9. Waiting for the Lights

What was that?

Julie ran outside and looked into the sky. Nothing but puffy white clouds rolled by. She was sure that she had heard the hum of a spaceship hovering overhead. Disappointed, she went back into her trailer. She plunked down at the little kitchen table and stared at her typewriter.

Julie was the publisher of the monthly newsletter, Real UFO Stories. People mailed in their tales of UFO encounters. She edited them, putting the most sensational story on the front page. Her subscribers were expecting a new issue in a week and she had barely started. She needed to focus.

She picked up a letter from a man in Vermont who had seen a ship fly over his barn. The story was routine at best, boring at worst. Still, as she reread his description, she couldn’t help but be envious.

Julie had never seen a UFO. She had spent the last three years looking for aliens. She quit her job in finance to move to the woods to pursue something real, but so far the aliens had alluded her. She believed they were out there, if she didn’t the whole move had been pointless. If only they would come.

Julie’s father, Victor, had been fascinated by space. The house she grew up in was full of models of the solar system as well as photographs and posters of the moon and planets. Victor had wanted to be an astronaut, but for one reason or another he wasn’t accepted into the program.

Victor spent every night looking into his telescope. One dark evening he spotted orange lights in the sky. He called for Julie who was inside the house watching television. She took her time getting outside, he was always calling her away from her programs. When she finally arrived on the back deck Victor was nearly hysterical.

“You missed it Julie!” he cried.

“Missed what?”

He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “You missed them!” He pointed at the sky. “I saw them! I finally saw them!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I know what they look like.” He went on to describe the orange cluster of lights that swooped silently through the sky, pausing briefly above their house before darting away into the blackness of the night. “It was amazing Julie.” He leaned against the deck railing. “It was more than I could have imagined.” He looked up at the sky, slack-jawed.

Victor was never the same after that night. He seemed to live in his imagination. Many times when Julie was talking to him she could see his attention drift away as he receded into himself. It was almost as if those lights, whatever they were, had taken some part of him away with them. He never stopped hoping they would return. He spent many nights on the deck, sometimes bundled up in a winter parka, looking, hoping, but he never saw them again.

As the years wore on Julie grew tired of her father’s obsession. It sowed seeds of anger and resentment in her. It seemed to her that he had chosen the lights, and the promise of what it could be, over her. By the time he became sick too many cross words had been spoken, he slipped away never knowing how much she loved him.

Among the possessions that Victor left behind was a journal describing his lifelong ambition to see the lights again. That night on the deck when he saw the lights, when he dragged her away from the television, he wrote of the way he felt his mind was invaded. But it wasn’t an unwelcome intrusion, he was shown hope, and peace, health, and love. He had felt loved, more loved than any other time in his life.

When Julie read those words she realized two things, the lights had given her father more love than she did, and she wanted to feel the way he had. The next day she quit her job. A month later she was living in a trailer in the woods. Three years later nothing had happened. She hadn’t seen anything, maybe she never would.

She rubbed her eyes and stared at the typewriter. She had to finish. She picked up the letter from the man in Vermont and typed out his story. By the end of the night she had finished the newsletter. She printed off 48 copies and stuffed them into envelopes, hand addressing each one. She would mail them in the morning.

It took her a long time to get to bed. She stared at the wall, thinking of her father. Thinking she was crazy to be doing this. She left a comfortable life for this? She must be crazy. She giggled to herself as she drifted off to sleep. She had just put the finishing touches on a UFO newsletter, that wasn’t exactly mainstream living.

As she slept her father kept drifting into her dreams, telling her of the lights and how they had changed his life. He said to not give up. Julie woke up with a start. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. The bedside clock told her it was 3:57. She fell back onto the pillow, shutting her eyes. Sleep had just grabbed hold of her again when a noise brought her back to consciousness.

A loud low rumble, followed by humming. What was that? Julie tossed off the covers and ran outside. She looked into the night sky, anticipating, hoping it was finally her time.

8. The View from Sailor's Peril

It was raining. It lashed at the windows of the carriage, obscuring the view of the outside. The wind howled.

“What a day.” Sarah remarked, not for the first time.

“Yes.” Eliza replied. The carriage rocked as it lurched over the bumpy road. Eliza nearly fell off her seat.

Sarah grabbed her arm and laughed. “Careful or you’ll be riding on the floor.”

Eliza didn’t say anything. It was just like Sarah to make light of things. It was what she always did, no matter how terrible the situation.

Sarah nudged her. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not.” Eliza huffed.

“Yes, you are.”

