CHAPTER 5 #2
It takes another ten minutes to confirm our route, pay for the tickets, and listen to a short but severe warning about having our identification available at boarding—a problem I’ll solve when I solve my eleven or so other problems first—before we’re back out on the streets of Paris.
Our train doesn’t take off until early tomorrow morning, so I’ve got plenty of time to spiral about what I’m going to tell Paul.
“Okay, first thing’s first. We need to clean up the evidence of your crash landing in the Catacombs,” I say, leading the way back toward the entrance we left only an hour or so ago.
“There should not be much to clean up,” Zarek replies, his voice buoyant and joyful, almost annoyingly so. “My pod is very sleek. There will not be much debris.”
“How did you get underground anyway?” I ask, checking my phone map to make sure I’m still headed in the right direction. “The caverns are mostly made out of limestone.”
“Mostly, but not completely,” he replies easily, bumping into my shoulder as we turn another cobblestone corner.
His skin is still warmer than mine, which I’m now convinced is an alien thing.
“When my travel apparatus malfunctioned, I just happened to hit the surface right on top of a pocket of loose earth. It was luck, really.”
Sure. I’m feeling super lucky.
Muscle memory takes me through the wooden archways and past the same security guard, who does a double take and narrows his eyes at us as I dig my badge out of my pocket.
We have academic visitors all the time, so it’s not totally out of the norm for researchers to bring people without credentials to the site, but I can tell he feels something off about Zarek.
Whatever his reservations, he doesn’t stop us from entering the vestibule. To his credit, Zarek seems to take my no talking rule a bit more seriously. He’s my silent, very tall shadow as we make our way down the rickety stairwell and back from whence we came.
For once, I’m relieved that my team has adopted the French tradition of taking rather long lunches, because our research area is still blessedly empty.
“Okay, plan,” I breathe, finally turning back to Zarek. “You go back down the cavern and clean up the debris from your ship—”
“Pod,” he corrects, wincing as soon as he says it and pressing his lips into a flat line. “Sorry.”
“Clean up the debris from your pod, and I’ll gather my supplies and figure out how to get this dig paused.
” I press my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose, fighting the headache brewing behind my sinuses.
I have zero clue how I’m going to explain this.
I want the information Zarek has more than I’ve wanted most things in my life, but I’m not naive enough to forget that my dissertation is also rather important.
I can’t just take a mini sabbatical; I have to find a reason that the whole team needs to shut down operations for a few days.
“I will be efficient,” Zarek swears, doing some strange motion with his hand that could be interpreted as a salute, which makes me want to roll my eyes. I watch him as he spins on the spot and makes his way down the cavern, not bothering to take a lantern with him. Maybe he doesn’t need one.
Under the harsh glare of the balloon lights, I meticulously collect all personal items, shoving everything not paid for with research funding into my satchel.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to remember what would pause a research venture.
At any other site, discovering unusual human remains would constitute a delay, but obviously unusual human remains is kind of the name of the game here.
Plus, I don’t think I have time to discover something strange and research-changing before everyone returns.
I could feign illness caused by something I unearthed in the catacombs, but then there would be a lot of mandatory health checks and monitoring.
Not ideal for sneaking off on a train with an alien.
I’m still spilling over options when the first voices filter down from the top of the staircase.
Panic seizes my chest as I flicker my eyes down the corridor, staring into the pitch black. Should I run down there and warn Zarek? Do I have time? What explanation could I even provide to Paul to excuse potentially contaminating our dig site?
The gravity of my numerous terrible choices today slams into me as French-lilted laughter and the stale smell of cigarettes spills down the stairwell. Feigning normality, I sit down against one of the light cases and snag my water bottle.
“Elliott?” Paul asks, stopping in his tracks as his eyes land on me. The other four members of our research team mutter behind him, sharing annoyed glances that I’ve become accustomed to. “Did you not leave for lunch?”
I open my mouth to respond, but my mind is blank and my throat is tight. I’ve always been a terrible liar.
“No lunch,” I squeak out, hating how obvious my nerves are. I shake my water bottle at the team like a deranged person. “Good here.”
Paul’s not the only one who raises an eyebrow at me, and I’m starting to realize that I’m going to have to finish the day with my team while Zarek is wandering around in the dark somewhere, just praying to the gods of archaeology and duplicity that I can make it out of here without being institutionalized or worse, fired.
“Is everything—” Paul starts but is interrupted by the sound of falling debris from down the cavern. My heart lodges itself in my throat, beating so hard I feel like I’m being suffocated. If Zarek shows himself, even in his camouflaged form, we’re absolutely fucked. So much for being efficient.
“Allumez vos lanternes,” Paul directs, and everyone except me simultaneously grabs and clicks on their lanterns, pointing them down the cavern. Stop! gets stuck in my throat, because what could I possibly say to make them not check out the disruption?
See, this is why I like rules and structure and a well-designed plan. Shit like this doesn’t happen when you color inside the lines.
When I lift my lantern and peer down the corridor, I see a crumbled wall. Bones and dirt and stone are piled on the floor, about thirty yards from where I’m sitting. But there’s no sign of Zarek.
“Merde,” Lynol, one of my research partners, spits as he sees the mess. “Tout le monde va bien?”
Everyone mutters I’m fine in various languages, and without thinking, I push myself up and walk closer to the mess.
“Elliott, did you notice any other structural issues while we were gone?” Paul asks, the smallest bit of accusation lacing his tone. I guess that’s reasonable—I am acting rather suspicious.
“I heard some noises coming from further down the cavern earlier, but thought I was just hearing things,” I say with a shrug, taking another big swig of my water to give my mouth something to do that’s not blabbing the alien-filled truth. “Should we bring a safety surveyor out?”
A cacophony of multilingual curses is released, but I know they’ll agree.
We take safety seriously down here, if only because dead researchers can’t publish.
Paul gathers everyone under the lights and pulls out his handbook, flipping to the page for safety reports.
I’m about to join them when I see a flicker of something against the cavern wall.
At first it seems like nothing. A trick of the light. But when I look closely, I see it again. Two discs, about the size of nickels, floating about eight inches over my head. They almost look like—
Oh my god. They’re floating contacts. Floating contacts that are currently winking at me.
Once again shell-shocked, I turn to join my research group, not hearing a word they’re saying as I piece together what I saw.
Zarek must be camouflaging himself again, but this time exactly like a chameleon, blending into the earthen wall of the cavern.
The contacts are not from his planet, nor made with his technology, so the camouflaging must not work for them.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
“Elliott, did you hear me?” Paul asks, stooping to look me in the eyes. I blink up at him, trying to erase the look of bewilderment from my face.
“Sorry, just tired,” I explain, my excuse weak on my tongue. I don’t think Paul believes me, but I also think he doesn’t care.
“We are going to pause until the inspection can be completed. Spend the next few days or so writing up your findings. I’ll get in contact with everyone when we can resume.”
I nod, my cheek tucked between my molars again, and turn to copy everyone else packing up their supplies and returning research tools and materials into their designated cases.
It’s quick work, and soon we’re all taking the staircase back up toward daylight.
I bring up the rear of our party, but I can feel the invisible heat of Zarek right behind me.
As the rest of my team chatters about documentation and laments, I slip away from the group and hurry toward the wooden archway of an exit. I earn another raised eyebrow from the security guard, but scurry off before he can say anything.
Once I’m far enough away to not garner further suspicion, I step into the alcove of a closed pub, and wait for my invisible shadow to materialize in front of me.