Something is Out There Read online

  About fifteen minutes later, during rounds, I hear a door click open and see Mr. LaFica’s robed form tiptoe out of Mrs. Mendez’s room. This frail old man, who up until last night hadn't walked in at least two years, does a quick dance move across the bright tile floor. He spins, sees me, and stops. Gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up and continues back to his room.

  The rest of the night is quiet. I took a look at Mr. LaFica’s chart and nothing is different. Same meds, same diet, same rehab. So what has changed? The same for Mrs. Mendez. Nothing in her chart shows anything that might explain this sudden ... change in behavior.

  ***

  The next night Carl pulls me aside and asks quietly, “You seen a wheelchair around here?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of wheelchairs around here.”

  “No, man. I mean, you seen a wheelchair around that ain't where it’s supposed to be? A power one.”

  “You lost a wheelchair?”

  His face darkens. “I didn’t lose shit. Since Mr. LaFica doesn’t need his wheelchair no more, Blandon told me to get it and put it in storage, but it ain’t in his room.”

  “Did you ask LaFica where it was?” Carl just looks down at me, and I can see he’s getting annoyed. I hold out my hands. “Okay, sorry. No, I haven’t seen it. But I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  He glances over both shoulders, like he’s about to tell a racist joke. “Look, don’t say nothing to nobody. If he finds out it’s missing, Blandon’ll blame me. Those electric wheelchairs are expensive.”

  I nod encouragingly. “Don’t worry, big guy. We’ll find it.”

  But we don’t. At least I don’t.

  Tonight is going by pretty slow. Nice and quiet. I'm just finishing the midnight meds (the “M and M’s” we call them. Oh, the fun we have) and I pause outside Mrs. Mendez’s room. I put my ear to the door. No squeaking. No moaning. I knock. No answer. I open the door and stick my head inside, eyes closed.

  “Mrs. Mendez? Time for your medicine.” No response. No sound at all. I open my eyes. The bed is empty. It doesn’t even look slept in.

  Before I panic, I cross over and down the other wing to LaFica’s room. Same routine. I listen. Nothing, so I knock. No response. I open the door, and again, the bed is empty. Shit!

  I race to the front desk, but Yesenia isn’t there. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I hear voices and spin on my heels. I find her in the common room, sitting with one of the residents, Mr. Martin. He’s a character. Has these crackpot theories about aliens and UFO’s. He even claims to have been abducted when he was a kid. They’re sitting at a table with a half-finished jigsaw puzzle of Big Ben on it. Mr. Martin’s got all kinds of star charts and notebooks with writing all over them. He’s holding a calculator in one hand as he lectures to Yesenia.

  “...which is why the Tardashians are the most feared race in—”

  I slide to a halt, and try not to let the panic show on my face.

  Mr. Martin looks at me. “You look ... uh ... troubled, son. Are you all right?”

  I nod. “Oh sure, sure. Everything’s great.” I turn to Yesenia. “ Hey, uhh, Yesenia, can I see you for a minute?” I nudge my head toward the front desk a couple times. She picks up on it and stands.

  “Sorry, Riley, but I have to go now. Don’t stay up too late.”

  He laughs. “Don’t worry, darling. I just have to finish these calculations, such as mathematical equations, formulas, and uhh, things of that nature.”

  Yesenia has to hurry to match my pace as I lead her back to front desk.

  “What’s going on?” she demands. “What happened?”

  I stop and quietly tell her. Her face goes pale and she curses. “Okay, I’ll check the dining room and sweep the halls. You check—” She stares over my shoulder and gasps.

  I spin around, expecting to see Blandon, but instead who comes strolling in through the front doors—without a care in the world—but Mr. LaFica and Mrs. Mendez, arm in arm. They beam when they see us. Big goofy smiles. I notice he has mud stains on his knees and his pajama shirt is buttoned wrong. Mrs. Mendez’s hair is all messed up.

  “Hello. Good morning,” Mrs. Mendez nods.

  Still smiling, Mr La Fica turns to her and holds up an admonishing finger and says, “Good evening. It is evening now.”

