Eruption

Attack

   Three hours later, just as the stars were beginning to fade for the day, Jake left his cousin-in-the-ocean, un-velcroed his legs and wearily stood. It took only a quick moment to reestablish his air-breathing, his lungs expanding with a gasp, then beginning a regular rhythm. He splashed through the breaking waves toward shore to reclaim his clothes.    "And just where have you been, young man?"
    Groaning, Jake turned his back on his mother and pulled on his swim trunks. Shivering in the early morning air, he put on his rash-guard t-shirt, too, and slicked back his hair with a hand. When he turned, he sidestepped a pale ghost crab that scuttled across his path, then flopped down beside Mom. She was small and athletic, with dark curly hair.
    Sand clung to his wet legs and toes, and he absently brushed at it. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the sky. Dawn slowly lightened the horizon, and mother and son watched as their star, Turco, faded and disappeared, leaving only Venus, the morning star to twinkle at them. In the distance, a couple helicopters droned toward them, probably an early morning patrol—a common sight on the Gulf coast.
    Jake leaned forward, suddenly passionate. "Mother, it's an amazing ocean. So much to see and explore and—"     He stopped. The conversation had been repeated too many times, he shouldn’t start it again.
    "It's not our ocean. And you were forbidden to go for a swim like that. What will your father say?"
    A pang shot through Jake. He didn't want his father to be mad, but the last year living at the Obama Moon Base on the waterless moon had been torture. He had longed for water and now that they had this week's vacation at Gulf Shores, Alabama—he couldn't stay out of the water, he wouldn’t.
    "What will we do, Mom?"
    Fiercely, she hugged him, and the smell of Risonian seaweed which always hung over her was an odd, yet comforting perfume. "We will fight for a place for our people. We will make a new home here on Earth. But, Jake, we must do this slowly. You can't just take off and explore whenever you like." She stopped, her mouth in a tight line.
    Jake knew the arguments she wanted to repeat, had repeated endlessly the last few days, and was glad she restrained herself.
    "What are you two doing out so early?"
    Dad's baritone voice boomed from the boardwalk behind them.
    Scrambling up, Mom rearranged her face into a smile, linked her arm with Jake's and waved and called merrily, "Come and join us for a walk on the beach. Maybe we'll find a shell or two.”
    "Great idea. I set out the steaks for breakfast. A walk will work up our appetites," Dad said. He was olive-skinned, fit and trim, with just a hint of grey at the temples. His dark eyes twinkled and he pulled his military-issue sunglasses from the top of his head, slipped them on, and turned east toward the sunrise.
    When he reached them, Mom turned her face up and Dad scooped her into a fierce hug.
    Jake turned away, embarrassed. It had been like this all week, like he had been in the middle of a private romance story and was the outsider here. It was uncomfortable, too, because he was forced to see his mother in a new light. Back home on the planet Rison, Jake had lived with his mom and step-father, Swann Quadde. He’d always known that Swann wasn’t his father, but only two years ago he had learned that his real father was an Earthling.
    Mom had explained it as an aside, “You’re going to go live on the Earth’s moon on the Obama Moon Base with your real father, Lt. Commander Blake Rose. He’s has made arrangements for you to lodge with him.”
    Jake was given no choice: he was evacuated from Rison, whether he wanted it or not. And Dad had been a total surprise in many ways.
    Behind him, Jake heard Dad’s gruff voice, “Dayexi—so beautiful.”
    His mom laughed—as she hadn’t in a long, long time.
    Tired from his long swim, Jake sank to the soft sand, and stretched out in the early morning sun, one arm pillowing his head and the other covering his eyes.
    But his mother kicked sand onto his legs and said, "No naps. We’ll walk, and then we’ll eat steak and eggs, and then you can—”
    A phone rang, a jangling noise against the rhythmic surf. Mom stopped, her nose wrinkled deep with worry. Risonians were so close in anatomy to Earthlings that it took a casual observer a while to notice the nuances. Of course, Risonians had underarm gills and the Velcro-like legs, but you didn’t see that at a glance. Instead, there was something was different in their faces, like the epicanthic fold that created an Asian eye. Risonians had a slight wrinkle on the bridge of the nose, a sharper chin, slightly bigger eyes. When Mom was worried, her nose wrinkled deepened. She turned away to answer her satellite phone.
