THAT AIDAN WAS not human seemed almost secondary to Emily’s parents to the fact that their memories were lying to them—though as the night wore on and then ended with a slowly rising sun, it was as if those memories were losing some of their power.
By the morning, Emily’s mother looked a little like herself again—the shock initially had rendered her alien, strange-looking, blank. Now she had regained some of her color, though there were still dark circles under her eyes. She occasionally moved toward Aidan, then flinched. Emily tried to hug her, but she stayed stiff, unresponsive. The pain of that was something physical, in Emily’s chest.
Her dad stamped out the last of the embers of their fire.
“So,” he said. A flatness in his voice. “What happens now? What were you guys trying to do, before we found you?”
“We were trying to get to HAARP,” said Emily. “To send a message.”
“I thought that was all conspiracy theory stuff,” said her mom. “All the alien communication stories.”
“It is,” said Aidan. “But the arrays are powerful enough to beam electromagnetic signals to space. To send a message.”
“A message to whom?” said Emily’s mom.
“My…family,” said Aidan. “My ship was damaged when I landed on Earth. I was unable to activate a distress beacon. If I can send a radio burst, they will know my position.”
“How were you planning on getting there?” That was Emily’s dad: no need to discuss what kind of message, or how, or anything irrelevant like that. Pure focus on the plan. On action.
“Plane to Anchorage, then…hitch a lift, probably.”
He sighed deeply at this; he’d always cautioned Emily against hitchhiking. But then he turned to Aidan. “And when you’re…gone. We won’t remember? As far as we’re concerned, we’ll just have a daughter?”
“Yes,” said Aidan.
Just, thought Emily.
“It’s weird…,” said Emily’s mother. Her voice was dreamy; distant. “I think I can almost remember already…how you were not there, and then there. It’s like…like paint is fading. And starting to see the brick underneath.”
Another sigh from Emily’s dad.
A long pause.
Then:
“OK,” he said.
He gestured to her mom, who came over and joined him, and they linked hands—Emily realized they had discussed, sometime when she was asleep, what they were about to do or say.
“You may not be our son,” her dad said. “And we may not understand…well, any of this. But we love you. And we can see how much Emily loves you. So we’ll help.”
“You’ll help us get there?” said Emily.
“It’s, like, a hundred miles away,” said her dad. “You didn’t think you’d get there alone, did you?”
“Well,” she said. “I don’t know.” She didn’t. She hadn’t. She’d expected them to disown her, to break down, to lose their minds entirely. Apparently, they were full of surprises. But it was like her mom’s beloved fridge magnet: YOU DON’T KNOW YOUR OWN STRENGTH. Evidently, Emily hadn’t known her mom’s.
“We can’t take our car,” said her dad. Clearly, he’d had a long night, planning. “They’ll have the plates. May even have put a tracker on it. Anyway, we’ve gone in the wrong direction. So we’ll have to keep heading downhill.” He unfolded a map that had been in his backpack. “There should be a small town beyond the forest, at the bottom of the mountain. We can get a car there.”
“Get a car?”
He shrugged. “We’ll improvise. What about the spooks?”
Emily had explained during the night how she hadn’t been lying, back at the cabin, about the people turning up in town, the men in suits coming for Aidan. The men in black. How they had landed in the helicopter and kept chasing them ever since.
“At least two from the helicopter are dead,” she said. “There may only be the one you shot in the leg. Of course, they may send others.”
“They probably already have,” said Emily’s mom. “We should assume they’re on our trail. We’ll have to move quickly, and keep alert at all times. Jake: you’ll navigate. I’ll take a sidearm. Emily: you carry the assault rifle.”
Emily’s mom: occasional yoga enthusiast, gym bunny, keen hiker…and straight badass, it turned out.
“OK,” said Emily.
“Aidan, just…” Her mom trailed off. “Stay safe. OK?” That crack appeared in her voice again; Emily could hear the pain under it, sloshing, bottomless.
“Yes,” said Aidan.
“That’s what he does, isn’t it?” said Emily’s dad. His voice had an edge to it. Shining. Honed. “Protects himself. Keeps himself safe.”
“I guess I deserve that,” said Aidan. “Truly, I don’t choose to do…what I do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not you who will be hurt, though. In the long run,” said Aidan. He turned to Emily. There were tears in his eyes; lots of tears; something had rushed up inside him, and out: like a fire hydrant.
Emily was amazed. She hadn’t known he could do that. Hadn’t known he could cry.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“You saw me as a I really am,” he said. “When you found me. So you’re the one who will remember me. When I’m gone.”
She looked down at him, her little brother, whom she’d only just met, who would soon be gone.
“And I will remember you,” he said.
Silence, for a long moment.
Then, Emily went over to Aidan, and very deliberately took his hand.
“Look at them,” said Emily’s mom, her face window-rained by tears, tracking on her pale skin. “They’ve always been a pair.”