From a Distant Star (11 page)

Eric said, “Yeah, but then how do you explain that he knew about the thing you found in the field?”

I shrugged. “He was mistaken. Confused.” Our voices were getting louder, but if Lucas knew we were talking about him, he didn’t show it.

“No. He definitely recognized it. This is what I think—something else is inside of Lucas and that something is wearing him like a costume, making him walk and talk and eat and everything else.”

I had to remind myself that Eric was fourteen and watched a lot of the Syfy channel. “Okay,” I said, humoring him. “Let’s just say you’re right. What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you, I think. You were the one who brought him back in the first place.”

The rest of the way home, I drove without speaking, the music filling the void. I tried to make sense of what had happened: a magic potion, a fallen object from another world or dimension, a dying boy brought back by true love’s kiss. The stuff of storybooks or movies. But now Eric was suggesting that what I’d done out of love had resulted in something sinister. What if he was right?
Oh, Lucas, what did I do? And how can I fix it?

When we were just down the road from the farmhouse, Eric turned around and explained to Lucas that he had to hide the object in the barn. “We can’t let our parents see it or they’ll turn it over to the authorities and those agents will be back.”

“Someone will take it?” Lucas said.

“Yes.” Eric nodded emphatically. “I’ll keep it for you and you can see it whenever you want.”

Lucas thought for a moment and then said, “Okay.”

When we got to the Walkers’, I pulled the car around back, threw it into park, and popped the trunk. Eric jumped out and disappeared into the barn with my discovery. When Mrs. Walker came through the back door, the three of us were walking toward the house.

“What’s going on?” she asked, suspicious. It was hard to get anything past her.

“I found a hubcap on the road for my collection,” Eric said. “I just stuck it in with my stuff.”

“No, I mean why are you back so soon? Is Lucas okay?” She rushed down the steps and put a hand on Lucas’s forehead, the international sign of mother-caring.

“He’s fine,” I assured her. “After we ate at Scotty’s, he looked a little tired, so we decided to skip the ball game.”

But she wasn’t done fussing. “Do you want to go to bed, Lucas? Or just rest on the couch? I could get you something to drink.” She turned to me. “I want to make sure he stays hydrated.”

“Something to drink,” he said, and for the first time I really noticed what Eric had mentioned. Like a beginner trying to speak a foreign language, Lucas was repeating what we said rather than coming up with his own words.

“Lemonade?” Mrs. Walker said brightly. “I just made a fresh pitcher.”

“That sounds good,” I said. “Can I have a glass too?”

“Of course, Emma.” Our early return seemed to have softened her attitude toward me. “Why don’t you kids wait on the front porch and I’ll bring out the drinks?”

“I’m good, Mom,” Eric said, brushing past us and heading toward the house. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

Mrs. Walker sighed as she watched her younger son bound up the steps and go inside. Eric found interacting with people draining. I knew he was going to his room to be alone where he could recharge. “Thanks for taking Eric with you,” she said. “I wish he would get out more but he seems happy just staying home and building things with his junk pile.”

“We didn’t mind,” I said. “Eric’s cool.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” she said.

“No, I mean it.”

But Mrs. Walker didn’t look convinced. It gave me a new perspective on what it must be like to be Eric. Poor kid. Someday, he might carve an impressive niche in the world, but for now he was just Lucas Walker’s awkward little brother.

Mrs. Walker went into the house, while Lucas and I walked around to the front and sat down on the wicker love seat on their front porch. The Walkers had planters with red geraniums on either
side of the flagstone path and an American flag proudly waving from one of the porch columns. Their house was picture perfect. When Mrs. Walker came out with a tray holding iced glasses and set them on the wicker table in front of us, it was like a scene out of a lemonade commercial.

“Anything else?” she asked. “I can get some cheese and crackers. Or raisins?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said.

“Good, thanks,” Lucas parroted.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you kids have some privacy,” she said, brushing her hands on the front of her shirt. “When the mosquitoes start biting, that will be your cue to come in.” She went into the house and shut the door behind her.

