Author: Chloe

Reena glanced at her rearview mirror, watching as Malina’s shrinking figure turned toward a bench, her friend’s shoulders hunched in a defeated fashion. She tightened her grip on her steering wheel and pressed down on the gas a little harder, trying to shove away the helplessness she felt in reuniting Malina with her family across the rift.

But she was no scientist. Instead, Reena was here to protect this town’s denizens–both human and Karazai. Keep the peace. Maintain the status quo. There was no pushing the envelope with her job; instead, that was left to the brilliant scientists in this town.

Back at her condo, Reena shifted through the shirts in her closet, frowning at her choices. As she reached for a frilly button up shirt, a black dress that hung at the very end of her closet caught her eye and beckoned. Reena slipped into the black dress, silently chiding herself for making a big fuss over what to wear just to see Victoria. 

Victoria, Reena thought, as she dabbed coral gloss on her lips that were pulled to a smile. Their friendship had a rough start, what with Victoria trying to ruin her Christmas. Though Reena’s job was to keep the town safe, she let Victoria slide, mostly because she felt sorry for the little criminal, the loneliness in this strange town all too familiar to her. Other than Malina, Arden, and the rock band that Arden urged Reena to join after learning she played guitar, Reena filled her off days with hikes and ice cream runs with Victoria. The more Reena got to know Victoria, the more she sensed this resilience and determination inside Victoria that Reena admired.

Of course, Victoria wasn’t yet privy to the alien race in town, so unaware of the stakes involved. Often she would complain to Reena about her mindless documentation of strange plants and seeds, though most of her frustration stemmed from not knowing the bigger picture.

Reena checked her reflection, thinking twice about wearing heels and opting for boots instead. She didn’t want to appear too dressy. She took one more quick glance around her apartment, which had upgraded from “bare” to “utilitarian” during her tenure here. It was no longer empty, yet it still felt… hollow. As Reena drove a few blocks over and past white picket fence cookie cutter homes that queued up like an assembly line, her thoughts wandered wistfully for something at the tip of her tongue. 

Victoria’s condo was easy to spot, with pots of succulents lining her porch and hanging from above. The front door creaked open before Reena could knock. 

Reena sucked in a breath.

There stood Victoria, wearing a flowy red dress beneath a leather jacket. Her hair was pulled up to a messy yet elegant bun. She towered over Reena easily with heels and unabashed confidence.

Damn you, Malina, Reena mused to herself, it really is a date. But Reena also accepted she knew that the moment she had slipped on the black dress.

Victoria gave Reena a coy smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” was all that Reena could say back. As silence descended upon them, Reena furiously thought to herself: Words. Say. Something.

Victoria looked down at her outfit. “I hope I’m not overdressed. Millie’s Steakhouse just sounded like a fancy place to eat at.”

“You’re fine.” Reena cleared her throat when her voice croaked unnaturally as the words escaped her lips.

Victoria looked down with a blush. “Shall we go?”

Reena nodded dumbly as she led Victoria back to her truck. She snuck glances at Victoria, as Victoria told Reena about her day.

“What about you?” Victoria asked. “How was your day?”

Maybe there can be a life, a home, to go home to, Reena mused. She shrugged off the thought, not wanting to assume Victoria’s intentions, as she told her friend about meeting with Malina, while deftly dodging and omitting any bits about Malina’s extraterrestrial life. Victoria listened with a smile.

Millie’s Steakhouse was crowded, with several groups of people waiting in the foyer already when they arrived. The two women waited nearly an hour before finally being seated, settling into a booth near the bar.

Reena scanned the dining room, assessing for threats. A soft blend of jazz background music, hushed conversations, and dishes clattering filled the space. Before Reena could settled into a relaxed state, something catches her eye.

A man sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Something about him didn’t sit right with Reena. Maybe it was that his coat collar was turned up to cover his face despite the restaurant’s warmth. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be waiting rather than savoring his drink. Maybe it was how he sat rigidly in his seat in a way that wasn’t socially awkward but poised, as though preparing for an attack. 

“Well?”

Reena snapped her attention back to Victoria. “Well what?”

Victoria frowned as she peered at her friend. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Reena said. “It’s just…”

She trailed off as she noticed the suspicious man at the bar slide an envelope across the counter to the bartender, who hastily shoved the envelope inside his pocket. In a motion that happened so quickly that Reena felt she would have missed if she blinked, the bartender sprinkled powder into a glass of wine, right before a harried server appeared at the bar for his next deployments.

Victoria followed Reena’s gaze. “What?”

“I’ll be right back.” Reena stood up before Victoria could protest. She stalked to the frenzied server, who was about to place the drink on the table of another booth. “I’ll take that.” Reena said simply when the server yelped in surprise.

“Is there something wrong?”

The voice in the booth was smooth–magnetic even. Easily recognizable, as Reena knew immediately who the man was even before she met his eyes. Michael, a prominent Karazai figure, lounged in the center of the booth. A few others, who Reena couldn’t quite name, shared his booth, their heads leaning toward Michael in a wary and conspiratory way.

“I believe this was my drink.” Reena said, raising the pitch of her voice and feigning an air of apologetic inanity with batted eyes and an easy smile. Based on the expressions of the server and the men and women in the booth, her daffy demeanor seemed to successfully shift the tone from alarmed to confused, though it did very little to assuage Michael’s quizzical expression. When the now-irate server opened his mouth to protest, Reena interjected. “Why don’t you get another glass for this man?”

Reena turned to the bar, where the suspicious man’s seat was now empty. She cursed to herself, scanning the back of the bar for the bartender instead, but finding that also empty. She stormed into the restaurant’s kitchen, restaurant staff looking up in alarm.

At the far end of the kitchen, the bartender shoved his way through the staff and pushed his way out the back door. Reena thanked her past self for her prescience to wear boots as she sprinted across the kitchen and through the door, quickly closing the gap with the bartender in the alley, and knocking him to the ground with a hard thud.

The bartender groaned as Reena turned him over so he was lying on his back. She roughly searched his pockets, pulling a bag of green powder and a fat envelope with a stack of cash. “Hello, Barry.” She spat the name from his nametag. “I’d like to know more about your secret menu.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be off this evening?” asked a familiar voice from behind her.

Reena jumped to her feet and spun around to see Arden emerging from the back door from where they came and striding to her. 

Arden turned to the worried onlookers who had poked their heads out of the door behind him, his hands open in a calm and reassuring manner. “Nothing to see here folks. Please go back to your business.” 

They waited as the kitchen staff reluctantly pulled back inside and shut the door. Reena placed her hands on her hips, pointing to Barry the bartender who was still groaning on the floor. “I saw this man slip something in Michael’s drink.”

Arden kneeled down over Barry. “We’ll get him to the hospital first. You might’ve banged him up real good. Then we’ll question him.”

Reena handcuffed Barry as Arden pulled out his phone to call for the ambulance, which arrived a few short minutes later. Onlookers once again began poking their heads through the kitchen back door and windows.

“You don’t seem fazed,” Reena told Arden quietly, as they watched the paramedics load Barry into the ambulance. “What were you doing here? I didn’t notice you in the restaurant before.”

“I was… spying,” Arden replied, his eyes shifting to the restaurant.

“On?” Reena asked. “The man at the bar?”

“What man?”

Reena sighed. “The man who paid Barry to put this powder–” she held up the bag of green powder– “in Michael’s drink. I assume this is poison.”

Arden eyed the bag. “We’ll send that to the lab. I wasn’t aware of the man. I was spying on Michael.”

Then the suspicious man got away for sure, Reena thought, as she rubbed her forehead. “You’re no spy, Arden. You could have asked me.”

Arden nodded, rubbing his chin pensively. They stood in silence until the ambulance pulled away. Finally, Arden said, “There are some dangerous politics being played in this town. Some Karazai are adamant about staying here on Earth and preventing–even sabotaging–any progress on connecting our two worlds.”

Reena froze and her heart sank, her thoughts returning to Malina’s defeated figure. Anger boiled inside Reena. Who were these callous people who decided it was acceptable to keep Malina and her family apart? “I want in on this.”

“Are you sure?” Arden asked. “It could be dangerous. And may require a lot of late nights.”

“Yes,” Reena said without hesitation. Then she thought of Victoria, who she had neglected for far too long this evening. “Now, if I could be excused. I was here with someone.” And now I think that evening is now irretrievably ruined, she thought ruefully, feeling immediate regret for how easily she forgot about her date when her job kicked in. Still, her anger at Barry the bartender, at the man at the bar, at this faction, still resonated in her bones.

“One more thing.” Arden studied Reena, his eyes lingering at her fists that were still clenched tightly. “There is also a faction that is driven to return to their home planet at any cost.”

Reena nodded, her expression neutral. She didn’t need to be an ex-spy to understand his unspoken cautionary note. “Message received,” she said, as she braced herself while slipping back inside the kitchen door.

---

Victoria waited. And waited. And waited.

Reena was still nowhere in sight. It had been several minutes since Reena jumped up from their table, inexplicably accosted a server, and made a beeline to the restaurant’s kitchen–all without so much as a backward glance to her.

Victoria sighed, resigned, as the server showed up at their booth and asked, an edge in his voice, if she was ready to order. She shook her head, relinquishing their booth as she made her way to the bar to get a drink, only to find that the bartender was nowhere in sight. She leaned against the bar and tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter, when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey, Victoria! Over here!”

Angela, one of her coworker Sian’s gaming buddies, waved her hand wildly from the other side of the bar. Victoria hesitated, far from being in the mood to make conversation. But as Angela’s hands shifted from waving to beckoning, Victoria felt no choice but to join her. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Angela said as Victoria plopped on the seat next to her.

“I was here on a date,” Victoria said glumly.

“You don’t seem very thrilled about that.”

“She left me,” Victoria bemoaned. When Angela raised an eyebrow, Victoria explained, “She’s an officer in this town. I think duty called.”

“I see.” Angela hesitated, as though reluctant at first, before sliding her glass of beer to Victoria. “I think you need this more than I do.”

Victoria smiled at Angela. “That’s very sweet of you but I can’t take your drink.”

