Eli Arnold and the Keys to Forever Book One: It's About Time Page 3

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  I jerked awake as the car bounced over a pothole.

  “Sorry about that,” Brady said. “This road is in some serious need of repair.”

  I rubbed my eyes and tried to determine where we were. I gazed out the window, watching the trees and low shrubs flash by. A small green sign loomed up ahead. Goosebumps erupted on my arms — Mile Marker 13.

  I’m not a superstitious guy. The garlic I keep in my nightstand has nothing to do with a fear of undead vampires - I like the way it smells. I don’t walk under ladders for safety reasons. I’m careful around mirrors in an attempt to avoid broken glass. Black cats are spooky, but nothing to be avoided. The four-leaf clover I keep in my wallet was a gift from my mom. And I certainly don’t think there is anything unlucky about the number 13.

  At least I never did before. But as we passed that mile marker, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. My spine began to tingle. The air in and around the car felt like it carried an electric charge. Something was definitely not right.

  Brady seemed affected too.

  “What the heck is that?” he asked. “Do you feel that, Eli?”

  “I do,” I said checking the passenger mirror. The road behind us was clear.

  “Weird,” my brother remarked.

  I glanced at the side mirror again. Nothing. I turned around and surveyed both the back seat and the road behind us. Everything seemed normal, yet I couldn’t shake the bad feeling that gripped me like a vise.

  Brady’s eyes flicked from the rear view mirror to his outside mirror to the road ahead. I began to think that we were being paranoid. Maybe Mile Marker 13 and my mind were playing tricks on me.

  Then I heard it. Faint at first, like the low hum a refrigerator makes when it’s running. The hum increased in intensity. I could feel vibrations now as well as hear the sound. My whole body tingled in an all too familiar way.

  Brady locked eyes with me. We both knew where the sound came from. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out of the car. A quick look up confirmed my suspicions - a large flying saucer hovered just above my brother’s Mustang.

  The UFO gleamed in the bright sun. It darted back and forth trying to mimic the movements of our car. The metallic surface of the craft appeared smooth, broken only by lights that spun rapidly around its middle. It looked like two Frisbees had been joined together, bottom to bottom, with a row of lights in between.

  A hatch on the bottom of the saucer appeared and slowly opened. A bright green light flowed from within and attempted to engulf the car.

  “No way am I going to let little green men ruin ANOTHER summer vacation,” Brady yelled. “Hold on, Eli!”

  “How do they keep finding us?” I screamed. “I’m not going through this again, Brady.”

  “We’re almost to Grams and Pops house,” he replied. “Just gotta stay ahead of them for a little longer. The shielding dad installed in their home and garage after the last abduction should protect us.”

  “If we can make it,” I said.

  “If we can make it.”

  Brady downshifted, hit the gas, and began a series of evasive maneuvers designed to prevent the alien tractor beam from locking on to the car. He accelerated, braked, swerved and slid between cars, around turns and over hills.

  I felt like a pinball getting thrown around the inside of the vehicle but the tactics seemed to be working. The craft stayed right with us, shadowing Brady’s every move, but the alien beam couldn’t maintain contact with the car long enough to fully engage.

  “Almost there,” Brady snarled through clenched teeth. He checked his mirror again. Small beads of sweat rolled down his face, squeezed out by the force of his concentration.

  My mom’s earlier warning floated through my mind. “There have been a lot of strange astronomical sightings in the past few days ...” Add one more to the list.

  My spirits began to lift a bit when I realized just how close we were to Grams’ and Pops’ house. Brady drove like a mad man. I allowed myself to believe we were going to make it.

  Brady downshifted and slid around the final turn in the road. He grinned like a fool when he saw the bridge ahead. Grams and Pops lived just on the other side. We were home-free. Brady focused on the road just ahead of the car. His concentration was solely on avoiding the other vehicles and the alien tractor beam.

  I scanned the road ahead and my spirits fell. Between us and the safety of my grandparents was a problem - a big problem.

  Many of Florida’s interstates are made up of bridges that span the many waterways found throughout the state. Some of the bridges are drawbridges, which are designed to open so that large ships can pass through the channels beneath. One of these drawbridges lay directly in front of us and, of course, it was opening.

  “Brady!” I screamed. “The bridge!”

  “What about the ...? Crap.” My brother saw the problem. He looked at me and shrugged.

  “No choice, Eli,” he said almost apologetically. “We can’t stop.”

  “Do it, man,” I replied, gripping the arm rest as tightly as I could. My knuckles turned white under the strain.

  Brady floored the gas and raced for the bridge. His knuckles were also white from the death grip he had on the steering wheel.

  I could feel the car loosing speed on the steep incline. I sighed and shut my eyes. Brady exhaled loudly. The engine roared as the car left solid ground and glided out over the open blue water. Wheels spun furiously without the friction of the road to slow them down. Saying a silent prayer, I risked a peek and knew with dreadful certainty that we had neither the speed nor a sufficient trajectory to make it safely to the other side of the bridge. Time seemed to slow. The car hung in space for what seemed like an eternity. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact.

  “Sorry, Bro.” My brother said.