Out of This World

Smoke pooled from the inner section of the cockpit, dangerously blossoming against the glass window as if begging to be let out. There was a faint beeping noise emerging from inside; it grew faster with every moment I drew closer. I slipped my heels off to slide down into the small dent in the earth the shuttle made.

There were no sounds of struggle. No banging against the glass, no hints of movement from within.

Even if there was something inside, I was not afraid. I reached for the handles—

—and instantly reeled backwards. My palms stung with the impact of my touch to the metal, still burning upon its dramatic drop through the atmosphere. I curled in on myself, holding my hands to my chest until the pain dissipated. This time, I slithered out of my sweater and held it against my palms as I inched towards the handles again. It was not an incredible blocker between the heat and my skin, but it would have to suffice.

Smoke exploded into the night air and my face as I wrenched open the glass casing. A guttural cough sent me whipping in the opposite direction; my lungs filled with the rancid smell of debris and fire, reminding me somewhat of the school bathrooms, when the tall and pretty would circle around the sink, cigarettes propped expertly between fingers. Once it cleared, subject now only to the wind and dark night sky, I shielded my eyes and peered inside the opened cockpit.

My corneas stung with the sweetness off the smoke, and aggravated tears slid down my cheeks. In between rapid blinks I was able to make out the form of a human. Dressed in white. A large, circular dark shield hid their features.

Now I was afraid.

“Alien . . . ” I murmured under my breath as a tremor rode up my spine.

Get ‘em out, Maisy, my mind hollered, regardless of the form’s possible extraterrestrialness. 

Heat seared every portion of my body as I reached inside the shuttle. A warm sweat broke out across my forehead and dripped off my chin, rolling down my neck and catching on my collarbone. I wiped at my cheeks before extending my hands towards the seatbelt at the figure’s waistline. It unfastened itself easily with a mere click, and they drooped forward out of their seat. I caught them by the chest before they could pitch themselves even further and tumble out of the cockpit entirely. A gasp melded with a cough ripped from my throat as I stumbled with the thoughtfulness of their weight. With slow, steady steps backwards, toes digging into the heated dirt, I locked my arms around the stranger’s armpits and dragged them out of the ship. Their feet caught miserably against chunks of debris and grass, digging in as if not wanting to leave death behind. My biceps strained beneath the tight fabric of my dress as I heaved them up the slight hill caused by the crash and onto the untouched planes of grass.

They collapsed in a helpless heap.

Sweat stung my eyes. I wiped at them with smudged palms and swiped my hair back from where it was plastered to my forehead, taking in a gulp of night air that was slightly more unburdened than what I was inhaling within the pit. I dared to shimmy the stranger’s body farther away from the wreckage before slumping down beside them.

They were entirely bathed in white fabric, with little buckles and pockets lining the arms and legs. Heavy, spiked boots were on the stranger’s feet, and they wore thick gloves that were just as dirty as my own hands now were. And then, their helmet, which had a slight crack near the temple. Perhaps that was how they became unconscious.

“What are you?” I whispered, inching closer.

I placed my hands on either side of their helmeted head. With a bit of pressure, the helmet twisted with a slight hissing noise, and it became loose in my grip. I held my breath as I slid it off the figure’s head.

It was not an alien, or at least, he didn’t look it.

Instead, he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever laid eyes on.

His head rolled limply to the side as I let go in surprise. Chin-length brown hair followed, splaying across the grass and sticking to his face, laden with sweat. Ruby red blood dripped down his nose and stained his parted bow-shaped lips. Curiously, I pushed aside his hair—which was unbearably soft—and laid my gaze upon one of his rounded ears. The only thing unusual about its appearance was the slim, golden ring that protruded from his earlobe.

Maybe he was an alien in disguise.

I poked his shoulder, which only made his body shake for a quick moment. I had no idea how to resuscitate him. Hell, I didn’t even know where to take him. Mama was angry with me—I’m sure that statement would only grow to be more true if I dragged a bleeding alien boy to the steps of our home. A small cough echoed through the field, my lungs’ last attempt to expel remnants of smoke, as I glanced around in search of where I could bring this stranger. I could see the warm lights of our house in the distance, uncomprehending how far I had ran to make it here. Halfway between the house and I were the tall silos of Daddy’s research center. Below that was the barn, completely abandoned of farm life. It was mainly used for old furniture Mama didn’t have use for, and old machines of Daddy’s which had outgrown his needs.

