Part One: The Animal Ark

"Oh, hey Georgie," Mikey says, looking up when he enters the hideout. "I didn't think anyone would be here today, with it being Christmas, you know." He sits up and shrugs. "Who the hell is Milliken Mortensen? Sounds like a dumb name." Then, after a brief pause, he corrects himself: "Sorry, nah, it's just a name. But I still don't know who that is. Merry Christmas, by the way. How is your hand?"

On Christmas morning, Em sits near the (artificial, sigh) tree in her PJs with a small pile of now-unwrapped presents: a fancy froufrou dress-wearing Barbie doll (stupid), a Barbie head with style-able golden hair and a series of combs and brushes (stupider), a Light Bright (soon to be coveted), and a set of oil paints (❤️). There's also chocolate, socks, hair barrettes, a book of Life Savers, and a few clementine oranges. It's a solid haul.

"So..." Ralph says as his wife works in the kitchen, preparing brunch for the three of them, "Good Christmas? You uh, you like your presents?"

"Yeah," Em says with a nod. "They're great. Thanks for all the stuff. It's too much! But it's great. Thanks, Uncle Ralph. I love the paints."

"Almost ready, come to the table!" Nancy calls from the kitchen.

Standing, Ralph says, "Well, I picked out the Barbie. I hope you like her too."

"I do," Morgan lies. "She's neat too."

The little brunette watches as the man scratches at his head and walks to the kitchen, then she gets up and follows him. She casts a glance over her shoulder before she goes, looking out the front window. It's peaceful in the house. Perry Como is playing on the record player... the smell of eggs and bacon is delicious.

It's like the calm before the storm.

The past days have been a bit of a blur to Jaden. His mind was overflowing with thoughts about the things he and his friends saw and gave him restless sleep.

He woke up in sweat, wondering if all was but a dream. But he remembered. He stayed in his bed - lying motionless, half hearing any noises in his house; his mind was still racing as he was trying to calm down.

He heard a faint noise coming from his sister's bedroom; she snuck out again and apparently just made it before their dad came.
It wasn't long until he heard their door opening as well.

He stayed in bed for about an hour or so until he wouldn't hear anything but his dad's faint snoring coming from his bedroom.
He got dressed, picked up his jacket and his guitar and went out of his room.

He didn't expect to get any presents really and was surprised to see that a couple of them were waiting under the tree. He didn't try to take a peek and let them be opened later today. Probably...

He got his bike and decided to go to his hideout Has it turned into our hideout? he wondered once more. He was quite surprised to find Georgie's and Mikey's bikes there. He shook his head and decided that he wasn't in the mood of meeting with the gang this early What are they doing here today? he thought.

He hopped back on his bike and headed to the local music store; Darrel always let him try out guitars and even showed him a couple riffs when things were quite in the store. Some time went by and he decided to head back home; he could tell that his dad had put some effort into making their presents. The wrapping was a bit crooked and wrinkly but present-wrapping wasn't his specialty; now he had to do it himself.

You didn’t see a Christmas tree, or decorations, or presents as you snooped around Cuckoo Hernandez’ house yesterday. Nothing to denote that he celebrates Christmas. And he doesn’t. Not this year at least. Or maybe he does? Maybe this is his way of celebrating?

Just as some of you are up early, so too is Ridgeview’s math teacher. While you pull the wrapping off your presents, he’s pulling the outer shell off the that old trash sphere in the junkyard.

He is already tinkering as Georgie eat his pancakes. While Jaden sneaks out and Em lies to her uncle, Cuckoo is replacing the rusted, welded-together cover. As Andy cherishes his new prized possessions and Mikey decides to head out to the hideout, he is twisting, turning, cranking.

He flips a switch. The machine comes to life, but sputters out. He goes to the trunk of his car.

A few hours pass. Starting, and stopping. Removing the shell once again to look underneath. Cages. Chickens. Garden birds. A dog.

He busies himself, as you sit down to dinner and let the satisfied haze settle on you after a heavy meal. Cuckoo runs a final calculation while his stomach groans in hungry protest.

He flicks a switch somewhere and again the machine whirs to life. Asimov stands guard somewhere out of view as the evening gloom rolls in. The machine threatens to sputter out, but settles. For a few long moments, Cuckoo waits. Waiting for another failure. But it doesn’t come. The machine is stable. He lets out a scream of triumph. He’s done it. Cracked the secret of it! The second sphere finally stable.

