From a Distant Star Read online

  When a missile came at the main ship after it entered the atmosphere, the new scout was the only one who disengaged. He did it in a panic, violating the rule that said only to detach on command. While the Seeker and the other nineteen crafts still attached exploded above him, his small craft spun away, emergency illuminators snapping on as he hurtled downward at a dizzying speed. When he finally hit the ground, it was at an angle, sending his craft skidding and bouncing violently before coming to a stop. He’d lost control and hadn’t even gotten his bearings when the top of the craft opened, its seal damaged by the impact. The illuminators hissed and then crackled. They brightened before dimming, and then went dark completely.

  Being grounded and cut off from the power supply was the worst possible thing that could happen to a scout. The scout’s ability to communicate was limited to the main ship, the Seeker, and he relied on it to repower his craft after each mission. As disoriented as he was, he tried to weigh his options. His craft was damaged, the main ship obliterated, leaving him without a way to communicate with his home planet. Worse yet, he’d been left grounded: a consciousness without a body. In this state, he was an energy field known as bio-plasma: a collection of memory, emotions, and thought processes. But he wasn’t whole. There was no way to go home. And he wouldn’t last long if he couldn’t transfer to a new living vessel. Death was certain.

  When the creature approached, the scout didn’t even try to assess the life form. He saw an opportunity, one he knew he might not have later, and he took it. The second the creature came close enough, the scout exited his craft and latched onto this being. His life depended on finding a new host and he couldn’t afford to be picky.

  He shimmied in through the moist membranes of the viewing portals, an optimal way to be absorbed and take over. The creature resisted, but was too disoriented to do much. Within seconds, the scout was inside. Initially, the scout let the creature keep control of the body while he got his bearings. When the creature’s ears picked up a sound signal—“Mack? Where are you? Get back here now!”—and responded by moving across the terrain to a structure, the scout recognized it as a summoning. His host, he now knew, was the subordinate of the one creating the noise.

  The creature trotted inside and the scout took note of the earthlings’ habitat—the way the space was divided and cluttered with objects fashioned from deceased plants and mined ore. He watched as two of the “people” communicated back and forth using audible sounds, and afterward, he had the physical sensation of being lifted onto an object where a third inhabitant lay inert. The scout could tell that the creature he inhabited had an affection for the people and especially this one, the young one who—the scout could immediately sense—was near death, the cells in his body having gone rogue and destroyed his health. Why would they allow his body to deteriorate to such a degree when the problem was so easy to fix? Clearly, this society was not very advanced at all.

  He watched as the other inhabitant applied a substance to the eyes and mouth of the unhealthy being. A death ritual? Or maybe it was somehow supposed to help soothe and bring relief? The being leaned over and pressed faces with the sick one and the scout understood that this must be a good-bye. Death was near, in the air and all around. If he could make the leap before this ill organism died, the body would be a perfect container for him.

  His chance came soon enough. When the creature inched closer and his nose aligned with the sick one’s newly moistened orifices, the scout used all his energy to leave the subordinate creature, departing through the eyes and entering the new body the same way.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For the past three nights, I’d stayed by Lucas’s side, sleeping only a little bit here and there. The lack of sleep caught up to me, though. That night, after unsuccessfully applying the potion to Lucas’s eyes and lips, and sealing it with a kiss, a wave of fatigue hit me so hard it nearly knocked me over. I turned off the small lamp on the side table and went back to the recliner, thinking I just needed fifteen minutes to doze. Two hours later, I woke up to the sound of Mrs. Walker shrieking when she caught sight of the dog snuggled up next to Lucas. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of there,” she yelled.

  My eyes flicked open as Mack jumped off the bed and took off, tail between his legs. From the light of the kitchen and the nightlight in the corner, I could see Mrs. Walker’s face contorted in anger. “What did I say, Emma? Didn’t I tell you to keep that dog off the bed?” She wasn’t even trying to keep her voice down, that’s how mad she was.