    Mom had been allowed a week’s vacation, with the provision that she was on-call and couldn't go anywhere without the phone, the latest in communication technology. Surprisingly, it had been silent for four days, giving them four days of peace, of being together as a family, four days for Jake to live with both his Mom and his Dad. Jake knew it was a strange thing for his mother and father to be together, especially since she was married to someone else on Rison. But he didn’t care, because well, they were his parents and in spite of everything, this week had seemed right. These four days were like a glassy sea with no wind, strange, yet peaceful. A calm space—a time set apart.
    Now, Jake was filled with a sense of foreboding.
    Dad pulled off his sunglasses and stood with his head bowed as he listened to Mom’s side of the conversation.
    "Yes sir,” she said. “Right away, sir."
    And Jake knew: the family vacation was over.
    Dad raised an eyebrow at Mom.
    A flash of fear passed over Mom’s face, and she nodded at the approaching helicopters. “Anti-Sharks. They’re coming for me.”
    Dad sprang into action, his years as a Navy officer taking over. He kissed her—fiercely—then thrust her away.
    “Into the water. I doubt they’ve seen us yet, they are still out of range. We’ll distract them. You know what to do.”
    Dad gripped Jake’s shoulder and they fast-walked up to the board walk and then to their three-story beach house. “Hurry. No slip-ups.”
    Passing the grill, Dad clicked the electric lighter, and the flame sprang up. By the time they got things cleared up inside, Dad could be out here grilling their breakfast steaks.
    Inside the dim beach house, Jake spun around, searching for anything that would say a woman had been here for the last four days. Mom had brought almost nothing with her, and she was meticulous, keeping everything that belonged to her in a tiny bag that Dad would take care of. Jake shoved a glossy women’s magazine amidst the other magazines in a basket. Otherwise, she had never been here.
    “I’ll change.” Jake sprinted to his room and pulled on long flannel pajama pants to hide his velcro-legs.
     Dad grabbed Mom’s one bag, stopped in the kitchen for the package of steaks, seasoning and tools. He grabbed the trash bag from under the sink that was full of shrimp shells from their seafood feast the night before. Racing outside, he dumped the steak stuff by the grill, and then dropped Mom’s bag in the smelly trash bag, wrapped a twist-tie around the top, and dumped it into the trash can.
    At the grill, Jake ripped open the white butcher paper to reveal three small steaks. Three. That was easy to explain though, what with Jake’s appetite.
    On the beach, the helicopter dropped lower and the sound of its blades whomp-whomped louder and louder. Five men dropped on ropes to the sand, machine guns tucked under their arms and wearing helmets and kevlar vests. Touching down, they spread out and trotted toward the beach house.
    Dad calmly sprinkled lemon salt and pepper on the steaks, then turned to face the oncoming soldiers.
    The lead soldier called, “Where is she?”
    “What’s going on?” Dad replied in his best commander voice. “I am Navy Commander Rose and this is my son, Jake Rose. Is this a military operation? Am I needed back at the Obama Moon Base? You could have called, you know.”
    The soldier hesitated, then motioned for the others to stop. Quietly, he said something into a headset.
    Jake admired Dad’s cool manner, appreciated that his direct approach had managed to stymy them. Any delay helped give Mom more time to swim farther out. Jake wasn’t sure, but he thought if she was in too shallow water, they might be able to use heat-sensors to find her.
     “I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” the soldier said. “But we’ve had a suspicious report.” He tilted his head slightly, listening to the headset. Then he squared his shoulders. “Commander, sir. My orders are to search this beach house.”
    “For what?” Commander Rose sounded outraged. “My son and I are on vacation from the Moon Base and we were just about to have steak and eggs for breakfast. What sort of reports? What are you looking for?”
    Apologetic, the soldier said, “Sharks.”
    Jake couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Sharks live in the ocean, not in a beach house.” He remembered the sleek skin of his swimming companion that morning. Why were Risonians nicknamed Sharks? They weren’t anything alike.
    “Risonians, sir.” The soldier’s voice turned hard.
    Dad’s voice was equally hard and his eyes flashed. “And just who are you, anyway? Special ops? Or just a vigilante group, anti-Sharks taking illegal guerrilla actions?”
    “Captain Cy Blevins from the Homeland Security Special Forces. Sorry, sir. Orders,” he said.
