by Ruby Ryan
"Here is the cashier's check," Bobby said, extending a small rectangle of paper as if it were a fragile artifact. I took it and tried not to stare wide-eyed at the enormous number.
"Here's the deed." I gave him his piece of paper. "You can keep it here with the rest of the town's records, or if you prefer--"
Bobby snorted. "What I prefer is to manage my own property records, rather than relying on a suspicious local government, thank you very much."
I shrugged as if I didn't care. Because I didn't.
"When're you gunna start construction on the visitor's center?"
"Whenever I please." Bobby nodded in finality. "Good day."
I watched him leave my office, and shrugged to myself. One less thing.
"Deposit this please," I said, handing the check to Stacy. "And then set up a recurring wire transfer to that other account I gave you. $9,500 a week until fifty percent of the balance is transferred."
"You betcha." Stacy disappeared into the hall.
Jo would likely complain about me sending her half the proceeds of the sale, insisting the trade we'd made already wasn't fair. But she wasn't here to argue. Besides, the number on that check was an order of magnitude more than I could spend in a lifetime. Even after Jo's half was transferred, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Donate most of it to charity, probably. More work I'd need to do.
More administrative work.
I fell into my chair with a sigh. Being a small town cop had its ups and downs. I rarely solved crimes like in the movies, but there was a consistent satisfaction to keeping the peace. Settling local disputes, usually when one rancher's cattle migrated onto someone else's land. Or watching the bar to make sure nobody left too drunk, ensuring they got home safe and sound. Or keeping the Jones brothers in line.
It was satisfying in the way I always imagined being a mother was satisfying. Except instead of two or three children I had three hundred and forty-five, spread out over the town's limits.
More like three thousand, now.
The population of Elijah had boomed with the arrival of the UFO hunters. Two weeks ago I knew every single resident's name, what they did, and hell, even what their favorite Thanksgiving dish was. Now? I didn't recognize half the faces in Harry's bar. I hated it, I was slowly realizing. I was a stranger in my own damn town. And with so many new people, I wouldn't be able to keep the peace without hiring a staff of officers.
Which meant I'd be the commanding officer. Which also meant more paperwork.
Only paperwork, I suspected, while the men and women under me went around and did the jobs I normally liked.
I sighed to myself, resigned to what the future held.
Stacy returned some time later. "Deposit went through. Here's the receipt."
"Thanks," I said, staring at the paper. Jesus Christ, that number was big. Part of me still thought it was a joke. "You want a bonus?"
"Me?"
"Why not? You've worked hard for the better part of a decade. And you could have run off with that cashier's check and never returned."
She smiled and began to protest, but then shrugged. "Only if you'll let me spend some of that bonus celebrating the sale. Harry's bar?"
I looked at the clock. "Ehh."
"Come on, Leslie. It's 6:30, and you've been up all day dealing with those newcomers. You can't work every hour of the day."
"You're right about that," I mumbled. "Sure. I'll have a drink."
*
"C'mon," Harry said, leaning over the bar like a conspirator. "Tell me how much they paid."
I swirled my beer around in its glass, teasing the information out. The bar was crowded with people, almost every seat filled, so I had to speak loudly even though Harry was only a foot away.
"It'll be public record, soon. You can look it up then."
"I want the inside scoop!" His eyes were eager. "What good is it being buddies with the cop if I can't get info before everyone else?"
I took another sip and shrugged. "It's a lot."
"A lot?"
"A lot," I repeated. "More than I know what to do with."
Harry finally stood back up and shook his head. Before he could say something, another patron called out a drink order, which Harry rushed to fill.
I twisted in my bar stool and looked at the crowd. Since Stacy left after her one rum and coke, Harry was the only face I recognized. All newcomers, wearing black tactical jackets and holding cell phones out in front of them like they were hoping to find a signal (spoiler alert: they wouldn't.) Not just strange faces: strange people. As ridiculous as it sounded, the actual aliens who'd visited our town seemed less alien than these folk.
