The Pod

Lise’s eyes darted back and forth in the dim light under the trees. Jole was always following her around, but she didn’t want to share her find with her loudmouth little brother. Sure she was alone, she ducked under the hanging moss hiding the strange pod and its contents.

The bones were merely a curiosity; scraps of material that crumbled at a touch held no meaning, though she did run her antenna over the hands. What possible use could require the use of five fingers? No matter, she had seen stranger creatures.

It was the box that she came for. The lock was simple and old; nothing a quick finger circuit couldn’t shock open. Inside was a roll of some thin stiff substance, cracking with age despite being protected in the box, and covered with what could only be a map. Lise had seen one when she snuck inside the council bore; a whole cycle of silence had been the price of that indiscretion. This one didn’t look right, though; the outlines were far bigger and more wiggly than on the other.

Beside the map was the strangest device, like a small box except covered with gadgets that spun and clicked under her fingers. She dropped it with a alarmed purl when one side flew open and whatever had been inside scattered as dust over the square objects beneath it. Carefully she pulled them out, wondering at the images on their smooth faces. Nothing like them grew anywhere near her home; surely such things were nothing but fever dreams of a creative. Still, her eyes drifted to the five-fingered creature’s remains and the odd looking map. What if they weren’t?

The Crater

“There it is!” Quinn whooped, making Michaela jump and clap her hands over her ears. “I told you! We’ve got it made now!”

“Good grief, how many times did Mom tell you to use your inside voice?” Michaela grumbled. She pressed her palm against the window glass in several places. “One of these days you’re gonna break the sound barrier.”

Quinn ignored her and swung the jeep door wide open, feet sinking into the shifting sand as he barreled out of the vehicle. Michaela followed more slowly, leaving the headlights on to supplement the unusually bright moon. Deep tracks trailed into the crater ahead of the jeep, signs of the daytime activity that had drawn them into this nocturnal investigation.

“Not much there,” Michaela sniffed. “Just some junk half buried.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Sis,” Quinn snapped. “Something made this crater long enough ago for the sand to have filled in most of it and blown into drifts. We’re gonna find out what, and we’re gonna do it right now!”

He plunged down into the crater, sliding rather than walking in the loose sand. Michaela followed gingerly, grimacing at the sand that promptly poured into her hiking boot. They headed for the nearest “junk” protruding from the surface, a jagged edge of metal scored and dented beyond recognition. She sighed. Why she had let Quinn talk her into this hare brained scheme…

Well, there was no point in that. Here they were. Maybe they could at least get some scrap metal out of it. Although, she doubted anything worth money would fit in the carrier he had insisted on strapping to the roof of the jeep.

Quinn happily yanked pieces of wreckage out of the sand, examining them haphazardly before tossing them aside. Suddenly, he stood unusually still (especially for him), staring into the small pit his rummaging had created. He was still for long enough that Michaela became curious in spite of herself and slid closer to investigate.

“Quinn?” He didn’t look at her, and she noticed a glazed expression in his eyes. His back was to the moon, and his face should have been in shadow, but it was lit by a faint glow that originated in the sandy pit. “Quinn, talk to me!” She grabbed his arm and shook him violently, and least as roughly as she could manage while trying to get around the pile of junk he had thrown to the side.

When she finally made it to his side, she glanced toward the pit looking for the source of the faint glow. She had assumed it was moonlight reflecting from some smooth surface, but the object glowed on its own with a faintly blue light. As she watched the color shifted to orange and intensified, and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to look away.

Something whispered, words she couldn’t make out. Something brushed her hair, then caught in her shirt, but she still couldn’t look away. The whispers swelled, and shadows on the surface of the orange light coalesced into a familiar face. Quinn’s face was ghostly, set in an expression of horror. “Help me!” His lips shouted soundlessly, but she could no longer respond. The whispers became gleeful as Michaela saw her own body standing motionless above her.