“The barn,” I said aloud.

Steeling myself, I grabbed the alien by his arms and began dragging him across the field, bound for safety.

After about four tries, I finally managed to pull the entirety of the boy onto the dusty couch snug in the corner of the barn. I flipped on the lights and dragged the door shut.

“Sweet Tennies,” I breathed to myself, rolling my shoulders. “You’re a heavy fella.”

There were a couple old rags stacked beside the ruddy faucet adjacent to the couch. I turned on the water, which leaked out in a puny stream, and soaked one of the rags fully. Then I approached the boy again, kneeling down beside where he lay on the couch. Tentatively, I smoothed all of his hair back from his face. He didn’t stir even as the cold cloth came down on his forehead, wiping away the grime and sweat. I worked my way down the planes of his cheekbones and the sharp sweep of his jaw. I dabbed at the blood trickling down his nose and cleaned up the smears on his lips. If there was any indication that this had happened to him before, it would be the slight nick piercing the inner arch of one of his dark eyebrows.

I refreshened the wetness of the cloth and began to work my way down his neck. I paused for a moment, when I reached the zipper of his suit. It was highly improper by every means. But this boy had just fallen out of the sky and his blood was staining my rags. Nothing could get more far out this evening.

Reddening despite having no one around to see it, I slowly unzipped his suit. Thankfully, he was wearing a shirt underneath. I worked his arms out of the tough fabric and laid them beside him on the bed, peeling the suit backwards. The rather impressive swell of his biceps rendered my mind utterly blank for a moment.

Focus Maisy, I scolded myself with a furrow of my brow.

I got back to work, deciding to pull the suit as far as his waistline. I would go no lower than that.

After I realized that I’d done as much as I could for the boy, I tossed the rag to the side and reached for a new one. When I approached the sink, I stared determinedly at my reflection and turned on the faucet. Soot and slick sweat smeared beneath my eyes, and my lips were bright red. My golden hair was mussed beyond recognition and a grouping of dubious black dots stained the front of my dress; I could feel the dirt and grass caked onto my shins. I’d left my shoes behind in the pit.

My hair was rather easy to fix, with a couple handfuls of water to it and a quick comb-through of my fingers. I scrubbed harshly at the smudges on my face and my shins. As for my dress, it was not salvageable. Mama was going to have my hide.

“Ughhh . . . ”

I jumped at the sound of another voice in the barn. When I flipped around, I realized the boy was shifting on the sofa. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body and I grabbed the closest thing to me, which unfortunately happened to be a flashlight. There wasn’t much damage I could do with a flashlight.

The boy slowly sat up, still groaning. He rubbed at his head and muttered a few creative choice words I had never heard of before. His legs slid off the couch, feet planting in the dust below. His eyes went up slowly. They first caught the sight of my horrendous bare feet, and then my face.

There was that flash of adrenaline again. I brought the flashlight up, flicking it on and shining it directly into his eyes.

“Holy sh—” He brought his hand up to shield his eyes, wincing painfully. “Hey!”

“Who are you?” I demanded tightly, hoping it did not betray the quake in my voice. “Better question: What are you?”

He grimaced, palm spread wide against my beam of light. “Can you put that down?”

“Answer my question! What are you?”

“Human!” he exclaimed. “I’m human, alright?”

I lowered the flashlight a fraction. “What is your name?”

The boy dipped his head, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. He groaned again, body wavering. "Adrian. Adrian . . . Beckett."

"If you're a human . . . Adrian, then why did you fall out of the sky, dressed in one of those things Neil Armstrong's going to be sent to the moon in?"

"Neil Armstrong?" His eyes went wide like saucers. Then he stood, frighteningly straight for someone who had just been trembling. He moved as if to grab me by the shoulders, but I jerked away, aiming the flashlight at him like a weapon. This time he stared straight through the light beam, brown eyes electrifying and vast, their pupils like black holes. "What year is it?"

I snorted instinctively. "Very funny."

"I'm serious, kid."

"1969. And don't call me "kid," you're only what? A year older than me?"

He disregarded my statement. "1969 . . . " he murmured, turning away sharply.

"What, you lost your way from 2030?" I asked sarcastically.

Adrian Beckett glanced over his shoulder.

"2151, actually."