  Without losing her dopey smile, she repeats, “Good evening.”

  Yesenia steps in their way, hands on hips. “Just a minute. Where have you two been? Do you know what time it is? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” This last part’s not exactly true, but that’s not important.

  They look taken aback.

  “Oh,” says Mr. La Fica.

  “Oh,” says Mrs. Mendez.

  “We are very sorry for causing you ...” LaFica puzzles for the right word.

  “Harm!” Mrs. Mendez says gleefully. “We are sorry for causing you harm!”

  “Um, you didn’t really harm us,” I start to say, but Yesenia cuts me off.

  “You could have been harmed yourselves! You could have fallen in the lake, or walked into the road! We’re going to have to write this up.”

  They both look abashed, the way a dog looks when it’s caught eating the cat’s food. I almost feel sorry for them, but then remember how scared I had been.

  “We are sorry,” Mr. LaFica replies. “We meant no trouble. We were looking at the beautiful sky.”

  Oh yes!” Mrs. Mendez exclaims. “We love looking at the stars!”

  “The stars,” repeats Mr. LaFica.

  Yesenia and I exchange a glance. As far as I know, neither one of these two has been outside at night in the last six months.

  We walk them back to their rooms and make sure they get settled, turn down their lights, and head back to where I left the cart.

  I ask, “Are you really going to write them up?”

  “Hell no, “Yesenia says. “You know how much trouble we’d get in if Blandon found out we lost two old folks?”

  I think about the missing wheelchair. “It’s been a strange couple of days.”

  “You know what’s even stranger?” Yesenia asks, checking the front doors to make sure they’re locked.

  “What?”

  “Those two said they were outside looking at the stars?”

  “Yeah?”

  She shakes head, clearly confused. “But it’s overcast tonight. There's no way they were looking at stars.”

  ***

  I show up to work, just hoping to get through my shift without any problems. I have a huge essay hanging over my head. Diane is at the front desk. She smiles and nods.

  “Hey, Kyle?”

  “Yeah?” I answer, stashing my backpack under the desk and pulling out my laptop. “What’s up?” This is unusual. Diane and I never really speak. I think she resents me for some reason.

  “Did you... or do you know anything about what happened to the motor from Mr. Franklin’s bed?”

  “Mr. Franklin’s bed? What are you talking about?”

  She rolls her eyes. Stupid kid, she’s probably thinking. She speaks very slowly. “The motor is missing from Mr. Franklin’s bed. The one in his old room. Do you know anything about it?”

  I shake my head. “No. I have no idea. Did you ask Carl?”

  “Carl was the one who told me about it.” There’s a slight edge to her voice. Does she think I took it? “So you don’t know anything about it?”

  I stand up and plug in my laptop. “No. What would I do with the motor for a hospital bed?”

  “I don’t know. But there have been some other things missing lately. “

  She walks away, giving me a weird look. I resolve to become a model employee so as to alleviate all possible suspicion.

  ***

  It’s quiet tonight, but as I’ve discovered lately, that's not always a good thing. But tonight, maybe it is a good thing. I requested desk duty so I can get some schoolwork done.

  I’m on the fourth page of my essay on Milton’s concept of Free Will when Yesenia sid
les up to me, cell phone in hand, and coyly asks me if I mind if she goes out and “talks to Freddy” for a minute. I shrug. Why not? Technically, she doesn’t even have to ask for my permission. She heads out the front doors and I get back to work.

  Diane comes by, signs off on a checklist, looks at her watch, and tells me she’s going on her break. I nod. But instead of leaving, she sidles behind me to see what I have up on my laptop.

  “It’s an essay for school,” I say, without looking back at her. “You wanna proofread it for me?”

  She gives an audible “Hmph,” and heads for the break room.

  I write another page and the lights flicker.

  Remembering the other night, I hit “save”. I sit, waiting, but the lights stay on. What the hell. I’ll let my essay ferment for a while, and then tackle it in a bit.

  I stand up and stretch, check the monitors. Freddy’s tow truck sits beneath a tree in the corner of the parking lot. The common room is empty. The dining room is empty except for Mr. Martin, papers scattered in front of him, hard at work on his endless calculations. I switch the channel to show the rear of the building.