Angela waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t know where the bartender disappeared to. He left in a hurry.” Angela grumbled. “Hopefully to get more beer.”

Victoria chuckled. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think we ever had a moment to chat just the two of us,” Angela said, as Victoria took a sip of her beer. “What brought you here to Selunia Falls?”

“To be a botanist,” Victoria said. “And occasionally sell trees.” Her tone was flat and uninspired. Victoria couldn’t muster the energy to sound excited about what she did.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Angela. “Do you enjoy it?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Victoria knew she was convincing no one.

Angela titled her head thoughtfully. “What excites you about this town?”

“I guess Reena does,” Victoria said.

“No, no!” Angela waved her hands, as though commanding Victoria to a stop. “What drives you? Surely there’s something that you stand for by yourself?”

“I’m just getting by really.” Victoria glanced away as she fidgeted in her seat. “Good pay. My own condo. Can’t complain.” She looked back up to Angela–to find the engineer glowering at her. “What?”

“You have an opportunity in this town!” Angela exclaimed. “To make a difference! To do something huge!”

“What difference?” Victoria countered. “I spend my days conducting experiments that go nowhere! I could be doing research elsewhere without being kept in the dark about the bigger picture!”

“But instead you’re here!” Angela placed her hand on Victoria’s arm and gave her a firm shake. “You just need to push yourself and ascend the ranks! You know there is something here bigger than anything you can imagine. Don’t throw it all away just to be here for some floozy.”

“‘Floozy?’” Victoria let out a laugh. “She ditched me to go do her job!”

“Sounds like she knows what it takes to be here,” Angela said with a shrug. “The question is, do you have what it takes to stand on your own here?”

Victoria sat back on her seat, flustered and annoyed. But Angela was right. Victoria knew there was something bigger in this town. Though she appreciated her friendship with Reena, the hollowness inside her could only be filled by understanding her piece to the puzzle in this strange town. She had taken the job, uprooted herself to this town, after a breakup with her ex-girlfriend because she wanted to know there was something she could do by herself. And that she could survive by herself.

And she couldn’t do that if she was with Reena.

“Now where is that bartender?” Angela demanded impatiently.

At that moment, Reena appeared at Victoria’s side, her face apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Victoria said. It was only a half lie. She was angry at Reena but Angela had given her something to think about. “I think we should just call it a night.”

Reena opened her mouth, as though to protest, before nodding. They made their way back to Reena’s truck and sat in contemplative silence as businesses and houses sailed past their window. Reena offered no explanation for her absence, and Victoria asked for none. That silence continued until they reached Victoria’s condo.

“I know tonight was supposed to be a date,” Reena said, her voice gentle and her eyes down at her lap.

Victoria froze, unsure what to say, or how to feel. Of course it was supposed to be a date. She was looking forward to this evening and taking the next step in their relationship–at least, that was what she originally wanted.

But…

“I do like you a lot,” Reena continued, her voice insistent as she barreled ahead, smoothing the wrinkles on her dress nervously. “But I don’t think we should date each other.” Her eyes fell. “At least, not right now.”

An odd feeling of relief washed over Victoria, with only a pang of sadness at her heels.

“I’m still trying to figure myself out,” Reena explained, her eyes drifting down.

Victoria looked down at Reena’s arm, resisting the urge to squeeze it and tell her that they could figure themselves out together. 

But Victoria knew that both she and Reena couldn’t figure out themselves with someone else. She needed to stand on her own. “I understand,” was all that Victoria could say.

Victoria leaned in and kissed Reena on the cheek, quickly exiting the car before she could change her mind. She wrapped her arms in front of her chest, bracing herself against the cold, as she watched her friend drive away. She then closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, feeling herself grow taller with the motion, as Angela’s words resonated inside her.

There was a lot of work to be done here in Selunia Falls. Now was her time to shine and ascend the ranks. Maybe then she would finally find out this town’s secret and understand her piece in this puzzle.

---

Reena watched Victoria in her rearview mirror, her friend’s figure hunched. She couldn’t imagine the pain Victoria must be feeling, being sent adrift by her closest friend. Reena let off the gas slowly, gripping the steering wheel to prepare for a U-turn.

In her rearview mirror, she noticed Victoria straighten up, her frame determined.

Reena smiled proudly, pressing on the gas again. There will be time for us after, Reena reassured herself.

But for now, Victoria just needed to be Victoria, and she needed to just be Reena.

The passage of time flows differently in this strange place. Humans are always in a hurry, shuffling from one task to another. I feel time slip through my fingers every time this strange sun sets and you’re not by my side. Miss you more than you know.

Malina clicked the pause button, silence filling the space that her static-filled recording left. She shot a glance at the rest of the laboratory, which was already empty due to humans leaving early for Valentine’s Day plans and Karazai taking advantage of a lax evening without their human counterparts.

A lax evening was too much of a luxury that Malina could take. The notes strewn on the desk in front of her offered no solace, only more questions: How can one send a message across the rift? How do we tell the ones we left behind that we are okay?

Are we okay?

Though she was satisfied with her message, Malina replayed her message once again, this time listening to the cracks of hope in her own voice, a harsh contrast to her earlier messages she recorded. She idly rubbed her lanyard, her name and title of “scientist” prominently displayed. “Scientist” was a far more prestigious title from the educator status Malina enjoyed at home before she was violently whisked into this strange planet called Earth.

Home, Malina thought wistfully.

The laboratory’s door creaked open. Reena slipped inside, a coffee in each hand and two paper bags wedged between her fingers precariously. “Got you a scone,” Reena said, as way of greeting, before shutting the door with her foot.

“Thank you.” Malina pushed aside the notes so Reena could plop a grease-stained paper bag in front of her.

Reena settled onto a chair across from Malina before helping herself to the bagel inside her own paper bag. Malina watched as Reena’s eyes shifted to the corners of the room, though in a much less guarded way than the first time they met–when Reena had accused Malina of shapeshifting and stealing her appearance. Even until now, Reena was convinced they had similar appearances.

Malina bit into her scone, eyeing Reena thoughtfully as she munched. She couldn’t understand it before, but she saw it now–the kindred spirits burning inside them both. New to town, new to this convergence of worlds. They needed each other more than they knew.

“What is this?” Reena asked, pointing her chin to the device on Malina’s desk before taking another large bite out of her bagel.

“It’s an emitter,” Malina explained. She lifted the device, turning its clunky frame in her hands. “I’ve been recording myself on this–” she tapped the recorder– “and I’m hoping to send a message across the rift with this.”

“Any luck?”

Malina’s eyes fell. “So far, no.”

Reena’s lips pressed together in a frown. She then reached across the table and squeezed Malina’s arm. “We’ll find a way to let the people back home know you’re okay.”

“I can’t imagine them being so worried sick about me.” Malina’s voice cracked. “I also hope they are also okay.”

“I’m sure they are,” Reena said, a little too quickly. A little too rehearsed.

Malina smiled sadly at her friend. She knew Reena had to say that, because the alternatives were too terrible to imagine. “Though they’ve given me a degree of freedom to pursue communications across the rift, this particular project isn’t quite sanctioned. Hence the recorder. It’s more of a pet project.” Malina picked at her scone, trying to sound casual. “Do you know if the rift is open today?”

“It is,” Reena said, eyeing Malina suspiciously. “Why?”

Malina fidgeted in her seat, before finally saying, “I hate to impose this on you, but would you mind giving me a lift to the rift?”

Reena blinked in surprise. She then nodded. “Let’s go.”

Relief washed over Malina. She hated to ask Reena to break the rules, but she doubted they would let her do her pet experiment if she asked. Malina shoved her recorder into her bag before gathering her coffee and emitter device. She followed Reena outside, precariously balancing the emitter device as she shuffled into Reena’s off-road vehicle. 

Once inside–and after chiding Malina for nearly spilling coffee in her work vehicle–Reena entered a code to unlock the vehicle’s console. She navigated the screen to find the rift’s current coordinates before driving into the forest nearby. They crawled up and down grassy knolls and weaved between trees before arriving at their destination in a meadow.

Malina hopped out of the vehicle, her eyes never leaving the rift. Its presence was unsettling, the aberration–the unnaturalness–of the rift pierced right to the bone.

And, beyond that rift, was the man she loves.

“We have to leave by five.”

Malina turned to face Reena, who was glancing at her watch. “Big plans?”

“Not really.” Reena shrugged casually before sticking her hands into her jacket’s pockets. “I’m going to see Victoria.”

“Was she the one who tried to ruin your–what did you call it? Christmas?”

“Yes.” Reena snorted. “And she’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Seems like an odd choice of date.”

Reena rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date.”

“But it’s Valentine’s Day.” Malina folded her arms. “Are you telling me all this heart-shaped nonsense means nothing?”

Reena rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you!” she hissed. “Can we hurry now? Before someone else sees us?”

Malina crouched down to place the emitter device on the grassy floor, connecting the recorder to the device through a cord. Reena tapped her foot as Malina operated the device, adjusting its antennae to point to the rift while studying the emitter’s console. When Malina was satisfied with what she saw on the console, she snapped on the emitter switch and stepped back.

Please work, Malina thought wistfully as the emitter hummed. She glanced up to the rift, which gave no indication that her attempts were received. Malina held her breath until the emitter stopped humming, its task completed.

If her calculations were correct, her message would be sent across the rift. That was, of course, assuming all the variables–and there were so many–were as expected. 

“How will we know if it worked?” Reena asked as Malina gathered the emitter.

“There’s a feedback mechanism in here,” Malina explained, pointing to the emitter’s console. “It should measure the integrity of the message and we should have some data in a few days.”

“So we can go then?” Reena asked.

“Yes,” Malina said hesitantly. She lingered as Reena headed back to the car, her body not wanting to leave.

Reena turned to see Malina wasn’t following her. She retraced her steps to her friend. “Or…how about we wait for a while to see if anything comes through?”

Malina smiled at Reena, gratitude swelling in her chest. “Thank you.”

Malina and Reena settled on the ground, leaning back on the grass, their legs stretched in front of them. Thin clouds drifted slowly overhead. Minutes turned into hours. The sun sank lower toward the horizon.

No sounds came from the rift.

