The Alien Next Door, Part Six

Ruiz rapped on my window. "Wake up!"

            "Huh?" I jerked forward. "I'm awake! I'm up! What?"

            "One-thirty. Close to showtime. You friend Craig's already out on the back porch, salivating."

            "Right there." I yawned. "Rachel?"

            "Yeah." She rubbed her eyes. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"

            "At least we got a nap out of it." I opened the door.

            We headed through the house to the porch. Winters was there, leaning on the railing. Officer Mortimer was leaning against the house, along with the African American patrolman, whose name was Jones, sitting in a deck chair.

            Ruiz closed the door behind us. "Now we wait."

            "For what?" Jones looked annoyed. "Captain Kirk or Mr. Spock?"

            "Whatever." Ruiz folded her arms. "Hopefully the kid."

            "Craig." I stepped next to Winters, my hands on the rail. "Why would the Boku hurt Geenhill?"   

            He shook his head. "I don't know enough about them. That's your fault—if you hadn't shut us down—"

            "Calm down, boys." Ruiz kept one eye on the lawn. "I'm keeping an open mind on this."

            "I'm just afraid . . ." Rachel lowered her head. "It might be my fault. Sort of."

            I took her hand. "Whatever happened, it happened because of them. Not you."

            She shivered. "I hope that's right."

            "Let's keep our heads straight, people." Ruiz checked the time. "Fifteen minutes."

            We waited.

            

Rachel nudged me. "Stay awake."

            "Right! Awake." I took a deep breath. "What time is it?"

            Ruiz chuckled. "It's 1:55. I wish you had that camera from last night here."

            We'd left it at home. I lurched up from the chair. "Butifi we all start using our phones, it'll be harder to complain that the video is faked." 

            Rachel reached into her pocket. Winters leaned back from the railing and pulled up his phone. So did Jones and Mortimer. 

            "Nice idea." Ruiz glanced back at the two officers. "Spread out. Different angles. Stay on the porch."

            "No." Winters staggered toward the steps. "I have to be there."

            Mortimer glanced at Ruiz. "Hey?"

            She shook her head. "Keep him back. Nobody get close."

            He grinned. "Right."

            We all held our phones out. My arm started to shake. I checked the time—1:58, 1:57, 1:56 . . .

            Rachel held her breath. I clutched her arm. "Stay close."

            "Jerk." Her phone trembled in her hand. "Just let me keep this in focus."

            I gripped the railing, my own hand shaking. Come on, come on . . .

            A light flared from the sky. I flinched. Rachel caught my shoulder with one hand, keeping her phone steady in the other. I managed to hold my own phone up, centered on the burned circle in the grass.

            Winters held his phone with both hands, rocking back and forth on his heels. Mortimer stood behind him, holding his phone with one hand, his other hand near his handgun.

            The light grew brighter. I blinked, trying to stay upright. Maybe the porch shook. It might have been my knees.

            The light started to fade. I could see—maybe—a small figure curled up on the grass, hands wrapped around his knees. 

            Then Winters dropped his phone and darted down the steps toward the shaft of light.

            "Hey, wait!" Ruiz shouted. Mortimer dashed down the stairs after him.

            Will stood up in bare feet and pajamas. He stumbled out of the white light and rubbed his eyes. "Jim? Jim! Where are you?"

            What the hell? "Will?"

            Mortimer let go of Winters and rushed forward to scoop Will up in his arms. "You're okay, kid. I've got you."

            Will was crying. "Where's Jim? Where's my uncle? Mom?"

            Winters rushed forward. "What did they say? What did you see?"

            The beam dimmed. Winters dived forward.

            The light faded and disappeared. Along with Winters.

            "Damn it." I kept my phone on for another minute, then shut the camera off.

            "Where's Jim?" Will sank to his knees, trembling and crying. "Where's my uncle?"

            Ruiz stepped from the porch. Rachel and I followed. 

            "I'm sorry." Mortimer lifted his hands. "He just—got away—"

            "Not now." Ruiz squatted. "Will? How do you feel? Are you okay?"

            He nodded, wiping his eyes. "I'm cold. Are you a cop? Where's Jim?"

            "I'm Officer Ruiz. Your uncle is . . . in the hospital." Ruiz's glance at me said Shut up, so I kept my mouth shut. But Rachel reached out to place a hand on Will's arm. "Will? Do you remember me?"

            He looked up. "You were that lady who came to visit."

            Rachel dropped her hand before Ruiz could push her away. "That's right. You'll be all right."

            She stood up. "He's okay."     

            "He's not—?"

            She shook her head. "It's all him now."

            "What were they doing with him?"

            She shook her head. "No idea. Sorry."

            I sighed. "Okay. At least he's safe."

Back home, I opened beers for us. At 4 a.m., was this too late or too early to drink? I didn't care.

            "It's like an episode of The X-Files." I slurped my beer. "All questions, no answers, just a big flash of light at the end."

            "And you're David Duchovny?" Rachel sat at the kitchen table.

            I grinned. "I can live with you being Gillian Anderson. But sexier."

            She kicked me under the table. 

            Paramedics had checked Will out, found him to be physically fine, then taken him to the hospital anyway for a more thorough examination. The same hospital where James Greenhill was apparently recovering, according to Ruiz. Greenhill had woken up with no memory of anything other than a blinding white light.

            "Do you think he's coming back?" Rachel asked.

            Winters? "Maybe. I don't expect the cops to stake out the backyard for the next few nights." But I'd have to call his ex-wife—the mother of his child—in the morning. She needed to know what had happened.

            In the meantime . . . I yawned. "Let's take tomorrow off."

            "Easy for you to say. I've still got a landing page and two brochures on deadline." But Rachel caught my yawn. "Maybe just the morning."

            Then my phone buzzed. James Greenhill. "Are you all right?"

            "I'm . . . fffine." His speech was slurred. "Just wannnted to sssay . . . hhhere's Will . . ."

            "Mr. Jurgen?" Will sounded nervous. "I think I was on a spaceship. With aliens. But the doctors say I was hallucinating. What do you think?"

            I stared at Rachel, eyes wide. What the hell do I say? Then I took a deep breath. "Will, I think I was on spaceship too. Once. A long time ago. So I believe you."
            Rachel pulled the phone toward her. "Will, how do you feel?"

            "Uh . . . funny? Like I was asleep for a long time, but it was just a few minutes? I don't know."

            I was no expert in alien abductions—despite being abducted once myself. "When you get home, you should find someone to talk to. Someone who believes you. Not someone who tries to tell you you're crazy, or you were dreaming. It'll help, with the right person."

            "O-okay." He hesitated. "Jim's asleep again. He wanted me to call you."

            "Get some sleep too, Will."

            "Good night," Rachel said.

            I finished my beer. "Let's go to bed."

            She nodded. "I'd race you, but I'm likely to fall asleep right here."

            "Yeah." I patted her hand. For once she didn't pull away.

            I wondered if we'd ever hear from Craig Winters again.

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