Her mosquito comment told me that she expected us to come inside when it got dark. As soon as the sun went down, the mosquitoes came out in full force. The sun was sinking, so I’d have to act quickly. For the first time in a long time, I had a chance to talk to Lucas uninterrupted and I was going to use that time to get to the bottom of this.

I handed him a glass of lemonade and took one for myself, taking a sip before I asked, “How’s the lemonade, Lucas?”

He looked at the glass and then at me. “Good.”

“I’ve always thought that lemons are the sweetest fruit, don’t you think?”

Lucas stared at the glass as if the answer might be somewhere within the liquid. “It’s good.”

“And so sweet. Don’t you think it’s sweet?” I prodded. “Because lemons are sweet?”

There was a long pause like he was trying to decipher what I was saying. Finally, he said, “Yes, lemons are sweet.”

My heart sank. He was even worse off than I’d thought. I spoke slowly, not knowing how much he understood. “Lucas, baby, I was just testing you. Lemons aren’t sweet at all. They’re sour, really
sour. You have to add sugar to lemonade or you wouldn’t be able to drink it at all. You know that, right?”

“Oh,” he said. “Lemons are sour?”

“Yes.” I took the glass out of his hand and set it next to mine on the table, then put my hands on either side of his face. I got so close our noses were nearly touching and I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. He had trouble holding my gaze, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. I pulled his face closer and put my lips on his for the first time since I’d used Mrs. Kokesh’s potion. We usually avoided PDA at the Walker house because Lucas’s mom disapproved and you never knew when she might come barging in, but I no longer cared. I pressed against him and parted my lips, closing my eyes and exploring his mouth with my tongue. Tentatively, he responded, but it wasn’t Lucas. He was acting too timid. Unsure. It felt all wrong. I opened my eyes to stare into his wide eyes.

“Talk to me,” I said letting go of him. “Why are you so different?”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked off in the distance. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t say that,” I said. “I missed you so much when you were sick and now that you’re back, I feel like you’re pulling away from me. Don’t do that, Lucas. I can’t take it. This is killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” But he didn’t sound all that sorry. They were just words.

The sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. I didn’t have much more time. “Look,” I said, “I want to help you, I really do. But if you won’t talk to me, I might have to tell your parents that something is going on.” I rubbed the back of my head. I could feel a headache coming on. “Or maybe those agents. If what happened to you has anything to do with the round, shiny thing, they might be able to help.”

“No, don’t do that . . .” He paused like he was trying to come up with something, but the silence that followed told me he was coming up short.

I held out one hand. “You tell me and maybe I can help. Or—” My other hand extended, I said, “Or you don’t tell me and we involve lots of other people. I don’t want to do that, but honestly, Lucas? I don’t know what else to do.”

I inched closer and reached up to cradle his face one more time. Mrs. Kokesh had said eyes were the windows to the soul and I wanted a good view. I had expected him to pull away, but he didn’t; he just looked right back at me. If this wasn’t Lucas, who was it? I didn’t get the sense that this was a demon, or any kind of evil possession. This version of Lucas, whoever he was, looked like a scared toddler.

“You can trust me,” I said. “I can help.”

We locked eyes for what seemed like the longest time. Finally he said, “Okay. I will tell you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The scout tried to make sense of this planet and his place in it as Lucas Walker. First, he absorbed information from television and the Internet. He spent an entire day with Eric watching ridiculous things that the boy seemed to find entertaining, but as far as he could tell, none of it held much value for figuring out the human condition. Learning to read didn’t take much time at all. The shapes that comprised their alphabet were primitive, comparatively speaking, and he deciphered the code quickly.

When Eric gave him Lucas’s tablet, he put it to good use searching for articles that would help him figure out a way to communicate with his home planet. The greatest scientific minds of this world would be novices on his. Planet-to-planet communication, something that was commonplace and had been for generations, was nonexistent here. Some of the humans didn’t even believe there was intelligent life on other planets. He found himself shaking his head, imitating the way Eric shook his when he thought something was particularly stupid.

