The sun, hanging low in the sky, continued to bake the impound lot, wavering heat distortion blanketing the horizon of rusted-out steel carcasses as if the entire lot crouched in some state of superposition, wavering in and out of existence. Jeremiah lay reclined in the old leather easy chair in front of his trailer. The TV played the evening news softly.
Austin kicked some gravel as he strolled across the lot, trying not to sneak up on Jeremiah. Jeremiah raised a hand in a lazy wave. Austin glanced around the lot, but the saucer was gone. The lot was full of things he had threatened to scrap out, but nothing that big ever moved off the lot that quickly. He tried to look casual as he pulled a milk crate over and leaned in to check the burnt-out image of the news desk on the old flat screen as if he had suddenly developed a keen interest in world events. He made a point of glancing around the lot, calmly, feigning ambivalence. “Say,” he said, “what happened to the saucer?”
Jeremiah hooked a thumb over his shoulder, towards a big white Costco tent set up on the edge of the lot. He had a habit of setting them up occasionally, to protect a valuable impound or cover a particularly delicate project from the occasional sandstorm.
“You moved it?”
Jeremiah nodded and shrugged.
“Tented it, even,” Austin nodded, suddenly nervous. That wasn’t necessarily a good sign. As glad as Austin was that it was out of sight, especially with rumors circulating about it when Jeremiah tented something off, it meant that he had taken an interest in it, and there was a good chance that he had set to work on it, possibly chopping it up to make it easier to scrap.
“I told you that if you left it here, it was mine.”
Austin nodded calmly. “We’re still trying to figure out what it is.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s cooler now,” Jeremiah said, swirling the last backwash swig around the bottom of his beer bottle and setting it on the asphalt beside him. He sat forward a little unsteadily, swinging the door of the minifridge open and pulling out a pair of cold beers.
“What do you mean?”
Jeremiah smiled lazily. He might have been a little drunk.
“What did you do, Jeremiah?”
“If it can be broken, it can be fixed.” He cracked the caps on both of them, offering one to Austin.
Austin eyed the bottle warily. After the incident with Jynx and her first beer, he wasn’t sure what he could get away with anymore. “Did the patch fit?” he asked.
Jeremiah smiled again, wider this time, took a swig, and waved the other beer at Austin again as if he had just missed the cue. It was a celebration, of sorts, even if Austin didn’t know it. “Go take a look.”
Austin took the beer, clinked the neck against Jeremiah’s, and inched slowly towards the white pop-up tent, still trying to look casual as he did.
Jeremiah sat forward, running his fingers through his hair, feeling elaborately pleased with how productive he had been. As Austin reached for the tent flap, Jeremiah sauntered over to lean against a nearby fender.
Austin peered in, nervous at first. He saw the familiar shape, patched clean and smooth, but he couldn't understand the paint job for a few moments. He touched it to be sure that it was real. Shock sunk into indignation as he realized that the rat rod rattle can color scheme was very real. “You painted it?”
Jeremiah grinned like an idiot. Yes, he was drunk.
The saucer, once that polished alloy of pearlescent aluminum, was now flat black, adorned on either side of the hull with electric blue hot rod flames lacing back toward the tail. Looking less like a relic of fifties science fiction fantasy, now it looked like someone’s pet restoration project recently pulled from a garage and rolled out for cruise night.
Austin “Why in the hell would you do that?”
“What, dude? You left it on my lot.” Jeremiah leaned back against the Plymouth fender with his arms folded across his chest.
“It’s a fucking alien artifact, man, you don’t just spray paint it!”
“Look at that paint job, dude. That shit is tits.” Jeremiah was more than a little drunk.
Austin brushed his fingers across the paint job, testing to see how dry it was. “I can’t believe you painted it.”
Jeremiah swayed slightly, still grinning. “Dude.” He took a swig off his beer bottle. “You have no idea.” He looked well past prime, head wobbling around on his neck like a bobblehead doll. “Check this out.” He pushed against the saucer. It slid sideways, clunking against the aluminum frame, and ricocheting back, sliding around easily.
