The Girl Who Fell Out of the Sky

by Victoria Forester

  Max knew that Conrad and Piper knew he was up to something. He knew they knew that he knew this. He also knew they would be getting into position all around him at that very moment. He’d grant them a few minutes more to ready themselves; he was a generous guy. Plus, he hated to rush things.

  Oh, this was going to be fun!

  Did he have the best angle? Through the waning darkness, the large stones of Stonehenge loomed in front of him. They stood now, just as they had for the last five thousand years, mysterious and tall.

  Esteemed archeologists and scientists had long circled the stones, scratching their heads and guessing at what could have possessed farmers to drag them into a field in the middle of nowhere. The work, they’d say, the impossibility of dragging massive stones from mines that were over one hundred miles away without decent equipment, was unthinkable.

  And yet it had happened, and the stones stood through wars and famines and plagues and all that came and went as time passed.

  But why? What purpose did the stones serve? Perhaps they were the location of a religious rite or a lost church, it was surmised. Maybe they were a giant sundial set up to track the movement of the sun. No one could say for sure.

  No one but Max, that is. Because Max had been alive then and had seen it all clearly, remembered what everyone else has long forgotten: how the farmers stopped fighting each other, put aside their petty squabbles and their fear of starvation, left their fields, and worked side by side to erect the stones with exacting precision.

  Max remembered, like it was yesterday, standing in the mud and rain, watching those farmers battling for their lives. He knew they would have dragged stones from thousands of miles away if that’s what it took.

  Because the very lives of their children depended on it.

  Because the truth is that Stonehenge is not a church or a calendar or even a gathering place: Stonehenge is a prison. As long as the stones stand, the ancient beasts trapped beneath sleep. Max knew all about the beasts and what would happen if they were released.

  Which is why that day was a day for the history books.

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t fun,” Max mused to himself, considering the last year, in which he’d embraced the role of villain. At every turn he’d caused trouble and watched the kids figure out how to stop him. “The kids are good, and Conrad’s smart: a worthy adversary. I haven’t had that before, and it has made life interesting to have something to fight against.”

  “Agreed,” Max responded to himself. He was the most agreeable person he knew. It made talking to himself such a joy. “But you can only play a villain for so long before it becomes … repetitive and boring.”

  The very mention of the words “boring” and “repetitive” made Max shudder. To successfully live forever, Max had some very strict rules. He called them the Rules of Fun, and he followed them religiously.

  Max’s Rules of Fun for Living Forever

  Always have your next fun thing planned. (Keep moving, set goals, always move toward fun.)

  Never repeat yourself. (Repetition leads to boredom. Repetition kills fun.)

  Avoid all unfun. (Anything that can die is a buzzkill. Stay away from it at all costs.)

  Playing “world disaster” with Piper and Conrad had been fun. No doubt. But still … boredom and repetition must be avoided at all costs.

  “No rules were broken,” Max said firmly. “We strapped that bus of orphans on the bridge, but a few months before, it was a boatload of orphans going over a waterfall. There were similarities.”

  Max shoved some chips into his mouth, chewing angrily. “One set of orphans was from the inner city and the other set was foreign born. That is very, very different.”

  “It was on the line. Plus they were both easily rescued by Piper and Conrad’s team of wonder kids. It wasn’t even that fun.”

  Max smushed up the bag and littered fitfully. “I have never ever broken the rules, and you know that.” Why must he be such a nitpicker? And on a night like this, too!

  “Just saying…”

  “And I’m saying that we’ve agreed it’s over now and we aren’t going to play games with the kids anymore, so why do we need to keep talking about it? Today will finish it. Why do you have to go and ruin it?”

  Max hated it when he got like this. He was the most exasperating person he knew. And the worst part of it was that he couldn’t get away from himself.

  He chugged back the rest of his soda, crumpled up the can, and tossed it over his shoulder, slouching into his chair peevishly. Maybe he’d give himself the silent treatment for a bit. A time-out wouldn’t hurt.

