We're On Fire!

Torin Densmore slumps in a lounge chair, weeping.

Reuben Mulberry and Roland Bush, top researchers for the E.B.I. (Extraordinary Bureau of Investigation) look through the glass window at Torin, bowing their heads.

“This is hard to take,” Reuben says. “He’s been living the same nightmare over and over again for the past five years. I can’t imagine the pain he goes through every day.”

Roland adjusts his glasses, his features contorting into a frown. “At first, I thought, ‘Great, he gets to start life over again every day.’ Then I realized he’s reliving the worst day of his life… His death…”

Reuben wipes a tear away from his eye.

Lifting his head, Torin shouts, “FIRE! WE’RE ON FIRE!”

***

Chet knocks on his son’s door.

Five-year-old Cody Chadwick is so preoccupied with what he’s drawing that he doesn’t notice his father leaning over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Chet asks.

“Home.”

Cody has drawn a sandy, grey landscape. Its only distinguishing features are several bottomless craters and a starry sky.

“Does this place have a name?”

“Calisto. Home.”

“Your home is here, Cody, in Washington, D.C.”

Cody freezes in mid-stroke, dropping his colored pencil.

Walking over to his bed as if in a trance, Cody picks up his baseball cap, fitting it on his head.

“Got a game today. Can you help me warm up?”

***

Chet absentmindedly twirls his pen between his fingers. Looking at his wife’s picture on

his desk, he relives the most painful day of his life.

Callie’s body writhes in pain. He dabs at the sweat on her forehead.

“…Don’t worry, Wick, I’m fine… The baby’s fine…”

“I’m the one who should be comforting you, not the other way around.”

Callie gives him the same loving, supportive grin she’s been giving him every day since they found out their son was going to be a difficult birth.

Chet and Callie married after graduating from William and Mary College together. Callie parlayed her degree in Clinical Psychology into a fulfilling job at Bellevue Mental Health Center. At the same time, Chet, who majored in physics, was recruited by the E.B.I., a clandestine government agency that studies, tracks, captures, and eliminates potentially threatening alien species.

The couple endured two miscarriages. After twelve years of trying to have a child, they were on the verge of giving up when a miracle occurred.

Callie grabs Chet’s hand. Squeezing it, she gasps, “I think your son is ready to meet you, Wick.”

“DOCTOR! WE NEED THE DOCTOR!”

Callie’s medical team rushes into the room. One of the nurses tries to pull Chet away. He resists, kissing Callie on the forehead.

“…I love you, Wick…,” she whispers as he’s spirited away.

Chet remains keyed up for the two, four, then six hours of labor that follow.

Finally, Dr. Concepcion enters the waiting room, his sunny, blonde features marred with worry and concern.

Dr. Concepcion bites his lower lip. “…Congratulations, you have a son…”

“I sense there’s a but…”

“There were complications. The umbilical cord was wrapped around your son’s throat… I know how, through sheer will or luck, but he’s going to be okay.”

“And Callie?”

“I’m sorry, Chet. We did all we could. It was as if she sacrificed her own life to help bring your son into this world…”

***

“…She gave her own life…,” Chet mutters.

Agent Lane Ryder gives her partner of five years a sympathetic look, dropping a stack of papers on his desk.

“I need you to sign off on the report about our encounter with the Lamashtu.”

“The what?”

“You know the mother of all demons with three heads that spit fire and nearly killed us? Chet? Agent Chadwick, are you with me?”

Chet touches his wife’s photo.

“Sorry to interrupt your grief. I always liked that picture of Callie. She had a bright smile, and oh-so-many perfect teeth to go with that platinum hair and that killer figure. No wonder you were so happy.”

“It wasn’t just her looks…”

“I know.”

With her enthusiastic attitude, bright blue eyes, and athletic figure, thirty-four-year-old Lane Ryder often reminds Chet of an amber-haired version of his late wife.

Still mourning Callie’s death five years later, clean-shaven, dark-haired Chet is normally a model of concentration but has been going through the motions for the past two weeks.

“I’m getting tired of your grunts and blank stares, Chet. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s Cody. He’s been acting strangely lately.”

“Like father, like son.”

“He’s been drawing the same landscape over and over. He calls it Calisto and says it’s his home.”

“Is he still hitting homers in T-ball? Still eating like a house on fire?”

“Yeah, but when he draws, it’s like he’s in a trance, like he’s obsessed. All he does is draw pictures of Calisto. It worries me.”

“Well, one of you needs a shrink,” Lane replies. “Right now, my money is on you.”

***

Cody sits up in bed, screaming.

“FIRE! WE’RE ON FIRE!”

Chet rushes into his son’s room, holding him.

Cody’s dreams have turned him from a cherubic, precocious boy to a sleepless, preoccupied cipher with dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s just a nightmare, son.”

“No, it’s real.”

