"What else did you see?" Agent Simmons asks, staring at me intensely from across the counter. Two hours into her interrogation--or investigation, as she calls it--and we've gotten nowhere.

Trying to mask my irritation, I reply, "I've told you a thousand times. Something fell out of the sky. A guy came in here and had a slushy. He said 'hello.' Then he stole the Mayor's car. That's all I saw."

Growing equally impatient, Agent Simmons asks, "He didn't say anything else?"

"Not a word."

She finishes writing something down in a journal. After dotting an "i" rather aggressively, she twirls the pen in her fingers. "Did you feel threatened by this individual in any way? Did you get the sense that he was dangerous?"

"Not really, no."

"Did he carry any weapons?"

"Oh," I say dumbly, realizing that was probably an important thing to mention earlier. But at the same time, something in my gut makes me feel like I shouldn't. Taking a chance, I add, "He had a gun."

When Agent Simmons finishes her notes, she slaps the journal closed and shoves it into a suitcase.

"Excuse me, Mam," the Sheriff says, pushing his way past a security guard. "This young man should be getting on home soon."

The woman flashes him a sarcastic smirk. "Is that so? He looks like a grown man to me," she remarks, looking at me up and down. "You don't have a curfew, do you?"

"Actually," I answer, "I do."

Caught off guard, she leans back in the chair I had borrowed from Mags' office.

"He needs to be out of here well before the sun rises," the Sheriff explains. "The kid has a skin condition."

Knowing that she isn't buying it, I add, "It's true. I have xeroderma pigmentosum."

"Pardon?" she says, leaning her ear closer.

I give her the curt response that I've recited many times before: "I am extremely sensitive to sunlight. Prolonged exposure will kill me."

"It will," the Sheriff says before taking a sip of his coffee.

Now, Agent Simmons catches me off guard. "Well, in that case, let me give you a ride home." She stands up and grabs her jacket from the back of her chair. "Follow me." On the way out she calls to her team, "Don't forget to pull the footage from those security cameras!"

Ah, great.

Wondering if I am about to be shoved into the back of a van and taken to some undisclosed location, never to be seen again, I look at Mayor Mosely and Sheriff Seward one last time. A couple of agents are still questioning them.

The Sheriff gives me a nod of encouragement. "I'll be seein' you soon, Drake."

With no other options, I gather up my care package and accompany Agent Simmons to her vehicle. She goes straight to the driver's seat, and not knowing where to sit, I wait for an invitation before getting in. As she reaches over to unlatch the passenger door, I feel slightly relieved.

"You ride shotgun," she says, almost amiably. "Where do you live?"

"Not far. On the next street over. First house."

Uncomfortable silence follows the rev of her engine. Agent Simmons turns the radio on low to fill the empty air.

https://youtu.be/oqy2N1jM2tU

After a few minutes of driving, she returns to asking questions. "What's that?" Her eyes flick over to the basket on my lap.

"Stuff my girlfriend gave me." I mentally kick myself for bringing Wilma into this, but part of me feels it was necessary to assert the fact that I am taken.

"Aw, sweet." She stays quiet for a bit but pipes up again. "Cute little town. Are you from around here?" On the surface, it sounds like she is just trying to make friendly conversation, but I'm pretty sure that she is probing for more information.

"I've lived in Penumbra my whole life."

"Hm, what about college? Phoenix isn't too far away. There are some good schools there."

"Well, I took online classes for five years and got a Master's Degree. Wrote a couple of journal articles. Built my own chem lab. Almost blew myself up and subsequently caused a few thousand dollars worth in property damages. It ended up in the newspaper--but I am sure you already found that out when you Googled me earlier."

"You're sharp as a tack, aren't you?" She brakes as we approach a stop sign and asks, "Is it this neighborhood over to the right?"

"Yes." Of course it is. It's the only street populated by houses within a thousand-foot radius.

"This house?"

"Uh-huh."

She's knows where I live now.

"You know, Mr. Harker..."

"You can call me Drake."

"Drake," she continues, "I'm not some boogeyman who's out to get you. You can trust me. I wouldn't have this job if I didn't care about keeping people safe. With that being said," she pauses and pulls out a business card from her bra, "if you have any other strange encounters, call me." Holding the card between two fingers, she extends her arm.

"Thanks," I reply, accepting it from her. It still feels warm... and moist. Someone should tell her that undergarments aren't the best place to keep such things, especially not in ninety-degree weather. "So, then, can I go now?"