“Maybe they can’t send a message back?” Reena suggested.

“Possibly,” was all Malina could croak.

“Or maybe the message is too long?” Reena offered. When Malina didn’t respond, Reena said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Malina only nodded, disappointment weighing down on her. She wasn’t going to cry, not in front of people–even if it was only Reena. She got to her feet, dusting the dirt off her pants. “Let’s go.”

The women rode back to the laboratory in contemplative silence. The emitter device hung loosely under Malina’s arm as she walked around the car to Reena’s window after they pulled up to the laboratory. “Thank you for taking me to the rift today.”

“Let’s not make breaking the rules a habit,” Reena said with a wink. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Tell that to your date.”

“Not a date!” Reena called out from the window as she drove away.

Malina watched her friend drive away, a pang of loneliness seeping into her chest. Instead of walking back to her office, she took a seat on a nearby bench, turning the emitter device in her hands to review at the console.

No feedback yet.

Malina sighed as she turned her eyes to the sky, at a planet she couldn’t see.

---

It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Not a single day passes that I don’t think of you. I cannot wrap around where you might’ve disappeared to. I hope that you are well and that one day you will read these letters.

Dulin scanned the purple skies above, squinting against the rays from the sun that sat close to the horizon, its twin close at its heels. He then rested his eyes on the crater before the stone bench from where he sat.

Scenes of that dreaded day replayed in his head. One moment, he was looking at Malina, her face bright smiling at him. Then, the next moment, she was gone. Vanished, along with so many others. His whole world imploded, leaving behind a gaping hole in the ground and in his heart.

And this mysterious rift.

Teams buzzed around the rift constantly, entering notes into tablets as they prodded the rift with machinery. Fellow observers hung around the perimeters. Dulin watched from his stone bench, as he did every day since the incident, wistfulness hardening into anger as he waited for a breakthrough.

“Mind if I join you?”

Dulin’s eye shot up to the woman standing next to him. He had seen her around this area, though never spoke with her. She buzzed around with the group that was researching the rift with absolutely no progress to provide answers on what happened that dreadful day. Dulin shoved down his resentment enough to nodded mutely at her.

The woman took the seat next to him, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Did you lose someone during the incident?”

Dulin simply nodded again.

The woman nodded. “Me, too. My husband and son.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you writing there?” The woman gestured to the letter in his hand.

“A letter,” Dulin said. “To my wife Malina.” When the woman gave him a quizzical look, he explained impatiently, “We used to write cheesy letters to each other when we were younger. Malina would turn those letters into songs. She was a gifted musician and singer.” He let out a sad laugh. “I guess writing these letters helps keep her alive in my head.”

“She is alive,” the woman insisted. “Somewhere out there. They reckoned that a hole was punched through the universe.”

Dulin stared at his letter, boring a hole. He had to cling to the chance that Malina was still alive out there.

He felt a hand squeeze his arm. Only then did he realize he had been crying. He looked over to the woman, who gave him a faint smile.

“We’ll find them,” the woman said. Her voice was firm with resolve.

A resolve that Dulin no longer had.

---

Miss you.

If the feedback reports from the emitter are correct, the message had a 0.00022% chance of being received.

Malina snorted. Message? More like “noise.”

In her most recent attempt, she had whittled down her message to just two words, in case Reena was correct about the message length interfering with the transferability of the message. The chances of the message being sent across only increased to 0.00025%, before the message’s integrity devolved into a muddled mess like the one blaring in Malina’s office right now.

She had failed.

Frustrated, Malina punched the emitter, crying out at pain that shot into her hand. Her efforts only made the emitter play the garbled noise louder. She rubbed her bruised hand as she sank back into her chair and pressed her forehead onto the emitter’s cold steel, letting the feedback noise wash over her, relinquishing herself to discord. She found that, by just letting go of all her expectations on the message sent through, that the noise mercifully ebbed and flowed rhythmically, almost in a soothing manner.

Almost like… a song.

Malina bolted up in her chair. She replayed the noise again and again, before scribbling notes into a chart. She replayed the feedback noise from previous attempts as well, ignoring her hand as it cramped as she wrote out more notes. 

Hours later, Malina sat back in her chair, studying her notes, a pattern emerging.

She began to craft her next message.

---

Please come back to me.

Dulin folded his note. Today, he didn’t have the heart to write more, had only the energy to shove the note into his pocket.

He closed his eyes, letting the surrounding noise drown his thoughts–the clanks from machinery, the hollers from the investigation teams, the whistling of the wind. If he listened long enough, the noise became static, fading into the background. Occasionally, a lilting note may emerge from the dissonance. And another.

And then another note. And another.

Dulin’s eyes flew open, scanning his surroundings to find the source of the tenacious notes–and finding none. He dared to not move a muscle as he focused his full attention on listening.

A simple melody persisted from cacophony, faint but unmistakable.

It was Malina’s song that she wrote for Dulin when they first met. She sang the song to him, a goofy smile incongruent with the tender vibratos her voice deftly navigated. It was an image that would last forever in his mind and his heart.

A smile crept across Dulin’s face. He couldn’t prove that Malina sent it. The impossibility of the event dictated there was no way she could have. But the impossibility of those notes–those exact notes–also suggested it had to be her that sent it. 

He had to believe it was her. He had to.

Dulin leaned back and closed his eyes again, listening to the pulses of Malina’s song as he slipped into her embrace.

“You’re breaking up with me?”

Victoria shut her eyes, her croaked voice from her memory echoing inside her head. Maybe this time, when she opens her eyes, Donna will be there, standing in front of her with a crooked smile and torn up jeans and vintage rock band shirt.

Victoria opened her eyes. 

No one. Just an empty apartment, bare of furniture, with only dust formed around where things used to be.

Victoria swiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek as she stared hard at the glossy black invite that read like a retro travel poster. Join us at Selunia Falls!

After several weeks of rigorous interviews, the mysterious group at Selunia Falls invited Victoria to join their ranks as a botanist. The pay and benefits were great, and the secrecy intrigued her.

The day she told Donna remained etched in her head. Donna had shook her head firmly, stating that moving to this secluded town interfered with her dream to become a rockstar. Instruments packed and without so much as a backwards glance, Donna left that next morning.

With one last glance around her hollow apartment, Victoria shrugged on her backpack and stepped out the door, a rental van and official-looking driver in dark sunglasses ready to take her to Selunia Falls.

---

“I’m a botanist–not a Christmas tree seller!”

Victoria placed her hands firmly on her hips and scowled at Sian, her supervisor. They stood beneath a tarp, within a fenced area next to the laboratory. Rows of fuzzy fir saplings stretched before them, ending at a trailer that Victoria was soon to call “her office” for the next few months.

Sian held her hands up helplessly. “It’s not like we can just hire temporary people outside to sell Christmas trees. Sometimes we have to double up on tasks in this town.”

“Don’t we have Renaissance fairs that come through here?” Victoria asked incredulously.

“We do,” Sian said with a sheepish nod, “but we have a surprisingly iron-clad agreement with them.” She gestured to a row of saplings. “We need these to grow before December, or else we’re going to have some really angry townsfolk with repressed holiday energy.” Sian forced a smile, as though to channel positive energy. “I think you’re on the right track with your current experiments on expediting their growth and hues.”

Victoria fumed as Sian escaped back inside the laboratory. Ever since Victoria arrived at Selunia Falls, she had been relegated to menial tasks, with everyone around her being so dodgy about what the big secret is in Selunia Falls.

Soon, Sian had told her. Soon, I promise.

At what point does “soon” become “never?” Was she not worthy of the secret?

And now she had a few weeks to grow Christmas trees–a feat that usually takes years.

Victoria sighed before pulling on some gloves to examine the saplings. She poked and prodded them, while also pushing away the resentment in her body. There was nothing unusual with the saplings. 

The items inside the trailer, on the other hand…

An assortment of jars containing odd liquids and dust filled the cabinets and open table spaces, with only brief notes on what the samples might do (asterisks around the word “might”). Victoria pored through the samples, her curiosity piqued by their textures, viscosities, and patterns. 

These samples looked so… alien, Victoria thought to herself.

One shimmering orange sample caught her eye, as it coalesced and then dispersed in a constant pattern inside its jar. There were no notes on its properties, other than: Be sure to use gloves.

Victoria regarded the sample thoughtfully. Something about it called to her. She cradled the jar carefully in her arm, returning outside to pour a cup of it into the soil of one saplings. 

For science, she thought wryly, as she watched the liquid soak through the sapling’s soil.

Victoria tried a few other samples, occasionally mixing some together before pouring them over other saplings. So immersed she was in her work that she realized, as she squinted at her notes, it was already dark. She scribbled some last notes before tidying up her space, locking up the fenced area, and heading home.

---

Victoria frowned, poking through a pile of dust where a sapling used to be. There were no remnants of green or brown from its former form, just a pile of dark dust.

Complete disintegration! Victoria realized with a start, marveling at the fineness of the dust.

Victoria peered once again at the coalescing sample, hoping to glean more information about its nature. It provided her no answers, simply coalescing and dispersing in its hypnotic motion.

Almost equally impressive were the rows of saplings that sprouted overnight to seven to eight foot tall trees. Their pines were lush and smelled like the embodiment of Christmas, which Victoria took some pride in after deciphering the different samples from last night. Many of her experiments were a success, yielding trees with different leaf colors such as pink and blue, with only a handful of her experiments producing dead or wilting trees.

Still, Victoria could not get her mind off of the disintegrated tree. She pulled out a pen to scribble notes in her work journal when she heard a truck pull up next to her trailer. A woman hopped out of the driver’s seat and sauntered toward Victoria. She had an air of stiff formality, despite wearing a T-shirt of some obscure band, its sleeves rolled up in a fashion like Donna would. 

Victoria immediately hated her.

“Are the Christmas trees ready yet?” the woman demanded briskly.

Victoria glanced at the date on her phone. “It’s barely November!”

“Tell that to the people who are expecting trees today,” the woman said with a shrug.

Victoria eyed the woman. “And you are?”

“Reena.” The woman jerked a thumb at the truck she came in–a loaner, by the looks of the government license plate. “I’m a new security recruit here, tasked with doubling up this year to deliver Christmas trees during my off hours.” 

