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“Welcome back everyone,” Yuki says, opening the door to the lab. “Sorry about the delayed excursion today. We had a combination of technical difficulties last night and vacation brain running rampant.”

“It was mostly vacation brain, by the way,” her assistant calls from his desk in the back. “Like ninety percent.”

“For those of you not in the know, the two of us went on a much needed vacation back in late July, Yuki explains, “the first extended one in two or three years. Needless to say, we still haven’t fully recovered. But we’re back now and ready to get going again.”

The assistant approaches with a grin and escorts everyone to the Void. “We’re continuing on with the trip to the world of the two space pirates from planet Earth…I mean, they’re not exactly pirates at the moment, but we’ll get there.”

***

1.

Barbara and Mitchell Starbrook stare up at the night sky after a filling dinner, attention diverted from a pleasant conversation while sitting on the front porch by a meteor shower. Had they even been casual viewers of the news, they’d have known about it weeks ago, so it’s a welcome surprise to help wind down for the evening. As they look overhead, the two are blissfully unaware at that exact moment, their son is passing by in orbit—his last day in space with his lifelong companion. Both wish they had known about the astronomical wonder and prepped for a meal outside and wish that Chris was home to witness the event with them. For all Mitchell and Barbara knew, he was watching along at this moment from his vacation spot.

2.

Contrary to this hopeful thought, Chris and Stacia are in the middle of a rather tense game of Risk. The last night in space is trivial compared to the planet-gazing of the past few days—winding down before getting to the (relative) norms of everyday life.

“Man!” Chris sighs and leans back on the floor, “Half a dozen games with you over the summer and I haven’t landed one victory over you.”

“Yeah. You really do suck at this game,”Stacia mocks in a way that doesn’t make Chris want to crawl in a hole and die (he, instead, wings a pillow at her face and scores a direct hit).

“The battle may be lost, but the war is far from over,” he counters.

Stacia cracks her knuckles. “Ooh, you’re gonna get it now,” she growls and wiggles her fingers at the boy.

“Oh, shit!”

Chris scrambles for safety but is caught in the midst of climbing to his feet. He’s tackled and brought down to the sofa on his back. The taller, stronger woman takes the pillow and shoves it down on his face. As he tries to remove it, his stomach and sides are unprotected and completely at her mercy. She uses her left hand and tickles him into a laughing fit. His muffled howls are music to her ears. Only a few seconds pass until he begs her to let up.

Stacia turns her ear to him and chimes, “I’m sorry, is that the sound of defeat?” She relieves some pressure on his face.

“Yes! Yesss!” he cries. “I give, I give! Lemme up!”

She does not.

“Please! Oh my god, I’m gonna pee my pants!”

Stacia ceases the onslaught, but still has Chris pinned.

“Only if you admit I am the Queen of Risk.”

“You’re the Queen of Risk!”

“And that I am a primo captain of space flight.”

“You’re the most excellent space pilot!”

“And I’m the best friend you’ve ever had.”

“You’re the best!”

“You’re my inferior.”

”I am!” Chris admits through start and stop giggles. “Now, for real, I gotta pee!”

Stacia rolls off her friend and lets him back to his feet. “Alright, go to the bathroom; don’t stain the cushions.”

Chris rises and makes two large strides to the toilet.

Stacia checks the clock and decides now is the best time to start a late night movie. Dinner will take too long, what with the game running long and all. The next extended trip up will come in no time…so, what the hell, let’s pig out on junk food tonight! She raids the pantry and refrigerator and sets it all on the table after boxing the game pieces.

3.

Deep inside the air ducts, behind the hidden artifact, a sludgy buildup is growing. It pools as much as possible near the glowing object, its light dimmed considerably since it first came to life a few days prior. No heat is emitted, but still the slurry keeps close by.

4.

Chris watches as the sea of stars and the expansive darkness between them gives way to shades of blue passing from the mesosphere to the stratosphere. He instinctively grips his armrests as the wave of turbulence on the descent overwhelms him.

“You doing okay?” Stacia asks, seeing him braced for impact in her peripheral.

“Trying,” he says through gritted teeth. “When does it get easier?”

“Once you’re doing it on a regular basis. Few times a week for months at a time,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“Good, that soon?” The sarcasm is tremendous.

“You can do it.”

“I’ve never regretted eating so much candy before.”

