We passed under another streetlight and when I realized I was staring, I looked past his profile to a smeary, glowing cluster of homes. Pelting rain made a near-deafening roar in the cab, but I still heard the silence that was Sal not offering his promised explanations.
“No one has lost electricity yet . . . ” Okay, there’s a nice neutral statement. Your turn.
“The storm will not affect most of them.”
“How do you know that?” Then the implication hit me. “Is this . . . ? Did you make this storm?”
“No. We do not do that anymore. The repercussions were too great.”
“Too great.” Sure. Logically, someone couldn’t go around fiddling with Mother Nature on a scale that large. What. The. Hell. Everything he said just made me feel more clueless.
At another streetlight, I glanced in the backseat. Eileen was chewing on her lip and frowning at the back of Sal’s head; but, once again, he seemed unaware of anything other than the road. And Pebbles. On the curves in the road, he reached down and kept her from slipping on his lap.
“What’s with you and my cat?” That should be an easy question.
To my surprise, he seemed uncomfortable and hesitated—apparently, a second too long for Eileen’s taste.
“She knows what you are, doesn’t she?”
My breath caught in my throat. What he is.
Pebbles lifted her head to look up at him, her reflective eyes blinking slowly. He shows up in a hurricane and she loves him just like that? My head ached from the weirdness. I needed my angels . . .
“So what are you?” Her question voiced a mix of grudging curiosity and accusation.
“I am similar to you . . . ” His voice trailed off and this time I spoke up.
“Sal. Seriously? Don’t you think we deserve some straight answers?”
He pulled his eyes from the road to study my face. I thought my expression was calm enough, but he sighed and focused on driving again.
“I honestly do not know how best to explain. I am not confident of what you will be able to process without adding to your emotional stress.”
Without adding to . . . ? “Okay, hold it right there. I’m fed up to here with what people think I can handle, so spit it out.” Jesus H. Christ. Did I exude some sort of weakling pheromone or something?
When he said nothing, I heaved myself around to face Eileen. I found her hand in the dark, and it was warm, but damp and trembling. Her fingers bent slowly in mine, mirroring her reluctance to be seen as a child in this wild adventure—but no matter what she might want me to think, she was probably afraid.
“Leeni, honey. I tried to keep this mess from you because I didn’t want to worry you; but here we are. And I am so sorry about that.” Our laced fingers tightened, and I strained to see her eyes, huge and dark, fixated on my own. My poor baby. “Sal’s going to tell us what’s going on, and I need you to pay attention and think of the questions I don’t ask. ‘Cause you’re the super-genius.” Her white teeth glinted, and I squeezed her hand again. “And whatever he says, I want you to know I will keep you safe. Okay?” A well-timed streetlight illuminated a thumbs-up. That would have to do.
I settled my back against the truck door and crossed my arms. “Alright, then. Start talking.”
When the Wind Blows
Even with the storm battering the Bronc’s steel skin and the engine reverberating in the cab, I heard him sigh.
“It is important that you know I am similar to you.” His shadowed face turned toward mine. “Better, but similar.”
Eileen and I snorted in unison. Just what every girl wants to hear, lover boy.
“Why is that humorous?” Sal glanced at Eileen in the rearview mirror and his eyes widened. One of her more expressive looks, then.
We were coming into the city now, surrounded by businesses and streetlights, whipping through deserted intersections and under swinging stoplights. They flashed their cautionary yellow at a frenetic pace as if warning us to hurry up, or go home.
If only it was that simple. “Go on. You’re like us. Okay, great. Except you’re not like us.” What the hey, let’s be blunt. “Are you human?”
“No!”
“Well, don’t sound so offended.” Jerk.
“Jerk,” Eileen agreed.
“I . . . apologize.” His mouth seemed to have trouble forming the word, but he made the effort of twisting in his seat to direct his contriteness to Eileen as well. “I was not prepared for this conversation. It is . . . awkward.” He faced the road again with a frown.
“Um, hello? We’re not all warm-fuzzies and rainbows over here, either. Let’s cut to the chase. You’re not human, but you’re similar. Is this some whack government conspiracy? Are you a genetically modified superhuman or something?”
“No. Your governments most definitely conspire, but we are only minimally involved. Now,” he amended. “But that is not—”
“What do you mean ‘now’?”
“Lila, please.”
I could see well enough to discern that his grip on the steering wheel probably wasn’t due to the wind, and Pebbles was giving me a disdainful green-eyed stare, but what’d they expect?
“It is very complicated. I am not . . . able . . . to explain everything to you. But I can tell you what you need to know.”
“So tell us already!”
“I am trying, Lila! My family—my team and I—traveled here a long time ago. We are part of a . . . research and development group. Tasked with identifying, categorizing, repairing, and salvaging this existence.” The last part sounded like he was reading from a recruitment brochure.
“That’s a mouthful. Okay, so . . . you’re an alien.” I was rather proud of how matter-of-fact I sounded. Admittedly, the more emotional parts of my brain were howling and rattling their cages, but the logical parts knew this made sense and saw no point in fussing over it. After all, this explained a lot.
Another streetlight revealed Eileen’s crossed