He summons the robot:

"Asimov, quickly now!" and they break for the car.

The last one shouldn’t take long. He heads to the boathouse!

---

As evening rolls in, perhaps one or two of you have thoughts of the storm that has wracked the lake the last two nights. Perhaps not. Perhaps it’s forgotten in the Christmas merriment. But out there, on the lake, the temperature dips, and the wind begins to swirl. The orbs by the lodge, and the junkyard buzz and pick up speed.

Though no one is there to see it, the nose of the ship breaks through the storm clouds, continuing its advance towards the earth. It passes the point if reaches two nights ago. It hurtles towards the water. Last night, the ship disappeared just as it was about to break the surface of the lake. Tonight, no such thing happens. Tonight, the ship falls through the clouds, and breaches the lake.

The sound of twisting, angry metal mixes with the heavy splash and displacement of water. Water is forced up and over the edge of the lake, soaking the surrounding land, and splashing the buildings that sit on the edge of the lake with muddy, icey water.

And then the ship is gone. And the two spheres power down. Safe to approach once again. But only for a moment.

After some light talk with Mikey, Georgie's hand started to throb so he went home. Christmas dinner was an early afternoon thing and he didn't want to miss it. His mom was home alone and probably incredibly sad, and that made him both want to stay away and to rush home at the same time. What kid wants to see their parent cry?

Christmas dinner was a disaster. The food smelled good, but when his mom asked him to say grace, he started using his dad's words and they both broke down. She polished off a bottle of white wine, hardly eating and disappeared to her room.

Georgie ate until he felt ill then put the food away in whatever Tupperware containers he could find. The leftover turkey he just wrapped in plastic and slid still warm into the fridge, pushing things aside to make room. Then he washed his hands got some ice wrapped in a tea towel, and went downstairs.

He got lost in his encyclopedia, looking up information on microcircuitry but it was all too vague, too old to help him figure out what her seen in the orb.

He still didn't know what had happened in the junkyard, what had freaked out Andy and Jaden. His wrist throbbed in time with his heart beat and he cried in pain, discomfort, because he missed his dad, and because of the unknown. No one told him how his dad had died, or why, and he had suspected that it was related to advanced technology -- nothing firm just little things said. Now, Jaden and himself had both nearly been killed by that impossible, hovering orb.

He woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, cramped sleeping on the bean bag chair. The normally safe place of his play room seemed foreboding, a cage he was trapped in like a terrified cat, so he ran upstairs and crawled into bed. He turned on the bedside lamp and stared at the door, waiting for it to open and a killer robot or deranged math teacher to creep in and drag him off into the woods.

Boxing Day

He awoke from dreaming of magnets. Giant magnets like in auto wreckers. Did the junkyard have one? He'd seen that on TV, a car picked up by magnet on a crane then dropped into a crushing machine. But what got him thinking about that was what havoc magnets would do to the integrated circuits of machines, machines like the orb. Could they lure it to the junk yard? Seemed impossible, but he had to talk to the others.

He phoned Em first, then Andy, then Jaden. He hesitated before he called Mikey last, uncertain about his angry father. Milliken's strange shunning by people like Mr. Rogan confused him. Instead, he phoned Em back and asked her to call him. Let's meet at ten at the hideout.

Em thinks it's a little weird that Georgie wants her to call Mikey, but then -- Georgie can sometimes be a little weird, the girl reminds herself. She's just starting to pack her backpack when her rotund friend rings her back, so she zips it up and then dials the number for the Rogan's house. She'd never called Mikey's place before, and she briefly wonders who is going to answer as she winds the rotary dial with her Band-Aid-covered index finger...

Mikey’s father is nursing an annoying buzz behind the eyes; a remnant of last nights drinking. The phone ringing early in the morning might as well have been a hammer to the man’s skull. Normally, Mikey’s mother would field all incoming calls, but she’s in the middle of breakfast, and breakfast seemed more urgent to the hungover man. He gets up, knees complaining as he does so.

He grumbles:

"… can’t get no rest on m’god damn Christmas holiday… who is it?"

Andy's haze of familial bliss is gone the next day and his parents are back to getting on his nerves. He figures someone is probably at the hideout and he really has to talk to someone about the strange happenings the past few days. An escape is imminent.

Hey Mom. I'm gonna go hang out with my friends. I'll be back later.

When is later Andrew? You know that's unacceptable, she says.

