“Nolan, please.” Wyatt’s voice was firm, steady.
“And then what? What happens after? They won’t let you live knowing what you know. No matter what they promised, you know that once they’re finished with her, they’ll be finished with you.” Then he had another, more terrifying thought. “Did you tell them about me?”
He knew the answer already. Even now a black car drifted past Gabriella’s house, trying its best to look inconspicuous, turning right when it reached the stop sign, and disappearing.
“Nolan, come on!” Wyatt sounded exasperated. “You can’t be serious about any of this. I mean, look, I get it. I was hoping things would turn out differently, too, but the proof is pretty clear.” He reached for the envelope, taking it from Nolan’s hand. “Let me show you.”
He slid a thick stack of papers from inside and flipped through them, holding the important ones out for Nolan to see. “Here’s her birth certificate. See right there . . .” He jabbed his finger at one of the filled-in boxes. “Born at 8:52 P.M. on Saturday, April 6, 1982, in Tallahassee Memorial Hospital, Tallahassee, Florida. I even managed to get ahold of her parents’ birth certificates, too, and ancestry information tracing her lineage all the way back to the Spanish-American War just in case you tried to argue that the alien genes came from her great-great-grandfather or something.”
He pulled out another page, some blurry, photocopied newsprint. “This is the article about the car accident. She wasn’t very old, four, still in a car seat. That’s what saved her. The police weren’t sure what happened. Single car accident. No witnesses. They were coming back late from someplace. It was dark, but the roads were dry. Her father was driving. Her mother was in the front passenger seat. He lost control somehow, went off the road into a tree. Her mother died instantly at the scene. Her father sustained critical injuries and died on the way to the hospital.”
The letters on the page began to wobble and blur, running in inky black drips off the bottoms of the pages. Wyatt’s voice, too, was becoming garbled and distant. Nolan struggled to pay attention.
“Not a scratch on her . . . no living relatives . . . orphaned . . . in and out of foster homes . . . runaway . . . pretty clear to me . . . all the evidence indicates she originated from planet Earth.”
Nolan shook his head. “I don’t . . . I can’t believe it. I know her. I know everything about her.” He pushed the documents away. “These are fakes. Good ones, great ones, even, I’ll give you that, but still fakes.”
“They’re not fakes, I assure you. I can show you my itinerary, my correspondence, my receipts. You can see exactly where I was and what I was doing and who I was with. You can talk to my contacts, if that’s what you need.” Wyatt slid the papers back into the envelope. “Or maybe you should just ask Celeste.”
Nolan glanced at the house. He couldn’t tell for sure, but thought he saw her shadow in the front window.
“She confirmed that everything I found out about her was, in fact, the truth,” Wyatt continued. “She certainly wasn’t happy I’d been snooping around in her past, but she didn’t deny anything. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“You’re lying.”
“I know it’s not what you want to hear.” He reached to place a hand on Nolan’s arm. “Trust me. I was as disappointed as you are, but there will be other opportunities, more strange happenings to investigate. We were wrong about Celeste this time, but that doesn’t mean we’re wrong about everything else.”
It occurred to Nolan that Wyatt might have been in league with the government for a very long time before this, might even be using the Encounters group as a cover. Perhaps he was not a forward-thinking man investigating paranormal events at all, but rather a government agent sent to spy and spread disinformation, to destroy the group’s efforts from the inside. He thought of all the times Wyatt had told a group member to wait before going public with something or to hold back information completely, how he was always the one talking to the press, never anyone else from the group. And what about all those times he disappeared? Gone for weeks, making no contact with anyone, and returning with only a flimsy explanation of needing to research “a top-secret project.” What was he really doing? Reporting to his superiors, feeding them information, betraying his so-called friends.
“Gabriella mentioned you got into some trouble while I was gone,” Wyatt said. “Is that what has you all stirred up?”
Nolan shrugged out from under Wyatt’s heavy hand. “I think you should go.”
Wyatt massaged his palm against his forehead. “You’re in pretty deep with this stuff, aren’t you?”
It was a stupid question. Nolan didn’t respond.
“So . . . what?” Wyatt asked. “Let’s think this through. Say you’re right. Say I’m lying. I’m working for the government or whoever and she really is some kind of extraterrestrial being. Then what? Why is she here? Why was she sent to you? Are you supposed to help her get back home or something?”
“I don’t know why she’s here,” Nolan said. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Wyatt sighed. “Okay, look. Let’s back up a little. Has she said or done anything that would qualify as proof of her extraterrestrial nature? Telepathy? Levitation? Telekinesis? Astral projection, even?”
Nolan thought about the kiss, the electricity that sparked between them when they touched. He thought about the encounter he’d had in the mountains, the time lost, about how every night since, she’d visited his dreams. Proof enough for him, but Wyatt would demand more, was always demanding more and more, and now Nolan knew why. To distract, to divide, to plant the seed of doubt so nothing meaningful was ever accomplished.
“Nolan,” Wyatt said, trying to sound patient. “She looks nothing like what we’ve always assumed extraterrestrials would look like.”
