by Lysa Daley
There’s a commotion in the brush at the edge of the canyon. Someone, or something, is approaching the area. In an instant, every rifle is trained in the direction of the noise.
From outside the perimeter of the circle, a hulking figure, carrying a bundle, crests the nearby hillside.
"Oh my god," Ruby gasps, then quickly makes sure the picture on her phone is in focus. "They're going to shoot that guy."
Luckily, the hulking interloper freezes when he realizes he's now staring down the barrel of a dozen guns.
“What’s he carrying?” I lean forward, trying to get a better view, but the shrouded bundle in his arms is looking more and more like a body. A limp, dead body.
Sunglasses Man slowly strides towards the hulking figure. He must recognize him because he waves his team off.
They lower their guns, quickly losing interest, and return to their various tasks.
Sunglasses Man approaches the hulking figure as he moves out of the creepy green smoke into the lit clearing.
“Oh my God, Astrid! Is that …?” Ruby can’t get the words out.
I realize that the man carrying the limp body is my Uncle Conrad.
Chapter 3
"Please tell me that's not my uncle?" I can't look. I'm crouched as low as I possibly can get with my hands covering my eyes.
"Oh yeah, that's him," Ruby nods, peeking over the vegetation. "That's definitely your uncle."
A shiver runs down my spine. Why would my uncle be out in the woods at night carrying a bundle that looks like a dead body?
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I sneak a peek. She's right. It's for sure my Uncle Conrad.
Then again, it's hard to mistake a 6 foot 5 inch tall, muscle bound guy with a razor-sharp crew cut for somebody else. I suppose he's handsome in a beefy sort of way.
I'm mortified to report that more than one of my friends has had a crush on him. Believe me; I just have to flip on the old denial meter for that one.
After a beat, Ruby adds, "I'm sorry, Astrid, but your uncle kind of scares me."
"He kind of scares everyone," I admit. "I think that's his plan."
My Uncle Conrad is a martial arts master with five different black belts, which basically means he can kill you in five different and totally distinctive styles.
"But he'd never hurt anyone," I say, because deep down, he's a total pussy cat who loves to cook and sings Taylor Swift in the shower. Even though he complains about Tom, the stray cat, I know he secretly leaves tins of tuna outside for him all the time.
Ruby remains silent.
"Maybe someone was killed by the meteor," I suggest, trying to make sense of this whole crazy turn of events. "Maybe he's just being a good Samaritan."
"That's probably it," Ruby nods. "And we don't know they're dead. They might be injured."
"Right. Exactly." I nod firmly as we watch my uncle and Sunglasses Man exchange words at the back of the black SUVs with its back hatch open.
Sunglasses Man says something and my uncle nods coolly. His face looks different somehow, cold and hard. Not the face of the man who raised me, and a wave of anxiety ripples through me.
It seems like they know each other. But that would be weird.
Just before my uncle slides the bundle into the back of an SUV, I swear I catch the glimpse of a clawed greenish-brown hand dangle out from the cloth. It doesn't look human. To be honest, it doesn't look animal either.
My eyes dart toward Ruby to see if she just saw what I did. She doesn't seem to have noticed.
Suddenly, the leaves crinkle behind us as someone approaches. Terrified, Ruby and I grab each other, then whip around to find Phoebe slinking up behind us.
"I swear to God, you nearly scared us to death," Ruby hisses, clutching her heart.
"I'm so glad I found you guys," Phoebe whispers in a wavering voice. "It's creepy up here. I couldn't wait in the car by myself any longer."
"I thought you said we were crazy and going to get ourselves all burned up and shot," Ruby says.
Phoebe ignores her sister and crouches next to us. "Astrid, is that your uncle?"
"Yeah," I reply.
"Good! Now we know for sure that he's okay," Phoebe replies brightly.
Ruby and I exchange looks, but neither of us says any more.
I looked back to see Sunglasses Man put a hand on my uncle's back and usher him to the edge of the smoke screen. My uncle steps out of its perimeter then heads toward the sloping hillside that eventually meets the edge of our backyard.