"Yes... but," she begins, "don't go too far. I might need to speak with you again at some point."

"For what?"

She smiles. "I told you to leave the questions to me."

"Fine, you're right. To tell you the truth, whatever I saw last night, I want to forget it ever happened."

"That's probably for the best. As long as you cooperate with us, then we won't have any problems." She puts on a pair of sunglasses. "Hey, I'll let you in on one little secret, though."

"Hm?"

"My name is Andrea. Feel free to use it whenever my associates are not present."

"Okay. Andrea, it's been a pleasure," I try to say politely before climbing out of the van. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem. See you around, Drake."

I give her a wave and walk into the house. My bones feels like jelly. Barely able to stand, I wobble into the bathroom. I set my basket down by the sink, turn the shower faucet on, and take a detour into the laundry room for some freshly-washed pajamas. Down the hall, I hear my mom talking excitedly on her phone.

"I can't believe this is finally happening! Wait 'til I tell Drakey. Oh, I think he's here. I'll call you later, Ma. Love ya, bye!"

Sounds like good news. Odd. I guess she doesn't know anything about the crash.

Anticipating a big reveal, I stay in the middle of the hall. She pops out of her bedroom hugging a picture frame against her chest. "Guess what?" Her face is beaming.

I force a smile. "What?"

She skips over and flips the picture frame around. "I did it. I finally did it. I bought the spa at the Plaza!"

"No way!" My lack of energy makes my enthusiasm sound weak, but the news does give me a little jumpstart. "Way to go, Mom."

"Thank you!" She bounces on her toes, making her highlighted curls jiggle. "You are looking at the proud owner of Sunkissed Spa!" She clutches the framed certificate with her pink manicured nails. "High five!"

Ignoring the cringey mom vibes, I humor her. It is certainly a cause to celebrate. Considering that she's lived in debt for most of her life, it is a miracle she could afford it.

As soon as we slap palms, her supermom senses start tingling. She loses her giddiness, and her eyes fill with concern. "You don't look well. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I try to brush her off quickly by reaching into my pocket. "Here," I say, handing her a wad of cash. "Some money to help you get started. You'll need to buy new furniture for the place."

She pushes my hand away. "No, you keep it. I will be fine, I promise. Use it to pay off Wilma's ring."

"I already paid that off."

I sold my car for it.

"Use it to pay off your student loans then."

Sighing, I say, "I owe you more money than the bank, Mom."

"Stop it. Not another word," she says with her threatening, no-nonsense tone. "As of today, you don't have to worry about me anymore. Every cent you earn, I want you to put it towards your future. Pay off your loans. I don't want you to end up in the same position I was in at your age. And the rest, save for your wedding--and a house." Half-joking and half-serious, she says, "You're twenty-five for God's sake, you gotta leave the nest some time. Be free, my child! Free!"

"I know, I know," I say, trying not to blush.

She gazes at me lovingly and grabs my cheek. "You've been my co-pilot for so long. It won't be easy to see you go, but when you do, that will be the greatest accomplishment of my life. I raised a proper gentleman all on my own, and I know you'll carry the torch for me."

"Ya done good, Mom."

"I'm proud of you too," she replies, stroking my hair. "Now, are you sure you're okay? You know there's no use in lying to me. Is this about Wilma again?"

Not knowing what to say, I simply shrug. It's better not to delve into the truth of why I am so stressed out.

"There are plenty of graduate students who are engaged, Drake. You're not going to ruin her life by proposing. I don't understand it. You're both crazy about each other."

I'm not really in the mood for a therapy session right now, but being reminded of my life's greatest dilemma sparks my anxiety. "I just don't want her to feel tied down to Penumbra."

"Drake Harker," my mother says sternly, which startles me. "You know as well as I do that Wilma is an adult. If she stays here in Penumbra, then that is her decision--and that goes for you too. No one ever said that you had to stay here for the rest of your life. You could move to Phoenix for a year, and then, hell, I don't know... you could travel the world together after she gets her Master's. Get married in Hawaii."

"And walk along the beach under the sunshine and rainbows?" I ask with more bitter sarcasm than I intended.

"You know what I mean, Mister. And, in fact, I think a moonlit wedding in Hawaii would be very romantic. Look, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't count that out. Don't make excuses. Don't stand in your own way. There's nothing tethering you to this town, except for me, and I've already told you that I'm fine." She pauses for a minute, then asks, "Do you remember when you were little? You pretended to go on so many adventures. You were a cowboy, and a treasure hunter, and an astronaut..."

