Close Encounters of the Bus Kind

[6]

Erin didn’t notice any of her regular aches, pains, and stiffness after a long day, but she still felt the urge to stretch every joint. She knew exactly the routine she drilled into her players before every practice. Not all of those moves could be done without awkwardly grabbing parts of a wall, but she did a couple of the quicker ones.

Her expectation was to hear the old familiar pops and cracks with every motion. They didn’t come. Curious, she raised her arms above her head, bent to the side, and then back before dropping to touch her feet. For fun, she bent backwards like an arch to see how far she could go. The position flared her worries because, even when she was relatively younger and nimbler, stretching like this risked triggering the wrong muscle and activating a world of pain. Everything felt fine.

“You okay?” Paul leaned over from the bedroom into the hallway to see Erin positioned like she was going to do an Exorcist-style spider walk. Rising up, Erin adjusted her clothes, brushed her hair back, and announced, “Just finding some good in all this with feeling a whole lot stretchier.”

Paul marveled at all the different positions Erin was able to place herself in. Soon, she straightened up and asked, “What about you? Do you feel more flexible too?” Paul’s immediate reaction was to grimace and look towards the ceiling with an arm behind her head.

She didn’t hate PE back in high school. Archery was fun. Mostly because it allowed him to operate on his own. They had to wait until the entire arrow volley was fired so that people could safely retrieve their shots but, otherwise, he didn’t have to worry about whether there was enough space for him compared to tennis doubles, square dancing, or volleyball. It wasn’t that people excluded him. He just didn’t volunteer.

When he was in a group, everything felt like it wound up smashing him in the face. Then there were the embarrassing moments when he expected the ball would be out and he stood there looking at it as it plunged short and inside. He anticipated he couldn’t be of much help to the team, and it became true. Ultimately, he spent most of PE chatting with people he knew on the bleachers and the coaches never bothered to do anything about it. He appreciated team sports, but he just couldn’t figure them out.

So far as the movements and positions Erin was showing off, he did have that video game version of yoga from a long time ago. Experimentally, she kicked, lifted a leg up, and looked on with wide, worried eyes as her toes passed her head. Moments later, she tumbled to the carpet. They giggled together.

Without even trying and without pops or kinks, Paul found she was able to manipulate this strange body like it was a poseable doll that obeyed her every command. Inverting herself with her bust weight was disconcerting, but she clung to the door jamb for assistance. Finishing with a split on the floor did leave her confused about what to do next but that was more of a limitation of her mind than her body. Erin helped her up and their eyes lingered on one another.

Erin still had on the outfit she swapped with Paul for earlier and it did its best to emphasize her cleavage. Paul felt strangely at home in the shiny lavender top combined with the spare flannel pants that fit her better. The memory of why she needed to change her pants kindled a warm and friendly feeling that left her with a slight smirk. Erin dipped her head and looked around behind her. Paul leaned forward.

“I should you go check your laundry. Also, you’re gonna need some different shoes. Gotta figure that out since I don't think you'll even fit mine.” She drifted back through the hallway and saw Sharon curled up with her cheesecake. Paul followed and told her, “I’ll help. I kind of got used to the shoes. Not worth wearing more than a few minutes though.”

Over in the laundry room, the machine buzzed right when they entered. Working together, they transferred the load out of the washing machine and into the dryer. Bubsy lingered in the doorway and scrutinized the situation as though he were their manager. Erin enjoyed the laundry room because it had thick walls and no tempting outside windows. Her cat raised up and paused when the dryer started but didn’t bolt. Putting a hand out, she urged him over and picked him up with both arms.

Looking both annoyed and bleary at the current situation, the cat turned his ears a few ways and glanced over at Paul. Erin invited her to pet the cat and she cautiously brushed a spot around his head which looked safe for contact. She could tell Bubsy was a senior cat from the lighter gray patches around his face. Her grandmother had a cat just like that and she learned some of the rules. Certain places were okay to touch, and they had a secret time limit before the cat hissed and told you to scram. It seemed like a good sign that Bubsy actually leaned into her touch to get more of it.