“Sounds on brand for this town,” Victoria grumbled before going to her computer. Sure enough, five names were listed to have pre-ordered Christmas trees for delivery for today. “Thanks for the heads up, Sian,” Victoria muttered under her breath as she scanned the names.

One name in particular stuck out to her–-Dave, another security guard in Selunia Falls. Last week, on Halloween, Victoria swung by Anna’s Cafe to grab dinner when she noticed a visibly upset woman sitting outside of the cafe, presumably involved in some incident judging from the group of onlookers that had gathered. She had seen Dave hovering over the incident, but his demeanor was alarmingly apathetic to the woman’s distress. She had vowed that day to not put much faith in the town’s security.

The coalescing liquid caught Victoria’s eye, as though it was waving at her. She glanced at Reena, who was busy looking at her phone, before seizing the liquid and pouring it over five of the newly-grown trees. She hastily hid the liquid behind the counter before approaching Reena again. “Right this way,” Victoria said with a forced smile.

Reena grunted thanks before hauling the trees onto the truck one by one. Victoria watched Reena drive away, an odd satisfaction rolling across her body. She searched her makeshift office for a clipboard and pen. Then, as she settled into her chair, she reflected on her interactions with people in this town and scribbled down a list of names.

---

Victoria surveyed the row of trees, their bases glistening with a faint orange shimmer. For the past couple weeks, she had perfected her sampling amount and, if her calculations were correct, the trees in this row would disintegrate on Christmas Eve. 

Victoria double-checked the names on her clipboard. On the top of one list was Arden, the head of security. Even with her disdain toward the town’s security, Victoria figured she should remain in his good graces. On the same list was Sadie, the quiet but kind girl who worked at Anna’s Cafe, and Sadie’s friend Rainbow, who was nice enough despite his dad being ornery. 

On the other list, which was hidden beneath the first list, were Dave (“terrible security guard”), Sian (“made me sell Christmas trees”), Angela (“rude when she drinks”), Winter (“very cold and aloof”), and Dr. Campbell (“probably a vampire”).

And, of course, at the very top of the list: Reena (“stuck up jerk”).

A smile crept onto her face, buoyed by pride for her Christmas trees. Yet, the edges of her smile were anchored down by an inexplicable feeling that gnawed at her.

Victoria’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket and flipped on her phone to see that Sian texted her, asking her if she wanted anything from Anna’s Cafe. 

An unexpected pang swelled in Victoria’s chest, as she found herself drawing a line through Sian’s name before adding it to the other list with Arden and Sadie. Lately, Sian had been inviting Victoria to coffee runs and even trivia nights with others.

That inexplicable feeling again! Uncertainty plagued Victoria as she crossed off more names on the list. She had seen cold and aloof Winter light up when he was with his friends like Harley, who she could tell shared a special bond with Winter, the two clutching to each other like a lifeline.

For the past several days, Reena had been stopping by to pick up trees. An odd thing happened–her aloof demeanor chipped away. And, when she smiled, she smiled wide, displaying a perfect set of teeth. Small talk grew into banter that actually elicited a genuine laugh from Victoria when Reena commented on Dave’s kale obsession.

Dr. Campbell… was probably still a vampire. Victoria will continue to believe that unless proven otherwise.

Victoria frowned. She knew what the inexplicable feeling was.

Guilt.

Was she actually starting to care about these people in Selunia Falls?

Victoria yearned for 4PM, when Reena would drive up to load up the trees. Today, Reena raved about her band that played in the town’s bars. “We do stuff from the 90s mainly,” Reena said. She smiled at Victoria. “You should come see us tonight.”

Victoria’s heart skipped, her smile faltering. “That actually sounds quite fun.”

Reena dusted off her hands as she placed the last Christmas tree on her truck. “We’re missing one.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!” Reena’s smile widened. “My tree, silly!”

“Oh!” Victoria blushed. “Right.” She hurried to the Christmas tree with Reena’s name. She hesitated, before lifting the tree by its stand and returning to Reena.

Reena beamed when she saw her tree. “There she is.” 

When she approached Victoria, Victoria pulled back. 

Reena frowned. “What?”

Like a dam that was opened, guilt came crashing in, rippling across Victoria’s body and nearly causing her to collapse under the weight of the Christmas tree. She placed the tree down and hung her head. “Reena. I did something bad.”

Reena raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Victoria explained everything, even showing Reena the coalescing sample and the disintegrated trees from her experiments.

Reena glanced from the list, to the trees, to finally back to Victoria, her face aghast. “So you sent self-disintegrating Christmas trees to people that were on your naughty list?”

Victoria placed her head in her hands as she paced back and forth frantically. “This is a disaster.”

“I don’t understand.” Reena frowned. “Did you not consider that people would link this back to you?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead!” Victoria exclaimed, her voice squeaking as panic set in. “I didn’t think I was going to stick around here long enough to find out, too. I thought about having Sian take the fall, but I started to really enjoy working with her.” She hung her head. “I have to tell Sian. I’m going to go and make things right.”

“No–” Reena sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I can help you.”

“How?”

“Let’s just say I know how to get out of tricky situations,” Reena said, her tone firm and leaving no room for elaboration.

Victoria regarded Reena. “No. I need to own up for my mistake.”

“That’s very noble,” Reena said flatly, “but how about you take this lifeline I’m throwing you instead so you don’t get kicked out of her?” She moved in front of Victoria to keep her from pacing. She placed her hands on Victoria’s shoulders and leveled her with a look. “Now, tell me, who did you give the bad trees to?”

Victoria ticked off a few names. Reena rubbed her chin thoughtfully before setting into action. Victoria directed her to a row of good trees that she had as backups. Reena loaded the truck up with as many Christmas trees as Victoria listed from her “naughty” list. Then, they hopped into the truck and set off into town.

The first few recipients of disintegrating trees were easy enough to swap. Reena channeled an air of authority, so the recipients only gave them odd looks but didn’t ask too many questions when Reena simply said they needed to swap out Christmas trees. The ladies helped transfer ornaments from the bad trees to the good ones as a gesture of goodwill and to expedite the process. They then placed the bad trees in the back of the truck, marked them, and continued on their way.

Then they arrived at the residence of the last person on the list: Dave the security guard.

“I gave Dave one of my earlier specimens,” Victoria said, concern in her voice.

When they peered into Dave’s window, Victoria’s fear was confirmed with a pile of dust in a corner where a Christmas tree should be.

“It probably just happened today,” Reena said.

“Why do you think that?”

“He constantly shares on Selunia Fall’s social media platform,” Reena said. “Pretty sure that he’d share if his Christmas tree became a pile of ash.” She glanced at her watch. “Dave gets off work around this time. We better hurry.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Breaking in.”

“How?” Victoria demanded. Her eyes flew up to the chimney above them.

Reena tossed her head back in a laugh. “Not through there!” She reached inside her leather jacket and produced a small black case. “I can pick locks.”

Reena crouched to be eye-level with the lock before sticking one small rod into the lock, and then another.

Victoria stood between her and the street, hoping to protect her from prying eyes and passersby. And also hoping that the passersby won’t be Dave.

Reena made quick work of the lock and pushed the door open. They quickly returned to the truck, picked up one of the remaining trees, and shuffled inside Dave’s house. Reena swept up the dust from the previous tree using a broom and pan from Dave’s kitchen while Victoria gathered the scattered ornaments from the floor. 

Reena pulled up a picture of Dave’s previous Christmas tree, which Dave had posted on Selunia Fall’s social media website. The women referred to the picture as they carefully reconstructed the pattern of ornaments on the tree. When they were done, they dashed to the front door, softly shutting the door.

“Reena?”

Victoria jumped and spun around to see Dave getting out of his car, which was parked behind their truck.. Victoria called out. “Oh, hello there!”

Dave walked toward them, a puzzled look on his face. He turned to Reena.  “What are you doing here?”

“We were just about to knock on your door,” Reena said, so casually and collected that Victoria almost believed her. She jerked her head to the truck, where one Christmas tree remained. “I’m helping Victoria here deliver Christmas trees.”

Dave stared at them blankly. “I already have mine.” He pointed through the front door’s window, where their newly placed tree stood.

Victoria slapped her forehead, feigning surprise. “Oh so you do! The tree must be for someone else.”

Dave’s eyes flicked from Victoria to Reena, narrowing suspiciously. Victoria held her breath, hoping he couldn’t hear the hammering of her heart.

Finally, Dave said, “Well. Have a good evening.”

Victoria and Reena exchanged glances as Dave shut his door. They walked back to the truck, watching Dave through the window as they did. Dave looked at his Christmas tree, a frown in his face. He reached for an ornament, straightening it, before disappearing to the kitchen.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Reena whispered.

Victoria let out an exhale. “Thank you for helping me. And for not reporting me.”

Reena folded her arms and leaned back against the truck’s rear bumper. “Why did you do it?”

Victoria hung her head. “I was angry.” She explained. “My ex-girlfriend Donna and I were together for forever.” Her voice croaked. “I don’t really know who I am alone.”

Reena studied Victoria, her mouth pressed together in thought. “I think it’s a good thing you two drifted apart. Donna had to pursue her own dream, and you have to pursue your own.”

“Her dream was silly.”

“But it was still her dream,” Reena insisted. “It shouldn’t be diminished or disparaged, no matter how trivial it might seem to you.”

Victoria opened her mouth to interject, but then clamped it shut. The task of creating Christmas trees seemed silly to her at first, but she was extremely proud of her saplings that were now full-grown trees. The work she put into the task was arduous at times, but she enjoyed it. “I guess you’re right,” Victoria finally said, a weight seeming to fall away from her shoulders. She looked up at the last Christmas tree in the truck. “This one is yours by the way.”

Reena’s face lit up as she appraised her tree. “It looks like a real winner to me. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Victoria looked around the street, getting her bearings. “I can walk home from here by the way.”

Reena hesitated, before nodding. “As you wish.” She walked toward the driver’s seat of the truck before pausing in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder. “See you at the show tonight?”

Victoria blinked in disbelief. “You still want me to come to your show? Even after what I’ve done?”