“You know as well as I do that the world’s not ready for this shift in paradigm,” Nolan countered, unable to control this need to defend himself and his beliefs, however strange and impossible. “If the Visitors were walking around in Their true form, imagine the witch hunts, the experiments. We’d destroy Them before They even had a chance to tell us why They’re here. It’s safer for Them to look like us and blend in.”
He pressed his lips together, silently berating himself for doing it again, letting Wyatt draw him in, revealing too much. This was why Celeste was in danger in the first place. Because of his big flapping mouth.
“You do realize how ridiculous you’re acting right now, don’t you? How crazy you sound?” As Wyatt spoke, he became increasingly agitated. “Is it drugs? Is that what’s going on? Some kids offer you some shit at school and you try it and just start freaking the fuck out on me?”
Nolan clenched his jaw tight enough to make his molars ache.
“The worst thing you could do right now is to go around claiming these theories are true, when we have significant proof of the exact opposite.” He rattled the envelope. “I have a reputation to protect, you know,” Wyatt added. “And what about everyone else in the Encounters group? This affects them too.”
When Nolan still didn’t say anything, Wyatt reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I know this drug and alcohol addiction counselor. She’s great.”
He tried to pass along her business card, but Nolan refused to take it.
Wyatt held it out for another beat and then tucked it back into his wallet. “You’re really starting to scare me here, Nolan. I mean, I’m starting to think you might be dealing with something more serious than a simple case of mistaken identity. Let me drive you home. We can talk about this some more, talk to your parents.”
Nolan pretended Wyatt wasn’t there. His voice a buzzing bumblebee. His words bits of dust drifting. They stood in silence for a few minutes. A car pulled into the neighbor’s driveway. Doors slammed. A few seconds later a plane passed overhead, engines thrumming, a white contrail feathering the deepening twilight sky.
“You can’t sta
y here forever, Nolan,” Wyatt said.
The sun was almost gone. Venus was rising.
Nolan said, “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Wyatt sighed and shook his head. “Well, take these at least. Look through them again.” He shoved the envelope against Nolan’s chest, forcing him to take it.
Nolan didn’t relax until Wyatt drove out of sight around a corner. He waited a few minutes to see if he would double back, but the road stayed empty. Holding the envelope at arm’s length, like it was contaminated, Nolan carried this so-called evidence to the trash can next to the garage and tossed the whole package inside, slamming the lid shut and clapping his hands clean. Then he went to get Celeste.
We should just go,” Celeste said. “Just keep driving.”
The highway unfurled a dark ribbon in front of them, a dark ribbon behind. Light streaked past their windows, setting off small explosions in the corner of Nolan’s eyes. She sat with her feet propped up on the dashboard, the right one wiggling relentlessly. She chewed her fingernails and stared at the road, the road that could take them anywhere.
“For how long?” Nolan asked.
“Until it ends.”
“And then what?”
“We take another road,” she said. “And another one after that until we reach the ocean.”
“And then what?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever we want.”
They passed the Burger Barn, then a bar and, after that, a Mexican restaurant.
Celeste ran her hand through Nolan’s hair. “That’s the whole point. We don’t have to decide until we get there, wherever there is. No plans, no obligations, no one telling us what we can or can’t do, we just go. We just do. We just live.”
He liked the simplicity of it, wished life could be so easy. But it wasn’t. Life was complicated, increasingly so because of her.
After Wyatt had left Gabriella’s house, Nolan had gone up to the front door. He knocked, and when no one answered, he knocked again. “Celeste? I know you’re in there. It’s me. It’s Nolan.”
A few seconds passed and then the door cracked open. She peered out at him. “Nolan? Oh thank God. I thought it was . . . come in.”
She stepped back and let him inside, then closed and locked the door. He followed her to the guest room where all her things were laid out on the bed, the backpack lying empty on the pillow.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I can’t stay here anymore.”
“Did something happen?” he asked, even though he already knew.
Instead of answering, she began to shove her belongings into her backpack, struggling to fit everything. Nolan touched her hand, and she froze. Tears trembled on her lashes. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t trust this house anymore. It had probably been bugged from the beginning. He tried to offer her reassurance with his gaze, hoped she recognized his comprehension of the situation, the silent promises he was making. Her expression softened when she looked at him. She relaxed a little under his touch.
“Let’s go to the basketball game,” he said.
“What?” She started to withdraw her hand, but he held it tight, pleading with her to trust him.
“It’ll be good to get out of the house.”
She looked confused, but nodded, abandoning her frantic packing and allowing herself to be led by the hand out the front door.
He drove toward the school, forming a plan as he did. For the first time since the party at Ship Rock, his head felt clear again. He felt focused, fully alive and alert, tuned to every slight movement and subtle sound. It was like that when he was with Celeste. She enabled him to think more clearly, to see better, sense more, understand things he’d never before understood. Nothing made sense when they were apart, but together, everything fell into perfect place. She was the most important thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to shrink her down, wrap his hands around all of her, cup her in his palms and protect her from all the sharp and painful parts of life on Earth, allow her only the beautiful and lovely. But first he had to figure out what to do about Wyatt. And the government agents that could ruin everything.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Celeste said. “For ditching you the way I did at the party. That was a really awful thing for me to do, I know, and I’m sorry. I just freaked out. It’s hard to explain, but I—”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he interrupted. “Ever.”