She didn’t mind cats but never really shook the feeling that petting them required washing your hands afterward because of the sensation like rubbing the dense locks on someone who never cleaned their hair or did so in an alien way. She didn’t want Bubsy to know that.

Erin lingered in the laundry room and clung to her cat as the warmth of the dryer started to circulate and stifle. Paul stretched her arms above her head and arched on her toes like a half-hearted ballerina. Still carrying her cat, Erin slowly made her way back up the steps and over to the living room.

Her intent was to take the kitty with her to the bedroom. He routinely cuddled up on the empty side of her bed, but this time slipped out of her hands and scampered across the carpet to inspect the big couch. Sharon received a quick glance of curiosity before he judged her lap would be the worthy one.

Erin gave the better version of her mom a quick wave and an unnecessary explanation that they were heading to bed. Sharon returned a calm and confident reassurance that she already had her shower and arched her eyebrows before adding, “And I’m going to have my earbuds in, so don’t you worry about noise or anything.” Erin hustled along before the red in her face exploded like a slow firework.

In the bedroom, Erin picked up her glasses and held them in front of her. Everything looked horribly distorted like she was in a weird fishbowl. That reminded her of the dumb game kids always like to play, especially when they were too old for it, of putting on the glasses of someone who needed them and questioning out loud, “How can you see with these?” Behind those memories was a wave of relief for the unknown alien creatures that had done this.

Simultaneously, she lamented all the unknowns. Was this a different world they had been dropped into? How did it work? Why were there so many scary things that only she seemed to be able to see? Erin rolled over and plopped down on the bed with her hair awkwardly tangled around her head. Paul joined her a minute later, carefully sliding onto the covers but also getting her hair awkwardly plastered across her face. Two of them shared laughter as each fixed their hair. The room settled back into relative silence, with her breathing sounding like wailing winds and Paul’s barely audible.

Erin felt randomly itchy. It prodded her in her side, then went for her elbows and a little space on her front, as though it were a myriad of microscopic devils anxious to bite into the perfection of her renewed flesh. This annoying development also calmed her. Not everything could be without pain and even the craziest space science couldn’t get rid of life‘s little irritations.

When she passed along this silly notion to Paul, her bedmate wondered if perhaps the kitty picked up some fleas. Erin shook off the notion, pointing out that Bubsy was never let out of the house. She did have to admit that cats could get into and out of the weirdest places.

But a scarier notion latched on to her thoughts: If this wasn’t their world or her Bubsy, then anything could be true. Maybe her new mom took the cat out on a leash to the nearest park once a week. Fortunately, that fear was blunted by her amusement visualizing such an excursion in reality. Bubsy had a sky blue harness with a leash attachment and, whenever she managed to get it on him, he would turn into a rigid little commando stiffly stepping backwards and rolling to get it off. Mostly, it was reserved for vet visits because he had a better time like that as opposed to being confined to a dark, nausea-inducing carrier.

With a sigh, Erin admitted, “I don’t know. It’s probably nerves… And I didn’t take a shower. Heh.” She idly pulled at the top that Paul had been wearing before her. Standing up, Erin did a little more stretching, still without any points of discomfort or popping. She casually undressed and made her way over to the closet to select something comfortable to put on after her shower. Selecting her clothes, she looked up and noticed that Paul had turned away with her arm up around her face.

With a crafty grin, Erin crept over to the side of the bed and slipped off the rest of her clothes. She then counted several seconds in her head and made a few light sounds before declaring, “All right, you can look now."

Paul hesitated with uncertainty, as though she had some vague inkling of what Erin was doing. Still, she turned and glanced up. She envisioned Erin wrapped in some large robe or full body towel. Her brain wasn’t prepared to see the full extent of her long-term crush so starkly revealed by the modest lamplight. All the vague contours and implied features were exposed.