  I rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry, he must of . . .” And then I stopped, because there was no way I could pretend Mack did it on his own. He was an old dog, and not prone to jumping on the furniture. He even took his time climbing the stairs. Besides that, he was such a sweet dog I didn’t want him to get in trouble for something I did. “I’m sorry.” I tried to look repentant as I faced her angry stare. Finally, I had to look away.

  “Of course you’re sorry,” she said. “For all the good that does.”

  “I won’t do it again. I just thought it would bring Lucas some comfort.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, leaning down to whisper angrily in my face. “Lucas is beyond comfort.”

  “That’s not true,” I protested.

  She kept on like she hadn’t even heard me. “He’s dying, Emma. I’m losing my son and you being here is making it worse. You’re stealing precious moments from Eric and me and his father. We’re his family.” I caught the emphasis on the word “family.” To her, it was everything. “Lucas is my firstborn. At the funeral, you’ll be crying and everyone will feel sorry for you. Poor sweet Emma, they’ll say, they were so in love. She never left his side.” Now her tone was mocking. “But you know what? You have the rest of your life. Soon enough, you’ll have a new boyfriend, and eventually your memories of Lucas will fade. Your life will go on and on. Meanwhile, I will always be a mother who has lost a child. The pain will always be fresh for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I wanted to say more. I wanted to protest that Lucas was irreplaceable for me too, that she’d underestimated us and our love. We had a bond way beyond that of the typical high school relationship. I adored Lucas, and no one else would ever come close. I wanted to explain to her how it really was, but I’d just woken up from a very deep sleep and the words got stuck between my brain and mouth.

  She stood up and pointed to the doorway. “I think you need to go sleep on the couch in the living room and in the morning, you can go home. You won’t be staying overnight anymore. I should be the one sleeping in the recliner, staying with him. You can come for no more than an hour each day, just like every other visitor.”

  “Oh no, please don’t do that.” I got up from the chair to make my case. “I won’t let Mack near him anymore, I swear. And I can just sit on the floor. In the corner, out of the way. You won’t even know I’m here. Just don’t make me go. I can’t be away from him.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” She threw up her hands. “It’s no use, Emma. I’ve already made up my mind. I can’t deal with your drama on top of everything else. I’m tired. I’m so tired.” She walked past me, her slippers shuffling against the hardwood floor, and settled into the chair, covering her face with her hands. That’s when the unthinkable happened. Mrs. Walker began to cry, silently at first, her body shaking and then heaving, and then she began sobbing, gulping air and wailing, ugly cries that tore at my heart. I’d thought she was made of steel, but in that second, I saw I’d been wrong.

  I only hesitated for a second before going over to give her a hug. She let me, or maybe it was more that she didn’t stop me. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and she leaned into me, still crying, her fingers covering her eyes. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say. I understood her anguish. We both loved Lucas. We had that much in common. After a few minutes, I felt her body relax, and her wails subsided to whimpers. “Do you want a Kleenex?” I finally asked.

&
nbsp; “Yes, please.”

  I left her side and found the tissues in my backpack, then handed her a few. One didn’t seem like it would be enough.

  “We should probably keep a box down here,” she said, first wiping her eyes, then blowing her nose. “We used to have one.”

  I nodded. I remembered seeing it on the side table next to Lucas’s bed, but it wasn’t there now.

  She said, “I know you think I hate you, Emma, but I don’t.” For a split second, I thought we were going to have a bonding moment, but then she continued. “I don’t hate you; I resent you. I wish I didn’t, but that’s the truth of the matter. My son is dying and there you are trying to take over, as if his father and I aren’t capable of taking care of him. And you always seem to be in the way. Every time I turn around, there you are.”

  I took in a sharp breath. If this was an apology, it was the worst one ever. “I know it’s difficult for you,” I said.

  “For such a small person, it’s amazing how you’re always in the way,” she said, as if I didn’t catch it the first time around.

  “I just want to be near Lucas. I didn’t know I was bothering you.”

  She locked eyes with me. “You think I’m this horrible person, but I’m not. I’m a mother. Any mother would feel this way. Someday you’ll understand.”

