Invaders From Mars (5 page)

Godzilla tripped on a toy Jeep and fell on his face, taking out a quarter of the city. His legs continued to walk as he rocked back and forth, eating sand.

“Why don’t you bring Tokyo back to the house. Dinner’s almost ready.” He started back over the hill.

David turned off Godzilla, got on his knees and started to gather up the city and cars. He tried to get up, but fell forward. Something was holding his left foot.

David froze, clutching the buildings and cars to his chest. He tugged his foot again, but couldn’t pull it away. The toys slid from his arms and quietly scattered on the sand. David’s mouth was suddenly dry and hanging open, his breath drawing in and out a bit faster. He could feel pressure on each side of his foot. He pulled one more time, weakly, but it wouldn’t let go.

Images began to form in his mind: a hand? A claw reaching out of the smooth white sand?

Adrenaline surged through David and a sudden chill blanketed his whole body as he watched his dad disappear over the crest of Copper Hill.

Something green, maybe? Something with scales and talons? Something very strong that might begin to pull him, drag him down into the sand? Something that might, at that very moment, be rising out of the sand behind him, reaching for his back with its other claw? He couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder.

A whimper quivered from David and turned into a scream as he tore himself away and frantically crawled across the sand.
“Dad!”
He kicked up sand as he got to his feet and ran, stumbling across the pit toward the trail, shimmying up the incline to Dad, who was already hurrying back over the hill. “Dad!” David gasped, grabbing his dad’s hand and pulling him down the drop-off and onto the sand, pointing.

“What, Champ? What is it?” Dad asked, startled by David’s outburst.

“Some—something in the—” David stopped, staring at the spot where he’d been playing. The toys were scattered over the sand. A few feet from them, a half-buried branch stuck out of the white sand, one forked end lying where David’s foot had been.

The fear subsided rapidly and David lowered his arm, his mouth still open. It had just been a branch caught on his sneaker. He looked up at his dad, who was still anxiously awaiting an explanation.

David remembered something that Dr. Wycliffe had asked: “David, do you ever imagine things when you’re awake? Things that don’t seem like a nightmare, but seem
real?
It’s important that you tell me so I can help you.” He remembered the doctor’s “too-pay,” his squeaky voice, and snapped his mouth shut, blinking a few times. He didn’t want Dr. Wycliffe’s help, and if Dad thought he was having nightmares while he was
awake,
he just might have to go back to that fat little man behind the big desk.

Swallowing hard, David said, “Nothing, Dad. I guess it was nothing.”

Dad looked from David to the branch, then back to David again, smiling. He seemed to know then what had happened and he squeezed David’s shoulder.

“Okay, Champ. If you say so. C’mon back to the house now.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” David went back to his toys and slowly began to pick them up again, keeping an eye on the branch.

Must’ve been buried in the sand,
he thought,
and my foot pulled it out.

It certainly looked like a claw with bony, crooked fingers, slowly rising from the sand, ready to grab and hold whatever or whoever might be in reach.

Only a branch,
he said to himself silently.

Just the same, he kept his distance.

The night settled slowly and comfortably over David’s house and yard, over the quiet hill in back. There was no breeze to stir the scrub pines into which the crooked trail disappeared, and they remained perfectly still, standing like guards over the hill’s surroundings.

The peacefulness was suddenly broken by the hollow, metallic scream of the back screen door as David and his dad came out into the back yard. They’d turned out all the back lights so the yard was dark. They went around to the side of the house that was darkest and looked upward.

The night sky was filled with Christmas; the stars sparkled like silver glitter scattered by God and the moon hovered among them like a great radiant snowball.

Hidden by the cover of night, crickets chirped and frogs croaked.

Dad touched David’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he whispered. It was a night for whispers.

They moved over to the bench that Dad had built for just such occasions—they called it their “night bench”—and lay on it like stacked wood, their heads together, gazing upward.

“There!” David exclaimed, pointing at a bright spot of light shooting across the sky. “Wow, a fireball!”

“Bright one, too.”

It arced gracefully, then disappeared, as if it had never been.

David snuggled closer to his dad. “Look,” he said quietly, “there’s Mars. See? Right over there.”

Dad followed the direction of David’s finger and spotted the planet, shining brightly against the black velvet of night.

“It’s pretty close,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s at the perihelion right now. It’s only 30 million miles from Earth.”

“Only 30 million,” Dad said. “No wonder it looks so close.”

David turned to see Dad smirking at him. “Cut it out, Dad.” He laughed, punching him lovingly on the shoulder.

An owl hooted from the trees on the hill and from the distance, the lonely call of a whippoorwill sounded.

Three meteorites cut across the sky like missiles, almost as fast as a blink.

“Here they come,” David said, almost reverently.

After a few moments, they began coming in heavily, one every few seconds, a silent, graceful ballet of light. The meteorites arced before the still, watchful stars, shooting downward to the earth to meet a fiery end.

“There’s more this year than last,” David said, never turning his eyes from the sky.

“Looks like the heaviest shower of the year.”

The owl hooted again as more meteorites burned through the night.

“Mom’s missing a good show,” David said with a smile. They’d left her in the house on the phone, talking to one of her classmates about the day’s test.

For a few moments, the sky was inactive. The stars continued to glimmer, as if waiting, along with David and his dad, for more. The peace was broken by what began as a tiny flicker. It quickly grew brighter and brighter, grew bigger as it plummeted out of the sky. Its light became so bright that it illuminated the whole back yard like a floodlight.

“Holy
shit!”
David shouted, jumping to his feet.

