The Eyes Under the Ice

Ring!
What on earth is that?
Ring!
Is that my phone?
Ring!
There’s no way someone is calling me at this hour.
Ring!
One more ring and whoever is calling will wish they had never been born.
Ring!
I slam my hand down on my phone and hit the Answer button. “What do you want?!”
“ Ms. Marxz, this is the Pentagon. We are sending a car to pick you up. Please pack all the possessions you need for an, eh hem, extended trip. Oh, and bring winter clothes. Lots of winter clothes.”
Click.
I had been replaying that scene in my head through the entire car ride over. Why would the Pentagon need a person like me? I was only a chemist, fresh out of college, with no connections to the government and nothing to really offer them. Schrödinger, my cat, had been awake for most of it – I personally believe just to freak out the officer sitting across from us in the limo- but was now comfortably curled up in my lap, sound asleep as I pet his smooth, hairless spine. I often did this when I was nervous, upset, or just pondering something intensely. In this case it was all three. Why does the Pentagon want me? Why did they send a limo over at three in the morning? I haven’t done anything wrong! These were some of the thoughts running tirelessly through my head since I had received the ominous phone call earlier. I tug at the hem of my long sleeved shirt, aware that even at this ungodly hour with the air conditioning blasting in the vehicle that the heat was piling up. Even this early in the morning, Mexico was hot. We pass Banco de México and I happen to see their sign advertising a temperature of 83˚ F. Why did they tell me to pack winter clothes?
I lean forward in my seat, slightly jostling Schrödinger, and ask, “Are we really going to drive from Tabasco to D.C.?” The officer laughs and shakes his head, “No ma’am. We are only driving to Jesús Terán Peredo International Airport. It’s roughly another twenty minutes away.” He chuckles again, but stops short when he notices that Schrödinger had left my lap to sit at his feet. The cat glared fiercely at him, causing me to giggle slightly. Truthfully, I had not even noticed Schrödinger had left my lap until I saw the officer’s line of sight as his laugh died off. Then again, I was used to not knowing of his absence. I often joked that he was so light with no fur to weigh him down that I could not be expected to notice his absence.
“Well,” I say, “if we are to be trapped in such close quarters for another twenty minutes, I would at least like to know your name.” I notice the officer give me a strange look and realize he might have taken it differently than how I meant it. “I mean so that we can have a casual conversation to pass the time.” Crap! That still sounded bad! Why can’t I just shut up? He looks at me strangely again and fiddles with his wedding band I didn’t notice until now. “My name is Officer Alex Carson ma’am” I try to smile innocently to convey that I’m only trying to be friendly as I extend my hand, “I’m Lillian Marxz. Nice to meet you Officer Carson.” However my hand just hangs in the air as Carson casually ignores it. Great. Now he’s going to think I’m trying to seduce him no matter what I say. I slowly lower my hand and fiddle with my sleeves again. I pat my leg to try to get Schrödinger in my lap so I have something to distract me. The cat gladly accepts the offer and curls right up, purring noisily as I stroke his spine. At least my cat loves me. That will just have to be enough.
“Eh hem,” I hear Carson clear his throat loudly and look up, hoping to see an apologetic look. Instead, I find he’s not even looking at me, but at the feline in my lap – or at least I hope that’s what he’s staring at. “Why did you bring that along? You know you can’t take it with you, right?”
“Actually,” I reply, glaring at him, “no, I did not know that I can’t take him with me because no one told me really anything about what this is for or what I can or cannot take, but even the Pentagon will be turned down if they tell me I can’t take my cat with me. Schrödinger has been with me since my parents died, and I won’t leave him now.” At that, Carson fell silent and looked away from the cat’s piercing red gaze that, at some point in the conversation, had fixated on him. I was too distracted to reprimand Schrödinger, as I normally would, because ever since I mentioned my parents, my mind had whirled right back into the past, into the world I knew fifteen years ago—when I was twelve years old.

҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

“Race you home Lillian!” Tony Baldarren yelled as we hopped off the school bus.
It was the last week of seventh grade for me – eighth grade for Tony — and we had been waiting for it for what seemed like an eternity. As my feet hit the hot asphalt below me, I ran onto the grass of Mrs. Wilson’s yard in my race to catch up with Tony. Everyone in our neighborhood knew that Mrs. Wilson would track children down by the footprints left in her yard and kidnap them in the middle of the night. After that, the story split all different directions, so you really had to choose who you wanted to believe: some said she killed them and cut them into little pieces, others said she baked them into pies, still more said she tied them to a tree in the woods and covered them with meat to tempt the wild animals. I was so desperate to win the race that I didn’t even care. Behind me, I thought I heard the creak of Mrs. Wilson’s door open and picked up my speed. I overtook Tony in six strides, throwing my hair back into the wind and laughing. Then I realized that Tony was no longer behind me. I turned around to look for him and saw him staring straight at my house. I followed his gaze and saw flashing blue and red lights—the police. Last time the police had showed up at someone’s house, it was Margie’s and they had taken her papa away. I started running again, this time with the motivation of fear rather than winning. I heard Tony behind me running and calling my name, but I didn’t care. I had to find out what was going on. Tony caught up with me just as I reached the edge of my yard and grabbed my arm, but it was too late. One of the officers had spotted me and was walking towards us with a solemn expression on his face.
҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

I jerked myself back into the present as I felt the car stop. I looked out the tinted windows to find the sky slowly growing lighter as the sun started its daily struggle to race the moon around the earth. Carson opened the car door and stepped out, turning to keep it open for me. I grabbed my backpack from the seat beside me and stepped out, followed closely by Schrödinger. As his feet hit the pavement, the feline’s ears went flat against his skull in an effort to block out the sound of airport life. I envied him for that as I felt the childish urge to cover my own ears, but I ignored it to grab my suitcase from Officer Carson as he pulled it out of the trunk. I was still upset at him for insulting my cat, so the less he did for me, the better. The roar of airplanes was almost drowned out by various languages being shouted around us. I could hear French, Spanish, English, and even a little bit of German being spoken in the atmosphere. Even standing outside the walls I could tell it was going to be packed in there. Schrödinger lashed his tail against my leg as if to urge me forward. “Trust me buddy, I want to get this over with too. Calm down or that tail won’t make it through security,” I grumbled down at him. In reply, all he did was scramble up my suitcase to lie down in the “shelf” created by the handle meeting the top of the bag, as if it was made to be a rolling bed. With a sigh I pulled the suitcase with its added weight towards the doors or the airport, with Carson in the lead looking like James Bond. His three-piece black suit stood out in dark contrast to the surrounding khaki shorts and Hawaiian shirt as he strut through the crowd, scanning for possible dangers beneath his sunglasses. For that matter, I’m sure my own insulated jeans and long sleeve red shirt was a bit of a spectacle for the spectators of Jesús Terán Peredo International Airport. Nevertheless, we made it to the security gate without too many serious glances pointed at us. Security was a different matter altogether.
“Yes, I realize we look like the biggest threat to security here, but Mr. Macho Man here will only tell you that this is a confidential field trip and we are dressed for the weather we are headed for. And yes, that is a cat, so charge me the fare for a cat and not a naked mole rat before I hop over this desk and rip your spicy little Mexican throat out in front of all your rent-a-cop airport security buddies.” I told Jorgé. Not the best thing to tell the person currently questioning whether or not you have a bomb hidden in your suitcase or on your person, but I’m tired and he wasn’t listening to me. In my defense, it’s now six o’ clock in the morning. Thanks to the lovely U. S. Government, I have been awake since three, packing everything I could think of in a bag, in my barely existent bursts of coherency that is. Jorgé cleared his throat, obviously about to argue with me and probably demand a strip search when Schrödinger hopped off my bag and onto the security counter. Staring in to the depths of the red-eyed, feline gaze somehow made the lovely man lose his nerve and he waved us over the metal detectors, stopping to grab a cat carrier on the way. I saw Carson give me a smile- yes, a genuine smile- and chuckle under his breath as we followed our guide out. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself at overpowering someone easily a half a foot taller than me. Being five feet five inches has the advantage, in my case anyway, of coming with a powerful and short temper that easily makes up for my lack of height. Tony always called me “ardiente pequeña” which meant small fiery one in Spanish. Thinking of Tony threw me right back into the whirlwind of my past as we turned out of security check and headed toward our gate
҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

As the officer headed toward us, Tony’s hand slid down from my elbow to my hand and gripped it tight. He had known me all my life and sensed that I would need his support for whatever was coming next.
“Are you Lillian Marxz?” he inquired in quiet yet strong voice. I squeezed Tony’s hand, my throat tightening as I replied in a quavering voice, “Y-Yes.” He gave me a stare full of pity, “My name is Officer Maxwell. Why don’t you send your little friend home and come inside,” he said as more of a statement than a question, but I would not let go of Tony’s hand. I held my head high, growing more confident from the strength in Tony’s grip. “No sir. Tony has been my best friend since first grade. I’ve never sent him away before and I don’t intend to do it now.” The officer looked us up and down, his eyes coming to a stop where our hands were joined, let out a sigh, and motioned us inside.
҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