“Tell me about it…”

***

…He looks around the control room, nodding at the bearded man sitting at the controls, saying, “Give us a smooth landing, Nobby.”

Pilot Danny Kirwan, nicknamed “Nobby” because he always seems to be pressing the nobs and flipping the switches on the ship’s control board, responds with a crisp, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Captain Torin Densmore turns to Max McCarey, his pessimistic second-in-command and best friend. “We’re about to make history, Max. First contact with the Calistans.”

“Providing the messages we received aren’t thousands of years old, and their civilization still exists.”

“Didn’t they answer our signal by saying, ‘Send more Chuck Berry?’” Finn O’Toole, the ship’s diminutive, jovial engineer, responds.

Torin’s dark, granite features hint at a smile. “Shouldn’t you be oiling something, Finn?”

“Entering Calisto’s atmosphere, Captain,” Nobby announces.

“Brace yourself, boys.”

“Outside hull temperature is four thousand degrees and rising,” Nobby says nervously.

Max’s sleepy eyes bulge. “That’s twice what mission control estimated.”

“Let’s compensate. Ease up on the stick, Nobby. A speed of thirty-eight thousand miles per hour should help reduce pressure on the hull.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get below, Finn. Tell the Harris sisters to strap in and keep an eye on the hull temperature.”

Nobby wrestles with the control stick. “The gravitational pull is off the charts, Captain… Uh- oh.”

“Uh-oh, is not an informative status report, Nobby.”

“I’ve lost control of the ship, Captain.”

Finn announces over the intercom, “Outside hull temperature five thousand, two hundred degrees.”

“Switch twenty percent of the internal system power to the outside of the hull.”

“That will put a lot of pressure on navigational and life support systems.”

“Just do it, Mister O’Toole!”

Turning to Max, he adds, “Strap yourself in, Lieutenant.”

Torin yells, “Prepare for impact!” into the intercom.

Nobby screams as the control board short-circuits, hitting him in the face with red-hot sparks.

Flames engulf the control room.

Fighting through the smoke, Torin sends a desperate message to mission control.

“THIS IS THE PIONEER…FIRE! WE’RE ON FIRE!”

***

Cody shows Chet his latest drawing depicting a lone man walking across a grey landscape toward a futuristic city.

“Who’s that?”

“The Captain. He’s lost.”

Chet notices Cody has drawn the portraits of three men and two women in the corner of the picture.

“Who are they?”

“The Captain’s friends. They’re waiting for him in the crystal city.”

***

Cody drifts off, falling into a fitful sleep, dreaming he’s aboard a spaceship.

Captain Torin Densmore sips from his cup of coffee.

Across the table from him, Dr. Melanie Harris tears into her breakfast, while Ae-Cha Harris, her dark hair covering her face, scribbles in her notebook.

“You must be thrilled, Ae-Cha,” Torin says. “You’re going to be the first human being to talk face to face with a Calistan.”

“Great. I just figured out that the phrase, ‘We come in peace,’ is only a few syllables different from ‘You make love to farm animals.’”

“Keep practicing. And how’s the health of the crew, Doc?”

Dr. Melanie Harris scratches her blonde mohawk. “Our health monitors indicate everyone’s healthy, except for Finn. His blood pressure is up a bit. He needs to lay off the Jameson when he’s off duty.”

“He’s the engineer. Technically, he’s never off duty,” Max points out.

Max fiddles with a small box on the table.

“What’s that?” Torin asks.

Max opens it, revealing a ring.

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get back to Earth is ask Joyce to marry me. I hope she doesn’t turn me down. I don’t know what she sees in me.”

“Are you kidding? She’s crazy about you. If you’re as good a husband to her as you are a friend to me, you’ll be husband of the year.”

The intercom crackles. Nobby announces, “Approaching Calisto, Captain.”

“Stations, ladies.”

Torin and Max pause in the engine room’s doorway.

“How are our systems performing, Finn?”

Finn winks, replying, “Right as rain, Captain.”

“There’s no rain on Calisto,” Max notes.

***

Chet watches his son toss in his sleep.

“FIRE! WE’RE ON FIRE!”

***

Rueben shows Torin a photo of a smiling woman with two young girls.

“No. I don’t know who they are.”

Roland takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “They’re your wife, Stephanie, and your two daughters, Karen and Edwina.”

“Edwina? Why would I name a child that?”

Having answered the question every day for the past five years, Roland wearily replies, “It was your grandmother’s name. You call her Eddie.”

Rueben shows Torin another picture.

“My crew.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Rueben says.

“He always says that. He remembers anything connected to the Calisto mission.”

Torin narrows his eyes, staring at the two researchers.

“So, who are you guys? Do I know you?”

Roland glances at the clock. “It’s almost time.”

“Time for what?” Torin asks.

“Something very unpleasant,” Rueben replies. “Something that’s going to hurt you physically and emotionally.”

“What have you got against me? What have I done to deserve that kind of treatment?”