“I believe in second chances.” Reena looked around, at houses that surrounded them. “Especially here in Selunia Falls.” Her lips curved to a smile. “Just try not to disintegrate my bass player.”

Victoria chuckled. “I’ll do my best.” When Reena turned and took another step toward the car, Victoria called out, “And also–thank you.”

Victoria couldn’t see Reena’s face, but she knew she was smiling. “Merry Christmas, Victoria,” Reena said, as she hopped back into the truck and drove off. 

Victoria took in a breath of the crisp air around her, grounding herself in this place–this odd town–and in this moment. Hope fluttered inside her chest as she thought about what she could achieve in this town, with pride swelling in her chest as she spied her Christmas trees peeking out some of the houses’ windows.

Victoria tilted her head up to the sky, feeling a chapter finally coming to a close as hope replaced resentment. And, she hoped that, wherever Donna was, that she was happy.

“Trick or treat!”

The man at the house’s threshold flicked his eyes between Harley and Winter as they towered over him in matching but ill-fitted pirate costumes. Children peered from behind the two to gawk at the candies that the man dropped into pumpkin-shaped buckets.

Back on the dimly lit street, Harley pulled up her flimsy eyepatch and brought one of the new red-foiled candies up for inspection, giggling as she did.

Winter rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have enough candy?”

“Can you ever have enough?”

“I’m told you could get something called ‘diabetes’ if you eat too much.”

Harley snorted. “Humans are such odd creatures.”

“Shh!” Winter hissed, as he glared side to side at the largely empty street. “Don’t say that too loud. The humans might hear us.”

Harley dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. She unwrapped the candy and popped it in her mouth, chewing loudly.

Winter grumbled.

They hung back to let the group of kids behind them trot ahead to the next house. Cell phones illuminated the bored expressions of the parents that followed behind the kids. Artificial spiderwebs canvassed the walls of the next house that was illuminated by eerie green lights. Screams punched through the artificial mist that surrounded the house. 

Every year since Harley arrived at this strange planet, she watched in awe and appreciation at the concerted effort that humans put into getting into, what they called, the “Halloween spirit.” The more humans settled the town, the more decorations of bats, spiders, and other creatures of lore and vague human media references that Harley had yet to learn popped up across Selunia Falls. Pumpkins and pumpkin spice assailed her noise at every corner. Before she knew it, she got swept up in the mania, finding herself clutching a pirate costume in the local convenience store. 

After purchasing the costume with her allowance of human currency, Harley realized that she’d have to wear the ridiculous get-up. In a panic, she had purchased a second costume, hoping to persuade someone else to dress up with her so she’d feel less ridiculous. Winter obliged, though took every opportunity to voice his disapproval of the practice after he squeezed his body into the size small costume, his limbs jutting out awkwardly.

“These candies are definitely better than anything we’ve had back home,” Harley said through a mouth full of caramel.

Winter chuffed. “Whatever.” He slicked back his hair. “Is that enough trick or treating for you? We should check out the party at the town square.”

Harley pouted, not yet ready to end their trick-or-treating. “I think we have time for one more house.” She scanned the street, avoiding the house with the recorded screaming and pointing at a house at the end of the block decorated with rows of candle lit pumpkins. “That one over there looks nice.”

Winter sighed.

Pumpkins carved with faces contorted into ghoulish expressions lined the house. Aside from the candles in the pumpkins, the house’s facade was dark and bare. Muffled, melancholic music played from inside. The group of trick-or-treaters hurried past to the next house, skipping the pumpkin house.

“Are we sure that someone’s even home?” Winter asked.

Harley jumped back when a woman poked her head out, unable to discern from the woman’s sunken eyes and disheveled hair if she was in costume. 

The woman studied the two. “You’re trick-or-treaters?”

“Uh…” Harley looked down at her costume and then at Winter. “Yes?”

Winter folded his arms in front of him. “Is there something wrong, ma’am?”

“No, no.” The woman shifted her eyes. “Usually it’s just kids who trick-or-treat.”

“Is that why people keep looking at us funny?” Harley’s cheek flushed as she tugged on her costume self-consciously.

The woman swung the door open, the melancholic music humming louder. “Come inside. You’re clearly adults. I have better treats for you.”

Harley shot a glance at Winter, unsure what protocol to follow. Her body screamed for her to run. But she also didn’t want to be rude. She stepped tentatively inside the house, her friend trailing behind her.

Groups of people were scattered inside the house in every room and hallway. They spoke in low voices, letting the music drown their conversation into muffled oblivion. The disheveled woman procured three drinks topped with a mist that overflowed the brims. Harley and Winter took their drinks and retreated to a corner to sulk in. 

Neither of them touched their misty drink.

The strange woman reappeared some time later. “I’m Zoe by the way.” She gave the two an appraising eye.“You’re not from around here.” A statement rather than a question.

“We’re from Los Angeles.” Harley rehearsed the line multiple times in the Karazai meetings that the humans fondly referred to as “Blending In 101.”

“Ah, right.” Zoe held her hands up and crunched her fingers. “‘Los Angeles.’” 

Harley arched her eyebrow at the odd gesture, looking to Winter for help. A stiff Winter shook his head in a small and imperceptible movement, indicating that he had no idea what the gesture meant.

Zoe chuckled as she leaned casually against the wall and regarded them with a piercing gaze. “I know what you guys are. No need to spin the lies in this room.” She glanced around the room, gesturing at the fake spiderwebs and plastic skeletons. “So? What do you think of Halloween? Do you have anything like this on your home planet?”

Harley froze. She then covered her surprise with an innocent smile, prepared to brush off Zoe’s question, when Winter snorted loudly.

“We have much better celebrations than this,” Winter said flatly.

Harley slapped her hand to her forehead.

A pleased smile spread across Zoe’s face. “Oh? Any of them spooky?”

“I don’t understand your concept of ‘spooky.’”

“What about ‘scary?’”

Winter let out a laugh. “If you’re referring to your cheap decorations of absurd–almost comical–characters, I don’t see how that can be considered scary. Quite the opposite in fact.”

“That’s what makes this season so fun!” Zoe’s eyes glinted with mischief. “It’s macabre, it’s silly, it’s sacred–all these, at once!” When Harley and Winter gave her no reaction, Zoe added, “I suppose this year will be extra spooky. After what happened to poor Ozzie.”

Harley raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Ozzie?” 

Zoe leaned in, her voice low but tinged with excitement. “Oswald ‘Ozzie’ Jenkins was one of the first scientists here. He did groundbreaking work in biology and experimented with Karazai plants that were identified to have appeared around the rift. Though, I heard he made a menagerie of creatures that were not approved of in the process.”

“Oh?” Harley asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Some of his experiments went too far,” Zoe said. “Anyways, he didn’t show up to the lab one day. His body was found a couple weeks later in the woods. He was…” Zoe grappled with words before she just shuddered. “We still have no idea what happened to Ozzie.” 

“That’s awful,” Harley said, dread filling her body as she glanced around the room. Who would do such a heinous thing in such a small town?

“That’s not all.” Zoe’s voice trembled with excitement that betrayed any reverence she might have held for poor murdered Ozzie. “I heard you can still see Ozzie. Floating around the cemetery they built on Crow’s Hill.”

Harley frowned. “But Ozzie is dead, didn’t you say?”

“Mutilated,” Winter added, “from the sound of it.” 

Zoe placed her finger on her nose and pointed at Harley and then Winter. “Exactly!”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself, human.”

“He’s a ghost!” Zoe cried, her eyes and mouth hanging open–an expression she clearly expected from the two.

Harley raised an eyebrow. “What’s a ghost?”

Zoe looked at them, stunned. “You Karazai don’t have ghosts? Spirits of the people who died who come back to haunt us?”

Winter rolled his eyes. “It makes no logical sense. If someone is dead, they’re dead. There’s no possibility of them coming back to life.”

“Exactly! And that’s what makes it ‘spooky.’” Zoe twinkled her fingers at the last word, only to be met with blank stares.

“I don’t know about ‘spooky.’” Harley rubbed her chin. “It makes no logical sense.”

“Yeah. Why would they come back to life?” Winter pressed.

Zoe scowled, an edge in her voice. “I don’t know. Unfinished business, maybe?”

“Did you give them a proper death ritual?” Harley asked.

Zoe placed her hands on her hips. “We buried him here. As he requested.”

“Buried?” Winter asked, aghast.

“What’s wrong with that?” Zoe snapped.

Harley exchanged glances with Winter. “When Karazai die, we send their bodies to space. So they can be one again with the stardust.”

“How poetic but we’re not launching dead bodies into space!” Zoe shook her head. “Can you imagine the costs? Besides, how else can people return to honor them?” When the trio stared at her blankly again, she explained, “Like, putting flowers on their grave.”

Harley and Winter stared at Zoe in silence. Finally, Harley asked, “So you humans are afraid of dead people coming back to life? Wouldn’t they be weakened and decomposing?”

“Isn’t it a terrifying thought?” Zoe demanded.

“Well, no,” Harley replied. “They’d hardly be a formidable adversary.”

“They–they– come back with superhuman strength!” Zoe cried.

“I just don’t see how that’s possible,” Harley said slowly, trying to make sense of Zoe. Whatever reaction Zoe was looking for, she clearly wasn’t getting it from them. Harley looked to Winter for help.

Winter snickered. “This would certainly not happen if you just send your dead to space.”

Zoe threw her hands up in the air and stormed away.

Harley snorted, ready to dismiss Zoe’s nonsense, before she recalled that earlier this week, she had passed by Crow’s Hill this week. An odd, unsettling feeling had pervaded her body at the time in a way she couldn’t explain. 

She brought her drink to her lips and sipped pensively, her eyes drifting to the window toward Crow’s Hill. Could it be… Ozzie? Could people exist beyond death? 

Harley rose to her feet. She had to know. “We should go.”

Back on the street, Winter huffed to keep up with Harley. “Finally ready to check out the party at town square?”

“No,” Harley shook her head. “We should look at this cemetery.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Winter exclaimed. “That was a bunch of nonsense!”

“Why?” Harley smirked. “Scared of ghosts?”