"Where's the meteorite?" Phoebe asks.
"Right there." Ruby points. "By the guys with the orange suits."
The cracked ball still glows on the ground. The hazmat crew is preparing to load it into a round metal drum that's being wheeled over.
"That doesn't look like a meteor from a textbook." Phoebe sways on her tippy-toes, trying to get a better look.
"That's what Astrid said," Ruby adds.
Unfortunately, Sunglasses Man must have spotted Phoebe and instantly focuses in on us. His flashlight beam cuts across the darkness in our direction as his voice booms out, "Who's there?"
"Shoot!" I say. "That weird sunglasses guy just saw us and is coming this way."
Ruby's already on her feet, sprinting back in the direction of the car. "Run!!!"
"I can't get in trouble!" Phoebe's freaking out. "I'm on the waitlist for Stanford."
Before I have a chance to think it through, I'm up and fleeing too. It isn’t far before we burst out of the clear air back into the smoky green haze making it hard to see the fallen branches and patches of bramble on the canyon floor.
"Freeze!" Sunglasses yells from behind us. "That's an order!"
Do we stop running?
We do not.
We keep going, weaving dangerously fast through the dark forest. We're not far from the yellow gate when I trip over a fallen log. As I plummet to the forest floor, I feel something slice my arm.
“Ow!” I cry out, turning my arm over to see a cut from my wrist to my elbow. It's not very deep, but it's long.
“Oh my gosh!” Ruby sees my cut and comes back my way. "Are you hurt?"
“No, I’m okay.” Cradling my right arm close to my body, I see a line of blood forming and panic. I quickly turn away from Ruby, away from the light shielding my arm. She can't see my cut. If she sees what’s about to happen, she’ll completely freak out.
"You're not okay," Phoebe says, moving in from the other side. "You're bleeding."
"No. No, I'm totally fine." I glance down at my arm to see it's already begun.
The line of blood is reversing itself like rewinding a video. The cut is healing itself as perfectly healthy skin appears before my eyes, as if nothing happened.
The whole process takes less than ten seconds.
Ruby helps me up, gently grabs my arm. She's surprised when she realizes there's no blood, no cut. "But I saw...?"
The sisters exchange confused looks.
"See, I'm totally fine," I shrug, trying to play it off like no big thing. My instant-healing ability is one of my other freakish qualities. "Must have been the weird light out here."
“Stop right there!” Before they can ask more questions, Sunglasses Man catches up to us. "Are you girls aware that it's illegal to run from a federal officer?"
So he's a federal officer.
While he’s still out of earshot, Phoebe whispers, "You know what, you guys, we haven't done anything wrong. Just chill. He's probably going to tells us to leave."
Then she turns toward him and speaks in her best good girl voice, "Well hello, Officer. Is there a problem?"
"For your own protection, I need you ladies to turn around and head back down the canyon." Sunglasses Man pulls a badge from his jacket pocket and flashes it too quickly for anyone to read. "This is not a safe area at the moment. As you can see."
"What is that thing over there?" Ruby asks brazenly. She has a general issue with the idea of authority.
"Jus
t a small meteorite." He shrugs like massive flaming meteors come crashing down from the heavens all the time. "Not even a very significant one."
"You call that insignificant?" Ruby challenges him. "There was a crazy big explosion and a huge fireball. We saw it."
"We have the majority of the fires under control at this time," he responds, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No houses have been threatened, so there is absolutely no need for you ladies to worry your pretty little heads. However, I still need you to evacuate the area."
"What was the green smoke?" I ask.
"An anti-bacterial aerosol mist we use in cases like this," he says quickly. "Standard issue."
"Standard issue? Like you guys do this all the time or something? Just seems…" Ruby arches an eyebrow. "I don't know, kind of weird."
"You know what, maybe we should call your parents," he says, looking right at me. "Or guardians."
Excellent job, Ruby. Way to piss off the creepy fire agent guy, or whatever he is. And why would he mention a guardian?
