstruck.

  A long corridor opened.

  “Don’t look at me,” she managed to say. “Go. Don’t look back.”

  She felt him floating and enveloping her with a love she’d never known possible. Its purity and power made her dizzy.

  “I love you, Paw Paw,” she said through blurry vision. “Go on now. Git!”

  He smiled at her, radiant. I’ll love you forever, Goosy. He turned, raced through the open corridor toward the light. His spirit merged with the light. The corridor closed and disappeared.

  Then all was still.

  Kaila kept her hand on Paw Paw’s forehead, her cheek cradled to his.

  “Kaila,” Lee prodded after minutes had passed.

  She didn’t want to let go. She kept her face pressed against her grandfather’s till she realized that his flesh was still and growing cold. It was silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock.

  Kaila lifted her head, looked at them. “He’s gone,” she said.

  In true Southern style, Nan pulled out the wine. She poured everyone a glass. They went outside and sat on the porch.

  It was Sunday morning. Birds chirped and flew across the sky.

  “I always knew he’d leave me on a Sunday,” Nan said, weeping and sipping her wine.

  “That’s cause he knew how much you love your church,” Lee said. She swallowed deeply of her wine. “
It’s a message he’ll see you again.”

  They looked out at the fields and the pond and the morning sky, pondering life without Paw Paw.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Mike said, not knowing what to say.

  The sun shone, the sky cloudless. Yet grief clung to them.

  “I saw him,” Kaila said.

  “I know you did, my sweetheart,” Lee said, leaning her thin body against hers.

  “We all felt it,” Nan said. “Lord, I loved that man.” Her eyes welled with tears beneath her protective green hat. “I’ll see him in heaven one day.”

  Then they all lowered their heads and wept.

  Chapter 14

  Kaila lay on her bed in her room, the draperies closed. Paw Paw was gone. Jordyn was gone. She thought of him and ached. She remembered his touch, his arms, his lips on hers.

  She succumbed to the grief she’d bottled inside. She cried and cried and cried.

  I never want to get up again. I want to die.

  Nothing could assuage the hole in her heart, nor still the icy winds casting gray sediment over the moon of her soul. She’d always be alone, betrayed by cruelty and death. She wanted desperately to follow Paw Paw to that place of spirit and light.

  Kaila prayed. Please take me. I don’t want to live anymore. I have nothing and no one. I want to go. There is nothing but pain here. Take me now.

  There was a buzzing in her ears. He was coming. Her beloved Jordyn. Then, he stood by her bed. He was there, beside her, for real.

  He looked terrible. Bags bulged below his huge eyes and he hadn’t shaved. His small mouth opened in alarm seeing Kaila. He lay down next to her on the bed, wrapping her in his arms.

  She wanted to protest but was too gripped with grief to care. She wanted to pretend it was like before…before she found out everything. She closed her eyes and melted into his arms.

  “He died,” Kaila said.

  “I know,” he said.

  “You do?

  “Yes. I saw. I was here.”

  “What do you mean you were here?”

  Kaila grew enraged having him witness such a deeply personal moment. And that he might have been feeding—

  “It was,” Jordyn said, “the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”