“What?” Austin watched him push it around. Like most of the drunks Austin had met, Jeremiah wasn’t communicating very well.
“Dude.” Jeremiah pushed it again, towards Austin. The saucer slid down the last few feet of the Costco tent, bumping Austin in the gut.
Austin stopped it and held it in place. “What?” He was still pissed at the paint job, imagining the time it would take to strip the entire thing of paint and polish it back up.
Jeremiah leaned against the edge of it, smiling and shaking his head. He pointed down. “Look.”
Austin crouched down to get a better look at the underside of the saucer. He checked the front edge where the holes had been, running his hand along the place where the large patch would be. It was perfectly smooth, the patch entirely invisible. Even the small holes had vanished seamlessly. Austin was well aware of Jeremiah’s skill with a welder, but this was more than he had expected. Jeremiah had managed a perfect restoration before he destroyed it completely with a rattle can paint job.
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“Damn,” Austin ran his hand over the patch again, trying to appreciate the work, “that’s clean.” He heard Jeremiah laugh. “Did you use Bondo or something?” Jeremiah laughed even harder and walked off towards the back of the shop. Austin heard a beer bottle crashing into the recycling bin. Crouched below the saucer he continued to check the bottom for any sort of scar but found nothing. Jeremiah strolled and dropped a hunk of sheet aluminum to the ground with a dull clatter. Austin looked at it for a moment before he recognized it. It was the patch he had cut on Mr. Englehorn’s bandsaw. He checked the smooth, perfect underside of the ship again. “But—” Jeremiah walked around the backside of the ship and gave it a good shove in Austin’s direction. The saucer knocked Austin to the ground and passed directly over the top of him, wobbling slightly but sliding out the plastic tent flaps soundlessly. It ricocheted against a workbench and continued to drift out into the center of the back lot. As it slid gently towards the low spot in the yard, Austin realized that it hovered a couple of feet above the ground. “It’s…” He pointed at it, jaw hanging open. “It’s…”
Jeremiah laughed, offering Austin his hand to stand him back up.
“How is it…?”
Jeremiah shrugged. “Fuck if I know, man, but it is.” He strolled back to his minifridge and pulled out a couple more beers. The saucer hung silently behind him. Without making a sound, it seemed to have a presence, like a faithful dog, awaiting its master’s command.
*
By the time the boys heard Mr. Ouija’s distinctive glass pack growl they had given up on pushing the saucer around the lot like an air hockey puck and retreated to the shade to drink a few more beers. Ashley downshifted as she killed the engine, backfiring to announce her arrival as she coasted into an open parking spot. After a whole day listening to the Esmeets y Joneson's fleet of unmuffled SUVs, they had already started ignoring the constant howl of the damaged exhaust systems and it was nice to hear her familiar tailpipe again.
Sir Pugsley pranced pleasantly onto the back lot, confident that he was there for an important reason, and eager to see if there would be hors d'oeuvres or refreshments of any sort. Ashley swept in close behind. “Gentlemen!” she called, “how was your sausage fest?”
Jeremiah just chuckled and raised his beer for lack of a more coherent greeting. Austin laughed back and raised his beer in response.
“You see Jynx, they are simply lost without us.” Ash turned to address her comrade but found herself alone. “Jynx?”
Still lurking back in the shop, Jynx was cast in shadow and clinging to the shade. With her hood up and her hands stuffed deep in her pockets she lurked, a mere silhouette resisting a proper inspection.
“Well, don't be shy, Jynx honey. Come show off.”
But Jynx didn't move, hesitating before her first step into the light.
“Dammit, Amber!” Ashley muttered, goading her fashion plate.
Jynx wound up and threw the plastic grocery bag of her old clothes at Ash, missing by yards and landing entirely unnoticed on the painted convex hull of her beloved wash scrap. Her shoes hit the surface with a hollow thud. To see the pile of Jynx's discarded laundry spill out over the fresh flames made Jeremiah chuckle just loud enough to make Jynx even more nervous.
“Just take off the hoodie and show them your ensemble.” Ashley smiled proudly at the boys, obviously impressed with her work and pleased to show off the finished product. She gestured dramatically for the big reveal as well as Vanna White, Jeremiah observed.
