Chapter One
I kicked at the loose gravel on the ground, knocking it over the edge of the curb to pitfall to the black sea of turf below. The soft pounding of the rocks crashing into the pavement echoed through the empty parking lot, a lonely sound. There were no chattering students, no cars peeling out onto the road, and no sounds of football practice floating up from the field. Not even the teachers were around to complain about their days. Everyone had left. Everyone that is, except for me.
The distant sound of a revving engine caught my attention and I whipped my head up causing a piece of dark brown hair to catch in the wind and land in my freshly applied lip gloss. Annoyed I flicked the hair away, tossing it over my shoulder with the rest of my mass of locks. I didn’t know why I bothered with make up or lip gloss. My mom had always been so effortlessly beautiful, flawless skin, warm brown eyes, perfectly soft hair, and a smile that could go on for days. She never wore make up.
The sound of the engine neared until finally erupting as a motorcycle rounded the corner of the parking lot and skidded to a halt in front of me, the engine sizzling and emitting heat waves. I stood up and brushed of my cropped jeans and purple tank top then grabbed my backpack and slung it over my tan shoulders.
“Annie, hurry up,” Caleb rushed me, his face covered in his gorgeous wild eyed smile; “we have to get home before the storm.”
“Maybe if you would pick me up on time we wouldn’t have to rush,” I said, swinging my leg over the cycle. He glanced over his shoulder at me with his stone blue eyes, his light brown hair curling and ruffling in the wind and my breath caught in my throat. He tucked his hand under my knee and pulled me down closer to him on the seat, our bodies crashed together like magnets. He left his hand resting on my thigh a moment longer than necessary and I told myself not to read into it.
Caleb has lived with my dad and me for the past six years but he’s not my brother, step brother, cousin, uncle, or even boyfriend. Unfortunately, on that last part at least. My dad brought him home one day during summer break. It had been a couple months since my mom’s disappearance and I figured my dad just needed to deal in his own way. I didn’t ask questions. That would require talking to my dad, which would require him to be sober, and a non-ass, which is unlikely.
Caleb revved the engine again before taking off down the road at full speed. I sudden feeling of my stomach dropping out caused me to squeeze my eyes shut but the moment passed. Holding onto Caleb’s middle I looked back at the storm. The grey sky churned and threatened to break open at any moment. The dust started to kick up in the corn fields hinting at a tornado. Kansas. I sighed. Caleb started going faster, the wind smacked against my face causing my eyes to water from the pressure. I ducked behind Caleb’s shoulder to block my face.
I rested my head against his strong back and watched the tall stalks of corn whiz past us in flashes of gold. Caleb slowed as we pulled up to the fading green farm house. The shutters had seen better days and the porch looked less than sturdy but it was home. He pulled around to the backyard and backed the cycle into the old barn. He killed the engine and flipped out the kick stand before climbing off the bike. I stayed on, sticking my leg out to steady myself as it leaned to the side without him there to hold it up right any longer.
I examined my nails and pretended to be preoccupied while Caleb shuffled around a few tools and tinkered with the old truck he had been working to fix for a neighbor. He wiped his hands on his already dirty v neck as he leaned under the hood of the truck. The first crack of thunder sent a jolt through my body and I heard Caleb laugh under his breath before he reached over to nudge me in the arm with his elbow. I reached out to retaliate but he backed away and my hand caught on the hem of his shirt. I pulled him towards me and scrunched my nose up, “you’re filthy,” I teased before letting him go.
He reached up and smudged my nose with black grease. I sighed and climbed off the bike. I walked to the work table and looked around for a semi clean cloth then wiped the grease away. When I turned back to Caleb he had stripped away the shit and tossed it over the seat of the bike. He reached down into the engine with a long, muscular arm. He was built like a football player. His chiseled torso skimmed against the rest of the parts, the corners and curves of the engine dimpled into his sun kissed skin. He sang something in Spanish while he worked every once and while dragging his arm across his forehead.
That was the thing about Caleb, he knew everything. Languages, history, science, art, politics. Anything you could think of he knew everything about. Most of the time, especially on long summer days, we would lay out in the grass and he would tell me stories about Greek Gods, the American Revolution, or the British Royals. Every evening Caleb would sit sprawled out on his bed reading a book, and they were always different. One night Oscar Wilde and the next a biography on Napoleon Bonaparte.