  Holy shit. Two people are sitting on the bench overlooking the “lake”. And the shed is open. There’s a flashing light coming from within it.

  I grab a flashlight from a drawer, head down the corridor, through the employee break room and out the back door and step out into the rear parking lot.

  It’s dark out here, which is another reason we discourage the residents from venturing out here, particularly at night, but the flashlight helps me find my footing.

  I’m pretty sure I know who the two on the bench are. I walk around in front of them and it is, of course, Mrs. Mendez and Mr. LaFica, in their pajamas. Enough is enough.

  “Okay, you two, this is getting —” I stop. They’re not moving. They’re just sitting there, leaning against each other. Eyes open, but unfocused. I kneel down and gently poke LaFica’s shoulder. “Mr. LaFica?” His eyes move and slowly focus on me. His mouth opens slightly, a strand of saliva connecting his upper and lower teeth.

  I glance behind me at the shed. The light shining from the door is ... moving, kind of sparkling. I walk over and instantly shut my eyes because it’s so bright. I crack them open slowly and put up a hand to block the worst of the glare.

  Two spheres of what looks like solid light are floating in the shed. They’re kind of see-through, but not really, because of they way shift and glow. About the size of basketballs, they just hover there with several of these glowing light arms or tentacles drifting around them. The bright, blue-white orbs slowly dip up and down, pulsing slightly. Light sparkles off all the objects and surfaces in the room. It reminds me of when we use the mirrored disco ball on “Party Night”.

  Directly beneath the light balls is some type of device. A metal box containing lights, wires, computer parts, and switches, cobbled together from a variety of sources. I see the wheelchair, or what’s left of it, leaning against the wall. An old PC also sits, opened up, its innards exposed. So this is where all the missing stuff has been going. To build this ... whatever it is. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s some kind of little computer, only there’s no screen. All I know is that it looks complicated.

  As I enter the shed, the tentacles withdraw into the glowing spheres, which quickly dart toward me. I stumble back, reaching for the sides of the doorway to catch myself, but I fall and the twin orbs zoom over me. I roll over to watch as they settle several feet above the old couple on the bench, one over Mrs. Mendez, the other on Mr. Lafica, and then they wink out. Just like that.

  The two old people jerk, and as I get to my knees, I can see blue-white light shining out from their eyes, mouths, ears, and, based on the gleam coming from Mr. LaFica’s pajama bottoms, his butt. He sits up, turns his head and looks at me and smiles. I fall back on my rear and scramble, crab-like toward the shed.

  LaFica approaches me, a hand held out. Numbly, dumbly, I take his hand and he helps me stand. He helps me stand. He and Mrs. Mendez lead me to the bench and sit me down.

  “What... who... ?” I don’t even know what to ask.

  They exchange a look, and LaFica says, “We need your help.”

  I swallow and nod vigorously. “Yeah. Sure”

  Mrs. Mendez sat next to me. “Do not be afraid, Kyle Chapman. We are not here to cause you harm.” She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We want to leave as quickly as possible.”

  “Leave? What do you mean? Leave Vista Del Lago?”

  Now Mr. LaFica sits on the other side of me. My mind flips back to the other night, when Yesenia said they asked her to join them in bed. I stand up.

  “Wait!” Mr. LaFica says. “Do not go. We need your help.”

  “Need your help,” echoes Mrs. Mendez. “Please.”

  “But—those... things? That light? What was that?”

  Mr. LaFica smiles. “That was... me. Us. Our true form.”

  Mrs. Mendez smiles too. She closes her eyes, and then opens them. They are filled with the same blue shimmering light. Her eyes close and open and they’re back to normal.

  “But what are you? Who are you? What do you want from me? Where are Mr. LaFica and Mrs. Mendez?”

  They take turns answering me, and I look back and forth between them; a spectator at the weirdest fucking tennis match of all time.

  LaFica: “We need to leave your planet.”

  Mendez: “We are hoping you can help us.”