  “It is a very good plan,” he admitted begrudgingly out of the side of his mouth.

  “Of course it’s a good plan. It’s the best plan. Inventive. Interesting. And fun.”

  “Yes, it will be fun.”

  Uncomfortable pause.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s just forget about it.”

  “It’s forgotten. You’re a great guy, Max!”

  “Thanks, Max.”

  Max sighed, relieved. Nothing should ruin a day like this. Adjusting his position so that he was exactly as he wanted to be, he plucked the detonator out of the other cupholder.

  “Okay, Max, this is it. Are you ready?”

  “I was born ready.” Max pumped his fist in the air. “This is a Max Attack!”

  Max gleefully pressed the detonator’s button. On cue, the bombs he’d tucked beneath the stones exploded, earth and fire shooting outward.

  The force of the explosions shifted the ground, and one by one the monolithic stones tumbled, some shattering to pieces, others falling with a thud. The biggest stone fell against the ones closest to it and took them down like dominoes. At last only one single solitary stone remained. It wobbled, leaning right and left.

  “C’mon, baby,” Max cheered. “Come to Papa.”

  The stone teetered.

  Max became aware of a flash of movement circling the destruction. The kids were familiar sights to Max now; he could anticipate their moves, which was another reason it was time to stop playing with them.

  “That must be Myrtle,” he said. “Probably running the perimeter for a closer look.” Something caught his eye above the site. “And there’s Piper McCloud, circling for an overhead view of things. Right on schedule.”

  He placed his index finger in the air. “Cue a thunderstorm.”

  Sure enough, storm clouds were brewing overhead, courtesy of the weather-changing wonders, Ahmed and Nalen Mustafa.

  “Yes, having a rainstorm on standby in case of a fire is good thinking, Conrad,” Max agreed.

  In a painful, slow-motion way, the last stone leaned to the right and then the left and then back again.

  “Ahhhh,” said Max, gleefully clutching himself. “The suspense is killing me.”

  Slowly the final rock of Stonehenge fell to the ground. The impact of the stone’s fall was felt for miles around.

  “Touchdown!” Max stood up, his arms raised above his head.

  Silence.

  Then came a rumble. The earth began to shake gently, like it had a stomachache and was about to belch. The shaking grew.

  CRACK! A nasty fissure split the soil down the middle of where the stones had once stood. Out of the wound oozed a black, hairy bug the size of a boulder.

  The bug was the thing of nightmares. There was slime on it and spiky hair sticking out of its many legs. It was midnight black, only made possible by the complete absence of goodness and light. It stood, directing its many antenna about and shaking off crusted dirt. Next, it flexed its wings and lifted its head, opening a vast mouth to roar.

  Max covered his ears.

  Then the bug took flight and went directly up, up, up.

  The earth it left behind was now bubbling and shaking and falling inward. Out came another bug, identical to the one that had flown away. A moment later came another, and now there was a seemin
gly endless stream of them, arriving and shaking and then flying away.

  The hole was growing, swallowing the earth around it.

  “Ahhhhhh,” came a scream.

  Max grabbed the pair of night-vision binoculars in his bag. (He was nothing if not prepared.) He scanned the area until he found what he was looking for—a kid in the middle of the chaos.

  “That looks like Jasper,” Max reported to himself. Jasper was a gentle, stuttering thing that Max never paid much mind to since there was little fun in him, at least inasmuch as Max discerned fun.

  “Hmmm. A child in danger definitely takes the stakes up a notch.” Max smacked his lips together.

  Jasper clung to the side of the crater, holding on for dear life. The mound shook and shuddered, bits falling away. Jasper was not large for his age, and the violent shaking of the earth was tossing his small body about like a piece of popcorn.

  And then Jasper lost his hold.

  He slipped into the crater and out of sight.

  Max sat back, irritated by the short-term nature of this particular plot twist. “Well, that didn’t last long,” he said, throwing up his hands like he’d gone to an unsatisfactory movie and deserved his money back.

