Making my way across the gazebo, I sit on a quaint wooden bench, taking in the expanse of the lake. The tiny ripples on the water’s surface reflect the moonlight, casting an ethereal glow that illuminates the darkened surroundings. I take a moment to close my eyes, finding solace in the soft lull of the water lapping against the pebbled shore, the distant chirping of the insects, and the faint rustle of the leaves. Tranquility fills my being, adding to the enchanting aura of this magical place.
A yawn sneaks up on me, sleepiness nudging its way back into my consciousness. I turn on the bench, leaning my arms on the gazebo railing, and rest my chin on my arms. I stare out across the serene expanse of the water, staring into the darkness of the forest hugging the shore. The sounds of the night slowly lull me, and I close my eyes, enjoying and soaking up the peace of this place. Just as I’m about to surrender back to sleep, a boom and a flash of light jolt me wide awake. I gape, stunned, as the darkness of the night is replaced by a burst of multicolored fireworks, painting the sky with a myriad of hues in brilliant colors. Koko is right – the fireworks’ magnificence reflects beautifully against the lake’s serene surface, making everything around me seem like a fairy tale.
A wide smile spreads across my face. I love fireworks.
I watch the show, impressed at the small town’s display. Talk about going all out. I wish I had someone to share this with but ignore my niggling feeling of loneliness and take this moment to soak in the peaceful solitude.
The grand finale begins and captivates my gaze with a brilliant cascade of lights painting the sky. I’m absorbed in the beauty, lost in the moment when a black shape streaks across the sky between me and the fireworks. Its shadow darts across the sky like an enormous bird blocking the light for only a blink. My heart lurches.
“What the hell?” I murmur. I watch, frozen, as the shadow becomes a tangible shape reminiscent of a bird with its wings outstretched but sharp and metallic. It streaks across the night before crashing into the trees beyond the lake with a deafening roar. Time grinds to a halt for a moment, the monstrous echo of the collision reverberating through my bones. I have a moment of pure disbelief, feeling like my senses are tricking me somehow.
Snapping back to reality, the nurse in me kicks into autopilot, the implications of what I’ve just seen sinking in. A plane? A glider? It’s too small for a commercial aircraft, but the possibilities hardly matter.
“Holy shit! Holy shit!” I babble, glancing around as if I’m going to find help alone here in the woods.
Snatching up the flashlight from where I set it on the bench, I push all my fears and worries to the back of my mind. I race toward the crash site around the lake’s edge. My pulse is pounding at the sheer possibility of what carnage lies before me. I grimly set my face and power on.
Each step feels both too slow and unnecessarily rushed, my brain grappling with the intense situation. Sweat trickles down my neckline, and I remind myself to breathe.
“Oh please, oh please, let them be alive,” I pray, my breath heavy and thoughts scattered. Fear tastes stale in my mouth, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me.
As I dash headlong into the dark woods, the beam of my flashlight dances over the carpet of leaf litter underfoot, illuminating the trail of broken branches and kicked-up dirt leading to the crash site. My breath battles the chilly night air, sharp physical evidence of my rising fear.
Without taking my eyes off the trail, I fumble around in my pocket for my phone. Nothing. Not even the lonely echo of a single bar. I curse under my breath again, frustratedly shoving the now useless device back into my pocket. I must be too far from the cabin to get a signal.
“Oh fu—” I swear when I see what looks like the bright gleam of metal ahead of me on the path. Panic starts to rise up my throat.
The air is sharp, laced with the scent of smoldering vegetation. Each inhalation rasps against my throat like sandpaper, triggering an unwelcome cough. I stifle it, biting my lower lip as I increase my pace, following the gash of upturned soil and mangled foliage that cuts a swath through the woodland.
“Please, let me not be too late,” I breathe – half prayer, half plea – the words catching on the wind. I push past the brambles, their thorny fingers reaching out to me as I rush deeper into the chaos.
Thick tendrils of smoke coil serpentine-like, rising from a metallic structure half buried in the forest undergrowth. I don’t know what I’m looking at, but whatever it is, it’s not an airplane. Maybe it’s some kind of military drone or something. My breath hitches in my chest as I cast my light onto the wreckage, the beam of my flashlight falling onto its sleek, smooth surface. It… looks like a spaceship – like something straight out of one of those futuristic novels that Marcus liked to read. It’s an absurd, ridiculous thought, but right here, right now, it feels scarily plausible.
I stagger backward, tripping over a root, barely keeping myself from falling flat on my back. Distant echoes of common-sense scream at me to run, to turn around, and go back to the safety of the cabin, but I stand frozen in place, gripped by equal parts fear and shock.
The silence of the night shatters as a shrill, hissing noise resounds across the open clearing. The noise emanates from the ship, where a door slides slowly open. My heart thrums deafeningly against my ribs as a shadowed figure pulls itself from the belly of the metallic beast.
The figure crawls into the opening on shaky limbs, tumbling out of the opening and hitting the ground with a thud. It’s humanoid in form, and I think male based on its enormous size and shape. Bright white eyes in a dark silver face snap up and stare at me before sliding closed. For a moment, I think I’m staring at an android, but then I notice he is smeared with a slick red substance catching the silver light of the moon. Blood.