“I’m not scared!” Winter snapped.

“Prove it!” Harley halted in her steps. She pointed onward, in the direction of Crow’s Hill. “Let’s go to the cemetery.” She snorted when Winter hesitated. “That’s what I thought.”

Winter crossed his arms, bumbling for words. Finally, he said, “Let’s go then.”

They walked in silence toward Crow’s Hill, the only noise their panting as they ascended the steep hill. At the top, they found themselves in front of an iron gate. Stone walls enclosed the small lot of mossy ground littered with decaying leaves. The iron gate creaked let out a loud creak when Harley heaved it open.

A single headstone stood in the middle of the lot. Here lies Ozzie, a trailblazer who reached for the stars.

Harley approached the grave, dead leaves crunching beneath her boots. “Hello, Ozzie.”

She paused. A sense of foreboding creeped into her body. A draft picked up and sent chills across her body.

Winter must have felt it, too. He glanced around the lot and rubbed his arm nervously. “There. Happy now? Can we go to the party now?”

“I want to have a good look around.” 

But there wasn’t much else to see. Dim lamp posts revealed shapes of trees and rose bushes that casted unsettling shadows on the stone walls.

“Uh, Harley…”

Harley turned to see Winter backing away slowly, his face pale and pointing behind her.

Harley spun around. It was easy to miss the large shape that blended with the shadows along one of the walls. Another draft whipped through the area and brushed against the hair on the shape’s legs. Harley squinted, counting eight legs.

A giant spider!

“Run!” Winter bellowed as he took off in a sprint toward the gate.

Harley ran as fast as her legs could carry her. At the bottom of the hill, she turned around to see if the spider was gaining on them–only to find an empty path behind her. She trotted to a stop, catching her breath as she did.

“What are you doing?” Winter cried from several feet away.

“It’s not following us.” Harley ascended back up the hill, fighting against her adrenaline to keep her footing slow and cautious. She heard Winter mutter from not too far behind her.

Harley peered into the lot. The spider occupied the same spot, its body compact as though to make itself small.

“For all we know,” Winter whispered from behind her, his face pale, “that could be the creature that killed Ozzie!”

They jumped when the spider moved. It extended its hairy legs, reaching down to soundlessly move its body to the ground. Harley held her breath, her body frozen in trepidation.

In delicate strides, the spider reached Ozzie’s headstone. It raised one of its legs, a yellow flower revealed in its grasp. In slow movements, it placed the flower on the headstone before leaning its body forward in a graceful–and unmistakably reverent–motion.

Harley and Winter watched breathlessly from their distance. The spider then straightened up before skittering towards one of the walls. It effortlessly ascended the stone before disappearing over it.

Harley turned to a stunned Winter. “Maybe this is one of Ozzie’s creatures, here to pay its respects.”

Winter nodded wordlessly, as he stared at where the spider had disappeared. They both let silence, save for the soft rustling of leaves, wash over them.

“Should we tell someone about it?” Winter finally asked.

Harley shook her head. “No. Let it be.”

Winter turned to Harley, his voice soft. “Why was it so important for you to visit Ozzie?”

Harley looked up to the night sky that was clear of clouds. Here on Crow’s Hill, with only a few street lights, the stars shone bright. “I think about the people back home a lot,” Harley said. “For all they know back there, we’re dead.” Harley shrugged. “It’s comforting knowing that maybe death isn’t the end. That there’s still life to be had–for both them, and for us.” She turned to Winter. “Is that crazy?”

Winter folded his arms, regarding her. Then, he nodded. “You’re not crazy.” He sighed. “I miss home. Being plopped on this planet, with these humans and their bizarre ways.” Winter shook his head. “It hasn’t been easy.”

Harley nudged his shoulder with hers. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Winter smiled at her. Harley realized that was the first time she remembered him smiling since they arrived in this strange world.

Winter then popped a candy in his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. This really is delicious.”

Harley scowled. “I told you!”

“But I think we should get some real food from the diner.” Winter looked at Harley.. “What do you want to eat? I’m buying.”

“Is it weird that I want the ghost burger?” Harley asked. When Winter turned to leave. Harley held up a hand. “But let me do one thing first.”

Once more inside the gates, Harley ran an appraising eye at rose bushes that lined the wall. Tucked inside the dried leaves, a rose in a brilliant red bloom caught her eye. She snapped the rose from the bush–but not without cursing loudly when she pricked her finger on a thorn.

She stepped to Ozzie’s headstone, pausing briefly for a moment. She then placed the rose on its cold stone, laying it next to the yellow flower.

The sentiment, the motions–they all seemed odd to her. Can you really honor someone already long gone with a simple flower? She frowned, wondering if she did it right, or if there’s a wrong way to do it. In any case, she hoped Ozzie was well, wherever he may be.

Harley rejoined Winter at the gate. Together, beneath a canopy of stars, they set off to the diner, launching into an animated discussion about ghosts as they did.

Oscar poured clear alcohol into a glass before quickly splashing red liquid over it. His hands moved mechanically, dashing the contents of another smaller bottle over it. He held up the glass with a satisfied smirk as the liquids coalesced into a soft red, before sliding the concoction to the woman across the counter. 

The woman murmured her thanks, without as much as a glance up from her scribble-laden notebook. Her scribbles, more prose than research notes, piqued Oscar’s interest. However, with how her dark curls fell over her face, creating a sort of force field between her and Oscar, he knew she wanted to be left alone.

Oscar retreated to the other side of the bar. His eyes shifted behind him. A shadow gave him a little jump—as it always had over the last few weeks. Bob the Robot slumped against the back wall of the bar, beneath a layer of dust that blanketed its metal and forgotten body. A long split ran across the robot’s head, wires exposed. Its mouth hung open, resembling more a passed out person sleeping off a hangover than a bartending robot.

Weeks ago, some genius engineer had decided to show off their, as they called it, “bionic operating bartender”—or BOB for short. More efficient, they had said. Less overhead, they had said.

The clunky robot often got in Oscar’s way as it rolled around the bar to mix drinks, causing Oscar to stub his toe on many occasions. So much for efficiency, Oscar had groused, as he hopped around on one foot, inwardly cursing in pain while his automaton counterpart would continue zipping around with a metallic smile and dorky name tag with “Bob” scrawled on it. 

But the genius engineer had failed to factor in another variable: what if someone—say, some unnamed bartender—stuck a foot out suddenly in front of Bob the Robot?

Oscar sauntered over to the robot and pressed its mouth shut, so that Bob looked as though he was frowning instead. He smirked and patted Bob on the head before returning to the bar, feeling his job secured. For now.

Oscar’s ears rang when he returned to the bar. On the stage, a man wailed a song about physics. He missed every note and resembled more of a preacher at a pulpit than a renowned scientist at karaoke night.

Somehow over the dissonant singing, Oscar heard the bar’s phone buzz. He picked up the device, grunting, “Edge Bar.”

“Hello?” a young voice squeaked from the other end. “I’m looking for my mom.”

Oscar cast a wary glance around the room. It was a typical Wednesday crowd—workers exhausted from their week, with a few others in the mix.

“Her name is Pia, but she goes by P. Last name: Ness.”

Oscar paused. “Ness?”

“You know, like the Loch Ness monster.” Muffled snickering.

“So… P. Ness?”

Laughter erupted at the end of the line. Oscar grumbled and hung up.

From across the bar, Angela sighed at him. “Did you really have to say it?”

“I thought saying it might take away some of its power.”

“Well, it didn’t,” Angela told him flatly. “I hope you find out who those jackasses are someday.” 

Oscar pointed at the phone’s digital interface. “I have caller ID. I know exactly who it is.”

Angela gave Oscar an exasperated look. “Are you kidding me? Then why haven’t you confronted them yet?” When Oscar only shrugged, Angela shook her head. “You have to be practical. Confront that little jerk and he’ll stop prank calling you. Problem solved.”

“Always the problem solver,” Oscar remarked wryly.

Angela flashed an ironic smile before returning to examining the bottom of her glass, as though willing more whiskey to appear. Engineer by day, barfly by night, she nursed her old fashioned like a crutch, her eyes sunken and her dark hair frizzy and unkempt, even more so now than usual. Whatever top-secret project she was working on—something that he was not privy to— was really doing a number on her.

Oscar snorted, more to himself than anyone. Maybe it was better that he not know what crazy experiments these scientists in Selunia Falls were running. Oddly, his countless speculations on the matter made his life feel fuller in this strange town. While his own fiancé Sian, a biologist and his sole reason for being here, staunchly wouldn’t tell him any of the town’s secrets, other scientists, administrators, janitors, and even stray cats regaled Oscar from across the bar counter with a variety of answers and possibilities: nuclear bombs, renewable energy, ways to raise the dead, aliens, world domination.

Maybe none of them were telling the truth. Maybe this town was some outrageous thought experiment he wasn’t in on, and game show people would hop out from behind a curtain and point at the video cameras around the room.

“Not every problem needs to be solved,” Oscar grumbled.

“You’re not just saying that because of your doomsday caller, are you?”

Doomsday caller. Oscar’s eyes flicked to the bar’s clock—a digital contraption with the trappings of a cuckoo clock for charm. 

Every midnight, for the past few midnights, an unregistered number would call the bar. Oscar would pick up. Static. Then, a monotone voice, which sounded eerily disembodied, would croak a number—a number that was one less than the night before. And then the phone call would go dead. 

Oscar shivered. The person was clearly counting down. Yesterday, that number was one.

None of the other bartenders received this mysterious phone call on the nights he wasn’t working. Which meant that not only was this number counting down, but it was counting down specifically when Oscar was on shift.

A shuffling of papers snapped Oscar’s attention back to the woman with the notebook at the opposite end of the bar. She always came in by herself and drank her red whisky concoction while scribbling into her notebook. At exactly 11:53PM—Oscar knew this exact time due to the cash register’s timestamps—the woman would flag him down for the check and then disappear out the back door.

Angela leaned in, her voice barely audible. “Could it be her?”

“Why would you say that?” Oscar asked, his voice also low.

“She leaves at exactly 11:53PM,” Angela said, a finger pressed against the white counter as though a timeline was illustrated on it. She moved her finger along. “You get a call exactly seven minutes later.”

