Race Against Time

The forest thickened around them as Yiri led the way, her translucent skin shimmering between bars of sunlight. Elara’s breath was shallow—part nerves, part awe. It was as if the summer, which had always stretched empty and endless before, had been crumpled and rewritten. Now every second was precious, every sound woven with meaning.

Riley darted glances over her shoulder, holding the pillowcase close with the glowing device inside. The woods felt different with Yiri beside them—not just less lonely, but alive, pulsing. When the alien tripped over a root, Elara instinctively reached to steady her. A flash of feelings rushed past Elara’s mind—gratitude, anxiety, and a twist of homesickness so acute she nearly stumbled herself.

Once safely under a tangle of oaks, the three huddled close, knees pressed to moss. Yiri drew in the dirt the strange seven-star cluster, a daily reminder that for her, hope had always meant looking up. In the hush, Elara offered her canteen. Yiri sipped timidly, then mimed with spidery fingers: need-pieces, time-running-short. Elara nodded. “Show us—where?”

Yiri considered, then pointed: northwest, then back toward the southern edge. Elara consulted the map in her mind—the water plant, the old Grayson barn. Spots outsiders would overlook. “The old plant first,” she whispered. “It’s closest, and nobody’s ever there.”

Riley frowned, brow knit with that particular logic reserved for computer code and clandestine adventure. “Won’t they check there? The agent?”

“We know the shortcuts.” Elara inhaled, emboldened. “C’mon. This way.”

---

The journey started slow. Elara and Riley wove Yiri safely between brambles and old logs, crisscrossing deer paths. Here and there, Elara filled the silence with stories—ones she’d never voiced aloud, not even to Riley. She pointed out the tree where she used to bury old radios, and Riley followed up with a tale about hacking the school’s speaker system to play the Stranger Things theme during morning announcements.

Yiri’s eyes grew larger, shining as she followed. Though her voice was a cascade of chimes and modulated hums, emotion bled through. Sometimes a faint word cracked through: “Alone,” “friend,” “safe?”

When they paused, Riley found a stick and drew a wobbly schematic in the dirt—a cartoonish ship, ringed with cartoon stars. She laughed. “Not exactly NASA, huh?” Elara nudged her and they cackled, the sound foreign but welcome.

A cautious hope grew among them, even as the shadows lengthened.

---

The old water treatment plant sat on the edge of a low hill. Chain-link fencing circled cracked concrete basins, and the main building’s roof was a patchwork of moss and warped tin. Elara glanced both ways before leading them to a loose panel, pried open by years of mischievous kids seeking a private refuge.

Inside, the air was cooler. Shafts of light filtered through high, grimy windows, illuminating graffiti and dust motes suspended like memories. Yiri’s posture stiffened—she could sense something nearby. She pressed her open palm to the wall, humming low. That peculiar pulse bulged in Elara’s head: here-here-close.

Riley’s signal tracer whined faintly, red light blinking. “North end?”

They tiptoed down the rusted metal walkway, hearts thumping. At the far end near a corroded tank, Yiri abruptly halted, pointing at a slim crack where weeds pressed through concrete. Elara knelt, pried apart the chunked rust. Inside, something glittered: a fractured rod, thin as a knitting needle and flickering with blue light. She handed it to Yiri, who exhaled a series of trills—relief, joy, urgency.

“Okay, got it,” Riley whispered. “Let’s—”

Suddenly, a shout echoed outside: “Sweep over here! Check every building!”

Elara’s heart stopped. Her eyes met Riley’s: the agent and his team—already closing in.

Without a word, Riley took the lead, motioning to a hatch barely visible in the corner. Years ago, they’d discovered a service tunnel beneath the plant. If they could squeeze through…

“Go!” Elara hissed.

They poured through the hatch, the echoing clang masked by Yiri’s haste. They belly-crawled into the dark, jagged concrete scraping knees and shins. Boots pounded above—doors banged; voices barked orders. Elara’s lungs burned, but she dared not breathe heavy. Yiri’s glowing parts cast barely enough light. The tunnel angled down, frigid and rank. Spiders scattered in the pale blue glow. At one point, Riley choked back a cry—her backpack snagged on jagged metal—but Elara yanked her free and urged her on.