And many, if not all of them, would probably become permanent residents. Most seemed to believe Elijah, Wyoming would become the new Roswell, New Mexico. They made such a statement with excitement, but when the thought passed my mind it had a tone of dread.
My town is gone.
The realization was easier to accept now that I was into my third drink. That's what I needed to do: accept it, not fight it, because it couldn't be fought. Especially now that I'd sold Jo's old land.
The die has been cast. That's what the Romans said, right?
Harry returned to my corner of the bar. "So when do they break ground?"
"Well," I said slowly, "when I asked Bobby that exact question he told me it wasn't any of my business. But I saw tractors driving through town about an hour after we signed the paperwork."
"They're eager to get the visitor center up."
"Eager is a good word for them in general," I muttered, looking sideways at the man on the next stool over. He was arguing with another UFO hunter about the shape of the aliens, whether they were naturally bipedal or only assimilated it from humans.
"Feels weird not having Jo around," Harry said. "Can't believe she ran off with that fella. Love at first sight, huh?"
"Guess so." I took a deeper pull of my beer. "I need some of that excitement in my life."
Harry swept his hand across the bar. "This isn't enough excitement for you?"
"You know what I mean."
He gave me a wry grin. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." He pointed with the pint glass he was cleaning. "If I had a big chunk of money, you know what I'd do?"
"What would you do, Harry?"
"I'd take Caroline and my girls to Rome. Show them the Coliseum, and the Parthenon."
"The Parthenon is in Greece," I pointed out.
"Well, you know what I mean. Show them some of the world. Aside from Caroline's two years at Boise State, none of us have ever left Wyoming. I want better for my daughters."
I arched an eyebrow at him. "You beggin' for a piece of my new-found riches?"
Harry spread his hands and smiled widely. "All I'm sayin' is that a big tip would be appreciated."
"I'll splurge and tip twenty-five percent instead of twenty."
Harry looked past me, tilted his head up in acknowledgment, then nodded. "Your boyfriend is here."
I groaned and avoided turning around. "He's not my--you know what, never mind."
"I don't know why you're so resistant," Harry said, pouring a fresh beer. "I'm not the best judge of these things, but he's awfully good looking."
"I suppose."
Harry eyed me while pouring the beer. "Unless he's... not your type. You know. If you, uhh, prefer..."
"Harry!"
"Cause that would explain it..."
"Good lord, Harry, I'm not a lesbian."
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn't know if--"
"He's an outsider, Harry, no matter how pretty he is."
"Sure."
"A nutjob UFO hunter." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't precisely a lie, either. "Probably won't be here more than a few more days."
"You're right." He put the beer on the counter. "Why don't you go take this to him for me?"
"He ordered a beer?"
"Sure did. Had one a few hours ago, too."
"Better pour m
e another, then." He blinked, and I added, "I've got a couch across the street in my office. No driving for me tonight."
"Alright," he said, pouring the second glass.
I took a deep breath, grabbed the beers, and slid off my stool.
Jamie sat at a table for two up against the side wall. He was pretty, the way a male model is pretty, with a perfectly groomed five o-clock shadow and beard below high cheekbones. His eyes were like the ocean, some mixture of green and blue that seemed to change depending on the time of day, and his brown hair was an organized chaos on his head. He was focused on the faded yellow notepad on the table, nervously tapping a pencil against it.
"Look what the cat dragged in," I said by way of greeting, plopping both beers down and then doing the same with my behind in the chair across from him. He smiled in surprise, and my heart did that stupid frigging thing it does when a good-looking guy is happy to see you.
But it was impossible to see him as anything other than what he truly was: an outsider who didn't belong in Elijah, and wouldn't be here much longer.
"Officer Hendrix," he said, my name pouring from his lips like sweet syrup. "I was hoping to see you tonight."
I pushed the beer a few inches closer. "Didn't think you drank."