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Everything she curiously fantasized about now showed with bold clarity, as if the memories of that time were perfectly preserved and resurrected. In squeaking alarm, she darted away, her hands shielding her eyes, then flailing to grip the bed to keep her from rolling off. Erin briefly restrained her amusement before breaking down in giggles. She slipped on a silver robe and again assured Paul that it was fine.

This time, she was much more hesitant to look back, but eventually glimpsed enough to conclude that Erin was again covered. Placing her hands down on the bed with a long sigh, Paul muttered, “Oh my goodness…” To this, Erin raised her eyebrows and responded, “What?… We’ve done more than look.” Incoherent, half-formed words spilled out of Paul’s mouth as she struggled to put together the pieces of the evening.

Yes, she had indeed done more with the girl who existed as some strange, foundational archetype in her youth, and she returned the favor. Just seeing a little bare flesh shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. Paul awkwardly settled on the response that she was a little flustered and shakily encouraged Erin to wash up, some she could “feel better”. The temptation to continue to toy with Paul lingered in her thoughts, but she acquiesced and made her way to the bathroom.

She noticed how little mess Paul left behind from her shower. The towels in the closet, annoyingly meager though they were, looked as if some unseen housekeeping service had tidied up. The floor was free of damp spots and the air lacked mustiness. There is a faint, peculiar aroma, however. It didn’t seem to come from the shower and Erin doubted it was because of anything Paul did.

Drawing in several breaths, she recognized an unmistakable stench that could best be described as rotten eggs. This presence wasn’t overpowering, nor was it especially subdued. It was just there. Her first worry was a gas leak, but the water was heated electrically. Sniffing several times around the room didn’t help with locating the source.

She was tempted to pop out and see if Paul smelled anything too. As a last resort, she could also ask Sharon. Those were possibilities but, at the same time, her senses seemed like they were crying wolf. Would the apartment explode if she ignored it for the sake of a brief shower?

Letting the water warm up, she checked every so often to make sure the odor was still present. It wasn’t quite as harsh, but she also remembered a warning about fumes and old buildings. If a pungent smell started to go away on its own, that meant there was something terrible eating away at your sense of smell. But she cleaned everything a little over a week ago and not even a trace of a rogue smell tripped her suspicions then. However, depending on where the heck they were now, it could just be a sign of some horrifying monster Paul would know from those podcasts she listened to.

Stop, she commanded herself.

She could muster only so much energy for freaking out about every little thing. From sounds in an abandoned parking lot to strange dogs to mysterious bumps, unexplained parents, and untold masses of monsters. If something came to consume her, then she would deal with it. If a fire broke out, she would call upon all the pointless drills they did in school when she was young and in the last few years. That was all she could do.

Glancing around, she bundled up every last twig of energy she had left and released a silent growl with her arms stretched out like that warning to appear as big as possible to scare bears. Remarkably, as soon as she did that, all traces of the ominous aroma blipped away as quickly as it emerged. That was almost worse, but she took it as a sign that she might as well enjoy this shower.

Nothing weird happened when she turned on the water, not even any spurts to do with the pressure. It did take patience before the freezing, blowing stream warmed to where she liked it. Usually, she stepped in with flaring bouts of pain as the water worked its way into every worn nook and cranny of her joints. Now, it just felt like a rush of static. Not bad but not as intensely therapeutic. Whatever itching remained was drowned out.

She didn’t linger long in the shower but also didn’t rush. She stayed until the liquid cocoon brought her lids so far down that she started to wobble and stagger. The meager towels earned her ire, even though she recognized the shortage was her fault and Paul made her aware of it. A cluster of smaller ones sufficed.

Bundled up in those towels and her robe, Erin evicted the remains of the post-game celebratory supper and cheesecake snack until she felt true serenity. Once again, the lure of a nap started to drag her down, but she popped up and pressed on.