To his ultimate relief, Chris does not wind up vomiting in his helmet. The cold sweat across his brow can attest to how close that really was to happening. The ship steadies and his death grip releases. When they pass through the low-hanging expanse of clouds, Chris gets the first view of his hometown since departing a week prior.

“Man, I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see this place,” he muses to himself.

“I know what you mean,” Stacia agrees, “even with all the places I’ve been to. I’ve never stayed in one place this long before.”

This little nugget of information astonishes Chris. “Are we gonna need to get you some beer?” Chris asks.

“I think I’ll be fine. I lived on Rhaecus ‘til I was a teenager. But we moved around a bunch before going off-world. And when I became part of a crew, we never stayed in one spot more than a week or two. It was great, don’t get me wrong, all those beautiful planets and people. Would’ve been nice to come back to a home anchored in one location. That’s the pirates’ life for you.” Stacia groans inwardly at her last statement.

Chris grins at her like a Cheshire cat.

“I was a cook. The others were pirates.”

“Okay,” Chris doesn’t push the subject further and hides a snicker.

The lights declaring artificial gravity is active switch off and they descend to the cave below, hidden from Earthling radar.

“That’s one vacation down,” Chris states, stretching and yawning. “Not gonna lie, it’s gonna suck not being able to take you with us. What do you think you’ll be up to?”

“I haven’t really put much thought into that,” Stacia answers. “I’ll be stuck in the house waiting to be fed. Whoever your mom and dad get better not hang around too long. I’ve been enjoying my time as a human again.” She makes to move from her seat, but Chris lays his hand on her arm.

“Wait a minute,” he says with a sparkle in his eye, “I got it; you will be the pet sitter.”

Stacia looks at Chris like he’s got bugs crawling from his ears. “Not sure how that’s supposed to work.”

“Easy. You just age yourself down to a high-schooler. We introduce you to Mom and Dad as the new kid in town, right? Looking to earn a few more bucks to put away for college or whatever. You’re my friend and I wanna hook you up with an easy gig. You show up the morning we leave, and—bam!—you can do whatever you want while we’re away.”

Stacia looks to give the idea a serious thought and replies, “That’s pretty good, really. And it’ll give us a good test run for when you get out of school.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Luna’s already lived a good full life with your family…she’s not gonna live forever. Whatever you want to do after you graduate, I want to help you on your way.”

Chris smiles. “Thanks, Stace.”

They exit the ship and start on the walk back to Chris’ Sunbird.

“Hey, Stace?”

“Hey, what?”

“You could’ve bolted at any time with us. Or played dead and moved on—why didn’t you?”

“Because I care about you guys, doy. Playing dead wasn’t an option. How do you explain a zombie cat rising from the grave? Chances are someone would’ve caught me, especially since your mom would’ve put me near the front garden bed.”

5.

Chris and Luna return home to Mom and Dad with welcome hugs and chin scratchies and plenty of questions about the trip. Aside from having to make up details about the forested location, he doesn’t have to conjure up his excitement and hammering in how magnificent the scenery was and how much he didn’t want to go back to work the next day.

“At least you get to wind down for a full day,” Mitchell offers. “And then you get to turn right around a take another vacation!”

I know—glad I don’t have school, too,” Chris says and takes the opportunity to discuss his plans to reduce his hours at Toys R Us for senior year.

“I didn’t even know you wanted to go to college,” Barbara says, surprised. “What do you want to study?”

“I dunno,” Chris answers truthfully. “I’m still thinking about that. I’m not a hundred percent sure I want to go, but I’ll have options available. I was talking to Steph about it in class before summer vacation. Even if I don’t know when I start, I can at least go with gen-ed courses that have to be taken.”

“You shopping around for loans?” his dad asks. “Pretty expensive, isn’t it?”

“It can be. But that’s what the grades in senior year will help with: grants and scholarships. And I have some money saved up.”

His dad looks impressed. “You’ve really done your homework on this.”

“Not really,” Chris admits and scoops Luna back up into his arms. “All the juniors had an assembly about going to college, SATs, ACTs, loans, all that stuff. Oh! Speaking of school,” he segues, “I got a new classmate late in the year—you haven’t got anyone to feed Luna yet, right?”

Mitchell shakes his head and Barbara confirms that.