She is certainly predictable but he thought that maybe this once he might get away with an open-ended time of return.

Oh mommm, he whines. I'll be back for lunch then. Gee whizz.

He exits to the garage, grabs his bike and pedals towards the hideout, seeing ships and spheres and twisted animals float before him. Shaking his head to will the images away, he pedals hard the rest of the way.

"Um, hi?" Morgan responds on the phone, a little nervous about the call generally, and now a lot nervous as it's not Mikey on the other end of the line. "Can I speak to Michael, please? It's Em, his friend from school."

"Mikey? There ain’t no Mikey here!"

Mikey’s dad obviously thought it was pretty funny to mess with the kids from time to time. He waits a few seconds for Em to stumble over her words. Did she have the wrong number? She goes to check it again…

"Ahhh, I’m just messing around.

Hey Mikey!! MIKEY! It’s some girl from school. Emma! You know any Emmas?"

Mikey comes to the phone, and his dad shoots him a wink.

"So, ah… Emma. Whaddaya need Mikey for? Some kinda date or something? It’s about time…"

Dad passes the phone to Mikey, giving him a playful punch in the arm and ruffling his hair. He takes a detour through the kitchen as he returns to his chair in the living room. He grabs a beer from the fridge and sits down with a groan. It’s early for a beer. The old lady will probably have a bee in her bonnet about it. But she won’t say anything, Mr Rogan is fairly sure! . It’s Christmas, after all.

He pops the beer, and slugs. He lets out a satisfied sigh and says to himself:

"Thataboy, Mikey."

Mikey blushes when his father starts to talk to Em - at least he thinks it must be Em, since he doesn't know an Emma - about dates. The thought doesn't gross him out like it usually does whenever he points Mikey to some girl that he thinks Mikey should try it with, but it also doesn't excite him. He'd prefer to just know that she's not mad at him anymore for what he said yesterday.
"Hey Em," he says quietly into the speaker. "I'm sorry about my dad, he's... He says I should get a girlfriend but I..." He sighs. She doesn't care about that. "Why are you calling, though? Do you want to hang out?"

"No Mikey there? Sorry! I must have the wrong num-"

Em stops talking as Mr. Rogan goes on -- and on -- forcing a little redness into her cheeks by the time Mikey actually gets hold of the phone. When he asks about hanging out, her answer is immediate and emphatic: "No!"

But then she gathers her wits... somewhat.

"I mean yes. I mean no not just the two of -- ugh! Look! Meet at ten at the hangout? Okay? And maybe tell your dad you don't need to go on a date. You're eleven! And so anyway, yeah... see you there bye!"

After hanging up, Em shakes her head and starts her own plans for getting to the hideout by ten.

"You heading out, Mikey?" Dad calls from the living room, when he hears the phone placed back on the wall.

"Take a few dollars out of my work jacket! The yellow one! The big pocket on the front."

"Yes, I'm meeting..." He wants to say 'some friends' but before he can, his dad offers him to take some money, which he never does usually. So rather than correcting his dad's assumption that he's going on a date and risking that he takes back the offer, he just says: "Thanks, dad!"
It feels kind of bad but he can always set the record straight later, once the offer can't be taken back anymore. With a few extra dollars in his pocket, Mikey heads out and bikes over to the hideout to meet the others.

"Emma… well, the boy ain’t useless after all."

Mr Rogan slumps into his chair, calling into the kitchen for his wife to fix him another beer.

"And bring one for yourself too!"

Generous. He felt pretty damn good today. Sure, the holidays cost and arm and a leg. He’d have to pull a few shifts overtime to make it all work. But some things were looking up!

---

Morgan's old Schwinn creaks as she pedals over to the hideout, her backpack stuffed with items she thinks will see more use there than they do at her aunt and uncle's house. It's a cool morning and she can almost see her breath; the girl's cheeks are ruddy by the time she parks her bike and climbs up to the window that is their very secret entrance, struggling fairly mightily with her absurdly over-stuffed pack. She's out of breath and her dark hair is mussed by the time she climbs through to find...

Oh Hi Em, Andy says, happy to see someone from the gang. I got a call from Georgie earlier to meet here and I was glad to get it. I needed an excuse to get out of the house so I left right away.

Andy notices Em struggling with her humongous pack. Here let me help you with that. As he takes the pack from her he almost drops it. Holy smokes! Whatcha got in there? It weighs a ton!