He wrapped long fingers around the beer, sniffed it, then took a long pull. He smacked his lips, a ridiculous action which he somehow made look attractive.
"Today's different."
I drank from my own beer to cover up the goofy grin that wanted to creep onto my face. How could Harry think I'm a lesbian? I felt like a frigging schoolgirl whenever Jamie smiled at me. He probably had no idea, either. He was understandably oblivious.
I toasted the air. "To today being different." He mimicked my gesture and we drank in mutual silence.
"I've made astounding progress," he explained, crossing one leg over the other. "My research is complete. Or at least as complete as it can be without deeper involvement. I believe I'm finished here."
I flinched at his words. "Finished?"
"I will be leaving tomorrow, yes," he said. "As unexpected as this visit was, it has been... fruitful."
"I'm really glad to hear that." I quickly shook my head and added, "That it's been fruitful. Not that you're leaving."
Jamie smiled a knowing smile, and it felt like he was in my head.
"I cannot thank you enough for your... assistance in my visit." He leaned forward to look at me with those ocean-green eyes, sparkling above his beer. "I will miss you, Leslie."
They weren't just empty words. Jamie meant them, the way he meant everything he said, because that's who he was. But he also meant them exactly as he spoke them, without deeper meaning.
Simply, to the point. No subtext. It was refreshing, in a way. Especially compared to the other newcomers in Elijah.
"I'll miss you too," I said, and there was subtext to my words. Working on my fourth beer, I could feel myself drawn to him. He'd been a comfort in these past two weeks, as ridiculous and unexpected as that might have been. A constant in the swirling chaos that the town had become.
I told myself it had nothing to do with how frigging handsome he looked.
He smiled that smile at me, easy and warm.
If it were anyone else, in any other time and place, this would be that moment in the night when I asked him to come home with me. My defenses were properly disabled by the alcohol, and I was feeling especially lighthearted after finally selling Jo's land. If there were a time to let loose and have some fun, this was it. I could take him across the street to my office, tear that shirt away and kiss every inch of his chest. Push him down onto my couch as I did a strip tease, gyrating the curve of my hips as I removed my panties, then bent over to pull down his jeans to reveal a cock hard with willingness. And he would grab me, push me, take command of me as I fell back on the couch and he climbed atop me and smothered me with his muscles and kisses and pleasure.
I sighed to myself. A small part of me wanted to make it happen. Needed to.
But that's not who I was, deep down. And that definitely wasn't who Jamie was. I couldn't be with someone like him, no matter how gorgeous he was.
Still, the temptation pulsed alongside my heartbeat.
Jamie downed the rest of the beer in one gulp, reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp hundred dollar bill. He stood unceremoniously and said, "Good night and goodbye, Leslie."
He disappeared from the bar, leaving me alone with his smell of peppery cologne and musk.
"Here's your big tip," I said to Harry at the bar, slapping the hundred down. "Though it's from Jamie, not me. Oh, and he's covering my tab tonight too."
"And here I thought you'd grow generous in your new-found wealth," Harry said.
I wanted to stay and talk to him more, to talk about Jamie and the stupid feelings swirling around my gut, but then Harry was sliding across the bar to take a woman's order. I lingered a bit longer, sipped on my beer, then pushed through the crowd of UFO hunters toward the door.
Normally, I'd talk to Jo. Pour myself out to her the way someone poured out the remains of an unwanted beer, receive a hug and some words of advice, and then commiserate over a glass of wine and gossip about next month's romance novel.
But of course she was gone. And I couldn't contact her unless it was an emergency, lest one of the idiot UFO hunters track my call and find out that she's still here on good ol' planet earth. They probably couldn't tap our phones like that. It seemed ridiculously paranoid for me to even think about it that way. But then again, a lot had happened in the past two weeks that was far more ridiculous than that, and Jo had been insistent on precautions.
I stood in the cold night, wondering what to do to myself.
