Communicate . . . but not in words.
It was Nancy who’d woken him, he’d explained. “She was growling, which put me on alert, being the middle of the night and all. So I got up to see what had her all riled.” He shrugged, his face sagging as he rubbed at the memory. “That’s when I saw them . . . two gals dressed like hikers. At first I didn’t think anything of it, except it was dark out and I didn’t know where you kids had gotten off to.” His saucer eyes fixed on me, and I couldn’t tell if it was a concerned look or that unsettling are-you-still-you? look I’d been getting from him for days. “Then one of ’em opened her mouth and this”—he winced—“this sound came out of her, like a hiss. And when she was finished, her friend opened up her mouth and did the same. They went back and forth like that, having this weird electrical conversation.”
It was Tyler who questioned my dad. Tyler who had admitted to hearing something similar by the pond—voices mixed with static. “So what makes you think they were aliens?”
My dad rubbed his temple. “I didn’t say they were aliens. I said I think the aliens are trying to send a message to you, trying to . . .” He shrugged and wrapped his hands around his coffee mug.
“So who were they then, those two ladies? If you don’t think they were aliens?”
“I can’t say who or what they were—maybe they . . .” He’d nodded toward the sky again. “Figured out how to hijack regular people, like those lady hikers. Maybe they—”
“Dad, I got it. I know who you mean,” I interrupted, letting him know the histrionics were unnecessary. “And I’m pretty sure people stopped saying things like ‘lady hikers’ with women’s lib, if anyone ever said it at all.”
A half smile tugged at his lips. “You’re probably right. All I’m saying is maybe that’s how they’re trying to reach you. All I know for sure is something’s out there, and I don’t think it’s just that Agent Truman dude we gotta watch out for anymore.”
Something was out there.
Something, not someone.
If there was something out there—something that spoke like static—then what . . . who was it? What did they want with us?
I sighed as I stepped out of the stall, feeling a little punch-drunk from everything thrown my way. I’d asked my dad if he had any idea where we’d go next, after we left this little slice of heaven—pun totally intended.
But the truth was, I had an idea, something we needed to consider: it was time to get ahold of Simon.
Something was happening out here that Simon and the others needed to know about. Something that involved weird languages and people talking in strange static-y voices. Something that maybe wanted Simon and the other Returned dead.
Still, I felt better having a plan in place. Knowing we wouldn’t be alone much longer.
Slipping off my sunglasses, I examined myself in the mirror. Beneath the light of the bulbs my eyes hardly glowed at all. They just looked plain old Kyra-colored. Brighter maybe than before I’d been taken, but ordinary enough. Passable.
I tried to imagine when that had become the gold standard. When getting by had become good enough.
I jumped when the door to the restroom swung open, and quickly dropped the shades back in place as I pretended to be engrossed in simply washing my hands. The blond girl who stepped inside glanced at me, her brow lifting slightly when she noticed my sunglasses.
From behind the safety of the tinted lenses, I watched her. She reminded me a little of Cat, just a few years older than me—the way Cat was now—and there was something bold in the way she’d gone to the sink right next to mine rather than one of the open ones down the counter. I tried to be sneaky about my glances, but when I felt her eyes slide my way I put all my effort into the soap dispenser instead.
Even though it was only from the corner of my eye it would have been impossible not to be aware of her laser-intense scrutiny. As if she were trying to peel back the outer layers of me, picking a scab she couldn’t leave alone.
Before I could stop myself, I glanced up, accidentally meeting her stare. This time, she didn’t blink, or even attempt to look away, which made me think even more of Cat—no shame.
After a second of blatant inspection, she narrowed her blue eyes and bit her lip. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look . . . so familiar.” She chewed more thoughtfully, scouring her mental archives to sort it out.
But I was already shaking my head and backing away. “Sorry. Not me.” I wiped my hands on my jeans, not bothering with the electric hand dryer mounted on the wall. “I’m not from around here.”