“Well, Stacey is looking for a little extra cash to go into her savings, too. She said she’d be willing to pop by and make sure she’s okay. Every little bit helps.”

“Yeah, that’d be fine,” Barbara says, no questions asked.

“Cool. We were gonna hang out after work sometime this week. I can bring her around and you can show her what all needs to be done?”

Both of his parents agree to this plan.

“Awesome. I’ll be right back—going to get unpacked now.”

6.

Back in the ship, Jules is running all the diagnostics as his programming dictates after any lengthy journey. Nothing serious thus far. Power was still above fifty percent. After cooldown and the evaluation runs its course, he let the solar panel charger untether from stern and begin charging from the cave’s rear entrance. In his opinion, the test flight around the solar system was good news for extended travel; lying dormant for years had not adversely affected any of the routine operations and parts. He’ll still recommend to Stacia that she physically check any and everything she could and see about going in for routine service—if that is at all possible given their current situation. As they are in a completely different universe, some items may not be available for purchase (or plunder).

One thing that did bother Jules was that if all ships were, in fact, registered to this Galactic Order…well, that could lead to some trouble down the line if an honest mechanic flagged them as suspicious.

Perhaps there is a way back. All travel details are logged and archived and it is theoretically possible to calculate a return point through a wormhole, but at great risk of the crew and the ship itself. Calculations of that scope may be out of his range, but it is worth trying, is it not? The revelation of interdimensional journey had severe impact on his captain, even if she doesn’t speak of it outwardly—her actions, manner of speaking, and so on changed enough for him to pick up on.

Finding the particular travel log is almost instantaneous. The ship had seldom travelled since the captain took unauthorized control. That trip out and through the wormhole was the first ever for the vessel.

Jules decides that once the batteries have been fully recharged he will start to run the calculations—however long that may take.

7.

Unbeknownst to Jules, within the air ducts, the sludgy buildup around the artifact continues to gain mass. Somewhere in the mess, neurons begin to fire and its first conscious thought is formed.
Stacia…

8.

Chris’ first shift back to work isn’t a bad one. No demanding customers or snotty kids ruining his freshly zoned aisles or managers walking over each other with conflicting tasks for him to complete. He feels energized and is able to get more reshop and pulls from the back done than he has in weeks.

Guess I really did need that vacation, he thinks. The only thing is, he’s feeling the way he did in class a few months ago, like based on what he’s just seen—where he’s been…this job isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. It’s so trivial. So much is out there for him to see and do than put up Barbie dolls and WWE action figures. Now’s a better time than ever, he feels, to let HR know that he’ll be cutting down his working days.

It’s a quick five minute conversation and they don’t try too hard to convince him to keep his schedule the way it is. Chris tells them once the next summer break rollls around he’ll be on his normal forty hour rotation—but keeps to himself he may very well be out of town before that can happen.

It’s a big company; they’ll live.

The relief of getting that out of the way helps push aside those intrusive existential crisis thoughts and allows him to get past the last few hours without distraction. Between tasks he rushes to the break room and jots down his printed schedule all the way to his rostered vacation. Chris studies his hours and off days and tries to decide on when to introduce Stacia—Stacey—to his parents.

Chris arrived home at five in the evening, briefly greets his mom and dad, and retreats to his room to get out of his work clothes. He tosses the blue polo shirt and khakis on his bed and puts on his Cowboy Bebop shirt and a black pair of cargo shorts.

Gentle paw pads brush patiently at his door. Once he’s decent, Chris opens it enough for the little cat to slink in. He takes the notes from his discarded pants and reads out his work times as Stacia transforms and dresses.

“I figure Wednesday will be the best time to ‘introduce’ you. It’ll give us time to work on your look and get some clothes.”

“Work on my look?” Stacia says with faux crossness. “I’ve never been in a beauty pageant, but I’m sure I look damn good.”

“For a sorority girl, maybe,” Chris replies, rolling his eyes, “for a high schooler, definitely not.”

Stacia crosses her arms. “What do you suggest?”

Chris studies her and considers this. “We can start with losing some of your muscles; that might help some.”

“Hmm…let’s see.” Stacia closes her eyes and holds her arms away from her body.
Chris watches closely as the well-toned muscles on her arms and legs start to shrink down.

“A little more.”

The shirt Stacia is wearing loosens more. Her shorts start to dip at her left hip.