Oscar glanced back at the woman warily. “But why would she do that?”

“Maybe…” Angela tilted her head in thought. “Maybe she caught on to one of your shenanigans about pouring non-alcoholic drinks.”

“I never did that!” Oscar snapped. When Angela gave him a blank stare, he quipped, “Not to her anyways.” Scientists had their experiments. Oscar had his.

“Maybe she’s a vampire?”

“A… what?” Oscar crossed his arms over his chest, trying to remember if that was Angela’s third or fourth drink.

“A vampire.” Angela let out a little giggle. “You said you only see her when it’s dark!”

“As with a lot of people at this bar!” Oscar exclaimed with a snort. “Are you okay—-what are you doing?”

Angela had reached over the counter and to the garnishes, grabbing a fistful of pickled onions in her unsteady hand. She gave Oscar a triumphant look. “This should do the trick.”

“No!” Oscar hissed, shooting a glance at the other end of the bar, where the mysterious woman was looking at her phone, oblivious. “I know what you’re thinking! And those are pickled onions, not garlic!”

“Shhh!” Angela said, shooting a glance at the other end of the bar. She proceeded to plop a handful of pickled onions into her drink. She shoved her glass into Oscar’s hands. “Take this with you for your safety.”

“I’m cutting you off now.” Oscar turned to close Angela’s tab and stopped in his tracks. He noticed the other end of the bar was now empty. He whipped around to look at the cuckoo clock.

11:50PM.

Early. Too early. Did he and Angela spook her?

She must have slipped out the back, Oscar thought. He clutched the pickled onion concoction as he made his way to the alleyway behind the bar. A cool night breeze greeted him in the empty alley. 

The woman was nowhere in sight. 

Oscsr turned around—-and right into the mysterious woman as she appeared behind him.

“Pardon me—HEY!” The woman screeched as Oscar threw the pickled onion concoction on the woman’s face. 

Oscar clamped a hand over his mouth in horror and embarrassment. “Oh my god I’m so sorry!”

“What was that?” the woman demanded, wiping away the liquid from her face, her face stunned.

“Um. Garlic—I mean—onion water. Er, scotch.”

“Why?”

“It repels vampires!”

“No—-why?!”

Oscar’s cheeks burned red as he awkwardly placed the glass of onioned scotch on the ground, unsure what to do. “I’m really sorry.” 

The woman placed her hands on her hips, exasperated. Drops of scotch still dripped from her bangs. “Care to explain?”

Oscsr grasped for words. “I was wondering why you came and left when you did, without much of a word. And I let a drunken engineer convince me you were a vampire.”

The woman just stared at him. Then, she threw her head back and laughed. “That would be a great scene for the book I’m writing.”

Oscar let out a relieved chuckle. “Is that what you’ve been doing at the bar? You’re not a scientist?”

“Only of words,” the woman said with a smirk. She glanced at her watch and then back up at Oscar. “To answer your question, my wife Jackie returns home by 11:30PM. I have to wait half an hour before returning home. It takes me seven minutes to get home.”

Oscar frowned. “Why do you have to wait?”

“Science?” the woman offered with a shrug, her smile faltering. How could a smile seem so sad?

But Oscar oddly understood. “It just seems so… precise. You leave on the dot, without fail. Except for today.”

The woman snorted. “I had to use the bathroom. I wasn’t leaving yet. I still had to close my bill.”

“Oh. Right.”

The woman laughed. “Jackie is studying something that she can’t tell me about. She’s instructed to avoid people for thirty minutes after leaving the lab. Something about half life or some other mumbo jumbo.” The woman’s eyes fell to the ground. “Jackie has terminal cancer.”

Oscar winced. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “Jackie is a scientist here. Always so busy, saving the world or whatever.” The woman let out a huff. “And I want to spend every moment I can with her. Half life be damned.”

Oscar fell silent, unsure what to say.

“I’m Priscilla by the way.” The woman held out a hand. “But you can call me P. Last name Ness.”

“Wait. What?”

“I’m joking!” Priscilla threw back her head in a laugh. “It’s Ramos.”

“Oscar.” Oscar shook her hand, relief washing through his body. 

A smile tugged at Priscilla’s lips as she looked up to the night sky with a dreamy sigh. Oscar followed her gaze—and immediately felt so small. A legion of stars, spread across a vast universe, winked at them. He and Priscilla stood together in silence, their eyes gazing up at the limitless heavens and possibilities that stretched beyond what their eyes could see. Oscar held his breath, hoping to never lose this sense of wonder.

After a few moments, Oscar turned his attention back to the world around him. ““I have no idea what’s going on with this town. But I hope Jackie is also saving herself while she’s out saving the world.”

“Me, too,” Priscilla said, her voice wistful. “We have lofty hopes for this odd little town, don’t we?”

“We do.” Oscar chuckled. “I think sometimes it’s best to keep things unanswered. Keep the whimsy. These scientists are so serious. Everything must have an answer.”

“This is why I write.” Priscilla pulled out her notebook from her bag and held it up. “I imagine fantastical worlds, with inspiration from Jackie.” She placed the notebook back into her bag, glancing at her watch as she did.

“Drinks are on me tonight,” Oscar said. He shrugged. “It’s the least I could do after trying to kill you with onion whiskey.”

“Thank you,” Priscilla replied with a laugh.

“Get outta here now.” Oscar jerked his head toward the street as Priscilla glanced at her watch again. “Don’t keep Jackie waiting.” When Priscilla turned to leave, he added, “Hey—don’t be a stranger next time, okay? We’re in this together.”

Priscilla smiled. “Until next time, Oscar.”

The bar phone was ringing off the hook when Oscar slipped back inside the bar. He pressed the phone to his ear. “The Edge Bar.”

Static.

Oscar’s heart dropped.

Twelve midnight.

“Zero,” the monotone voice said. The soft chuckle cracked through the static, building in intensity with every hammering heartbeat in Oscar’s chest.

Oscar hastily slammed the phone back on the receiver.

“Is it your friend?” Angela asked from her spot, nursing a glass of water she must have helped herself to in his absence.

Oscar nodded.

“It was nice knowing you,” Angela said, lifting her glass to him.

Oscar looked around the bar, searching, suddenly aware of everyone inside. People were laughing, singing, living life. Nothing that indicated impending doom.

A hand gripped Oscar’s shoulder. He yelped and spun around.

“Oscar?”

Sian stood before him, a stunned look on her face.

Oscar gripped his chest, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “You scared me.”

“Sorry!” Sian hugged Oscar before planting a kiss on Oscar’s cheek. She plopped herself on an empty bar seat, dusting soil off her jeans. She propped her hand on the bar and stifled a yawn..

“Long day?” Oscar asked, his heartbeat slowing to its normal pace. Though he always asked about her day, he knew she couldn’t tell him about her day.

Instead, she gave him a half smile that said: Someday. 

Oscar returned her smile. As far as he was concerned, Oscar felt everything was going to be okay, whether it be zombies, aliens, or world domination—so long as he had Sian by his side.

Oscar turned to reach for a scotch bottle for Sian’s old fashion when something caught his eye. The robot at the back of the bar no longer looked like it was frowning. Rather, it looked like it was grinning.

But that wasn’t all that caught Oscar’s eye. He approached the robot slowly and realized with a frown that the robot was still, in fact, plugged in this whole time. 

Which meant the robot was still hooked up to the internet. Maybe even… connected to the phone lines?

Oscar pulled the robot’s plug out of the socket. Just to be safe.

Reena cringed as the bag of chips crinkled loudly in her hand as she picked it up. She held up the bag, making a face when she realized it was BBQ-flavored chips, before turning her body toward the end of the aisle. She tilted her head, pretending to pore over the ingredients list, as her eyes tracked behind the bag and to the woman a short distance behind it.

The woman continued to peruse the dips, oblivious to Reena’s attention. She reached for the ranch dip and pushed back wavy locks from her face as she inspected its ingredients. The woman tilted her head, her face scrunched in a familiar manner.

Familiar, because this woman was an impossibility. A deviant. A glitch in the system that was Reena’s universe.

Her doppelgänger.

Reena had seen her doppelgänger twice before. The first time was when her doppelgänger jogged past her through the town square. Reena had spun around, but couldn’t get a good glimpse before she turned the corner. The second time was at Anna’s Cafe, when Reena was using the cafe’s WiFi before her condo had internet set up. Reena had watched from her corner booth as her doppelgänger ordered a matcha latte to go. She kept her distance, lest the universe resolve their paradox in an implosive way.

Selunia Falls was, after all, an odd and mysterious place.

But there was no doubt about it. From her vantage point down the aisle, she could tell her doppelgänger had strikingly similar features as her: same wavy locks, same heart-shaped face, and even an exact outfit right down to the black Converse that were staples for Reena’s off-duty attire.

And her doppelgänger had picked out ranch dip. Also Reena’s favorite.

Her doppelgänger put back the dip and slipped out of the aisle. Reena jogged along the aisle. She looked left and right, but her doppelgänger was nowhere to be seen. Reena walked toward the store’s exit, trying to look casual, peering down each aisle as she went.

Perhaps she went outside? Reena shoved through a group of people entering the store.

“Ma’am?”

Reena spun around. A lanky attendant approached her, an apologetic look in his face. Reena snapped. “What?”

The attendant pointed at the bag of chips Reena clutched in her hand. “You’ll need to pay for that.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” 

The attendant hesitated, his eyes fixated on Reena’s police badge, as if it were a shield that made her impervious to having to pay. Reena was tempted to return the bag of disgusting BBQ chips. There was no way she was going to finish the bag of chips, let alone by herself. But her pride got the better of her and she allowed the attendant to ring up the bag. She then hastily shoved the bag in her backpack and strode to the exit. 

A refreshing breeze helped clear her head outside. She headed toward the town hall, where her current assignment was today. She paused before one of Selunia Falls’ churches, one of a handful of religious centers for the town’s practicing denizens. The building was constructed from the same ubiquitous material of the houses, with the same mold as a bowling alley, just with a cross plopped on the top. Reena scratched the back of her hand anxiously, idly wondering if religious tenants extended across the universe. Did heaven open its gates to all creatures? Did hell? Reena gave the cross one last look before pulling up her jacket’s collar and turning away from the church.