  But then—happiness! A sudden flash of movement swooped down into the crater after Jasper.

  “Piper to the rescue!” Max cheered, watching and waiting for Piper to reappear.

  Long moments passed, but Piper was nowhere to be seen. “The plot thickens,” Max said ominously, delighted. “Will Piper McCloud meet a nasty end? Or will she save her fallen comrade and return victorious?”

  More and more bugs were pouring out of the hungry mouth of the crater. Overhead, storm clouds swirled into an angry soup, throwing off bolts of lightning and hearty thunder.

  Still no sign of Piper.

  “I’m on the edge of my seat,” Max chortled. And he was. He was leaning forward, perched at the ready, night-vision goggles jammed to his face. “There’s no way that Piper McCloud will ever get out of this jam.”

  But then … Piper flew up! Debris pelted her from all sides. Drama and pain on her face, Jasper an unconscious rag doll in her arms.

  When she cleared the edge of the crater, Piper tumbled out of the air and down to the ground, landing in a heap. Jasper a second heap next to her.

  And then … a bug came crawling up out of the crater right at the two of them.

  If Piper had remained still—like Jasper, who was unconscious—she would have been safe, but she kicked at the bug and struggled. The instinctive response of the bug was to attack.

  The belly of the bug ignited into an angry red burn, and then it stung her. Piper’s body bucked and shook. After that, she was absolutely still.

  “Unbelievable!” Max clapped his hands together, entirely satisfied. “The perfect ending!”

  CHAPTER

  4

  It was late in the afternoon when Betty returned to the farm from her ladies’ sewing circle to find Piper unconscious on the kitchen table, surrounded on all sides by the anxious faces of the other kids. They were all, without exception, slathered in muck, debris, and panic.

  “Lord above!” Betty dropped her basket and put her hand over her heart. “What in heaven’s name is going on here?”

  Conrad was carefully turning Piper over with the help of Daisy’s strong hands. “Max set a trap, and Piper got caught in it. She was stung by a bug, and by the time I reached her, she wasn’t breathing.”

  “She ain’t breathing?” Betty kept her eyes on Piper’s white face and blue lips.

  “She’s breathing now,” Kimber said quickly. “I helped with that. I gave her a good jolt.”

  Kimber clapped her hands together, and a blue arch of fizzling electricity crackled between them. When she was younger, Kimber used to have accidents, blow things up, short out entire electrical grids, but that didn’t happen anymore.

  “I pumped a thousand volts into her chest to get her heart started, and as soon as I zapped her, she was breathing again.”

  The visual this created in Betty’s head was anything but comforting.

  “Hold her steady,” Conrad said to Daisy, who had to concentrate on not crushing Piper with her super strength. Smitty pushed forward, squinting his X-ray vision so that he could get the precise magnification.

  “She’s got no broken bones,” he reported. “No internal bleeding, no trauma to her organs. But hold on—here’s the problem.”

  Smitty pointed to Piper’s lower back. “I haven’t seen this before.”

  Conrad unbuttoned the back of Piper’s dress, uncovering a red mark the size of a melon on her lower back. In the epicenter of the welt was a wicked puncture wound.

  Smitty leaned in close. “When the bug stung, it left behind a type of venom.”

  “Dear Lord,” Betty gasped. “What kind of bug makes a mark like that?”

  “What are we going to do?” Violet breathed, shrinking several inches. “What if she never wakes up?”

  Strained and serious looks passed between the kids.

  “Let me try again,” said Jasper, coming forward. He was badly shaken up from his time in the crater and had already tried to heal her, but with everything that had gone on, he was having an off day.

  Standing back, the kids gave Jasper room to work. Rubbing his hands together, he blew into them until a white light burned brightly inside his flesh. He placed his illuminated hands on Piper, and the light traveled out of him and into her.

  Betty said a silent prayer, her lips moving as she watched the light zing inside of Piper’s body. Gradually it dissipated and then dimmed altogether. They waited, leaning in slightly and hoping.