Dad got up beside him, gawking upward with his jaw slack. “Jesus, that’s bright!” he breathed.

The huge meteorite moved like a living thing across the sky, pulling its long, diminishing tail behind as it flew. It brought with it a faint, distant rumbling sound, like thunder, but more intense, more explosive.

“Hear it?” Dad asked.

“Yeah!” David gasped, his face glowing in the light from the sky. “That one’s
not
gonna vaporize! It’s gonna make it through the atmosphere!”

“It’s got a hell of a tail!”

Its brightness grew into a cool, shimmering ball of white. The sound rumbled louder, building to a crescendo. Then it faded and was gone. The back yard was dark once again. The sky was still. A few small pinpoints of light shot from one end of the sky to the other, hardly visible compared to the monstrous meteorite that had just disappeared.

David and his dad remained still as stone for a moment, their eyes glued to the sky, their mouths open in awe, their arms held tensely a few inches out from their sides. Then they lowered their eyes and looked at one another, smiling, enchanted, silently sharing the magic of what they’d just seen.

Ellen Gardiner stood at the back door and watched her husband and son through the screen, her arms folded over her breasts, a loving smile playing on her lips. After hanging up the phone, she’d intended to go outside and watch the shower with them, but she’d decided not to break the spell between them.

David was definitely his father’s boy. Their relationship often seemed more like that of two playmates rather than a father and his son. Sometimes, just sometimes, deep inside, Ellen felt a pang of sadness that her relationship with David wasn’t more like George’s. It wasn’t jealousy, really—more like a kind of regret mixed, perhaps, with just a pinch of envy. She often thought, however, that maybe it was better that way. Sometimes it seemed that George and David were almost
too
close; perhaps there wasn’t enough distance for George to notice when something wasn’t right.
Someone
had to keep a level head, a watchful eye.

Like last year when David was having those nightmares. Ellen had been worried for a while, thinking that perhaps she and George were doing something wrong, that they were somehow responsible for whatever was bothering David. She’d quickly changed her mind, however, after looking through all the comic books and magazines David read. They were filled with such horrible stories! They even made her—an adult who should know better—squirm. And the magazines contained stills from horror movies that looked more like photographs from a coroner’s files: spears through heads, throats slashed open, entrails dangling from sliced-open abdomens. She’d been appalled and had insisted he stop reading them. George had protested, though, saying he’d had similar tastes as a boy. So they compromised: Dr. Wycliffe. When it became apparent he wasn’t helping, David had stopped seeing him. Fortunately, the nightmares had gone away. But Ellen
still
wished he wouldn’t read that trash. And if the nightmares returned, she wouldn’t hesitate to be firm about changing David’s reading material. No matter what George said. Whatever happened to Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys?

Oh well,
she thought,
he gets good grades, he’s bright and healthy. It could be worse.

She watched with a smile as they marveled at an unusually bright meteorite, standing and pointing at it excitedly. She saw its light, but never took her eyes from them. The love between the two of them was far more spectacular than any meteor shower. When she thought of some of her friends—the problems they had with their children, the bitterness in their homes—she thanked God, or whatever was out there, for what she had. She wouldn’t change it, or let it be changed, for all the wealth and fame in the world.

She pushed the screen door open and it screeched loudly, catching their attention. They turned to her and smiled. George waved and David began hopping excitedly from one foot to the other.

“Mom!” he shouted. “You
missed
it!”

“I saw it from the back door,” she said.

George swept his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “God, it was incredible, Ellen.”

“Time to go to bed, David,” she said gently, knowing he wouldn’t like it.

“But it just started, Mom!”

“I know, but you have school tomorrow.”

“So do you.”

“That’s why,” she said, putting an arm around him, “we’re
all
going to bed.”

George joined his hands behind his back and looked up at the sky. “Not me!” he said with conviction.

David stood firmly next to his father. “Me neither!”

Ellen laughed and took his hand. “We’ll see about that.”

Mom pulled the covers up to David’s neck, tugging them over his shoulders a little, making him cozy and warm.

“How do you think I’m ever gonna become an astronaut if you won’t let me stay up late?” David asked her, still put out at having to come inside and go to bed.

“Astronauts need sleep just like everyone else,” she replied, leaning down and kissing him.

Dad perched himself on the foot of the bed, a copy of
Fantascene
magazine open on his lap, his forehead tense as he read.

“Did you finish all your homework?” Mom asked.

“Did you finish
yours?”
David asked, squirming under the blankets.

Mom made her fingers into claws and began tickling David’s ribs over the covers.
“Yes,
I finished it, smart aleck!” she growled. Then she gently put a hand on the side of his smiling face and said, “Now go to sleep.”

“ ’Kay. I’ll try.”

She stepped over to Dad and plucked the magazine from his hands, tossing it onto David’s desk.

“Hey!” Dad exclaimed. “Gimme that!”

“Your bedtime, too, fella,” she said as she left the room.

“You can read it later, Dad,” David whispered. “It’s a good one.”

Dad moved to David’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay.”

“Hey, your base commander came to our school today.”

“Mad Dog Wilson?” he said and laughed. “Same old thing, huh?”

“Yeah. Public relations for the base, I guess.”

“You guess, huh?”

“We talked about the new radar a little. I got to explain how it works.”

“Good for you. Just stick with me, kid. I’ll show you the ropes.”

Distant thunder rolled ominously through the sky and David’s eyes grew. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Thunder. Jeez, Dad, you must be getting pretty old. You’re losing your hearing already.”

Dad kissed him and said, “Goodnight, wise guy.” He stood and went to the door.