We light up the sky, p.5
We Light Up the Sky, page 5
The minute the park ranger looks up, his heart rate increases so much so that he clutches his left arm and drops to his knees, the flashlight lost in the dense growth. The park ranger dies with only a small whimper escaping his lips, not enough to alert Ernesto of his impending doom. A heart attack will be used to explain the cause of death, and it’s not a lie. Not technically.
The Visitor drifts like the ebb of a tide, gathering branches and leaves within its shape. It moves gently toward the entrance of the observatory and mimics the stairs by converting its form into strict angles. The Visitor is no longer a giant. It is the height of the park ranger it left behind.
Ernesto sits in the main lobby, eating his late dinner. There is a break room for him and the other workers to eat in, but when the place is so empty, he prefers to dine in the lobby with the doors open to allow the night noises to join him. The cold breeze enters the space, and the security guard doesn’t mind it at all. There is an October crisp to the air. This is his favorite season. Ernesto thinks about going to L.A. Live to see a movie with Debbie on his day off. Maybe they’ll have drinks afterward. There is a Mexican restaurant he can take her to. It’s overpriced, but he likes to show off a bit with Debbie, and she enjoys it.
The security guard is immersed in his forkful of rice and beans when the Visitor enters the lobby. “Enters” isn’t the right word. It appears to glide across the floors. The Visitor leaves behind parts of its being as it does this. Its very own specks will stay on the exhibits forever, a type of growth the janitors will foolishly think is a fungus. The custodial crew will use a spray bleach to clean it off, but a residue will stay behind.
A tiny gust of wind alerts the security guard to finally look up. The smell is a mixture of forest and ammonia. So strong, it practically knocks him out.
The Visitor is in its amorphous state, with electric hues of green and blue lights projecting from within like a walking electrical storm. Noiseless. No eyes or a face.
Unlike the park ranger, the security guard’s instincts are more street. He grew up ready with fists at the first sign of trouble. It’s why Ernesto knew he would make a great security guard. When he first sees this monstrous thing, a thing he can’t even formulate with a description in his mind, Ernesto automatically reaches for his gun.
No, that’s not true.
Before Ernesto grabs his weapon, he curses. He says “fuck” or “what the fuck.” His words are mostly stuck on the tip of his tongue, right at the edge of his teeth.
Ernesto unloads the full cartridge. The bullets just lodge into the walls of the observatory, evidence of a violent attack. Ernesto pushes up against the chair that topples to the tiled floor. The Visitor stops, and Ernesto tries to latch onto something solid, to make sense of this thing. He takes a few steps backward, tripping over the chair. He uses his hands to propel himself away.
He pulls out his phone and presses invisible keys. His eyes are so glued to the hideous creature, he fails to see that he’s not calling for help. A string of curses fill the room.
The Visitor is now upon Ernesto. Ernesto shuts his eyes. He prays and prays and prays.
A branch dragged in by the Visitor suddenly juts out from within it like a spear. The branch pierces Ernesto’s heart. He slumps down to the ground, his hand still holding the phone.
Mere steps away from this deadly scene is the picture of a vibrant and youthful Tasha still on the observatory floor. The Visitor hovers by the photo before enveloping it into its being. The Visitor’s gelatinous form flashes beams of light. Soon scenes project from within the creature: A curious Tasha walks ahead to the observatory. She giggles into Luna’s shoulders. A hand touches Tasha’s forehead. The number on the digital thermometer reveals a high temperature. A sick Tasha lies in a hospital bed, an oxygen mask over her mouth. A FaceTime call with her cousin is held up to a crying Tasha by a nurse. Tasha is alone in the hospital, surrounded by machines. She dies afraid.
And then seconds pass, and the Visitor is no longer this jellylike aberration. It appears like Tasha, wearing the exact same clothes displayed in the photo. Wavy, pink hair. A disturbing, wide smile on its face.