“A second longer—okay, stop!”

Stacia opens her eyes and looks over her form. “I’m a string bean!”

“Yeah, but you look like most of the girls that play basketball or volleyball at school.” He gets in closer and studies her face.

She looks away. “Something else?”

“Maybe some pimples or a light splotch?”

“Man, I thought I’d never have to see them again,” Stacia sighs.

“It’s not for long, at least.”

This time the transformation is instantaneous. “How’s that?”

Chris studies the red-pink spots near Stacia’s nose and around her chin and forehead, all with varying stages of ripeness (the one near her hairline looks particularly angry).

“Perfect. Man, this isn’t taking anywhere near as long as I was thinking.”

Stacia looks over her body again and gently touches her face like she’s trying to read braille. “Yeah, same.” And before Chris has any idea what’s happening, Stacia pulls her shirt up and says, “You think these are too big to go along with skinny me?”

Chris does his damnedest not to stare and—regrettably—looks away. “They’re fine! I mean, yeah, I guess they could come down a cup size.”

She holds her shirt up by tucking her chin into her neck and grabs the undersides of her breasts and holds them up. “I have no idea how much that is or what size they are here. Do you?”

A jolt sizzles down Chris’ spine. ”Why would I know that!?”

Stacia lets her shirt fall down and cover her. “I guess I’ll need all new sized clothes, too, eh?”

Chris nods and turns back to her. “That’s fine. I have some money free for a few outfits.”

“I guess I should get a bra, too,” Stacia ponders and grabs her chest again.

“We’ll get you three!” Chris says and turns away again.

9.

The next day, Chris takes Stacia to Crowley’s Point to visit the mall. It’s three towns over and out of the way for most of his friends and other classmates—the less questions asked about the attractive girl with him, the better. A similar build to their own and has many of the same stores, so no real reason for any of them to travel that far.

Claire’s, Forever 21, Old Navy—none of these clothing options gel with Stacia at all. They are on the way to JC Penny at the far end of the east wing of the shopping center when Stacia sees a store that looks vastly different from the girly ones perused so far.

“Ooh, let’s try that one!” Stacia says with glee and pulls Chris along.

“What? That one?”

It’s a new store Chris has only heard about in passing from a handful of freshman goth kids. Mainly they lamented at the fact there isn’t one in walking distance.

One thing is for certain to Chris: it’s a breath of fresh air compared to the other shops. Dimly lit, not suffocating in thick colognes or perfumes, and not blasting cheesy pop or club music. The people behind the counter give simple hellos and don’t beat them over the head with preppy hard salesmanship. They’re more chill and don’t look like the assholes that spend free time giving nerds’ swirlies in the bathroom. Maybe Hot Topic is the right store for Stacia.

The gleam in Stacia’s eyes tells him she may have found her place, as well.
JNCO jeans, black and red plaid pants are situated at the front half of the room; all kinds of jewelry for body piercings outline the square counter in the middle of the shop; band shirts line the walls on the left and the right; records, CDs, and tapes (most of which Chris has never heard of) are in short aisles behind the the clerks; trench coats dominate the racks further in and the far wall displays a number of fishnet and mesh outfits and boots with studs and chains.

An image of Stacia wearing some of the latter items invades Chris’ conscious mind and arouses him immediately.

I think I like this place, too.

“See anything you like?” Chris asks, his voice breaking.

“Lots. You, too, apparently,” she says, flashing him a knowing grin. “I’m gonna try on a few things. I want some of your thoughts.”

“Me? I—uh,” Chris stammers.

“I’m not asking you to come in the changing room with me!” she says, flipping the price tag of a black tank top. She grimaces. “How much money you got?”

“Enough,” Chris assures her. “It is my treat, after all—a gratuity for our lovely catsitter.”

“Aww, how sweet! I’ll pay you back for sure.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Says the woman who took me to space for a week. You’re good, really.”

He watches as his friend goes through the shop and gathers a handful of shirts and pants in a range of sizes.

“Grab some shoes. Those don’t really go with any of what you’ve got.”

Hearts practically flare in Stacia’s eyes and she wraps Chris in a bear hug.

