Lori made a sound of disgust and stalked out of the kitchen, muttering something about finding Major Harper. Jeremiah tapped one of the scientists and asked quietly, “So are these,” he pointed at the soldiers on the computer screen, “Uh, are these your guys? I mean, are you connected to the people there?”
The scientist shook his head. “I’m with NASA. I think they have a couple of our guys over there – the army grabbed them and ran out a few minutes ago – but I haven’t seen them on there,” he nodded toward the screen, “yet.”
Jeremiah looked around the kitchen to see if any of the people here seemed to be in charge. They all looked like scientists to him. He wondered if he should show them Suzy’s video. He prayed for the school to reappear.
On the laptop, the visual of the castle moved to the side of the screen, and the news anchor began a tense audio interview with a professor of medieval architecture who was explaining why the castle was definitely not from Earth. He was pointing out something about how the roof was oddly fortified when the anchor cut him off suddenly.
The great front door of the castle was swinging open.
THIRTEEN
“Zoe. Hey! Zoe!” Jeff grabbed her shoulder. “Calm down.” To his surprise, she stopped screaming and looked at him. The physical contact with a pretty girl made him nervous, and he pulled his hand away. “Um. It’s okay? I’m sure Mr. McArthur is going to talk to them. We’ll be all right.”
Suzy came over and wrapped her arm around Zoe. The whole class was standing at the window, looking down at the men.
There were about 40 of them, dressed much like the one they had seen earlier. A few held sabers, many held the long black rods or wands in one hand, and all wore jewelry. They were all bald, with skin ranging from green-grey to grey-green, some darker than others. They seemed excited, not afraid or surprised; Jeff got the sense the school’s appearance was expected, and it creeped him out.
Something about their primitive dress and weapons and their bald heads made Jeff think of cannibals, and he scanned the courtyard, half expecting to see a giant, cartoonish black cauldron bubbling over a fire, ready for some humans to cook. Thankfully, besides the snakey men, the courtyard was empty.
Jeff stood watching for what felt like half an hour until finally, one of the men stepped out from the group and strode toward the school alone. “Is that the same guy from before?” Jeff asked, to no one in particular.
When the alien was about twenty feet from the front door, Mr. McArthur walked out. The principal was holding his open hands in front of him and seemed to be saying something. Jeff noticed the warriors had gotten excited at the principal’s appearance, and many of them were pointing and talking.
Mr. McArthur and the main snake guy slowed as they approached each other. Between them was a boundary line with the black cobbles of the courtyard on one side and the concrete of the school sidewalk on the other. It seemed significant and somehow cinematic to Jeff, and he hoped that the alien wouldn’t be able to cross the line.
Mr. McArthur might have been saying something to the alien, but the alien wasn’t saying anything back. He was looking the principal up and down, craning his head to one side and the other, scrutinizing the principal’s legs, his feet, his hands. He leaned much too close to Mr. McArthur and looked into his face, then walked in a slow circle around him, studying him.
The two were about the same height, but the alien was leaner. He didn’t have much of a nose – just a slight hump with two nostril slits. He seemed to be glaring as he circled Mr. McArthur, inspecting him.
When he had completed his examination, the alien stood facing the principal again. Then he raised his wand to chest height, pointing it at Mr. McArthur.
The principal flinched back, but when nothing happened, he seemed to take confidence, and after a few seconds, he reached up and grabbed the rod, perhaps thinking this was some sort of greeting ritual.
The alien smiled, tight-lipped; then his mouth opened, and he began to speak. The classroom became deathly quiet as every kid strained to hear what was being said. They were too far; they couldn’t hear a thing.
It was a little speech the alien made – maybe a full minute – with no pauses or breaks to let the principal respond to what was being said. Toward the end, the alien seemed to swell with emotion or fervor, and he shouted out the last few words. His smile was gone, and more than ever before, his face looked like that of a snake – a hissing, striking viper.
Mr. McArthur pulled back, then froze. That is, he froze. In a blink, a pale glossy jade had spread over him, and his body became abruptly, utterly still.
Pandemonium broke out in the classroom, but Jeff didn’t move or scream; he felt as paralyzed as his principal and couldn’t help but watch. He watched as the snake man contemptuously yanked the tip of his wand out of Mr. McArthur’s stiff hand. He watched the alien put his hand on Mr. McArthur’s face and shove. He watched as the statue that had been his principal toppled backward and slammed to the ground, a piece of petrified sports coat snapping and skittering away across the sidewalk.
The warriors raised their weapons in the air and howled.
The one in front, the one who had just frozen Mr. McArthur, turned to his men, raising his fist and shouting something. Then he turned back to the school and dropped his arm. He strode toward the school, and the front line of warriors