  “Maybe so,” I said, not wanting to argue. She wasn’t even trying to understand my point of view. I stood with the back of my legs against the bed, one hand resting in the spot where Mack had been. “I didn’t know I was getting in the way. I promise I’ll try not to.” Standing over Mrs. Walker, me fully dressed while she wore a flimsy nightgown and fabric slippers, her hair mussed, face swollen and red, I felt a slight advantage. She’d spoken in anger, but I knew her pride would keep her from taking back what she’d said. I’d have to take the lead. If I offered a compromise, I had a feeling she’d be more willing to let me stay. I said, “I’ll go now and sleep on the couch, and in the morning I’ll go home to shower and change clothes. When I come back, I promise not to sit in the recliner. I understand your point. That should be for family. From now on, I’ll stay out of the way, and I won’t say a word unless you want me to.”

  Our eyes met, and I held still, watching as she considered. “No,” she said after what seemed like a long silence. “I’m not negotiating with you, Emma.” She still had the tissue crumpled up in her hand. Only a few minutes ago, I’d hugged her and felt like I’d broken through her defenses, but now the tone of her voice told me otherwise. “I stand by my original decision. Go in the living room and get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in the morning so you can go home. When you want to visit, you will need to call first. We’ll let you know if it’s convenient. And if you’re not here when . . .” Her voice trailed off for a second and then she pulled herself together. “If you’re not here when Lucas passes, you’ll be one of the first to be called.”

  “But . . .”

  “You’re not family, Emma, and I won’t pretend you are. Now go into the living room and lay on the couch. I don’t want to tell you again.”

  Her voice rose with each sentence, until the last one was nearly a shout. It was enough to hold anyone’s attention, but I barely heard it because I felt something brush against my hand, the one that rested on the bed behind me. I turned to look and saw that Lucas’s fingers were touching my wrist. His eyes were wide open, darting from side to side like he couldn’t control them, and his head twitched slightly, like someone reacting to an ice cream headache.

  “Did you hear me, Emma?”

  “I heard you,” I said, not turning back to her. “But it’s Lucas.” My voice cracked with happiness. “He’s awake.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mrs. Walker got up out of the chair and pushed me aside. “Lucas? Honey, it’s Mom.” She stroked his head and he glanced all around the room like he wasn’t sure where to look. I thought he caught my eye for a split second, and I grinned, suddenly giddy with joy. Mrs. Walker turned toward me, breaking the mood. “Emma,” she said. “Make yourself useful. Turn on the light. And go get him some water and a straw.”

  I flipped on the dining room chandelier over Lucas’s bed. The sudden brightness caused him to blink, so I lowered the light using the dimmer switch. Mrs. Walker made cooing sounds like he was an infant, and adjusted his bedding, tucking the blankets in around his sides. I went into the kitchen and got a plastic cup out of the cabinet, then filled it partway with cold, filtered water. I went to the drawer that had the box of bendy straws. Before the coma, getting Lucas food and water had been something I did on a regular basis. I’d thought I was being helpful. I didn’t know I had just been in the way.

  I brought the cup back and Mrs. Walker took it out of my hand and set it on the side table. “Stay right here and watch him,” she said, pointing to a spot on the floor. “I have to get Eric and Steve.” She scurried off excitedly, her slippers flapping through the house. I heard her on the landing, calling, “Steve! Eric! Come quick!” When they didn’t come right away, she ran up the steps to rouse them in person.

  Meanwhile, Lucas was becoming more alert. His eyes were still open, but moved around less. They’d settled on me, something I took as a good sign. I left my assigned spot and went to touch his face. “Hi, baby.” I waited for recognition to light up his eyes, but he was so dazed, it never came. His lips moved, but nothing came out and that’s when I noticed how chapped his lips were. “I’m going to give you some water, okay?”