  Mendez: “Our hosts are... not harmed. They have welcomed our forms.”

  LaFica: “They are at peace. Unharmed.”

  LaFica: “We are not from here. From your planet.”

  This last part is the only thing I can be sure of right now. I did just see two glowing balls of light enter their bodies. I take a deep breath and try to keep it together.

  “This planet?” I point to the ground. “Earth. Not your planet.”

  “Correct,” LaFica says. “We are from far away. From what you call the GN-z11 galaxy. Very far away.”

  Mrs. Mendez turns and looks up at the starry sky. She squints, looks for a bit, then points. “We come from there.”

  I nod like I know where she’s pointing. “How ... how did you get here?”

  “We were passing by your world.”

  “Passing by,” LaFica adds, unnecessarily. “Our vessel malfunctioned. We were forced to land.”

  “And where is your ... vessel now?”

  Her hand goes from pointing at the sky to pointing at the lake.

  “In the lake?”

  “Yes,” says LaFica. “We ... collided into the water. Is that the correct term?”

  “Close enough,” I say. It starts to make sense.

  “You were the ones who messed up Mr. Franklin’s room,” I say, as more pieces fall into place. “And you’re stealing the equipment to make...” I peer in the opened shed at the strange contraption they’ve built.

  La Fica moves next to me. “It is a beacon.”

  Mrs. Mendez nods. “A beacon.”

  I nod too. “Hmm. Okay then.”

  “Will you help us?” LaFica looks up at me.

  I continue nodding, trying to process all this. I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of a precipice barely holding on to my sanity. One more push will send me into LaLa Land. As long as I don’t think too deeply about what’s happening, I tell myself, I’ll be okay. Just go with the flow.

  “Tell no one,” LaFica admonishes, staring me in the eyes.

  “No one,” Mrs. Mendez adds.

  “Sure. Okay. But why do you need a beacon?”

  LaFica says, “Our equipment was damaged when we landed in the water. We lost everything.”

  They both look up at the starry night.

  “We need to let our kind know where we are,” Mrs Mendez says quietly.

  “So they can rescue you?” I ask.

  LaFica and Mrs. Mendez exchange a look. “Yes. To rescue us,” LaFica says.

  “To res
cue us,” she echoes.

  As much as anything can make sense now, I get this. But I have so many questions.

  “So what do I call you? I can’t keep calling you Mr. LaFica and Mrs. Mendez.”

  Mrs. Mendez steps forward. “You may refer to me as V’ee.” She motions to LaFica. “And this is Da’am.”

  ***

  My knees are killing me from kneeling on the concrete floor of the shed when Mrs. Mendez, err ... V’ee tells me I’m just about finished. For almost two hours I’ve been helping them with this beacon of theirs, screwing this here, soldering wires together there. I’m normally very mechanically uninclined, but LaFica and Mendez help out, handing me tools, pointing what wire goes where, stuff like that. They may have alien minds in those bodies, but the bodies are still really old, and really weak. It’s hard for them to lift stuff up or hold it in place. At least that’s what they told me.

  “Thank you, Kyle Chapman,” Da’am says, carefully squatting down to get a better look at a computer chip I soldered. “We could not have completed this in time without your help.”

  “How do we plug it in? “ I ask. Their blank looks cause me to add, “How do we power it?”

  It’s run by a void-fusion engine,” says Da’am, nudging the beacon with his foot. “A primitive one, to be sure, but it will serve its purpose.”

  I say, “So you haven’t told me what happened. How you ended up here.”

  “We were sent as explorers to a planet. It was to be ... modified for our race. I think you call it terra-forming? Do you know this word? “

  I nod. “And?”

  “We were passing by your world. As I told you, we were forced to land here. When our vessel sank into the water, we realized we were trapped here and had to conceal ourselves.”

  They look at each other. Da’am continues. “We found the human forms and what they could do... pleasurable. We became distracted from our mission.”

  V’ee smiles. “Distracted.”

  Da’am looks at her, then at me. “These physical bodies. They feel sensations that we have never experienced.”

  They exchange a glance again, and their eyes flash blue — really quickly, like a blink.