This new Tasha walks out the front entrance of the Griffith Observatory, leaving behind the security guard, Ernesto, and the park ranger, Phil. The Visitor takes the road down Mount Hollywood and heads to the city.
CHAPTER 8
The bruise on Rafa’s eye is now completely purple. His parents were so upset when they saw him after the field trip. “Why?” his father asked, his fury barely contained. He asked Rafa that one question then looked away, not expecting an answer. The looking away was what hurt most of all.
His parents are scheduled to come to school on Monday to speak to the dean. Having to explain this to them was worse than getting sucker punched by Isaac. A fight starts and ends so quickly. Now this incident will carry over to the beginning of the week with Rafa’s parents wasting what little money they have to go to the school. His father had secured some hours working early mornings at a bakery, and now he won’t be able to do that. This newly found work connection is probably severed because of Rafa’s actions.
“Lo siento,” Rafa said.
He should have known better before he decided to involve himself. He doesn’t even remember what spurred him on. It’s not like Pedro is his friend or that he detests Isaac that much. He listened to Pedro’s rant in the observatory, and it made sense, the thing about space exploration. Pedro was way more interesting than the guide. Anyway, Rafa didn’t think it through, and now the repercussions of his actions are creating a ripple effect. To avoid reminding his family of his mistake, Rafa spent most of Saturday out. He went to the library for a few hours and then tried his luck asking for work in various stores. No one wants to hire an inexperienced high school student, not when men with years of experience are lining up for the few slots available.
“What if you can’t see anymore?” Mónica laments when he finally returns.
“I can see enough to know you need to go to sleep,” he says. Rafa’s father already left for work. It’s on him to get Mónica to bed. Only a few more days left in the tent, and then they will be able to get a bit of relief. By then the bruise on his face will be gone and the meeting with the dean forgotten. Rafa hopes, anyway.
“Close your eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the park,” he says. Eventually Mónica falls asleep nestled right beside him, her face in the crook of Rafa’s elbow. He gently moves her away and steps out of the tent.
There’s barely anyone stirring about. He finds a place to use the bathroom, using the small bottle of Purell he carries with him to wash his hands when he’s done.
The families who occupy this small space under a highway ramp have known each other for some time. They share food, water, and most importantly, information. Job leads that might be the lifeline for someone. It’s always best to gather together with people you trust.
Across the way, Rafa sees his mother in the corner of the street speaking to a young girl with pink hair he doesn’t recognize. Rafa worries when he sees the girl follow his mother, both heading toward him. She’s done this before, befriended a runaway for a night, making sure they at least have one warm meal in their stomach before leaving to wherever else their journey might take them. It’s an unspoken rule in the community. You take care of the young ones. Rafa quickly goes to the front of their tent, on the defensive as he feels he has to be whenever his mother decides it’s time to take care of another stranger.
“Rafa, there’s a little bit of soup left,” his mother says, indicating for him to fetch it. It’s hard to get a good look at the girl. She seems about his age, he thinks. A high schooler for sure. She wears a simple T-shirt and jeans. Nothing out of the ordinary, although it is cold outside. She appears healthy, if dirty. Her sneakers are dusty and her hair full of twigs. The young woman doesn’t say a word. She has a strange expression that Rafa can’t quite place. It makes him feel uneasy.
He sits on a box crate and offers a seat to the girl while his mother heats up the soup. The girl stares at Rafa, and his whole body is on alert. He doesn’t know if this girl will steal from them or cause them harm. He doesn’t want to be taken by surprise.
“There are usually a few blankets left for whoever needs it,” he says. “Two streets over. You can stay there and move on. No one stays more than a night.”
The girl doesn’t acknowledge what he says. She doesn’t move at all. Not her head, or even her eyebrows. She is so unnervingly still that Rafa finds himself slowly pushing his crate farther away from her.
His mother returns with a very small bowl of soup, just enough to whet the girl’s appetite. The girl holds the bowl awkwardly on her lap. Rafa’s mother nudges at him to speak, and he tries again.