  I held the cup below his chin and angled it to put the straw between his lips. “Go ahead,” I urged. “It’s just water.” No reaction. Maybe he was too weak to drink. I put my finger on the end of the straw and held it, then released the water into his slightly opened mouth. Overhead, I heard the scrabbling of Eric and his dad getting out of bed. Soon the whole family would be here and I’d be shoved off to the side. A thin stream of water dribbled out of the side of Lucas’s mouth and down his chin, but he swallowed the rest, his Adam’s apple moving as it went down his throat. “More water?” I asked, holding the cup out.

  He stared at the cup and then repeated, “Water.” He broke the word into two distinct syllables like he was saying it for the first time.

  I put the straw back in the cup and again put it up to his mouth. This time his lips clamped around it and he drew in, sucking water like his life depended on it. I heard the family coming down the stairs, their bare feet pounding against the carpeted treads. I took the cup away from Lucas and put it back on the table where Mrs. Walker had set it. I couldn’t imagine she’d be mad that I gave him water, but who knew with her?

  When the family came into the room, I respectfully stepped back, but my eyes never left Lucas. Already his color was better. Even in the few minutes since his mother had gone upstairs, he seemed calmer. More himself.

  Mr. Walker came through the doorway first and went right to Lucas’s side, leaning over to talk to him. Mrs. Walker and Eric came around to the other side, and again I had to move to get out of the way. “Lucas,” said Mr. Walker. “It’s me, Dad.” He paused and then continued. “We’re all here. Me and Mom and Eric.” He glanced up and smiled at me. “And Emma too. We love you.” He cleared his throat. I could tell he was getting choked up. “Eric?” he said, looking across the bed. “Do you have something to say to your brother?”

  Eric had a scared look in his eyes, and I had a sudden realization that his continuous avoidance of Lucas had come down to this—he didn’t want to lose his brother. They weren’t super close, but they got along okay, considering they were three and a half years apart. When Lucas had been healthy, they’d stood up for each other, both at school and at home with their parents. That was no small thing in that house, believe me. Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Walker starting telling Eric how he should apply himself and get a 4.0 grade point average like his brother, Lucas would jump in and defend him. He’d point out all of Eric’s strengths—the detailed architectural plans he drew for fun, the way he could fix anything—the dishwa
sher, farm equipment, the toaster, cars. If it had moving parts, Eric could figure out what was wrong with it. He was only fourteen and already he’d fixed up three junker cars and sold them for profit.

  “I’m good at memorizing,” Lucas would say, “but Eric has the mind of an engineer. He’s a genius that way.” Still, his parents didn’t get it. In their eyes, Eric was just a shadow of his brother. Eric had the disadvantage of being quiet with dark, bushy hair, and glasses, while Lucas was outgoing, athletic, and blond. Lucas won the genetic lottery for the obvious traits, while Eric’s were mostly hidden. Unfair, but that’s how it was in a lot of families.

  Now Eric stepped forward, his hand hesitantly patting Lucas’s arm. “Hi, Lucas,” he said. “It’s me, Eric.” Lucas’s eyes widened and Eric broke into a grin. He turned to his parents. “He knows me.”

  Lucas’s arm rose off the bed, reaching toward the cup on the side table. “Water,” he said, with a croak, and the entire family beamed like he’d done something amazing. Eric grabbed it and put the straw between his lips. When Lucas gulped the water, Eric said, “Wow, dude, you’re really thirsty.” He looked up at his parents. “I guess he was dehydrated.”

  “That’s enough,” Mrs. Walker said, reaching over to take the cup away. “Remember what we talked about.” She turned to me and said, “I talked to one of the hospice nurses the other day and she said this might happen. Sometimes patients rally and the family is given the gift of having them back for a short while. She said sometimes it lasts minutes and sometimes it goes for hours, but that we shouldn’t get our hopes up and mistake it for a recovery.” She took a step in my direction and whispered. “She said it always happens right near the end.” Behind her, I saw Eric’s expression change, his eyes filling with tears.

  Mr. Walker patted Lucas’s arm. “It’s okay, son. Everything’s okay.”

  I didn’t tell Mrs. Walker she was wrong, that I knew this wasn’t the end. The potion I’d gotten from Mrs. Kokesh had worked and this was only the beginning.