“You should get inside soon,” he said, “it’s supposed to be a big one.” He motioned for me to hand him a tool but unable to find the one he wanted he sighed and nudged me aside, his hand brushing against the bare skin on my arm.
“Don’t you think you should come in too then?” I asked. He found the tool he wanted and looked up at me, “Maybe we should go to the cellar?” Thunder clapped and I jumped again. I hated storms, especially tornados. The uncontrollable and unpredictable strength of them scared me. Not to mention my mom disappeared during one.
“I forgot,” he said, smiling softly. I glanced down, my cheeks getting hot.
“I’m not afraid,” I argued, “I just…don’t like them.” He smiled and tugged at a strand of my hair. I looked up into his bright eyes and I could feel it coming. That sudden urge to jump his bones. I had loved Caleb since the moment he came to stay with us, but it was too weird and almost forbidden. Related or not everyone would talk. And people already talk about my family enough. He twisted my hair around his finger a few times before letting it drop.
He tossed his tools back onto the table and motioned for me to follow him. Outside big, heavy raindrops cascaded down. I watched then plop against me, leaving dark spots on my tank. Caleb came up behind me, still lacking a shirt. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. Practically soaked when we got in I slipped off my flip flops and dropped my backpack onto the couch.
My dad stood in the living room in his bath robe and slippers with a flashlight strapped to his head and holding an armful of canned food. He dropped them one by one through a trap door in the living room floor that lead to the cellar. He had put that in a few years ago, when he really started to lose it. After my mom vanished he never was quite right. At first he just kept to himself, closed up in his bedroom sometimes not coming out for days. And of course there was the drinking. Eventually he quit his job at the supermarket and started his projects. The giant bonfire was the first. The fire trucks showed up before the fire spread to the fields and somehow Caleb managed to talk the Police out of arresting him. Now he mostly builds small, strange inventions or fixes up things in the house. Sometimes he’ll do art projects and paint on the side of the barn or the house. He doesn’t talk much either, just mumbles and swears. Four letter words are his favorite kind.
Everyone in town talked about how they felt bad for my dad but that he should be put away. Everyone had a different theory about what happened to my mom. Most people said she figured out she was too good for him and left. Another popular rumor was that he killed her. Child services even tried to take me away once but Caleb protected me. My dad only talked about his theory as to mom’s disappearance once. As he cut through the floorboards to put in the hatch he mumbled about the “damn aliens.”
I shook my head at him as I darted up the stairs to change. I stripped out of my wet clothes and slid into a pair of cozy sweatpants. I reached into a drawer for a tee shirt when I heard a loud crash and my bedroom door flew open. When I turned around no one was there. I yanked my shirt on and walked to the door, feeling cool air rushing against me I stuck my head out into the hall. A tree had fallen into the house breaking a window and knocking a few things over.
I felt my heart beat fast in my chest and I held my eyes shut tight. I felt Caleb’s hand slip into mine and let him guide me down the stairs. Another resounding crack of thunder caused me to step back when we reached the bottom of the stairs. Caleb pushed me forward, “It’s okay, I’m here.”
My dad had already gone down to the cellar and Caleb started down the rope ladder. I stuck one shaking foot through the open trap door and felt around for the rope ladder. Testing my weight I slipped the other foot in and started down. I made it halfway before another tree fell, crashing through the front of the house, ripping away the wall. I froze, shocked, and watched as pieces of wood and drywall tore away and got picked up into the swirling twister. I could see the sky, now a mixture of black and green. Lighting cracked, striking the ground. Hail rocketed down leaving basketball sized dents in the dirt. Furniture started to slide around in the living room.
“Annie!” Caleb shouted over the noise and I snapped out of my stupor. As the couch drifted past I reached out and grabbed my backpack. Caleb protested by grabbing my ankle and pulling me back just as the couch headed for me. I fell back into the cellar and suddenly everything was dark and silent.
Chapter Two
The scratching sound of a match broke the silence and the darkness as it flickered to life in the corner. My dad crouched over a pile of canned food he must have spent all day stock piling. He stood and ran his hand along the wall until reaching a light switch. Flipping it up the room filled with light from a free hanging light bulb. He turned back to his cans mumbling, “shit, I forgot the damn opener.”