“Do you need help? The clinic will sometimes take you in, and at least you can be seen by a doctor,” he says. “You can probably get fed something way more filling.”
The girl doesn’t eat the soup. The longer she stares at him, the angrier Rafa gets. If she thinks they can afford to give their food away, she must be on something. That might be the reason she’s acting so strange.
The girl moves to touch a group of weeds sticking out from a crack on the sidewalk. The weeds appear to lean toward the girl’s hands, as if she’s beckoning the growth. There is a slight trace of a smile on the girl’s face. A cold shiver runs up Rafa’s back.
“Are you going to eat that?” he asks, his tone sharp and clear. He wants her to leave.
His mother shoots him a chastising look. “Rafa goes to Fairfax High School. It’s not close, but it’s a better school than the high school near here,” she says, and he wishes more than anything that his mother didn’t offer up any more information to this stranger.
“She doesn’t need to know that,” Rafa says. Reading his apprehension, his mother stands and carefully takes back the bowl from the girl’s hands.
“We need to head inside,” Rafa says. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”
The girl rises and intensely examines his mother. Rafa abruptly wedges himself in between her and the girl.
“It’s not far,” he says, pointing the way.
“Here, take this.” His mother hands over a thin blanket, not one of their thick ones. “If you need anything, you can ask almost anyone here for help.”
The girl takes the blanket but doesn’t say thank you. She presses it against her body.
Rafa understands silence. He has lived most of his life surrounded by the loudness of the city. It seems as if the more money you have, the more you can afford to buy quiet. Because he can’t have that, he tries not to speak as much. If Rafa can control what comes out of his mouth, then at least he can control something. A whole day can go by when he realizes he hadn’t spoken a word.
Somehow this girl’s silence seems weighted down by something else. It’s hard to explain, and Rafa will spend the next couple of days trying to make sense of this meeting. The uneasiness permeates every second he spends with her. It’s more than just the simple “stranger danger.” It’s something else. He doesn’t want the girl to walk behind him, so Rafa slows down until they are both aligned. He pays close attention.
Rafa and the girl finally reach the makeshift sleeping area.
“There you go,” he says and turns. The quicker he leaves, the better.
“Why not there?”
The girl finally speaks. Her voice sounds exactly like Rafa’s mother, but he doesn’t pick up on it. He follows where the girl points with his gaze. There is an empty house across from the tents with a for-sale sign in the front. The light is left on as if to show everyone exactly what they can buy, a cute little cottage of a house, Spanish-style, and completely abandoned.
“Why not there?” It’s not even a question, really, the way the girl asks. Again, her voice sounds so familiar to Rafa, yet he can’t quite place it. It’s the familiarity that confuses him, leading Rafa to dismiss the growing fear.
“We can’t just go inside that house,” Rafa says, but the girl has already moved across the street. Rafa knows enough, he shouldn’t follow. He should turn away because he doesn’t want any trouble. And yet he can’t stop himself. “Hey, the cops always patrol around here!”
The girl ignores him. She opens the small gate and walks in.
“Don’t,” Rafa says. The girl continues, opening the unlocked door, probably a mistake made by the agents who appear from time to time to show off the house to potential buyers.
What is compelling Rafa to watch the girl do these things? It’s more than curiosity, more than wonder. He should leave this strange girl with the odd voice alone, but he can’t. This is the part of the movie where I’ll probably get killed, he thinks to himself.
“Hey!” He jogs over to the house after making sure no one sees him.
The girl positions herself in the middle of the vast living room. A nice, big space, more than enough room to house a couple of families, not just his.
“You better leave, or they will take you in,” Rafa says.
He will only give her a warning, and that will be the end of this interaction. He’s done trying to save the lives of others. Just look at how Pedro repaid him, with anger, after he jumped into the fight. But if he could have prevented harm to this girl and did nothing, he wouldn’t be able to face his family or his own guilt. It’s just not the way he was bought up.
