Chapter1
1276 Words
Amelia
I'd never been this far from Harper Sanctuary before.
That realization had been sitting in the pit of my stomach since we'd crossed the creek an hour ago.
Usually, if we left the property, it was to cut firewood, check trap lines, or hunt deer. We never wandered farther than we had to. A couple hundred yards into the forest at most, always close enough to be home before lunch.
Today, home was somewhere behind us.
Hidden beyond miles of pine trees and rolling hills I couldn't have pointed toward if someone had put a rifle to my head.
I hated that feeling.
I lifted my hand.
Behind me, three ATV engines cut off one after another until the forest settled into silence.
No one complained.
They'd learned a long time ago that if I stopped us, there was a reason.
I pulled off my helmet and listened.
Wind stirred the tops of the pines.
Leaves rustled overhead.
Somewhere farther off, water trickled over rocks.
Nothing else.
No voices.
No engines.
No footsteps.
Just the forest.
And the smell of smoke still lingering in the air.
I finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
"Clear."
Behind me, helmets came off.
Nora stretched her arms over her head.
"You're getting jumpier."
"I'm getting smarter."
She snorted.
"Those aren't always the same thing."
"They are when you're responsible for three stubborn sisters."
Wren grinned as she swung off her ATV.
"You love us."
"I do."
"See?"
"That doesn't make you less stubborn."
"It kind of does."
"It really doesn't," Ivy said with a smile as she adjusted the first aid pack strapped to the back of her ATV.
Wren pointed between us.
"I was looking for support."
"You came to the wrong sister."
Nora laughed.
"I've been telling her that for years."
I shook my head, trying not to smile.
They made it look easy.
Laughing.
Teasing.
Like this was another day fixing fences or repairing irrigation lines.
Maybe that was why I'd agreed to this in the end.
Not because I thought it was a good idea.
I still didn't.
But because once the vote was over, I knew I couldn't let them come out here without me.
The image of Mom's truck disappearing through the front gate eight years ago flashed through my mind before I shoved it away.
I wasn't losing anyone else.
Not if I could help it.
"How much farther?" Nora asked.
I reached into the cargo box on the back of my ATV and unfolded the hand-drawn map we'd made before leaving.
It wasn't much.
A rough sketch of the surrounding forests.
The river.
A few landmarks we'd hunted near over the years.
And a single X where we all thought we'd seen the green light disappear.
I studied the compass.
"We should be close."
Wren looked toward the trees, practically vibrating with excitement.
"I still think it's a spaceship."
Nora rolled her eyes.
"I think you think everything is a spaceship."
"Not everything."
She pointed toward the sky.
"Birds aren't spaceships."
"That's a relief."
"But that light definitely was."
"You don't know that."
"I don't know it wasn't."
I folded the map and tucked it away.
"It doesn't matter what we think."
Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.
"We find it."
"We figure out what it is."
"If it's dangerous, we leave."
"If someone's hurt..."
I looked toward Ivy.
"...we help."
"If we can."
No one argued.
That alone told me they understood how serious this was.
I pulled my helmet back on.
"Let's move."
Engines roared back to life.
The four of us eased deeper into the forest.
None of us noticed the birds had stopped singing.
For the next twenty minutes, the only sounds were our engines and the occasional c***k of branches beneath our tires.
The farther we rode, the thicker the forest became.
Pines gave way to towering oaks, their branches knitting together overhead until sunlight filtered through in narrow shafts that painted shifting patterns across the trail. Ferns crowded the edges of the path, and vines wrapped themselves around trunks that had probably stood here since long before the Collapse.
It should have been loud.
Birds.
Insects.
Squirrels darting through the brush.
Instead...
Nothing.
I glanced toward the treetops.
Still no birds.
My grip tightened on the handlebars.
The dogs had noticed first.
Dinner had been simple.
Fresh bread Ivy had pulled from the oven an hour earlier.
Rabbit stew.
Honey from last month's harvest.
The four of us had carried our plates onto the front porch like we did whenever the weather cooperated.
It was one of the few parts of the day none of us rushed.
The radio sat on the railing beside Nora, crackling through another old country song we'd heard a hundred times before.
Wren was trying to convince Ivy that peaches tasted better grilled.
"They absolutely do."
"They absolutely don't."
"They caramelize."
"They get mushy."
"They become art."
"They become baby food."
Nora snorted into her coffee.
"You two have managed to argue over fruit for almost ten minutes."
"We're having a civilized discussion," Wren corrected.
"You're losing a civilized discussion," Ivy replied.
I smiled into my mug.
Normal.
Peaceful.
Exactly the kind of evening Mom had always loved.
Then every dog on the porch stood at once.
Scout.
Copper.
June.
All three lifted their heads toward the northern sky.
Their ears pricked forward.
Every muscle in their bodies went rigid.
The radio continued playing.
The wind stirred the orchard.
Not one of us spoke.
I looked up.
A brilliant green light streaked across the stars.
It wasn't like a shooting star.
It was brighter.
Closer.
Wrapped in a blazing white tail that stretched halfway across the sky.
Wren was the first to whisper.
"What is that?"
No one answered.
The light changed direction.
Just slightly.
Enough that my stomach dropped.
"Nora..."
"I saw it."
The green glow disappeared beyond the tree line north of the Sanctuary.
For one heartbeat...
Everything was still.
Then the impact came.
The ground lurched beneath our feet.
Coffee splashed from my mug.
The porch groaned.
Windows rattled inside the house.
Somewhere in the distance...
A deep, rolling boom echoed across the forest.
Birds exploded into the air from every direction.
The dogs started barking.
The radio dissolved into static.
I blinked, forcing myself back to the present.
The memory had lasted only seconds.
The knot in my stomach hadn't eased since.
Ahead of me, Nora slowed her ATV.
She raised one hand.
I immediately eased off the throttle.
The others did the same.
"What is it?" I asked.
She pointed toward the ground.
At first, I didn't see anything.
Then I climbed off my ATV.
The earth was scarred.
Fresh.
A shallow trench cut through the forest floor as if something enormous had skimmed across it before continuing north.
Trees leaned at odd angles.
Bushes had been flattened.
Several saplings were simply...gone.
Nora crouched beside the disturbed earth.
She ran two fingers through the loose soil before rubbing them together.
"This happened recently."
"I figured that part out."
She ignored me.
"The dirt's still warm."
I frowned.
"Warm?"
She nodded.
"Feel it."
I crouched beside her.
She was right.
The soil should have been cool after the night air.
Instead...
It held a faint, unnatural warmth.
Wren walked farther ahead.
"You guys..."
There was no excitement in her voice this time.
Only disbelief.
I looked up.
About fifty yards ahead, another pine had snapped clean in half.
Then another.
And another.
All pointing in the same direction.
A path.
Whatever had fallen...
It had come through here.
And we were following it.
- Writer