*
I went into my office and stared at the couch, the chair, the desk piled with paperwork. This was my life, now. And it certainly wasn't going to change. Maybe I should take Harry's advice and go to Rome.
Feeling generous, I unlocked my computer and fired off an email to Stacy, asking that she take $10,000 of my land proceeds and send it to Harry, with a note telling him to tell me how the Coliseum is. He'd come around and try to give it back the moment he found out, but that was a problem for future-Leslie. Present-Leslie didn't care what that woman had to deal with.
Hopping into my police cruiser probably wasn't the best idea after a few beers, but there was something I had to do. Closure I thought I needed.
The two-lane state highway wound back and forth through the woods, tall sentinels on either side devoid of green in these barren winter months. I constantly checked my rear-view mirror, but I was alone at that time of night. As bustling as Elijah had become, nobody went where I was going this late. There was nowhere to go.
Unless, like me, you had a secret to keep.
I pulled off to the side of the road when I was far enough out of town and circled my cruiser on light feet. I bent down--back aching from the effort--and reached under the trunk, feeling around until my fingers wrapped around a small metal box. It came away with minimal magnetic resistance, and I examined it by the red glow of my taillights: a spy-kit GPS tracker I'd seen Bobby attach to my cruiser today, when he thought I wasn't looking. Paranoid nutjobs.
But then again, it wasn't paranoia if it was justified.
I tossed the tracker to the side of the road and hopped back in the cruiser. I did a U-turn, backtracked eight miles until I reached down, then drove in the opposite direction.
The old logging camp was fifteen miles east of Elijah, across the county border which the UFO hunters had somehow group-decided was beyond the extend of the extra-terrestrial visit. The road was rough with disuse, and I had to stop at a fallen tree and walk the final quarter mile in the freezing cold.
I came to a clearing, which appeared empty. But of course it wasn't.
Normally, he knew when I was there and removed Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak from his craft, or whatever it was he had. But tonight nothing happened. For a desperate insta
nt I felt a pang of regret that I was too late, that he'd already left.
I grabbed a handful of snow, pressed it into a snowball, and launched it into the air. It hit an invisible wall and splattered into pieces.
Relief washed over me in a wave. I wasn't too late.
"Anybody home?" I called out.
The air shimmered like heat coming off a desert road. A round shape slowly materialized, a dull metal color devoid of anything noteworthy except the jutting glass cockpit window on the left side. It stood on three thin legs like a tripod, with only four feet between the undercarriage and the ground. I sighed with relief.
"That trick never grows old," I said out loud as a greeting. "You could have a swell career as a magician, if you stuck around."
Jerix, a scout of the Karak Dominion of Planets, materialized behind the glass of the cockpit. He looked similar to a thick bar of light, like someone was holding a focused flashlight four feet above the ground and pointed it straight down. The Karak descended lightly from the cockpit, passing through the glass and carbon-alloy wall of the craft with alien ease.
Why are you here? he asked me, a note of alarm coming across the link with my mind.
"Can you just, uhh, not do that?" I asked. "It gives me the creeps to hear you talkin' right into my brain."
Jerix's form changed. The photons of his body burst apart like a strong wind had blown through him, rotating and spinning in intricate arcs. The atoms changed colors, a rainbow shimmer in the moonlight that made me hold my breath with wonder. Slowly the atoms coalesced back into recognizable shape, clumping together into a torso and legs and arms, nude for the briefest instant. I felt a butterfly take flight in my stomach in that moment as I admired his form, hips curving above strong thighs, the ridiculously perfect six-pack abs and ridged oblique muscles along his sides, slanting upward to bulging shoulders and arms.
And then the moment was gone, and clothes materialized into place, the same jeans and T-shirt he'd been wearing at the bar.
"Why are you here?" Jerix--in the human Jamie form--asked again. His brow furrowed with worry.
"Nothing's wrong," I said, stepping forward. "I wanted to give you this."