Phoebe politely interjects, "Um, like, on what grounds, sir?"
Their mom is a lawyer, so I guess she knows to say stuff like this.
"Let me see, oh dear, it's past city curfew, isn't it?" He glances at his watch. "Have a feeling the adults might like to know what you three are up to."
"Actually, sir, I'm 17, so curfew doesn't apply to me," Phoebe, remaining totally calm, checks the time on her phone. "And these two have another six minutes before they've missed the 10:30 curfew."
He doesn't move, which feels extra strange because you can't tell what his eyes are looking at behind the dark glasses.
Then he breaks into that creepy smile again. "C'mon ladies! I'm just kidding. You girls get out of here now! Can't have something tragic happen to three beauties like you, can we now?"
"Um, sir, also my car had a problem," Phoebe tentatively interjects. "It won't start. I think we need to call a tow truck or someone--"
Then just past the yellow gate, we hear --
Vroom!
The gate at the end of the dirt road lights up as the BMW's engine rumbles back to life and the headlights flood the area.
"Okay then. Looks like you ladies are good to go," Sunglasses Man gives us a little wave. The three of us just stand there gawking. "Better hurry. Almost curfew."
Without another word, we hurry down the unpaved road to the car staying close together.
I glance back to see Sunglasses Man watching us. Even though the dark glasses completely obscure his eyes, it somehow feels like they're drilling directly into me. I turn around and shake it off. Must be my imagination.
Piling into the car, we start back down the main road.
"That was so weird," Ruby finally says, breaking the heavy silence as two fire engines speed past us on their way up to the impact zone.
"A little late to the party." Phoebe pulls the car to the shoulder to let them pass. "But nice to see the fire department decided to make an appearance tonight."
"Wait. This can't be right," Ruby mutters, her face awash in the glow of her cell phone screen. She's playing back the video she just recorded. "There's nothing here."
"What do you mean nothing?" I saw her videotaping the whole thing as we approached the meteor.
"It didn't record anything,” Ruby looks up. "It's nothing but blank video."
"Maybe the meteorite emitted an electromagnetic pulse," I suggest, trying not to sound like I know too much about meteors. Except I do. And electromagnetic energy is very common.
"Do they do that?" Phoebe asks. "Are they radioactive or something?"
"I think I read someplace that they can be. It's usually pretty minor," I shrug and feign ignorance. "We went over that in science at one of my old schools a couple of years ago. Anyway..." I change the subject. "I guess we missed the zombie movie."
"It was a vampire film, Astrid." Phoebe rolls her eyes as we approach my house. "I expect better from you."
Clicking the headlights off so we can glide to a stop, Phoebe pulls over 20 feet from the mailbox. This way I can attempt to sneak up the long driveway with some shred of hope of not being totally busted.
"Okay guys... see you at school in the morning." I climb out of the car, planting my feet firmly on the gravelly shoulder. "That is assuming I'm still alive tomorrow. And not permanently grounded."
"You'll be fine." Ruby smiles then adds, "Your uncle will just be so glad you weren't burned up in the fire that he won't have the heart to actually kill you."
"I hope you're right," I say, closing the car door and watching the BMW pull away into the night.
Dark clouds now quietly roll across the moonless sky, blotting out the starlight and making it even harder to see where I'm going. The smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air. I slink up the edge of the driveway, past the first "Keep Out" sign posted on our property.
Local legend has it this property was once owned by a paranoid end-of-the-world survivalist who fortified the grounds by encasing the entire perimeter with an 8-foot high chain-link fence.
The back of the property edges up against a tall canyon wall that is neck-breakingly steep. To add to the general go-away ambiance, all along the property you can find "Private Property" and "No Trespassing" signs posted.
My personal favorite is the one that reads: "Intruders will be shot. Survivors will be shot again."
C'mon! That's good stuff.
Inching up the cracked pavement, I'm relieved to see the tall wooden driveway gate is still closed. This late at night, it would only be open if my uncle had taken his ancient white pickup truck out to find me. Holding my breath, I jog the rest of the way up the hill between the Chinese elms and the olive trees until the house comes into view.