The storm pounded on above us but felt much further away and less threatening. I looked up from my landing spot on the carpeted floor and saw my back pack hanging from the closed hatch, swinging back and forth. The strap must have caught on the corner of the door as Caleb pulled me in, taking the door with us. I stood up, not feeling any immediate pain and started tugging at the pack to see if I could pull it out, but the strap was wedged in tight.
“I hope there was something important in there,” Caleb said. I turned to see him attempting to stand his arm clutched around his middle.
“My history report,” I sighed.
“Hate to burst your bubble,” he got to his feet but stumbled back down, “I don’t think there’s going to be school tomorrow.” Forgetting the back pack I rushed over to Caleb. He motioned for me to help him up.
“Are you alright?” I asked as I helped him to the couch.
“Well I fell on a cement floor, then I broke your fall. I think it’s just a cracked rib,” he settled back into the overstuffed cushions, “I’ll be okay.” I crossed the room to the pantry and opened it. I didn’t know why my dad bothered with all the canned food, we had plenty in the pantry. I rummaged through it until I found the first aid kit. I pulled out an ice pack and cracked it, releasing all the cold. I walked back to Caleb and pressed it tenderly against his already bruising ribs. He grimaced but took the pain.
“You’ll be okay,” I tried to sooth him, “we’ll take you to the hospital after the storm, just don’t go to sleep.”
“That’s if you have a concussion,” he smiled, “I’m fine, really.”
I cuddled up in the arm chair and flipped on the television, “might as well make use of the power while it’s still on,” I said, but Caleb was already asleep. I glanced back at my dad, he had started stacking and organizing the cans. After a couple episodes of Law and Order I felt sleep press against my body. The remote slipped from my hand as my fingers relaxed and everything drifted away.
“Annie wake up!” Caleb shook my shoulders and I blinked awake. Yawning and stretching I made an incomprehensible noise and attempted to shoo him away from me, “Annie now! They’re coming!” The urgency in his voice sent alarm through me and I sat up.
“Who’s coming?” I asked, yawning again. He shoved a sweatshirt at me, “is the storm over?” I looked around but didn’t see my dad. I looked back at Caleb. The bruises on his ribs had vanished and in their place was a strange marking that glowed red. He had other markings like it on his back and intertwining up his arms, over his chest, and curling around his neck.
“Annie, I can’t explain right now but I-“ but the sound of the hatch crashing to the floor drowned out the rest of his words. I watched as men in military uniforms with guns swarmed into the basement.
“What’s going on?” I asked but Caleb just threw his arms around me. His markings started to glow brighter until they were a blinding white. I squinted against the harsh light. I wanted to jump away from Caleb, afraid the searing tattoos would burn me. I had never been afraid of Caleb before. Suddenly everything fell away. I couldn’t feel the ground, the air, Caleb, nothing. I felt hollow and weightless and almost euphoric but as swiftly as the feeling came it dissipated. The world came crashing around me, the pressure of the oxygen and everything else floating around made me buckle to the icy snow covered ground.
Caleb reached out for me but I crawled away, afraid. His markings had dimmed, but still glowed blood red against the stark white background of miles of snow. He seemed unaffected by the cold but within moments I felt frozen to the core. I looked up at Caleb and saw the hurt in his eyes. He reached for me again and I held still despite the strong urge to scream and run away.
“It’s still me,” he said.
I managed to get to my feet, shivering, “what the hell are you?” I asked between chattering teeth.
“We have to go before you freeze to death.” He grabbed my arm and the cold seemed to melt under his touch, but I pulled away, “Annie, don’t be stupid.” I took another step back.
“Caleb, what the hell are you?” I repeated.
“You’re going to die!” he shouted then went off in some language I hadn’t heard him use before. The words were short and simple but it flowed off his tongue like liquid. Collecting himself he said, “I’m not from here.”
“What, Kansas?” My body shook uncontrollably and I felt as if my limbs would break off at the slightest touch. The wind dried out my mouth and lungs making it hard to breathe, the air stung as I inhaled.
“No,” he said, “I’m not from Earth. I’m an alien.”
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