19
JOANNA
The forest opened up to reveal the Jones junkyard around the next bend. I wanted to fly in there at breakneck speed, shooting out the window like some crazed mobster in a drive-by, but Leslie slowed down as we neared the gate.
"Gunna park here and go in on foot," she said, getting out of the car. But instead of moving forward, she went around to the trunk, popping it and reaching inside.
"Take this instead of that," she nodded to my shotgun. She extended a pistol and holster to me.
"I'm better with the shotgun."
"If we go in there with guns drawn, they'll have cause to fire on us," Leslie explained patiently. "We're gunna do this by the book. Or at least as close to it as we can. Keep your pistol holstered until we see a threat." She put a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "Okay, Jo? Tell me you understand."
"I understand." I traded the weapons and wondered to myself if I'd be able to hold back once I saw what they'd done to Arix.
The gate to their property was an archway of recycled metal, brown and rusted with age. Beyond the fence were abandoned cars, steel carcasses that had spent years rotting in the sun, missing doors and windows and wheels. Piles of scrap metal were interspersed here and there, no order to the chaos that I could see.
"Their house is in the middle of the property," Leslie said.
I let her lead the way, because if I were in front I would probably start sprinting. I felt a connection to Arix when I was near him, some sort of telepathic tunnel between our minds. I hadn't noticed it until he'd been taken from me, led away from the spacecraft clearing by the Jones brothers. Like the warmth of a fire dying away.
Now the lack of Arix in my mind was deafeningly obvious. And even though we were here, so close to where we knew he had to be, I couldn't feel him at all.
And that scared me more than the danger we faced as we walked through the junkyard.
Leslie moved with careful, precise steps. The ground was frozen mud, but every so often we stepped in a place that was wetter than the rest. Leslie didn't seem to notice; she scanned the property with expert eyes, one hand on her gun holster. The weight of my own gun felt foreign on my hip, a presence I couldn't ignore. My hunter's instinct screamed at me to draw it, to aim it ahead of me as we went so I'd be ready to defend myself. Somehow I was able to muster enough willpower to obey Leslie's order.
We rounded a stack of rusted cars and the Jones house appeared a hundred yards away. It was made entirely of wood, dilapidated and leaning as if half the foundation had sunk into the ground. A thin stream of smoke floated from the chimney, and there was no sound that we could hear.
Leslie stopped, and grimaced. "There's no cover."
"Huh?"
She pointed. "Between here and the building. No more piles of scrap or cars. It's wide open. If one of them sees us, and decides to shoot..."
Oh. We'd be sitting ducks while we crossed the open space.
She took a deep, deliberate breath. "No use putting off what can't be avoided. Stay close, Jo."
And with that, Leslie left the cover.
Without thought, I followed.
She ducked low while she ran, a hunch that gave the illusion of safety more than safety itself. I put my hand on my pistol as I followed three steps behind, ready to draw it the moment I heard gunfire. Leslie didn't run straight at the house; she moved diagonally, almost away from it. I wanted to ask what she was doing but was afraid to break the silence, and then Leslie cut back toward the building. From this new vantage I realized what she was doing: getting away from the open window and coming from a safer angle.
Eighty yards away. Sixty.
When we were halfway there Leslie abandoned her hunch and stood up straight. She pumped her arms while sprinting, and I did the same, fear and determination adding speed to my feet. The gun holster bounced heavily against my hip.
I stepped in a muddy patch and stumbled; somehow I kept my balance and didn't fall, the house lurching and bouncing in my view. Leslie never looked back, and I quickly caught up to her as we neared the house.
Just before reaching it, Leslie slowed. She moved in a tactical speed walk, taking care not to make any noise as we approached the left-most wall. Then our footing was on the wooden porch that surrounded it, originally raised a foot above the ground but now sunken almost to ground level.
Leslie leaned against the wall and stopped. I did the same.
Voices drifted from inside the house, muffled and unintelligible. I felt a pang of urgency, to sprint inside and shoot anything that wasn't Arix. To protect him. To save him.
I must have stepped forward, because suddenly Leslie was holding me back with one arm. She leaned close to whisper in my ear.
"Slowly. I go first. Stay behind and cover from the door. No shooting unless I shoot first."
I nodded, and then Leslie was striding along the side of the house toward the door. There were no windows here, just the faded paint peeling off the old wooden boards. My pulse raced as we tip-toed along, on the precipice of action.
Please be safe, I prayed. Please, don't let us be too late to save Arix.
Leslie stopped at the door. The voices inside were louder now, with a strange inflection to them. Leslie slowly reached out and tested the doorknob, twisting it one millimeter at a time. It turned without issue. She returned it to the normal position and released it, then stepped across to the other side of the doorway. She spent a moment gathering herself, hardening her resolve. I tried to do the same, but failed.
Leslie raised four fingers, then lowered one. Then another. Four, three, two, one...
BANG.
She threw open the door and charged inside, shouting, "ELIJAH POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!"