At the town hall, Reena tapped her foot impatiently as the security guards inspected the credentials in her laminated card before waving her through the security line. She took the stairs up and prowled through the hallway toward a large balcony. A man leaned on his forearms against the rail, his back towards Reena. He turned when she approached him and beamed a crooked smile. “Good morning, Reena.”

“Arden.” Reena nodded at him. She peered over the rail to the courtyard below, where several people were congregated, their voices filling the space. To any other observer, the crowd would appear to be a normal crowd.

But Reena knew it was anything but normal.

“Are you ready to finally meet them?” Arden asked.

Them. Reena nodded her head, keeping her face impassive.

These people were Karazai. From another planet.

Another planet!

Arden’s eyes followed her gaze before returning back to her. “I take it you read the briefing?” His voice was tentative.

Reena let out the breath she was holding. “I have.” 

Several weeks ago, Reena had sat on the floor of her furnitureless living room and pored over pages and pages of documents, signing NDAs until her hand was sore. The NDAs were just a formality really, as Reena’s penchant for secrecy was what landed her this job in the first place.

Not that she wanted to talk about any of her past service as a spy. The lives taken. The lives ruined. Reena scratched her hand again idly. Secrecy was the easy part.

But another species? That shared this universe? That looked similar to us? She couldn’t wrap her head around any of this. 

“Any thoughts about your assignment?” Arden asked.

“I’ll admit it’s a lot to process,” Reena confessed. “An extraterrestrial race living among us. That’s something you only read about in science fiction books.”

Arden nodded. “It’s both scary and exhilarating.”

“Exhilarating” isn’t the word I’d pick, Reena thought as she returned her gaze back to the crowd below. Reena wondered who she was sworn to protect—us, or them?

Reena ran her eyes over the crowd. They look just like us.

“Maybe more scary?” Arden offered, as though sensing her discomfort.

Reena snapped back to attention. She shifted nervously. “It’s just a little… freaky.” She looked at Arden beseechingly. “Don’t you think? We have no idea their past, yet we’re supposed to welcome them with open arms.”

Arden leaned back against the rail and sipped on his coffee. “They come in peace.”

Reena sighed at Arden, her eyes darting back to the crowd. “This isn’t some E.T. crap. This is real life. With real consequences. And—” She froze.

It was her again. Her doppelgänger stood in the middle of a crowd, laughing and smiling with others.

Reena sucked in a breath. Could it be? Could her doppelgänger be Karazai?

No. It can’t be.

Arden turned to Reena. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” Reena said quickly. A thought crossed her mind. “Do Karazai have shapeshifting abilities?”

Arden gave her a quizzical look. “That’s an odd question. None that we’re aware of.”

“Or none that they would tell you,” Reena muttered, unable to suppress the sneer that laced her words.

Arden squinted at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Reena said sharply.

Arden fell silent at Reena’s brisk response. He casted his gaze at the crowd below, his eyes searching. Reena’s eyes were locked on her doppelgänger as her doppelgänger chatted and laughed with a levity in her movements and a smile that came easy.

How did she fit in so easily, given she’s from a different planet? What was her secret? Reena bitterly wondered if her doppelgänger had seen the same ugliness that Reena had in her lifetime.

Reena watched in brooding silence as the crowd below slowly began to disperse toward the exits. After a few more shared laughs, her doppelgänger headed toward an exit.

Arden straightened up, gulping down the last of his coffee. “Looks like their event is over. I’ll grab their leader—”

“I have to go.” Reena ran toward the exit before Arden could say anything else. She raced downstairs toward a double door that led to the parking lot, where her doppelgänger had disappeared. Through the doors, Reena quickened her pace from a jog to a run. She didn’t have to look far to spot her doppelgänger walking toward the street.

Perhaps it was Reena’s labored breathing, or the pounding of her boots on the pavement, or the universe about to implode. Something caught her doppelgänger’s attention, causing her to turn her head toward Reena. Eyes wide in fear, her doppelgänger turned back around and scrambled to a run.

Reena’s had seen this scene hundreds of times in her ten years of espionage. Yet all her training and composure went out the window. “Stop!” she yelled as she took off in a sprint after her doppelgänger. I must know how you exist! She quickly closed the space between her and her doppelgänger—universe be damned!—“Wait!”

A loud HONK rang out and reverberated down to Reena’s bones. Reena froze, her eyes wide at the truck barreling straight toward her. Her brain screamed at her to move, but her body stood petrified.

Then someone yanked Reena forcefully, sending them both flying across the pavement. Reena landed hard on her left arm, sharp gravel cutting her skin. The car screeched to a stop past where she had stood. The smell of burnt rubber assaulted her nose. 

Reena turned to her back, too stunned to get up from the pavement. The blurred shapes hovered over her, their concerned voices muffled as though underwater. 

Her savior stumbled to her feet beside her, her voice firm as she shooed away onlookers. Then, her savior kneeled over her, her face coming to view through the haze. 

Reena blinked, not immediately recognizing the face that peered down at her, even if it did haunt her the last few weeks. Bright brown eyes pierced and probed hers, before slowly pulling away. Could her doppelgänger see it, too? Reena braced herself as her doppelgänger opened her mouth to speak.

“Are you okay?” 

Her doppelgänger’s voice was deep—deeper than Reena’s—and husky, with a slight tinge of an accent Reena couldn’t place. Firm, but comforting—alarmingly so.

“Yeah.” Reena groaned as she sat up. She brought her hands up, inspecting the deep scratches in her raw skin from the gravel on the pavement. “Ow.”

“Come.” With a mighty heave, her doppelgänger pulled Reena to her feet and ushered her to the Edge Bar nearby.

Inside the bar’s restroom, her doppelgänger fussed over Reena’s wounds, running water while wiping and dabbing at Reena’s face. Reena had to shoo her doppelgänger away so she could tend to her own wounds. When she looked passably presentable, Reena said, “I could use a drink.”

Finding two empty seats at the bar wasn’t hard. It was, after all, only ten in the morning. Her doppelgänger sat at the far edge of the bar and signaled the bartender, who eyed them suspiciously—maybe even a little judgmentally. “Two whiskeys, please,” Reena mumbled.

If the bartender had any reservations about serving whiskeys in the morning, he kept it to himself. He grunted his acknowledgement before plopping two glasses in front of them and pouring. Reena knocked her glass back  in a single breath before signaling for more. She grunted an apology to her doppelgänger, who stared at her in awe. “Sorry, I really needed that.”

“It’s okay,” her doppelgänger said. She held her hand out. “My name is Malina.” When Reena looked at Malina’s hand suspiciously, Malina flashed an apologetic smile. “I heard this is what humans do when introducing themselves.”

“Reena.” Reena shook Malina’s hand. No implosion of the universe, just rough callused hands pressed against her scarred hands.

“So, Reena.” Malina sat back on her chair, her eyes sizing up Reena. “Why were you following me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Reena gestured to her face. When Malina gave her a blank stare, Reena explained, “We look alike.”

Malina squinted, her eyes running across Reena’s face. “I guess I see the similarities.”

“You guess?” Reena snorted. “You didn’t will your appearance to look like me?”

“‘Will’ my appearance?” Malina laughed. When Reena didn’t laugh back, Malina asked gently. “What madness is this?”

“You must have shape-shifting abilities,” Reena said firmly.

Malina chuckled. “And even if we did, why would I do that?”

“To— for—” Reena fumbled with her words. “Because!”—she groaned— “To pretend you are me!”

Malina blinked. “Why?” she repeated.

“To gain access to top secret places! To escape here!” Reena grasped for words, flustered that the right words eluded her.

Malina just stared at her. “You must know how crazy you sound, right?”

“You have no idea what I’ve seen people do,” Reena said, her voice dark. “What people would do to accomplish their goals.”

The air of levity around Malina deflated, as her infectious smile pulled down to a frown. Reena settled back in a satisfied smirk, expecting Malina’s real character to shine through like the phony Reena knew she was. 

In a hoarse voice, Malina said, “I’m sorry for what you’ve seen.”

The sincerity of Malina’s croaked voice disarmed Reena. Guilt flooded in where Reena’s defenses used to be. Reena shrugged, her voice faltering as she said, “It’s a lot to take in. A whole new species, with a culture we don’t know.” She peered at Malina. “I need to understand what motivates you. Is it science? Is it religion? What keeps you from doing bad things?” Reena’s eyes fell. “How do you know if you’re a good person?”

Malina leaned back, her arms crossed. “It’s a lot for us to take in as well. Being abandoned by our planet. Trying to make do with what we have.” She paused. “I guess what keeps us from doing bad things is that we are still people, after all.”

Reena opened her mouth, and shut it, unsure what to say. She lowered her eyes to her glass, her voice quiet. “I guess I never thought about it from your point of view.”

Malina shrugged. “If you’re interested, I can tell you more about my home planet.” Wistfulness tinged Malina’s voice, but with a flicker of a smile failed to meet her eyes.

Reena raised her glass to Malina. “To Karazai.” When Malina eyed it suspiciously, Reena explained. “You tap your drink to mine.”

“What for?” Malina asked.

“To toast.”

“‘Toast?’”

“Yeah.” Reena tilted her head thoughtfully. “I believe it’s a gesture to cheer for the future, while also acknowledging the past.”

Malina hesitated. A smile spread across her face. “To Earth.” She tapped her drink against Reena’s with a solid clink. “Did I do that right?” she asked sheepishly, her face scrunched.

“That’s right,” Reena said, a smile tugging her lips. She sipped her drink, letting the liquid warm her as she watched her doppelgänger over the rim of her glass. It was as if she really saw Malina for the first time. Malina’s features were sharper than Reena’s. She had appeared petite at a distance, but up close she was actually tall with a slight frame.

Reena chuckled to herself as she put her glass down. Her doppelgänger—no, Malina—was her own person, with her own history. The cracks on her hand, the freckles on her nose—those told a story much different than Reena’s.

Malina placed her glass on the counter. She folded her hands together and smiled. “So. Where would you like to begin?”