Twenty-odd minutes later, Stacia has her sizes in all clothing and takes what she needs to the register with Chris’ help. Bags in hand, they stop off at the food court for a snack and work out the next steps of the plan. The conversation starts out casually over burgers and fries and develops into a discussion about Stacey’s backstory. Since there’s a good chance the subject will come up, they figure it’s good to have all the kinks worked out.

10.

And it is a good thing they do. Barbara gets into the nitty-gritty right away. “I haven’t seen you around here,” she says, “have you been around here long?”

“A few months,” Stacey replies and shrugs. “I’m still getting used to being here—away from my friends.”

“I’m sorry. Where’d your family move from?”

“Crowley’s Point.”

“Aww, that’s not so bad then. You can still visit them at least.”

“Yeah. It’s weird not seeing them every day in class though. Once I get my license and a car, it’ll be better, for sure.”

“A good thing you moved at the end of the school year, then,” Chris adds.

Mitchell points out, looking at Chris, “And you’ve already made some new friends here—ones that trust you enough to look after their pet.”

“I know! And I can’t wait to meet Luna. Is she around?”

Chris takes this one. “She went out back awhile ago. She might be lazing out in the sun. We can go see her in a minute.”

“Do you have any pets?” Barbara asks.

“We had a cat when I was little. His name was Snow—little fluffy white Persian. He died when I was in middle school.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago—and we had a blast when he was around. So it’ll be good to be able to look after a cat for a week.”

They all take a break to head around back where Luna is, predictably, absent. In lieu of the first meeting with the cat, Barbara gives the teen the grand tour of the house and property.

“You’ll usually see Luna lying around by the front door or anywhere in the back yard. Bedroom’s down the hall, bathroom’s there,” Barbara points to the door halfway down the corridor. “Best to leave Chris’ door open; she likes to sleep on his bed at night.”

“How cute!” Stacey chimes at Chris.

“Otherwise, she’ll just sit outside the door and keep yelling and pawing at it.” She leads Stacey and Chris into the kitchen and opens up the pantry. “Plenty of food in here. Have what you want, same with what’s in the fridge.” She taps a piece of paper held up by a magnet that reads: Paramount’s Kings Island along the bottom with a photo of the blue Eiffel Tower at the far end of International Street. “This might sound weird, but Luna does not eat cat food. There’s none in the house. All that you see on this list is perfectly fine for her to have, and it’s all in here now. Be sure to clean her dishes, she hates it if they’re dirty.”

“Don’t we all,” Stacey says, trying her best not to laugh.

“And there are blankets up in the closet if you want to have a nap on the couch—only if you feel like it. She does love company and hates being alone.”

“Yeah, that should be alright. I’ll do my best to make sure she’s comfy.”

“I’m pretty sure Luna will be fine without us for a week,” Chris assures her.

“She’ll still miss you,” Stacey replies and puts one arm around his shoulders and gives him a little squeeze. “Guaranteed. But I know she won’t be anxious as much with me around.”

“Thank you, Stace.”

“No problemo.”

11.

Barbara and Mitchell round out the tour of the homestead and walk Chris and Stacey out to the front. Since Luna is a no-show, the teens decide to take Chris’ car and head out to a movie. He says he’ll try to be home in time for dinner.

The kids wave as they drive out of sight toward Crowley’s Point.

Mitchell looks over at his wife and studies her face for a brief moment. He knows the expression all too well (as he should after twenty-plus years of marriage. He gazes at the road again and says, “He’ll be fine. Luna, too.”

“Yeah, I know…” Barbara lets out a sigh. “Something about her…”

Mitchell grins. “Those kinds of kids were around when we were their age—more color to the wardrobe, back then. But they were hanging around when we were in the arcades and playing D&D—no difference, really.”

Barbara cocks her head at her husband. “You played Dungeons and Dragons?”

“I…yeah. Right before we met…and when you were busy with practice after school.”

“All you told me was you were just ‘hanging out’.”

“We were…in Pete Davinsky’s basement, rolling dice with character sheets…sometimes in makeshift costumes.”

Barbara gives her husband a bemused look. “Nerd.”

“I landed a date with the hottest cheerleader on the squad,” Mitchell says, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist, “and I wasn’t about to piss that away with details.”

She whispers, “Neeerd.”

The two retreat into the house and run toward the bedroom—after all, Chris wouldn’t be back for another couple hours at least.

12.