  A feeble moan drifted out of Piper, so soft and low they all gathered close to make sure they weren’t mistaken.

  “Piper?” Conrad whispered urgently. “Piper, can you hear me?”

  With the utmost care, Daisy turned Piper over and laid her flat.

  Suddenly Piper’s blue eyes snapped open, her mouth gasping for air like she’d been submerged and had just reached the surface.

  Betty near about fainted.

  “Oh, Piper, I thought you were dead!” little Violet cried.

  Smitty gave Kimber a big hug. (Smitty was always looking for an excuse to hug Kimber, and in the excitement, she let him.)

  While the others sagged with relief, Conrad stayed close, watching Piper’s confused face for signs.

  Piper felt like she was only half there. “What happened, Con? I can’t remember.”

  “You were stung by the bug.”

  “What bug? Am I alright?” Piper tried to sit up. “I don’t feel like myself.”

  “Rest,” Conrad said, a troubled look on his brow. “You need to rest.”

  * * *

  In short order Piper was tucked up in her bed with strict instructions to stay put. Betty got busy on a big meal, and Conrad got to work feverishly gathering what information he could on the bugs.

  Piper was fussed over to no end; flowers were picked and placed on her bedside table, tasty treats were offered, and every manner of book or amusement was conjured in the hopes it would speed her recovery. When Betty brought up a big bowl of chicken noodle soup and found Piper’s room cluttered with kids, she shooed them all away and commanded Piper to rest.

  “Do I look okay, Ma?” Piper anxiously balanced her spoon over the large bowl of soup.

  To Betty’s eyes, Piper looked anything but okay. She was pale, with dark smudges shadowing her eyes, her lips more blue then pink—and there was a tremor in her hand.

  “You look like you need a good night’s sleep,” Betty sniffed. “I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you to keep your feet on the ground. Look at the trouble you got yourself into today.” Betty still hadn’t recovered from the shock of seeing Piper unconscious. “A decent rest will do you a world of good.”

  Piper nodded hopefully. “And when I wake up in the morning, I’ll feel like myself again?”

  “You�
��ll be as right as rain,” Betty said staunchly.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Piper woke from tangled, murky dreams in the small hours of the morning. It was dark inside and out, and there was a heaviness that held her down in her bed. It took considerable strength for Piper to lift her head off the pillow. When she was sitting upright, she looked down at her body, and it felt foreign and suddenly not her own. When had she grown so tall? Her spirit felt lost in the larger landscape.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed so her bare feet touched the braided rug on the floor. Piper looked at her toes and wiggled them, surprised when they responded to her commands.

  Piper stood and willed herself to float.

  When her feet didn’t rise up off the floor, she closed her eyes and tried again. Nothing.

  A cold shiver crawled up the base of Piper’s neck, raising goose bumps on the flesh of her arms. She told herself to remain calm and considered what to do.

  Get outside. If you can see the sky, you’ll naturally go to it.

  In the hallway outsider her bedroom, Piper leaned heavily on the walls for support. Her body was strangely stiff, and she felt weak. When she arrived in the kitchen, she sat at the table to gather her resources before making her way out of the house.

  Standing in the middle of the farmyard, Piper could see a dusting of gold across the eastern horizon. The sun was about to breach, and she looked to the heavens above.

  Up, up. Go up.

  Piper raised her arms, tilting her head all the way back until her vision was filled with fading stars. She knew that on a morning like this the sky would taste cold and crisp. She reached for it.

  Up. UP!

  Piper’s feet did not, would not, leave the ground.

  Soon after Piper was born, she had floated. Her floating came naturally and completely unbidden at any moment of the night or the day. When she had finally started flying, she had to jump off things to get going. Of course, she hadn’t needed to do that in years now. She had taught herself to focus her attention in just the right way so that her body would lift off. If floating was a release, then flying was an explosion of happiness inside her chest.