She hesitated only for a moment. If Peter was in on this, then she was in trouble. But the way he tiptoed past the trash and the disgusted look on his face made her realize he wasn’t enjoying himself. The cocksure jackass from the night before was on hold.
The air was ripe with a mustiness that made her gag.
The kitchen was empty of any furnishings beyond a long bank of white sinks and a demolished stove that had been pulled away from the wall. The ventilation hood was gone, leaving only insulation hanging from the hole. The doors to the dining room were missing.
As Carmen stepped through the doorway, she froze.
What had looked like a dome from the outside was actually the top of a large sphere that occupied the dining room. Tables, booths, and a large portion of the ceiling lay crushed beneath it. It was as if someone had dropped an enormous bowling ball on the restaurant. Sunlight trickled in through the gaps in the ceiling. But the sphere itself reflected nothing.
She tried to make sense of the massive object. A water tank? A wrecking ball? Part of an airplane? But even with sections of the sphere obscured by the ceiling and collapsed floor, it appeared too perfect, too smooth. It bore no texture marks, making it unlike any object of stone, wood, or metal she had ever seen.
She reached for it.
The hairs on her arm stood on end and a prickling sensation ran down her spine.
Peter asked a question she couldn’t quite hear but could guess.
Without looking at him she said, “I don’t know what it is. But Jenna’s here somewhere.”
The sphere radiated no heat. The surrounding air wasn’t cold either. Somehow this strange object had dropped through the ceiling of an abandoned restaurant in the same place where the cons who had hacked her mother’s phone wanted her to be. It didn’t make sense. But at that moment it didn’t need to. She only had to find Jenna and get them both out of there.
Discovering an abandoned movie prop or weird objet d’art wasn’t worth any of the grief of the last day.
“Jenna, it’s Carmen. If you can’t answer, make a noise.”
A section of the sphere’s surface moved like small ripples passing across a dark pond. The effect ended as quickly as it had begun as the skin of the object again became still. But something stepped out of the sphere, passing through the gray material as if it were nothing but a shadow.
A manlike shape rose before her. It stood slim and tall, with backward-curving legs and a body thinner than her forearm. It seemed to be made of the same material as the sphere, opaque and perfectly smooth. Two wiry arms hung from its shoulders, ending in slender fingers that almost touched the ground.
Its head was bulbous and it lit up. The bright glow caused Carmen to squint and shield her eyes. An image flickered to life. Carmen found herself looking at her mother’s face.
A picture of Sylvia Vincent blinked hard as she gazed down at her daughter. She appeared confused. When she spoke, her voice crackled and buzzed. “Jennacarmen. You came to help me again.”
“Mom? I don’t understand. What is this?”
“This is us coming together again. As a family.”
Before Carmen could react, the mom-creature reached for her. Its hand grabbed hers and yanked her off her feet. The metal monstrosity was pulling her closer. The head of the mom-creature began to grow brighter. Peter was shouting, screaming, blaspheming. But his voice was drowned out as a high-pitched whine filled Carmen’s ears. The light from the screen flashed and blinded her. A burning sensation ran up her arms and covered her body.
The mom-creature wasn’t letting go, was too strong even as Carmen fought to pull away.
And the world went dark.
Chapter Seven
Carmen couldn’t breathe. As hard as she tried to inhale, it was as if a cement truck sat on her chest. She desperately clawed at her face to dislodge whatever was keeping her from inhaling.
Found nothing.
Saw nothing.
Pitch-black.
The weight on her chest kept her from crying out.
A hum filled her ears. Soon it ran through her limbs and down into her bones. Sound upon sound. After her years of half silence it was overwhelming.
In the midst of the buzz came a voice. Soft. Soothing. Her mother.
“Wake up. Open your eyes. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
Carmen flailed, each second a fresh agony as she still couldn’t take in air. “Can’t…breathe…”
“Try. It takes some adjusting. Be calm. Focus. Look at me. But soon you’ll see you don’t need to breathe.”
The world before her eyes snapped into place. Her mom looked down at her. But not her mom. Her face was an image on a screen on top of the spindly metal skeleton.
Carmen cried out as she shoved the mom-creature away. She sprang up from a legless couch which appeared to be made from the same gray matter as the sphere. As she fought to balance herself, the couch melted away into the floor.
She lost her balance. The mom-creature moved to keep her from falling but Carmen swiped at her. The spindly machine backed away. Carmen teetered and grabbed at a wall to support herself. Then she saw her legs.
They were made of the gray metal, slightly darker than the ship and identical to the mom-creature. Her hands too, and her arms, and she realized she still wasn’t breathing.
Her mom’s voice remained untroubled. “It takes a moment to adjust.”
Carmen looked at her right hand. Two long curling fingers and a thumb clenched and unclenched. Then the hand rotated a complete circle. She instinctively winced in anticipated