“Well I can’t help it. This is awful.” Eliza’s parents were sending her to a place they called a rest home. They thought something was wrong with her. It wasn’t true. She just thought different than the rest of her family.

Sarah patted her knee. “At least we can go together.”

Eliza knew she was right. She wasn’t alone. She and Sarah had been friends since before they could walk. They did everything together, shared every secret, and now, even at the worst of times Sarah was there for her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I know it’s scary. But it will be all right.” Sarah said. “I told you, I’ve already written to them, I’ll have a room right next to yours.”

“I hope so.”

“It will be an adventure!” Sarah lowered the window of the carriage, rain splashed her face. “I think I can see it! Look.”

Eliza leaned towards the open window. It wasn’t easy to see anything through the storm, but there did appear to be a long dark roof in the distance. At one end were three circular towers. Her stomach soured. She turned away and stared at the handbag in her lap. “Father said it might only be for a few months.”

Sarah closed the window. “Maybe we won’t want to come back. Maybe this place will be better. Maybe they’ll understand you here.”

The carriage continued bouncing along for nearly an hour. Finally, it came to a stop. The driver opened the door. “We’re here.” he said gruffly.

Eliza supposed she couldn’t put it off any longer. She stepped out of the carriage and onto a muddy patch of ground. Sarah followed. The driver busied himself getting her trunk from the carriage roof.

“It’s lovely.” Sarah admired.

Eliza’s new home stood in front of her. Four stories high, painted white, and built on the rocky seashore. Behind her she could hear the waves rolling onto the shore.

A woman came towards her carrying a black umbrella. “You must be Eliza. We’ve been expecting you.”

Eliza timidly shook the woman’s hand. Her legs felt like jelly. She didn’t want to go into this place. She felt like she might never come back out. Sarah put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “This is my friend Sarah, my father told you she would be coming with me.”

The woman smiled. “Let’s get inside. I don’t know when we’ve had such a terrible day.”

They followed the woman into the massive building, dodging puddles as they went. Sarah was laughing as usual. They went through a pair of double doors into a foyer decorated in dark wood. An impressive staircase was nearby. A chandelier hung above them. Several other people mingled about, all dressed in white.

“There we are.” said the woman. She shook off her long black raincoat, underneath she was wearing a crisp white dress. She folded her umbrella and handed it and her coat to a young woman standing nearby. “I’m Mrs. Stenton.”

“This is a lovely place.” Sarah said. “And right on the ocean too. Can we go swimming?”

Mrs. Stenton smoothed the front of her dress. “Now, let me show you where you’ll be staying. One of the orderlies will bring up your things.”

They followed her up the staircase and down a long wood paneled hallway. The air smelled like the library at home. Eliza found it comforting, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The hallway cut through the building like a maze. Eventually, Mrs. Stenton stopped at a door with three brass numbers on them, 156. Mrs. Stenton took a key from her pocket and opened the door. It swung open with a squeak.

“Here we are.” she said.

Eliza stepped into the room. The walls were painted blue. The curtains were white and filmy. Dominating the room was a canopy bed with a blue and white bedspread. A vanity and dresser were nearby. The wood floor was mostly covered with an oval shaped braided rug.

Sarah flopped onto the end of the bed. “This is nice.”

“I hope you’ll think of this as your home.” Mrs. Stenton told her. She put her hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “We are so happy to have you hear.”

“What about Sarah’s room?” Eliza asked. “We were told that she would have a room next to mine.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.” Sarah said. She jumped up from the bed and looked out the window. “What a view.”

Eliza went to the window. The rain had let up a little, affording them a stunning vista of the ocean. A rocky outcropping jutted up from the water about half a mile offshore.

Mrs. Stenton came up beside Eliza. “The locals call that Sailor’s Peril. When the water is calm people swim out to it.”

“Let’s do that tomorrow.” Sarah said.

They heard a grunting noise coming from the hallway. Two men dressed in white uniforms came inside with Eliza’s trunk, along with the carriage driver.

“And here are your things.” Mrs. Stenton said. “I will let you get settled and then I’ll come get you for dinner, all right?”

“What about Sarah? She has to know where she is staying.” Eliza said. She took Sarah’s hand. “Can she stay in here with me tonight?”

Mrs. Stenton smiled. “Don’t worry about Sarah. We’ll take care of her later.”

“Who is Sarah?” the driver asked.

“My friend. The girl who came with me.” Eliza said.

The driver shook his head. “You came by yourself. What’s wrong with you?”

“Everyone out, now.” Mrs. Stenton said crossly. She looked at Eliza. “Get your things unpacked dear, I’ll be back in a little while.” She herded the men out of the room and then left herself, closing the door behind her.