When he came across the communications called emails, he read every one, paying special attention to those from Emma. He got insights into the girl’s thoughts and feelings, and her wishes and dreams for the future. All of it was spelled out in the emails. She described activities she’d shared with Lucas and went over
conversations they’d already had. Presumably, Lucas would know about all this, so why did she bother to write about it and transmit it to him? So very curious. And another curious thing: Every email ended with “Love, Emma <3.” He understood that letters made words and that numbers were assigned to a numeric value, but why would she put “<3” after her name? Did she consider herself to be less than three? And less than three
what
? He went over all kinds of possibilities, but none of them made sense, so he filed the question away for another day.

At times, he amused himself by translating from the telepathic language of his people to words in English. His planet, he decided, would be called Tranquility, for its calm, orderly existence. His ship, the
Seeker
, for its exploratory nature. The two nurturing beings that created him were, of course, “Mother” and “Father,” and all his many siblings “brothers and sisters.” His role as scout was a “job.” And his match, the one he’d sworn allegiance to? That would be his “girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Such an odd word. Combining the gender with the role somehow elevated it in importance. Emma, he knew, adored Lucas and would even give up her life for him. Scout was not sure that his girlfriend, the one he now thought of as “Regina” in earth language, would do the same. She was smart and strong, but did not seem to favor him over any of the others, even though they’d been chosen to be the match of each other. Most of the time, she overrode his wishes and expressed displeasure with his shy and hesitant ways. He always felt that, just by his very nature, he was a disappointment. Perhaps, though, he was overthinking the whole situation.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After Lucas agreed to confide in me, he didn’t waste any time. He stood up and extended his hand, a small smile stretching across his face. For a split second, he seemed like my Lucas again. I grabbed his hand and he led me off the porch and around the side of the house. I followed, having to walk quickly to keep up. I asked, “Where are we going?”

“I will show you,” he said without turning back.

I thought of our lemonade glasses sitting on the wicker table and how Mrs. Walker would be checking on us in a few minutes only to find us gone. How long before she came looking for us?

We kept going, past the garage, toward the barn. I realized, seeing him take the lead, that even with his recent weight loss, he was still bigger and stronger than me. If he wanted to harm me, taking me away from the house would be the perfect plan. What if this was just Lucas with a scrambled brain? Maybe the drugs had changed him or maybe it was the lack of oxygen to his brain. Perhaps my confrontation had forced some kind of breakdown. I’d overreacted, I thought. I should have waited to see how things played out. I should have given him more time to recover.

His hand gripped tighter, squeezing my knuckles, as he pulled me around the side of the barn. The fields far beyond were ringed by a row of trees that blocked the view of the adjacent property.
My heart pounded from exertion and fear; if someone wanted to strangle me, this would be the perfect spot. I hated that I was even thinking this way about Lucas. The guy who loved me more than life itself. And I loved him just as much, but I didn’t recognize the stranger he’d become.

He let go of my hand and thrust his arm upward, one finger pointing to the sky. “Look,” he said, his voice quivering with excitement.

And in that second, I let go of the notion that my Lucas had somehow morphed into killer Lucas, a guy who would choke me until I stopped breathing, then fling my body out into the field. Standing next to him like this felt like old times. Like it was just us again. Me and Lucas, or at least a form of him that I could live with if I had to.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” I asked.

“What do you see?”

The sun was a sliver of light over the horizon, just a glint in the trees off in the distance. Above, the sky blushed orange and pink.

“The sunset,” I answered. “It’s gorgeous.” It always was. A dusky, blue backdrop interrupted by slashes of light and color. From night to night it was never quite the same, but somehow it was always familiar and beautiful. And it happened every single night. If you gave it some thought, you’d wonder why all of society didn’t shut down to watch this. If we were smart, we’d be turning off our electronics, leaving our homes, and settling down on our porches and driveways just to take it in. Each night a different miracle in the sky. But no, most of us never even bothered to look out the window. While this gorgeous light show went on outside, we did the dishes and texted and argued and watched TV. We let all of those tedious, mundane, everyday things get in the way. “Tonight it’s really pretty.”