Later in the evening, Chris and Stacia—still in her younger form—walk out of the Crowley’s Point Village Cinema more sluggish than they’d gone in.

“Man, you’d think a movie that’s both a western and sci-fi would have been better than that,” Stacia wonders aloud.

Chris breathes deep and exhales. “Oh, thank god! Yes! That was the worst ten bucks I ever spent.”

“The best part of the whole thing were the snacks we snuck in!” The goth teen stops short of the Sunbird in the parking lot. “Were you pretending to like the movie ‘til now?”

Chris laughs and shrugs and flashes a cheesy grin.

“Why?”

“I—wanted you to have a good time at least before we left you alone for a week.”

Stacia walks over to Chris without a word and puts him in a headlock and gives him a noogie. “I had a blast hanging out with you! Even if the flick is a piece of shit.”

Chris playfully, albeit halfheartedly, fights off the goth girl. “Okay! Okay! You pick the one we see when we get back!”

“Good idea,” Stacia chuckles and lets her friend loose. “Next time we stick to a movie with one distinct genre. That new Keanu one looks pretty sweet.”

“We did enjoy Speed,” Chris reasons. “We can go the day we get back.”

“It’s a date!” Stacia beams

Chris keeps it to himself, but he’s excited as all hell for the next trip to the theater. He unlocks the doors to the Pontiac and the two drive home, making sure to hit a drive-thru along the way. Stacia finishes her meal and becomes Luna again as they enter Chris’ street. He lets the calico slip out the passenger door while he gathers all of her clothes into a Barnes & Noble shopping bag. In the other hand he takes the wadded-up McDonalds bag and tosses it into the trash on his way up the sidewalk.

Chris opens the front door and pokes his head in. Seeing that the coast is clear, he hustles Luna in. From his parents’ room, he hears a rerun of M*A*S*H and reckons it’ll be safe for the rest of the evening. Even so, he leans down to Luna and whispers, “My room door’s open a crack, go on in and get your pj’s on; I’ll grab us some tea.”

Luna nuzzles his leg as she slinks around him and soundlessly bounds down the hall and disappears into the dark of bedroom. Chris then makes a hasty walk to the bathroom and stashes the clothes bag under the sink—a safe place to store them while Stacia was getting dressed. After shutting the sink cabinet, Chris picks out two cups and fills them with sweet tea in the refrigerator. He picks up the glasses and starts his way to the bedroom.

Just as he’s ready to step out of the kitchen, his mother walks around the corner from the hall.

“Hey, bud,” she says quietly, adjusting her robe, “how was the movie?”

“Better luck next time,” Chris replies with a smile, not wanting to focus on the negativity of the showing.

Please don’t notice the cups. Please don’t notice the cups.

His mom immediately looks down at his hands.

Dammit.

“What have you got those for?” She lowers her voice even more, “Do we have a visitor?” Her lip curls up in a conspiratorial smirk.

“Huh? No! Only Luna. She followed me in. I poured me a glass a minute ago and forgot I already had one from this morning. Saves me from getting a refill later.”

His mom considers this and casts a glance down the hall, no doubt checking his still-ajar door and the dark room. From somewhere within, Luna chirps curiously.

“Okay,” she concedes, with no further inquiries into the matter. “I’m going back to bed.” Barbara turns around and walks back. She stops. “You didn’t put your bag away from your trip, did you?”

“M-mm,” Chris shakes his head. “Didn’t see the point.”

“Okay. I got some sunscreen and a new beach towel for you. You can put them in tomorrow.”

“Cool. I already packed some clothes.”

His mom nods and continues back toward her room. “Night.”

“G’night.”

As the door closes behind her, Chris lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He holds his place for a few more seconds, allowing Stacia a chance to change back and get some clothes on. He counts to twenty real slow and makes his way to the room. He puts one of the glasses on his TV stand and closes the door before putting the lights on.

And there he sees Stacia, in her younger form, no clothes on.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Chris says harshly, mindful enough to keep his voice down.

“I wanted to check out this body. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked like this!”

“Couldn’t you have done that at Hot Topic?”

“I didn’t think about that. I was only trying on the clothes to see if they fit—I already knew I wanted them.”

“How were you even able to see in here?”

Stacia puts on her pajamas and spins around, pointing to her eyes; they are still Luna’s. The color begins to shift and they revert to her normal human eyes.

“…Cool.”