“I ask myself that all the time,” Roland responds.

***

“Cody had the dream again last night. That’s three nights in a row.”

“Poor Cody…,” Lana replies thoughtfully. “I’ve been doing some research. Your son’s not having a nightmare. He’s recalling a tragic event. Seven years ago, we began receiving signals from a civilization inviting us to their home planet.”

“Let me guess, Calisto.’’

“Right. I wish I could go there. Can you imagine experiencing life on another planet, living with aliens?”

“Chasing them isn’t enough of a thrill for you?”

“There’s more that I found out about Calisto. I came across a mission to Calisto that NASA and our own researchers have kept secret. Five years ago, a crew of six set out for Calisto. Officially, their ship burned up in the atmosphere, and everyone was declared dead. But there was one survivor. The ship’s commander, Captain Torin Densmore, appeared in NASA’s mission control room at the moment his ship was destroyed. Captain Densmore was alive, but he wasn’t the same man he’d been when he left. He came back with day-repeat syndrome. He has no memory of his childhood, his training, or his family. All he can remember is the moments leading up to the death of his crew.”

“He must be the Captain that Cody talks about. The man in his dreams. Maybe he can help Cody. Maybe they can help each other. Where is he?”

“Three floors below us. He’s been here for the past five years.”

***

Cody boldly marches into Torin’s room, followed by Chet and Lane.

“I was told someone was coming to see me who might be able to help me. Who’s this kid? Is this a joke?”

“No,” Cody replies. “We know each other very well. I know your crew, too.”

Torin snorts. “Prove it.”

“Max McCarey was more than your second in command. He was your best friend. You encouraged him to introduce himself to Joyce Bullifont, and when he returned to Earth, he was going to ask her to marry him. Your engineer, Finn O’Toole, was an Irishman with a fondness for Jameson whiskey. You nicknamed your pilot Nobby. You called the two female members of the crew the Harris sisters, even though one was Korean and the other was Jewish. Melanie had a two-year-old. Ae-Cha had made history by translating the messages Earth received from Calisto.”

Chet looks at Cody, who has taken on the stern countenance of an adult. “Who are you? You’re not my son.”

“Your son and wife died in childbirth at the moment Captain Densmore’s crew perished. Captain Densmore was the only member of his crew not strapped in his seat. He fought his way through the smoke and flames, opened a hatch, and escaped.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Calisto’s atmosphere should have killed him,” Lane says.

“We protected him and sent him back to earth. But we were unaware that the emotional toll of what he had been through would tear him apart, that he would forget everything he experienced in his life except for the death of his crew.”

“You’ve let him suffer for five years...,” Chet says.

“Your concept of time and ours pass differently. To us, Captain Densmore has been in this condition for what you would consider a matter of seconds.”

“I’m supposed to be dead,” Torin realizes. “Take me back with you. I want to be with my crew.”

“Your minds are so powerful that they can stretch across the universe and give life to the dead?” Chet asks.

“Yours may too… Someday… Our Occupying Cody’s body was not a random act. His suffering brought you to Captain Densmore, which has led to the moment when we can bring him back to Calisto.”

“I won’t let you take my son.”

“You know in your heart that I’m not your son. I’m a Calistan.”

Tears well up in Chet’s eyes. “This isn’t right. We shared memories…The pride I felt when you called me ‘Daddy’… I watched you take your first step, laughed with you when we went to the zoo… You can’t just decide to rip all of that away from me… First Callie, now my boy…”

“I feel your pain,” Cody says.

“Yes, but do you understand it?”

Lane sighs, collapsing.

Chet cradles his partner. “She’s dead! Why? Why kill her? She has nothing to do with this.”

Lane’s eyes flutter, opening.

“Hi, Wick.”

Chet looks into her eyes. “Your voice, that smile… Callie?”

“Yes, it’s me, Wick.”

Chet helps her to her feet, holding her closely.

“Why?” he asks Cody.

“You would call it a fair trade…”

“…Wait… If Callie has taken over Lane’s body, where’s Lane?”

“On Calisto. She wanted to explore Calisto and live amongst us. We granted her wish.”

Taking Torin by the hand, Cody says, “It’s time for you to go home, Captain.”

Looking at Chet, he says in Cody’s boyish voice, “Goodbye, Dad. Don’t worry. We’ll meet again.”

A blinding light blinds Chet and Callie. When their eyesight returns, Cody and Torin are gone.

***

Chet puts a steaming cup of tea in front of Callie.

“Are you okay? You’ve been quiet lately. I know it’s been a difficult transition for you…”

“From dead to living? Check. Making love to my husband in a different body? Double check. But I’m happy and grateful to be alive, to pick up where we left off. The past six months have been wonderful. It’s like we’re getting a second chance. It’s just that I’m not sure we’re ready for the next phase in our lives.”

“Next phase? What do you mean?”

“I’m pregnant.”