Page 49 of Catching Camila

John

Thursday 9:22 p.m.

John streaked through the purple star-strewn sky as if in a dream. Flying. He couldn’t believe it.

They soared over a carpet of evergreens, the scent of pine thick in the air. Below, a rippling river sparkled with moonlight as the water tumbled over the rocks. A slash of highway cut through the trees, red taillights blinking as they passed. The cars were black beetles, trundling along below him. So small from up here, he thought. It made him feel huge, like a god. Camila would never believe this.

Camila. An image of her face awash in disappointment flashed before him. She was safe with her mother. And she’d forgive him when he explained everything.

Nomad flitted a few feet away, bobbing and weaving like an otter through the air currents, the wind rippling his clothes. Every so often he’d flash John an amused grin. Then he’d go back to dipping below the treetops, or swooping down into the shadows only to pop back out again in a spray of leaves. John smiled, but didn't attempt any loop-de-loops. His brain had enough trouble processing up and forward.

Nomad swooped in and pointed toward a gleaming metal structure in the distance. John squinted towards it. A large expanse of water shimmered in the moonlight. A bridge, a long one too from the look of things, stretched across the water. Lights dotted the suspension cables in two giant triangles. Across the water, dark smears of land sat on the horizon. Where were they?

Nomad guided him to the very top of one of the suspension towers. He touched down on a white walkway about four feet wide and twenty feet across. John followed, grabbing for the metal railing and slamming into the outside with a metal clang! He scrambled over and fell on his back onto the platform.

Nomad stood above him, smiling, his hair wind-whipped. “You're missing the view. It's the best part.” He held down a hand and pulled John upright.

John stood and clutched the chest-high white railing that separated him from a 500 foot freefall into the bridge traffic below. Cars pounded over a metal grating, rumbling loudly. The water below undulated in peaks of moonlight and valleys of wet shadow. His stomach flipped uneasily. Even though he'd just been soaring through open sky, somehow being stationary made him feel dizzy. He gripped the railing and closed his eyes. “I thought you were going to tell me—”

“Look up.” Nomad pointed.

Even in the dark, the landscape was amazing. The last trace of orange sunset splashed the west where John could just make out treetops and roof peaks. The water stretched on forever, a few boats dipping in the waves. The tangy, wet smell of lake water filled his nose. John shook his head. “Why'd you bring me all the way out here?”

“I like it here,” Nomad said, draping his arms over the railing. He gazed out and sighed. “The boys upstairs are always, 'Go here. Do this.' This planet has so much beauty. Better than that cramped ship, I tell you what. Sometimes I just need a breather.”

John turned to face him. “What's this about a ship?” The whole bridge vibrated beneath him, a steady shimmy that jangled his nerves.

Nomad glanced at him, the moonlight darkening his features. “What's the rush? You got a hot date?” He smirked, ignoring John's frown, and gestured to the bridge below. “Mackinaw Island Bridge. Third longest suspension bridge in the world. Makes you think,” Nomad said, staring out at the rippling water, “if humans can make something like this, they gotta be good for something, right?”

“The way you talk about them makes them seem like…idiots.” John wanted to say makes us seem like idiots, but he couldn't. Not anymore. That realization sat like a lead weight on his chest.

Nomad shrugged. “They’ll be alright with our help.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“Don't you wonder why we're scouting? We're supposed to collect intel to help with the arrival of the rest of us.”

John crinkled his brow. “Like an invasion?”

Nomad shook his head. “Nah. Not like the kind of Attack of the Body Snatchers crap you have pumped into your head. No brain-sucking parasites. No War of the Worlds. We’ll come on down and drop in like old neighbors. Offer our help in exchange for a few things.”

“Like what?” A car honked below making John grip the rail.

“Like, that they stop mucking up the planet, polluting it, blowing it up, over-populating it. All that dumb shit they should've been doing in the first place. We’ll give them a little boost in technology, medical care, clean energy, and all they have to do is frickin’ recycle. And work with our government. Theirs could use a little 'tweaking'.” He used air quotes, smirking. Nomad pressed a salesman's smile on his face, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “It's a great trade, John.”

John’s brain churned like a virus-riddled computer. He pressed his palms to his eyes. “But, where did we come from? What happened to our planet?”

Nomad gripped the railing and stared out into the night. “Carth…got it bad. Mutant fungus infected the plant life, killing off a lot of the vegetation. There were mass animal die-offs. The air clogged with pollution. We had horrible temperature changes.” Nomad adopted a mock reporter's voice. “The planet became inhospitable.” He gave a weak smile and shifted back to normal. “So, we left. We’ve been living in space for a few generations now. We've tried a couple of planets with limited success, but now we think we've found a place to settle down.” A small smile spread on Nomad's face. A real smile. Maybe the first one John had seen. “It’s a great time for our people, John. You were pretty pumped about it a few days ago.”

“So…” John said, staring up into the stars, “we're…aliens.”

“To us, the humans are aliens. We're Carthians.”

Nomad gripped John's shoulder. This time John didn't pull away. They stood there for a moment and John felt that tug of recognition again.

Yet, all Nomad’s answers felt like a tangle of threads. None of this sounded as easy as Nomad made it out to be. An alien race telling humans how to live, what to do? Somehow he didn't see it going down so easily. “What happens if the humans say no?”

Nomad stared across the shimmering lake. “They won’t.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We’re very convincing.”

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