Jynx didn't budge. “Do I have to?”
“Just once, Jynx, please? You look so cute.”
“Dolls are cute,” she muttered, but obviously nobody cared what she thought about it.
The boys watched Jynx's shadow as she unzipped her hoodie and shrugged it off. While they had already agreed not to say a word about the saucer until someone noticed it, neither of them particularly cared about Jynx's transformation much and their stifled laughter only made her more self-conscious. She smoothed her sundress and thought to check her hair, but like the elaborate manicure, she was afraid to touch it, worried that she might mess it up. Jynx stepped into the lot timidly, looking every bit Ashley’s equal in style and form but without the confidence. In a short floral print sundress and rhinestone studded sandals with hair and makeup, she might have stepped off a teen fashion shoot. Entirely preoccupied with walking for some reason, she awkwardly strolled out to stand beside her mentor. Ashley giggled with delight to see her in the sun and was loving the grimy backdrop as she snapped a few photos. Jynx shied away, so Ashley begged her like a photographer “Give me sultry, I want pouty!” as Jynx tried to knock the phone out of her hand.
Austin and Jeremiah watched as the two of them inadvertently snapped paparazzi photos just a few feet from the actually flying saucer behind them. Austin started snickering first and then Jeremiah couldn’t hold it much longer and they both ended up laughing and pointing in the girls’ general direction.
“Oh, grow up, you two.” Ashley stomped her foot. “Just tell her that she looks nice!”
But this only made the guys laugh harder. “Oh,” Jeremiah nodded and grunted, “she looks good, alright,” still overly proud of his paint job.
Jynx assumed that the laughter was for her, and rightly so. She felt ridiculous and both the guys agreed. She turned to look for her own clothes, ready to run to the bathroom and change. Nearly to the point of tears, she collected a stray sneaker off the front edge of the saucer and stuffed it into the plastic grocery bag.
Jeremiah couldn't help but laugh louder in spite of himself.
“You know what, Germ?” As she scooped a sock up off the painted surface, her fingertips brushed the hull briefly, and she felt the cool static spark of the alien alloy. She turned slowly as the laughter trailed off behind her and dropping her bag, rested both palms on the smooth, sleek surface, wanting to feel it activate, like the tablet, but it didn’t. “You painted it!” she said, leaning against it excitedly. Standing in her little sundress, watching the saucer drift silently away.
Jeremiah stood up from his Lazy Boy, suddenly feeling a little nervous. It was her saucer, after all, and even if he was just having a little practice fun with the paint rig, it did look pretty good. His anxiety grew with her silence. He just wanted to make it look cool.
Ashley had no idea what the hell they all were looking at, still assuming that the wash scrap was a big aluminum box of an awkward size. “What the hell is that?” she asked, pointing at what might have been a speed boat floating in midair.
“Do you like it?” Jeremiah asked.
Jynx crouched down beside it, entirely oblivious to her dress and sandals now. She ran her hand along the clean repair and finally glanced back at Jeremiah as she waved her arms around the space beneath her saucer. “You fixed it!” she grinned. “I love it, Jeremiah!”
He raised an eyebrow and nodded with a lazy smirk.
“Is that thing levitating?” Ashley asked, just starting to understand what they were all staring at. “Jynx, honey, get out from under there.” But Sir Pugsley had joined her, sniffing around beneath the object like a furry little magician’s assistant. “How in the hell is it doing that?” Ash asked.
Jeremiah took a long sip from his beer, watching as Jynx climbed onto the thing and sat on it, laughing. He shook his head slowly. “I have no fucking clue, Smashley.”
Jynx drummed her palms on the hot rod flames between her knees, laughing like a toddler at the hollow ringing of the hull.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Ashley said.
Jeremiah pulled a cigarette from the pack and clenched it between his teeth as he fumbled in his pocket for his lighter. “Why?”
“I bet a laser flow cytometry operator that we’d never find proof of alien life.” She glanced around the lot at the kids playing with their now-working flying saucer and mumbled under her breath. “I think I owe a scientist in San Diego a handy.”