Transformers: The Cross

Chapter 3 - Aliens

     After Shia forced me through the rain, he locked the door to his garage shed and left me there to return the bat to the house. Surmising that he didn't consider me a threat anymore, I could only stand quietly in the cluttered space and study my surroundings.

     I observed that there were sagging dark spots and holes in the ceiling, which would explain why the place reeked of wet wood and was littered with puddles across concrete floor. On every wall there were shelves of gardening tools, tanks of gasoline, and lots of other machines and outdoorsy stuff. In the center of it all was a gleaming yellow car, of which I wasn't really sure I was seeing.

     Then again I wasn't entirely sure about anything I was seeing.

     I was taking shaky breaths as my brain involuntarily began to recall images of giant robots and flashy sports cars. With each memory that hollow feeling in my chest expanded, almost consuming me.

     It didn't help that it was so tight in here. I could easily walk two steps and touch the hood of the Camaro; the more I thought about doing the action, the more anxious I was feeling, like I was expecting it to jump out and eat me.

     But it just sat there. Motionless. Inanimate. Dead.

     "Why are you looking at my car like that?" Shia's voice boomed, startling me. My eyes bulged, and located him all too quickly. He stood stiffly by the cracked wooden doors of his garage, which I hadn't heard open at all, and glared at me through sopping strands of his dark, curling hair.

     "It's not for sale. You can't drive it."

     I spoke up, trying to keep the trembling from my cold, rattling body out of my voice. "Don't want it."

     Shia paced the garage-shed and finally settled on the hood of his car. I watched him like a hawk, still expecting the car to do something spontaneous like a flip or blast a song from its radio. Nothing happened.

     "Then why did you look so shocked to see it? It's just a car... right?" Shia slapped the hood twice, and I flinched. Twice. My heart thundered in my chest; the overhead lights made the Camaro seem like the only thing in the room.

     "Shi....Sam...I lied to you. About me."

      Satisfaction broadened across his face. Shia stood up straight and his hands slid into the pockets of his hoodie. He chuckled a little before taking a few steps towards me.

     "I know. Being siblings with Trent DeMarco is like...like shooting yourself in the head. Repeatedly. I haven't met anyone that demented since...not to long ago, actually," Shia seemed to reminisce. "And you also said Trent goes to school with me. We've graduated."

     I remained without words, listening to the assault of the rain.

     "How old are you, kid?" Shia inquired.

     "Sixteen," I replied.

     "Then why haven't I ever seen you at school?" He frowned at himself. "Well, obviously not now, but like, when you were a freshman I was a senior, so I should've at least seen you once."

     "I don't live here," I said, not able to meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the rotting wood of the garage.

     "What-what does that mean?" His tone leaking nervousness. I heard his feet shifting upon the ground. "Like are you from another neighborhood, a nearby city? You need me to call your parents?"

     My eyes snapped to his sharply, and my face hardened. There it was. That was the fault in this stupid dream, and that was where I drew the line: my parents. I was going to wake up and wake up now.