    Blevins lifted his machine gun slightly and motioned to the others to move forward.    Two circled the house, shaking the dune grasses, to make sure no one was hiding nearby. One of them flipped off the top of the trash can, and Jake watched with his peripheral vision, not daring to look directly lest he gave away his anxiety. The man’s nose wrinkled at the rotten fish smell, and he replaced the lid. “You’re not well trained,” Jake wanted to sneer. The smell should have made him more suspicious, instead of putting him off.
    Two men in camouflage, but without insignia, pushed past Dad and Jake and surged up the stairs. A third deliberately bumped into Jake and shoved him up against the stair’s railings. “And just who are you, anyway? Shark lovers?”
    Jake reared back and shoved his fist at —Dad’s hand caught his fist before he could connect with the man’s stubbly chin.
    Dad said firmly. “No.”
    Then he spun around and kneed the man’s crotch and shoved his shoulders. The man landed heavily in the sand, stunned for a moment. Quickly, he quickly recovered and surged up toward Dad, ready to fight.
    “Marcus,” warned Captain Blevins. “Back off.”
    Marcus hesitated, then sullenly picked up his gun and went to kick at dune grasses.
    Dad spun to Captain and glared, fists clenched. “You’re way off here. We’re on vacation from the Moon Base. We’re just cooking steak and eggs for breakfast.”
    He shrugged. “Orders.”
    “From whom?”
    The soldier shrugged again. “If you must know, General Puente. He doesn’t care if people knows. He’s a patriot and everyone knows that, too. We’re Homeland Security.” He emphasized the “Homeland” in a way that made Jake shiver. He knew that some factions hated the Risonains but he hadn’t seen it before.     The two men in camouflage clattered down the stairs and shook their heads at the man.
    “I guess she escaped. This time. If you see that She-Shark, tell her that we’re on her tail. We’ll find her.”
    Jake couldn’t resist, “Are you sure that’s wise? Sharks have sharp teeth.”
    The leader’s face darkened. “Exactly why we have to find her and eliminate her.”
    Jake sucked in a breath at the viciousness of the response. He hadn’t realized the Anti-Sharks were so—so—violent or passionate or hateful or whatever you wanted to call it. Committed to their cause. He thought of his Mom, so passionate for the cause of the Risonians, who desperately needed a haven on Earth. It all seemed hopeless.
    The leader waved his free hand in a circular motion, and the soldier turned and jogged toward the helicopter. Marcus, the man that Dad had kneed made a last jab: “Don’t worry, Shark-lover! We’ll be watching you, too.”
    Then he raced across the sand toward the waiting helicopter.
    Jake sagged against the stair rail and stared after the retreating soldiers. The helicopter took off in a whirr and thankfully, it followed the beach again, not going out over the Gulf. Maybe they didn’t have heat-sensors on board, or maybe they didn’t really know that Mom had been here. Either way, she was safe.
    Abruptly, Dad sat on the bench of the picnic table and let his face sink into his hands.
    Jake put a hand on his shoulder. “Dad?”
    Dad ’s lean form seemed to shrink a couple more inches, and when he finally raised his head, his face was wet with tears. “We just wanted you to have a few days as a family. We thought the Labor Day would be safe.” He shook his head. “Foolish. We should have known.”
    “It’s OK, Dad.”
    Dad stood and moved to the grill. “We’ll eat and pack up and leave.”
    “Mom?”
    “She’ll be fine.”
    Jake knew the contingency plan. Mom would swim a couple miles to a state park, where they had rented a cabin for the week in a different name and paid for it in cash so there was no way to trace them. She had a stash of clothes there and an rented car that could only be traced to an elderly lady who didn’t exist. Mom would be at the airport in a couple hours and back at the Rison Embassy in New York City by nightfall. Ambassador Dayexi Quad-de would be back at work in the morning.
    And by nightfall, Jake would be in Seattle—no, not Seattle proper, but some island named Bainbridge Island, which sat in the middle of Puget Sound. That’s where Dad’s parents, Jake’s Earthling grandparents lived. He would meet them for the first time. What would that be like? Different from the Obama Moon Base is all Jake knew.
    Looking up, Jake saw the day had barely begun; the ball of the sun was still hanging on the horizon, sending drifts of red across the early morning clouds.
    So, this was Earth. His new home.