“Why sleep out there when this is empty?” she asks. The peculiar way she says this makes him feel unsteady. The voice is not meant for someone her age.
“I don’t know where you come from, but it’s not how things are done here,” Rafa says. “You’ve probably already tripped some type of alarm. Why make things worse for yourself? It’s not ours.”
“It’s not ours. It’s not ours.”
The girl repeats the words again and again in that disturbing voice. She starts to walk toward Rafa.
This is trouble. She’s trouble. Nothing good will come of this. Rafa stumbles out of the house, leaving the strange girl as she continues to utter the words as if casting a spell.
From across the street, Rafa watches the girl still standing in the center of the living room. There is something not quite right with her. He won’t be taken in by whatever disturbing fascination this person is exhibiting. Let her hole up in the house by herself. A brown girl is never safe out in the streets. Still, for some reason, Rafa felt he was the one needing protection.
“¿Y la muchacha?” his mother asks when he returns to the tent.
“She’s fine,” he says. Rafa doesn’t want to go into specifics. He doesn’t believe his mother would understand.
“Pobre. She’s like your age. Too young to be out here alone.”
“Go to sleep. Only a couple of hours before we have to get up,” Rafa says.
“You sleep soon,” she says and kisses the top of his head.
“I will. Soon.”
His mother heads inside. Rafa stands guard. He focuses on the house across the street.
CHAPTER 9
Luna can’t find it anywhere. The contents of her backpack are spread across the bed. She checked and rechecked her pockets. Dug through every single item she wore the past couple of days, and still nothing.
“Have you seen the picture of Tasha, the one I took of her in Puerto Rico?”
Luna’s mother is just about ready to leave for work. She’s been on long night shifts, and Luna has barely seen her. This is nothing new, but Luna really needed her mother this weekend. At the very least to help her find the one thing Luna needs to get ready for school.
“No, baby. I haven’t,” she says. “You sure you didn’t put it in the load of wash by mistake?”
Luna checks the laundry room with no luck. The longer she looks for the picture, the more frazzled she becomes, as if she’s being punished for not doing enough. A sign from Tasha alerting her that she hasn’t visited her at the cemetery, that she’s forgotten her. This is far from the truth, but she can’t help thinking this is a warning of some sort. She’s at fault, and she has to make it right. She has to find the picture.
“It’s not here!” Luna says.
“It’ll turn up. We have to head out, or we are both going to be late,” her mother says.
“No.” Her voice cracks. “I need to find it.”
Her mother stands behind her and places her arms around Luna’s waist. Her first instinct is to pull away. She’s still angry at her mother for having to work this weekend. But instead, she lets her mother’s cheek press against her back and allows this affectionate act to be as reassuring as it always has been in the past.
“What if it’s lost forever?” Luna asks. “It’s my favorite picture of hers.”
On the back of the picture, Tasha wrote down the date and the words, “We’re the stars. I love you, Luna!” followed by a string of hearts. The picture itself she has stored on her phone, but it’s not the same thing. Tasha’s actual words will be lost forever.
Her mother holds her tight.
“I promise you. You will find your picture,” she says. “You will. In the meantime, what can I do to help you feel better?”
Luna wants to give her mother a list of all the things she can do to make her feel anything else but this disappointment. She’s kept a growing record of her mother’s slights and missed dates. Conversations Luna starts in her head but is too nervous to deliver.
“It’s okay.” Luna says this more to appease her mom. She wonders if her mother sees the lie.
“I can’t wait for my day off. Three glorious days in a row. The hospital has been out of control lately,” she says. “You would think it was summertime and everyone was engaging in all kinds of recklessness. It’s October, and people are just not taking care of themselves.”
Her mother continues to go over the types of run-ins she’s had at the hospital, and Luna nods. Her mind races to Griffith Observatory and when she’ll be able to get back there.