I lurch forward without thought, muscles tensing in preparation for unwarranted danger – a charcoal-silver man – a fucking extraterrestrial – covered in blood.
CHAPTER 12
Lily
“Sir, are you okay? Sir?” My voice is carried away on the cold night air, tendrils of fog swirling around my words. The figure lying prone on the ground manages to open its eyes to slits. His white eyes almost glow in the dark, startling me with the intensity of his stare. Once again, I wonder if this is a robot or some kind of futuristic android. But then he lets out a raspy snarl before his eyes roll up in his head and he goes limp.
Cautiously, I press forward, my nursing instincts overcoming my fear. My mind races, worrying that the ship might explode or that the smoke rising from the ship’s hull is releasing dangerous fumes into the air. Despite my fright, my compassionate side overpowers my fear.
As I scurry closer, the alien’s features become clear. He’s definitely humanoid, with smooth, pewter-hued skin shimmering like satin in the weak light. His face is almost harsh with sharp angles. He doesn’t have any hair, adding to his android-like appearance. His eyes, now closed, are large and almond-shaped and deep-set under the thick ridge of his brow.
Hesitant, I kneel beside him, quickly scanning his nude form. He’s bleeding from several wounds, but nothing looks immediately life-threatening. However, I have no idea if he has any internal injuries. I can’t determine from visual inspection if he is unconscious from shock, traumatic injury, or blood loss. Perhaps all three. I can feel my heart squeeze at the sight.
I press my fingers to his throat and feel his strong heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Breathing a silent prayer of thanks for that good news, I check over at his still form. I place my hands on his chest, hoping to feel its rise and fall. I visually explore and catalog the alien landscape of his body. I wince as I come across two large, slowly bleeding punctures. The size and shape make me think they might be bullet wounds.
Moving quickly, I rip off the flannel shirt I’m wearing over my tank top, bunching it into a makeshift bandage. My heart thuds hopelessly against my ribs as I apply pressure to the wounds. To my immense relief, the bleeding is already slowing, the crimson fluid gradually saturating the fabric. It doesn’t seem life-threatening – or at least, not as far as I can tell. Who knows how different alien physiology is from humans?
Running my fingers down the alien’s arm, I check for signs of injuries and fractures. His skin feels warm to the touch but not noticeably different from the normal range for a human. Palpating his left arm, I find what feels like a fracture. The skin in that area is also swollen and darkly discolored as far as I can tell. A cold thrill of fear trickles through my veins, not for myself, but for this creature whose fate has been thrust onto my shoulders.
I shift my attention to his legs, checking for more injuries. The reality of tending to an alien, however humanoid, strikes me profoundly. The foreign flesh underneath my fingertips feels exactly like human skin despite its grayish color. When I reach his right ankle, I notice it looks much larger than its brother. I’m not sure if it’s broken or merely sprained. I’m only guessing, of course. For all I know, this might be a normal biological response. Although ‘normal’ doesn’t count for much right now.
I’ve got this. I tell myself. No matter where he comes from, a patient is a patient. Right?
Suddenly, a low hissing noise emanates from deeper within the ship, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have no idea if it’s just a normal spaceship sound or if the whole thing is about to blow up. I gnaw on my lip, worrying over the possibility that the ship might… explode or who knows? We need to leave the immediate vicinity, that much is clear.
Comparing myself to the burly frame of the unconscious alien, I take a couple of deep breaths, prepping myself for what comes next. He’s a lot bigger than I am, and from what I can see under the dull luminescence of the moonlight, he is built like a bodybuilder. But I’ve lifted heavy patients before; it’s part of my job. I was always proud of my physical strength, but this time, I wish I had a bit more of it. This is gonna suck.
“Hang on, mister,” I whisper to the quiet night, rolling up my shoulders to warm them. “I’ve got you.”
Gritting my teeth, I crouch down, slipping my arms under his armpits and clasping my hands together over his chest. Positioning myself low, I brace myself. With a groan like a dying beast, I start to drag him away from the ship. His heavy head lolls back, resting against my shoulder. I grit my teeth and offer a silent prayer, hoping some divine entity can lend me enough strength. With a deep breath, I start to slowly drag him away from the crash in heaving, curse-filled jolts.
I barely get him ten feet, his heels dragging in the mud and my breath sawing in and out of my chest with my pulse pounding from the exertion. I have to stop for a moment and recover.
“Come on, Lily, you can do this,” I give myself a pep talk, then squat down again. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck. Son of a fuck!” I chant as I heave him with all my strength. The cursing sorta seems to help.
I finally manage to drag the hulking alien far enough away from the wreckage that I feel a sliver of safety. My muscles blaze from the exertion, my arms and legs feeling like quivering jelly. Sweat trickles down my temples, mixing with strands of my escaped hair. Still, the physical discomfort of it all is insignificant compared to the overwhelming urgency to keep this otherworldly stranger safe.