“Patrick said you were arrested.”
He glanced at her, the side of her face speckled with orange and red lights. “When did you talk to Patrick?”
“He comes into the restaurant a lot.”
Nolan returned his attention to the road. “The cop let me go with a warning.”
“Good,” she said. “That’s good.”
He turned into the parking lot of the school, and Celeste sighed. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, her words slow and pensive. “I meant what I said about leaving.”
He parked and turned off the engine, then reached across the seat and took her hand in his. Dim light from a nearby streetlamp enfolded them both in a pale orange haze.
“I thought I could fit in here,” she continued. “I wanted to. I tried, but it’s not working. Not anymore. What happened at the party, the police showing up like that, it scared me, Nolan. It really scared me. I can’t go back there. I just can’t.”
He didn’t ask her where “there” was. It didn’t matter. “There” was apart from him, and that was all he cared about.
“I can keep you safe,” he said.
“I don’t know if you can.”
“Let me try.”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice dropped even lower, her eyes darting around the parking lot where cars were circling, finding spots, people emerging dressed in blue and silver, walking toward the gymnasium. “Someone’s been calling Gabriella’s and hanging up. It’s happened a couple times in the past few days. The phone rings and when Gabriella answers it, no one’s there. It’s really starting to freak her out. She asked if I’d given anyone at work the number to the house, but I haven’t. I don’t know who it is.”
“Maybe someone just keeps dialing the wrong number,” he said, not wanting to scare her more by telling her he’d been getting the same calls. He needed her to stay calm until he could make a decision about what to do next.
“It’s more than that. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid.” She flinched a little when she said this, but then continued, “Sometimes at work, I see the same car parked in front of the store for my whole shift. There’s someone inside, but they never get out or go anywhere. And Gabriella’s seen it too, parked outside of the house. Like someone’s following me.”
“Did you get a license plate number?”
“Of course we did. Gabriella called in a favor from a friend who works at the DMV. All they could tell us was that it was a government vehicle of some kind. The county or cops or something like that. And today this guy showed up on my doorstep.” She shivered and drew closer to Nolan, sliding across the seat until their bodies were pressed together. “He knew things about me, Nolan. Things he shouldn’t have known.”
His jaw tensed. “Like what?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he could make things difficult for me.”
He didn’t know what to say. It was his own damn fault that they were in this mess, his fault Celeste was scared and wanting to run.
She interpreted his silence as something else, though, pulling away from him again, saying, “I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem. I shouldn’t have even asked you. You have a life here, school, family, people who love you. Of course you can’t just leave. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
She laughed awkwardly and started to open the pickup door. Nolan grabbed her hand. She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I love you,” he said.
Her eyes widened a little in surprise. He saw f
or the first time how the flecks of gold were arranged like planets, orbiting through copper space around the dark sun of her pupil.
“Wherever you are,” he said, “that’s where I want to be, too.”
She leaned over and kissed him, and even though she didn’t say the words out loud, he knew she loved him too.
When she pulled away, she was smiling again. She said, “We can talk about this later. Let’s just go and enjoy the game, okay?” She got out. “You coming?”
“Yeah, one second.” He leaned over and rummaged in the narrow space behind the front seat. He’d tossed his backpack there after school the way he always did. As he sifted through the contents, his books and binders, pencils, a ruler, he felt a dread creeping up through his chest into his throat. It couldn’t be. He sifted faster, finally turning his backpack over and dumping everything onto the floor of his pickup. It wasn’t possible. He’d had it this morning.
“Nolan?” Celeste peered through the window at him. “Are you okay?”
He opened the glove box, scattering papers and napkins and empty CD cases everywhere. Then he leaned over and checked under both seats, finding only an empty French fry container, two pennies, and a dime. He sat up again, closing his eyes against a rising wave of nausea.
“Did you lose something?” Her voice was muffled by the window and the sound of his heart beating in terror.
Everyone knew that the fastest way to get picked up, bound, blindfolded, and tossed into the trunk of a black Cadillac with tinted windows and no license plate was to tell the world your secrets, and his casebook was full of those. People with lesser knowledge and lesser proof had disappeared for lesser mistakes than this one.
He groaned again and squeezed the steering wheel. Calm down, calm down. It’s probably at home on your desk underneath that pile of overdue homework assignments you can’t seem to finish. Or it’s in your locker.
Only, he remembered having it with him during last period, remembered writing down his plans to bring Celeste to his house and finally introduce her to his mother as proof that he wasn’t crazy and aliens did exist, were living among us on Earth. He remembered putting it in his backpack when the bell rang and then putting his backpack right here, behind the front seat.
Everything We Lost Page 27