Outside, the air was again perfect. Over on the bed, Paul was half bundled in one of the blankets but with her head craned towards the door. Despite this attentive pose, she didn’t rouse.

Erin intended to just let her sleep as she put on the clothes she had picked out and wound down with her normal routine, but Paul’s phone shrieked to life from the table on her side of the bed. Instantly, Paul shot up and wiggled her arms, as though attempting flight.

It took a whole lot of effort from the confused girl, with assistance from Erin, to even tap the phone to respond. Lingering, Erin listened.

Paul found herself shoved out of the same dreamless blank void as earlier. No new changes but the familiar cry of her cell phone in an unfamiliar space.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Sweetie, are you okay? We were worried you didn’t check-in. Erin‘s mother texted us to say you were staying over at her place.”

Grappling for understanding, Paul attempted, “….Mom?” Her situation concerning her parents was a little more complicated than what she gathered of Erin’s. The voice on the line had familiar qualities that tickled family feelings but also possessed a strange slant of accent and mood.

“Is the connection bad? Yes, this is mom. Are you staying with your friend? I heard on the news about the plane accident, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have trouble. I know getting home you would have traveled right by the Air Force base. They were saying that the reroute was three to five hours and cell towers were down or heavily engaged because of where it struck. I left you some text messages, but you didn’t answer. Is everything all right, sweetie?”

Paul struggled through what felt like an immense pyramid of words, building one on top of the other like steps taking her into the stratosphere, and she wasn’t sure how to climb the base. She felt a little dumb for not recognizing the contact label of “Mom’s Cell”.

Erin suggested they were in a different reality, or something akin to that, so having different parents definitely lent that credence. And it also melted her brain, because if she had this vastly different body and a separate lineage and a whole mess of different genetic information, then what constituted her consciousness and soul? Also, it dawned on her that Tonya and the other abducted girls could be going through a similar experience. Maybe.

“Yeah, mom. We actually just managed to avoid the worst of it even though it was a very slow way around. The team and everyone managed to get back home safe but, since I guess you couldn’t make it I guess, Erin and her mom put me up at their place. Oh, and we managed to win 3 to 2.” All that felt desperately stilted coming from Paul’s mind-tangled mouth but at least she managed to say something.

The woman, who seemed to be her mother now, reminded her that dad was originally going to be picking her up but, because of the delay, he had to get ready for work. In one of her text messages, she mentioned contacting a family friend who did ride shares to bring her home when she was free.

Paul recollected that unaccompanied minors under eighteen weren’t allowed to use such services, although he had been known to bend the rules for kids in dire situations. While restored youth definitely had its benefits, she privately lamented how many things and people she would have to depend upon now.

She couldn’t grab onto a convenient moment to clarify whether Nadia was her actual name now, since any way she could’ve asked the right questions felt dangerously close to acting like a crazy person. The lady on the other end of the line sent along abundant kisses, love, apologies, and hopes that her “precious daughter“ did not have a bad time. Paul wasn’t sure what to say to all that, but she did her best not to sound as suspicious as she felt.

Emphasizing the long evening and how exhausted they all were seemed to do the trick in getting her “mom“ to relax. However, she learned that she had piano practice on Saturday afternoon at three. Paul dipped her phone against her side after finishing the conversation. Why couldn’t the aliens have given her ATV practice, truck-loading lessons, or something at least casually in her wheelhouse? She wondered what excuse might work for starting back at zero as she glanced over at a befuddled Erin staring at her with her arms folded.

Paul nervously bit her lip as she asked, “What’s wrong?” Erin had plenty of things that fell into that category but foremost on her mind at that moment was, “What language was that?”

Sitting up, Paul scrunched her forehead and responded, “…Wasn’t that English?” Erin shook her head and asked, “No way. Don’t you know? Weren’t you speaking it?”

Groaning with a sigh, Paul pulled all the blankets up around her protectively and muttered through the layers, “I have no idea.”