13.

The night before the family trip, Stacia decides to surprise Chris with a gift and even has it gift wrapped, fresh from Barbara’s stash in the spare room.

“Aww, you didn’t have to get me anything, Stace,” Chris says, grinning ear-to-ear. He tears off the wrap and tissue paper. “Where’d you even get the money to—” he stops and pulls out the familiar black radio.

“Fully charged from the ship,” Stacia explains, “should easily last you the entire time in standby. You can get in touch any time. I’ll always have mine next to me, so if you’re not near a phone we can talk.”

“I don’t think I can go a whole day without speaking with you,” Chris thinks out loud. Realizing this, clolor creeps up on his cheeks.

“Same, kiddo,” she replies.

“I’ll check in at the rest stops and when we get to the condo, for sure.”

Stacia tussles Chris’ hair. “Speaking of paying for stuff. When we do move out, I think it’d be best for both of us if I get a job, too.”

“You sure?”

“Believe it or not, staying around the house year after year can get pretty boring, especially when there’s no one around to talk to. Work might suck, but it’s better than isolation.”

“You haven’t been around parents and kids at Christmas…but yeah, I get it. Might have to do some under the table work ‘til we can find a way to get you some ID.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Chris yawns. “Best we should get some sleep. It’s gonna be a fun trip, but it’ll go on forever at the same time.”

“Tell me about it,” Stacia agrees. She puts down the mirror and walks over to the bed, pulling the sheets aside. “You take the bed tonight. You’ll be sitting in a car all day tomorrow.”

Chris takes her arm and leads her in. “There’s room for two in this now,” he observes, smiling.

They crawl into bed and drift off to sleep as soon as they pull the covers up.

14.

It’s not the alarm clock that wakes Chris in the morning, nor is it the smell of breakfast cooking—it’s the sound of glass breaking and an ungodly crash. Chris bolts upright from a deep sleep. He feels Stacia throwing off her blankets behind him. His legs are wobbly and his eyelid are weighed down by sleep. Despite this, his heart and mind are racing. He has no clue what is going on.

Chris wrenches his bedroom door open and rushes down the hall. Only one step out of his room and he can see dozens of shards of glass sparkling on the hardwood floor in the early morning sunlight. The coffee table legs are splintered and jutting out from under the body like broken bones. On it, sprawled out, is the unmoving form of his dad.

As he breaches the threshold of the hall to the living room, a searing pain erupts on his left side and he’s sent sailing toward the front door and lands just short of it. His right elbow is on fire from the impact and he struggles to catch his breath.

The sound of bare feet running down the hall registers in his brain.

Stacia!

Chris swivels his neck in time to see his friend bound out of the hall and leap at the intruder—currently standing in the kitchen. She roars in her human voice with such a ferocity that it genuinely frightens him. Stacia swings a right hand hard enough to shatter brick, but the man evades with precision.

He’s an ugly bastard, too. Like the skin on his head wasn’t formed properly or scorched with fire or something. Wisps of translucent hair sway from odd patches around the malformed skull.

What the hell?

Chris’ eyes follow Stacia when she pounces again at the man and he notices a splatter on the far kitchen wall and focuses on it. At first he thinks it’s either jam or juice—which makes sense considering the broken glass…but there’s nothing on the floor with the shattered remains. The realization slowly dawns on him as he pushes himself up from the ground. He breaks out in a cold sweat and his stomach cramps.

It’s blood.

***

“Holy crap,” the assistant whispers in the background. “That took a dark turn.”

“But not entirely unexpected,” Yuki states. “That artifact is quite something. A specimen worth studying for sure…”

“Well, since we can’t do that, I have something else for you,” the assistant says, handing over some papers to Yuki. “Picked up some interesting readings from the town of Crowley’s Point, unrelated to our current trips.”

Yuki thumbs through the sheets, eyes widening. “Oh, we are definitely coming back to this place.” A smile creeps up on her face. She hands them back to the assistant. “Make sure these are put into the cabinet with the others for further viewing.” She turns back to everyone else. “As with before, once we get some more funding, we’ll be able to provide you an extended trip to this world. And since we’re now officially back in the spooky season, we’ll try to have a special trip ready for the end of October, so be sure to keep an eye out for that. In the meantime, take care everyone, and we’ll see you for the next trip through the Void!”

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