I walked, almost in a daze, to Gate seventeen. When I came back to reality- with the assistance of a small child’s cry- I realized I was already sitting in the waiting area with a boarding pass secured tightly in my hand. Thinking through it, I remembered bits and pieces of the walk through the airport as the haze of my memories waxed and waned. I reached down to pet Schrödinger, only to meet the cushion of the seat beside me. Then I remembered putting my poor cat in that horrible carrier for him to be put on the plane with all sorts of strange beasts and the less strange household animals that would also be making the trip to the U.S.A. with us. He seemed calm and unworried though; so that thought helped me calm down from my near panic attack that I’m sure Carson would have scoffed at.
As if thinking of the plane trip made time speed up, the desk clerk came over the loudspeaker, “Gate 17 is now ready to load. Please allow all small children and first class passengers in first.” Carson stood up and started walking over to the line. Frowning, I looked down at my ticket to realize my suspicion was correct; we were riding first class. The U.S. government spares no expense when it comes to using the tax payer’s dollars on meaningless trips used for semi-unwilling participants in as yet unknown missions. Or experiments. Or interrogations. Dangit! Now I’m paranoid! My own mind was turning against me, throwing random fears at me as I stepped up behind Officer Carson. I brushed them off, somehow believing that Carson would magically develop psychic powers and would reprimand me for my mental ramblings. We filed through the line rather quickly, right behind a family of five, and handed the clerk our tickets. She glanced over our outfits, then shrugged her shoulders and let us through.
Once on the plane, I began to relax a little. Not that I could run away now even if I wanted to, but at least now the decision was made and what would happen was already set in motion to happen. I sat in seat 18 C, right by the window and glanced out to the runway stretch. I slung my backpack off my shoulders and opened the front compartment, taking out my MP3 player and started untangling my headphones.
“You’re not going to spend the entire flight interrogating me about what all this is about?” asked Carson as he shut the overhead compartment. He sat down next to me as I got the final knot out of my headphones. “No, I’m not. In case you haven’t noticed from my earlier outburst with Jorgé, I’m not exactly thrilled about losing sleep for the Pentagon. Therefore, I intend to brighten what’s left of my already long day with my favorite playlist on here, so if I start singing Mika really loudly, you’re going to have to grin and bear it or else bad things will happen,” I replied angrily, jamming my headphones into my ears and turning Lollipop on. Closing my eyes, I turned my music up as loud as it could go, causing the woman sitting in the seat in front of me to turn and glare at me, but I didn’t care. I was trying to drown out my memories, but the sensory deprivation bubble I was creating was only helping them. Slowly, the lyrics blended into the background, even though they were blasting directly into my eardrums, as Maxwell’s voice floated back to me from the past.

҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

“Sweetie, do you know what happened here?” Officer Maxwell asked as we walked into what used to be referred to as my family’s living room. Now it looked more like a room that a demolition team had been set loose on. Cushions had been torn off the couch and shredded, leaving stuffing everywhere while the couch itself had been flipped over. The coffee table Mom had loved so much had been shattered, the glass kicked and thrown all over the room. Books had been unseated from their rightful places on the bookshelf, some of them with pages brutishly torn and tossed as if they were nothing more than confetti. Tony was whispering calming words to me, but I couldn’t hear them. I was too busy surveying the damage of my beautiful home. I could sense that it would only get worse from here so I turned my attention back to Maxwell. “No sir, I don’t know what happened. I’ve been at school all day. Officer, where are my parents?” I asked him as I noticed their absence. “Miss, we really don’t know. But the important thing is that there is no sign of a murder or anything other than vandalism. In fact, we would have never known if your cat hadn’t knocked the phone over. Did you know your parents had a new device installed that alerted the police if the phone was off the hook for more than an hour? It’s amazing what technology can do nowadays,” he exclaimed, I’m sure to distract me from the fact that my parents had left without a trace. From here, Tony took over the conversation, asking questions I would have never thought to ask but really needed the answers to. I barely listened, thinking over everything that was being said, and then something hit me. “What cat?” I asked, looking around the room, “We don’t have a cat. Mom’s allergic to fur…” the thought stuck in my throat as I saw what he was talking about. A hairless cat was perched on the end table, next to a lamp that had been knocked over. Its creepy red eyes were locked on me and I shuddered, but as I held its gaze my repulsion vanished. I felt a warm, safe feeling the more I held its gaze until he hoped down from the table and rubbed against my leg.
“Ma’am, are you saying that this is not your cat?” Maxwell grabbed my attention, and by the tone of his voice I could tell that if I answered honestly he would take the cat away, so I did what I had to. I lied to the police.
“Of course not officer. I apologize, but I always forget he’s actually a cat; I just consider him a member of the family,” I said coolly, reaching up to pick the cat up. I caught a glimpse of the gold band on the collar, which had the word SCHRÖDINGER’S engraved into it. Maxwell just nodded his head, probably passing it off as shock. He started walking away, but then stopped and turned back, “Do you have somewhere to stay Lillian?” he asked, turning back toward me. I started to say no, but was interrupted by Tony. “We were actually running over here to ask if she could stay the night with me. My little sister just had her first real break-up and asked me to see if Lillian could spend the night with her so that they could have some girl time,” he said smoothly. Maxwell and Tony both laughed at that. “Alright, but if your parents don’t appear within two weeks…”
҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉

Memories rushed through my mind of foster homes, adoptions that fell through, and oh so many court dates. Through all of it Tony was right by my side. By the time the landing gear came down, I was sifting through my most recent memory reel, pausing at the time two months ago when I got a call from him saying that we might never see each other again. No explanation, just said he had been handed an offer he couldn’t refuse and he was sorry but he could say no more. Since that day I had not had so much as a post card from my dearest and oldest friend. Thinking of Tony put me right back on the verge of tears, so I put a mental wall up around my past and turned my attention to the stewardess as she instructed us all on how to leave the plane in an orderly fashion. I unclipped my seatbelt, grabbed my backpack from under my seat, and filed out behind Carson as he walked off the plane with his own bag in his hand. I kept my headphones in my ears as we walked to the luggage carousel to grab my suitcase and cat. It didn’t take long and soon we were headed out to the car. D.C. passed by in a blur and soon enough I could see the shape of the famous Pentagon looming before us. Carson waved his I.D. at the gate keeper and we were in. I was led into a room that looked a lot like a very hi-tech version of my high school chemistry lab. In the center of the room was a fish tank with organisms I had never seen before or even knew exisisted. I walked over and saw that they were moving slowly, unlike most fish I had observed. There were some that were bright purple with spikes that looked like they could cut steel. Others had luminescent stripes that flashed as it swam. Some even looked like frogs that had been dipped in battery acid.
“That is why you are here, Ms. Marxz,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see an old, gray haired man in a white lab coat. “These are alien specimens from the moon Europa, and you will be on a team sent to go investigate life on its surface and below.”
In a state of shock, all I could ask was, “Why me?”
“Well Ms. Marxz, because your parents requested you specifically.”
“Sir, you have the wrong girl. My parents have been declared dead for years.”
The man shook his head, “No child, they are very much alive. They work for The Higud organization and have been sent on a mission off-planet. In fact, they are the ones who sent us these creatures.”
At those words, my entire being went cold and numb. I could not understand what he was saying anymore; it just didn’t make sense!
“When do we leave?” a voice to my left spoke. I turned to see who had spoken, but saw only Schrödinger sitting on the table. I wondered how he had gotten out of his cage, but question flew out of my mind as I saw his tiny little cat mouth open and heard him speak again, “I would love to meet the people who stuck me with this youth. I sometimes don’t understand how I managed to keep my cover and not speak up for my rights. Have you ever been forced to use a litter box?”
I couldn’t help it. I blacked out.
Θ Θ Θ Θ Θ

When I woke up, I was looking up at Schrödinger. “Come on, Human. We do not have all day,” he said in a bossy tone. If I hadn’t still been in shock at the fact that he could speak I would have swatted the little brat on the nose. As is, I just stood up and followed him out the swinging doors. Once again, I was in a daze and just did everything I was told blindly. As they rushed me into a rocket with other scientist and a team of astronauts - and of course Schrödinger- I realized that I was headed to a moon, and it wasn’t even the moon of my planet. I was also going to see my parents and aliens, neither of which I really knew anything about. And yet, the only thought that really stuck in my head was, why did I even answer the phone?