Up in the sky, the first of a small squadron of news helicopters buzzes over, shining a glaring spotlight down over the meteorite impact site trying to get a shot.
By now that weird shiny cylinder that fell from the sky is probably long gone, tucked away all nice and safe in that metal container in the back of a mysterious black SUV.
I hear a car approaching before I see a black and white police car roll past our house. It slows to a crawl as it passes but then continues up the hill.
Only a single light burns in the living room window. The back door is unlocked. Ninja-silent, I slip inside. The TV in the corner plays the local news. They're reporting on the meteorite while showing footage from the helicopter that probably just flew over my house.
I half expected to find my uncle furiously pacing on the front porch, waiting for my return, but other than the murmur of the TV, the house is strangely quiet. With renewed hope that I still have a shot at getting away with tonight's escapades, I tiptoe toward the stairs hoping to crawl into bed unnoticed.
But I stop when I see a small leather-bound notebook sitting on the kitchen table. It's my uncle's journal. He's had it for as long as I can remember, but he always keeps it in a locked metal box with a bunch of legal papers. I have never, ever seen it left out in the open before.
He's more private about his journal than a tween girl with a crush on her BFF's boyfriend.
Inching closer, I see not only is it open, but there's writing on the page, and a pen lies in the binder. Curiosity gets the better of me. I'm dying to see what he writes about.
I look around again to make sure he isn't about to leap out at me, then I creep even closer until I can just make out a drawing. Circular dots scatter the page connected by lines. Like a constellation or something.
Suddenly the sliding back door opens with a shing as my uncle steps inside.
At first, he doesn’t see me. There’s a rip on shirt sleeve, and he's holding a strange long-bladed knife made out of some sort of blue metal in his right hand.
"Astrid?" he freezes, startled to see me. I study his face and realize that he doesn't look angry. Believe me; I know angry. Instead, worry creases his brow.
"Uncle, I was just --" My mind races trying
to formulate a believable excuse.
"Honey, I'm so sorry." He cuts me off before I get myself hopelessly tangled up in a lie. "There was a small brush fire near the tool shed. I was only gone for a few minutes. I hope you weren't too worried."
"Oh. Um. No, didn't even know you were gone."
I stand there waiting. Waiting for him to tell me to grab my stuff because we're moving again. And we have to leave tonight. In fact, we have to leave this very moment. But he doesn't say it. He just blinks.
"That was it?" I ask.
"What?" he frowns.
"Just a small fire? By the shed?"
"Oh. Yep. I caught it before it could do any damage." It feels weird knowing that he's lying.
"The news said something about a small meteorite.” I don't dare look at him. Instead, I gesture to the TV. “Maybe that started the fire?"
“Maybe,” he nods, moving through the living room into the kitchen with the knife at his side. He's holding it in such a way I can tell he doesn't want me to see it. "Were you going outside?"
I realize that he's asking this cause I'm dressed. "Yeah, I just pulled my jeans on."
He nods but doesn't say more about it as he sets the knife on the counter. If he realizes they’re Ruby’s jeans, he doesn’t comment on it.
We stand there awkwardly for a moment until I fake a yawn. "Okay then, I'm going back to bed."
He walks over to the big ugly plaid lounge chair that came with this furnished rental house. He sits, grabbing his iPad from the nearby side table, "By the way, be careful on the patio, that drainpipe fell off again."
I feel my cheeks redden. Maybe he does know I was out. Except I didn't take the drainpipe down.
"Must have been Tom," I smile, blaming the big stray cat. "That’s probably how he keeps sneaking in. He climbs the drainpipe."
"Probably," he replies with a warm laugh. "Damn cat. Goodnight, honey."
"Goodnight." I nod.
As I head up the stairs, I have a clear view of the kitchen. My eyes flick over to the blue bladed knife on the counter.
I pretend not to notice the red-black blood dripping from the tip onto the floor as I bolt up the steps as fast as I can.