Unable to stop myself, I drew my pistol even though Leslie had told me not to. I leaned into the doorway, my eyes eager to spot Arix.
The room was dim, but enough light streamed through the window to see. There was a living space to the right with couches and an old TV, with a filthy kitchen on the left. The smell of wood smoke permeated the air, from a fireplace somewhere unseen. Leslie strode down a far hallway, disappearing into another room, shouting her presence the entire way.
There was an old CB radio on the table in the living room, I realized. Voices crackled from it. Truckers on a distant interstate.
Leslie came back into view, shaking her head. "They're not here."
My heart sank and my vision went dark around the edges. Leslie was on me in an instant, holding me up with strong arms.
"Hey, now. Easy there. Let's put this away." She took the pistol from my grip.
It wasn't possible. He had to be here. I pushed Leslie away and strode around the side of the house, looking for a basement or another building. Something.
I froze when I reached the opposite side of the house.
Ahead of me, in the middle of the clearing behind the building, was a heap of twisted material. Material was the word that came to mind, because metal wouldn't have been accurate--this looked too malleable to be steel or aluminum. It was round like a dinner plate, though the bottom seemed smashed or caved-in, with internal spaces visible through gaping holes. And on one side jutted a compartment that was immediately recognizable as a cockpit, with broken glass and a chair-like capsule for one person.
Not one person, I thought. One Karak.
This was Arix's spacecraft. Or at least, the remains of it.
A light flickered inside the cockpit. I felt a surge of hope that it was Arix, and ran around the side to get a better look inside. Then the light drifted farther inside, out of view.
THUMP. To my side, Leslie had dropped my pistol to the ground and was staring with her jaw open. Her eyes widened with something close to fear.
"What," she said slowly, "in the good sweet heaven is that?"
I looked back at the ship. The light was gone, and there was still an empty, hollowing feeling in my gut. Whatever that was, it wasn't Arix. I knew that with a knowledge I couldn't understand.
Now it was my turn to put an arm around Leslie, supporting her weight in a comforting way. "There are some things I need to tell you."
*
We were back in Leslie's cruiser, sitting quietly in the seats like two people waiting for the bus. She'd insisted on coming back here. Or anywhere.
Anywhere away from the alien spacecraft.
"I feel like an elaborate prank is being pulled on me," she finally said.
"Welcome to my world," I muttered.
"So his name is Arix."
"Yes."
"And he's from a planet called Karak," Leslie said.
"Also yes. Well, that's their home world. They're a Dominion of planets, whatever that means."
"Ohh, a Dominion of planets," Leslie said. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? That makes a lot more sense."
I put a hand on her shoulder. "It's just as difficult for me to accept too."
"And he can shift into any form he wants? And he chose the steamy hunk on the romance novel I lent you?"
"Mmm hmm."
Abruptly, Leslie's face contorted in a girlish giggle. "This all sounds like a bad dream. Or a good dream. Any dream. I'm rambling."
"That's a natural reaction to all of this," I agreed. "When Arix first revealed himself to me, I grabbed my shotgun and pumped three shells into him. Thankfully it passed right through his Karak form. I've got some repairs to do on my cabin."
"Karak form..." Leslie shook her head. "Let's say for a moment I believe all of this. Which still remains to be seen. If your alien lover can morph into any form he wants, how in the hell did the Jones brothers manage to capture him?"
"I'm as surprised as you are."
"One of those idiotic gadgets they're always buyin'. They brought a whole truckload of electronics over to Andy's barn when they were lookin' for ghosts. Can't believe one actually worked." She shook her head again. "They're gunna be as smug as kittens when all this is over."
When all this is over. If we got out of this, that's when Arix would return to his home planet.
That's when he would leave me.
But I couldn't think about that right now. The primary drive in my gut was to ensure he was safe. To rescue him from harm.
"So if they didn't bring him here," I said, "where'd they take him?"
Leslie nodded to herself. "Already figured that part out. You know those fliers they spread all around town every few months?"
I frowned. "The doomsday ones? Warning us of an impending invasion, or that the supervolcano is going to erupt, or any other idiotic thing they've heard of?"
"Yep yep."
"What's that have to do with Arix?"
"Well," Leslie said, fiddling with the computer in her cruiser, "whenever they get one of those apocalyptic ideas in their heads, they go running to their bunker in the woods. We pay attention to that, because it's a sort of early warning system for us against their shenanigans." She tapped the computer screen, and a route appeared. Six miles. "They've gotta be there."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Leslie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. "We're waitin' for me to calm down. My heart's still pounding like the drumline at a football game. I need a minute, Jo."
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. Aliens were a tough pill to swallow. Especially since Leslie didn't have the luxury of banging one first.
Leslie started the car and sighed. "Alright. Let's go save your alien boyfriend."
I felt my resolve harden. We had a plan. We knew where Arix was.
And no matter what happened, I was going to make sure I saved him. Even if it meant him leaving me after.