"I was what--six?"

"You had an imagination back then. It wasn't so long ago when you still had the gumption to chase big dreams. I miss that Drakey. At least he was willing to take some risks."

"Take some risks? You know where that kind of thinking got me--where it got you."

My mom sighs heavily. "I'm not bankrupt anymore. Please stop reminding me that I was. Trust me, the loan department threw that one in my face plenty of times. They finally gave me enough slack to buy the spa. Now, I am ready to move on--and you should too."

"Fine," I say, throwing my hands up into the air, "I'll stop."

Still holding onto her certificate with one hand, she wraps her arms around me. I am much taller, so she has to look up to make eye contact. "You'll do amazing things, Drakey... even if you don't believe that now. I always knew you would."

"Alright, alright. All of this sugar is rotting my teeth out. I'm gonna go build myself a rocket ship so I can get the heck out of here before I need dentures."

"That's my Drakey," my mom replies, scuffing her knuckles across my chin lightly. Holding back a tear, she pulls away from me and holds the certificate under her arm. "Okay, I'm going to the spa so I can start cleaning. You go get some sleep." She walks into her bedroom to retrieve her purse, and on her way back in to the hall, she asks, "Oh, and you are working tonight, right?"

I don't know, am I? Will the FBI still be there? Is Agent Simmons going to continue her "investigation?" To avoid raising any suspicion, I simply say, "Yes, just like every other Monday night."

"Okay, I'll see you this evening before you leave." Pulling out her keys, she says, "Love ya, bye!"

"Love you too. Good luck."

Once she's gone, I step into the shower that's been running for far too long. I enjoy the cool water as it washes away my sweat. While I bathe, I try not to think so much in order to let my brain reset itself, but my mother's voice keeps nagging at me.

Don't make excuses? I'm the one who's holding myself back? Sure, I'd love to travel, but with my condition, that is far easier said than done. If I wasn't so defective, then maybe I could. It's not like I can just turn this off. There is no cure, and there never will be.

I had to learn that the hard way.

Reaching for the body wash, I think of Wilma. I've thought about her in the shower more times than I'd like to admit. But right now, an unsettling feeling that something terrible is about to happen keeps my urges in check. The stream of water is numbing and begins to freeze my spiraling thoughts in place. I hold onto Wilma's smile, trying to convince myself that I'll see her again and that all is well with the world.

I think of her hazel eyes, curvy hips, and smooth tan skin... Oh, Wilma.

Oh, shit... Wilma!

After rinsing the rest of the soap off, I jump out of the shower and grab my phone, still dripping with water. Just as I thought, there's a flood of messages. I unlock my screen and start scrolling through them.

Hey, I just got back to school. I'm beat. Have a good night at work. I'll talk to you in the morning. I love you to the moon and back
🚀💕🌚

Good morning (night-night for you, Boo). Have a good sleep. I've got my first exam later... ugh.

Hey, Drake... are you okay? There's been a lot of talk today about some crazy shit. In Penumbra of all places. I can't believe it.

Drake, where are you?

HOLY SHIT. There are a TON of news clips about a UFO flying over Phoenix last night. I don't know what kind of conspiracy garbage that is, but my dad said there was also an EXPLOSION.

TELL ME IF YOU ARE OKAY.

Drake, if you don't text me, I swear, I'll hunt you down. Let me know if I should come home. I can make up my finals or something.

Quickly, I start typing a response:

NO, do not come back. I am totally fine, I promise. It's the same old alien hype people have been going on about for years. Nothing happened. Just focus on your finals.

A second later, the "typing" dots pop up.

Okay, I'm glad you're safe. I love you...

I respond:

I love you more.

Phew, crisis averted.

Agent Simmons, or Andrea, or whatever the hell, will probably be breathing down my neck. I don't want my girlfriend to get trapped into something or give someone the opportunity to use her as leverage. I wouldn't put that past Andrea. She didn't exactly give off a warm and fuzzy vibe. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's just not a good idea for those two to cross paths. Ever.

What's worse, I have no idea if it is actually safe in Penumbra with an armed alien on the loose. I'm not entirely sure if I should show up for work tonight.

But I decide to take that risk.

Music Credit: "Maneater" by Hall & Oates