Boots scraped millimeters overhead. Flashlights slashed dust through a grate. One beam paused—just above their heads.

Elara held her breath as a drip of water plunked beside her ear. It took all of her focus not to flinch. The agent’s voice reverberated, close enough to make every hair on her arm bristle. “You two, sweep these tunnels. Now.”

But a distant bang—an outbuilding’s door—distracted them. The beam shifted. Silence fell. Elara exhaled, clutching the metallic rod tight, sweat slicking her brow. Yiri pressed close, waves of relief and anxiety radiating from her in trembling bursts.

It took another five tense minutes for them to squeeze out a sewage grating a block away.

They collapsed in a patch of weeds, gasping, mud-streaked and wild-eyed.

---

They moved quickly after that, slipping behind the hardware store (“Cut through the alley!” Riley hissed) and snatching short breaths in the shadow of the bakery, where the smell of rising bread did little to calm Elara’s nerves. In the small town, everyone knew everyone, which meant every sidelong glance could be an informant, every slammed car door a potential threat.

Riley checked the signal tracer again. “Second piece—barn.”

“That’s home turf,” Elara grinned, attempting bravado—but it wobbled at the edges. Still, the unspoken trust between them grew heavier, more urgent.

Crossing the empty road, they crept into the long grass by the old Grayson barn. The outer walls leaned, years of wind and weather tearing at the red paint. Elara’s hands shook as she pried open the side door—carefully, quietly. Inside, slants of late-afternoon light picked out ragged hay bales and dust.

Yiri’s glow pulsed brighter as she stepped forward, as if she could sense her part calling out. At the far end, in a heap of splintered boards, a wedge of metal sparkled. Yiri darted ahead, grasped it—a sinuous band, flexible and cool, inscribed with indents like constellations. As she picked it up, the lights running down her arms flared—a gratitude as deep as homesickness itself.

That’s when Riley’s breath caught. She tipped forward, landing hard on a forgotten rake. The metal clanged. Elara cursed.

Voices outside—deeper, closer. Boots in the gravel.

“They’re here!” Riley hissed.

The rear door. Elara yanked it open. They sprinted for the back hedgerow, Yiri remarkably fast once fear took hold. Riley barely kept up, her lungs burning. Voices barked from behind—“Stop!”—but the trio plunged through weeds and tumbled over a drainage ditch.

Somehow, miraculously, they made the tree line, lungs aching, hearts shuddering. They did not stop until the town faded soft behind them, only the hush of pines and the shrill rasp of crickets in their ears.

---

Finally, they paused beneath an ancient maple well beyond sight of the road. The three sat in a loose triangle, clutching knees to chests, eyes shimmering with exhaustion and panic.

Riley’s composure broke. She hugged her knees, face crumpling. “I—I can’t believe how close that was,” she whispered, voice thick. “I thought we’d be caught. I thought they’d take you, Yiri—or us.”

Elara put an arm around her, but Riley shook her head, blunt. “You’re always chasing the next big thing, Elara. I’m scared. I know this is amazing, and Yiri needs us and all, but…” Her hand knotted in the dirt. “What if I can’t keep up? What if you don’t need me when this is over—when you’ve got a taste for all of this?”

For a heartbeat, Elara wanted to argue, to tell Riley this was crazy, but honesty stilled her. “I do chase things. Not because I want to leave you behind. I want you with me. Everything is brighter with you here. I’m… braver with you.”

Yiri watched, head cocked in trembling curiosity. Slowly, bravely, she reached for both girls’ shoulders, her touch feather-gentle—a reassurance that flickered through emotion itself: comfort, togetherness, a promise made of warmth. Elara could sense her apology for bringing this danger and her gratitude—it pulsed through her, strong and sad.

Riley wiped her eyes, snorting a laugh. “This is the weirdest, best summer ever. And the scariest.”

Elara smiled, squeezing her hand. “We have each other. That’s the part I’m never letting go of.”

They sat for a moment in the golden light, bruised and exhilarated, clutching the precious pieces—now only one more left to find, and all of Everwood closing in around them. But in that hush, the distance from planet to planet seemed less impossible, the risk less lonely. For the first time, they weren’t afraid to hope.