“What did he mean? I came alone?” Eliza asked. “Why do people always ignore you?”

Sarah put her arm around her. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t know anything. I’m the only one you need to listen to. Let’s go swimming tomorrow.”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to.”

“I’m allowing it. Let’s go out to that rock.”

“Sailor’s Peril?”

“Yes.”

“And do what?”

Sarah smiled. “Whatever I say.”

7. By the Wall

No one knew what was on the other side of the wall. No one knew when it had been built, or even who had done the job. And no one knew where it began and where it ended, it was just there. Liliana didn’t believe any of it. There had to be records somewhere, somebody had to know. She didn’t expect she would ever find out. Someone like her wasn’t privy to secrets like that.

She was expected to pick up the trash that inevitably made its way to the base of the wall, and rake smooth the sand the blew around the city constantly. It was said the elites didn’t like to see footprints in the dirt as they road by in their elegant carriages. Liliana didn’t understand why it mattered, but picking up trash and raking the sand was constantly needed, and that meant she was never out of work.

Her day started before dawn and ended just as the sun was setting. The wall extended for miles in either direction, to the city limits and beyond. On the south end it cut through a high dune and then continued onwards, seemingly into infinity. In the north it made its way into the forest, vanishing into the trees.

Liliana had considered following it, past the city limits, past any point she had ever known, but she was afraid to. She had never been anywhere else. She knew nothing of the world. Some said that roving bandits patrolled the wild lands. She didn’t want to find out if that was true. Instead, she would have to use her imagination.

In her mind the world beyond the wall was magical, full of happy and free people who celebrated life. In that place she wouldn’t have to rake sand to make a rich lady happy. She could do whatever she pleased. She wanted to believe it was like that. She had to, thinking of the alternative made her feel hopeless.

But that was just in her imagination. In real life she walked beside the wall, rake in one hand, canvas sack for trash tied to the belt around her waist. As she made her way south on one particularly hot day the wind started picking up. Dust storms were a daily occurrence, Liliana could tell that this was going to be a strong one.

For a second she considered turning back, she was far out of the city and there was no where to seek shelter if she needed to. When the winds howled the sand felt like sandpaper on the skin. She knew she couldn’t go home, if she did she would lose her job, and word would get out about how she had left her post. She would never find work again.

She pulled her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose and pressed on. Although there were hardly any footprints to rake, other than her own, the wind sent much of the city’s trash out here. Inevitably it got lodged at the bottom of the wall.

Liliana carefully picked up discarded leaflets and newspapers, and the thick waxed paper used by the vendors who sold hot food on the street. As she was stuffing the refuse in her bag the wind kicked up, blasting her with sand. She shut her eyes and turned away until it settled down. She moved along, picking up the rest of the trash, as the sand swirled around her.

The wind made a howling sound as millions of particles of sand lifted into the air. Liliana braced herself against the wall, glad to feel its rough surface on her back. The sandstorm raged around her, making it hard to see. She sunk to her feet, turning into the wall, letting it anchor her.

Eventually, the storm subsided, as it always did. As Liliana felt the warmth of the sun on her back she sat up. All was still. It was hot. She pulled her scarf from her face and stood up. A quarter of a mile ahead was what people called the big hill. It was the southern limit of the city. Liliana had often climbed the hill, to look out over the landscape, and to try in vain to see over the wall, which had always been impossible. It was nearly midday, it would be the perfect place to have her lunch, which was in a sack tied to her belt.

She walked the few minutes to the hill and then trudged up its sides, her feet sliding in the sand as she did. When she reached the top she looked over the landscape. The desert seemed to go on forever from here. Far in the distance the white buildings of the city lay in their jumble. Closer by, the wall stretched up in the sky, blocking any possible chance of her seeing what lay on the other side.

Liliana was about to sit down and take a long sip of water from her canteen when she spotted something she had never seen before. At the bottom of the hill, beyond the city limits, the sand looked to have shifted. There was something at the base of the wall. Could it be a hole?

Liliana slowly made her way down to it. Her eyes blinked. It was a hole, and it went under the wall. She dropped to her knees and scooped some sand away. She crawled into the hole and pushed her hand under the wall. The air felt cool down there. She reached as far as she could. Suddenly something grabbed her hand. It was another hand, belonging to someone on the other side.

Liliana jerked her hand away. Her heart was racing. She stood up and backed away from the hole. She should go home. She didn’t belong here. She took another step back and stepped on the handle of her rake. No, she didn’t belong here. She untied the trash sack from her belt and threw it aside. She got back into the hole and began digging until it was large enough to slip through to the other side, and then she did.