The Days the Earth Stood Still

The Arrival

He arrived with the virus. 

Technically he arrived after the virus, but with the clarity and perspective that comes with time, it's obvious they came together. Plus, he told me so. 

He arrived on the fourth of May, 2020.   

Up till the point he arrived, my day was going normally. Or as normal as it could go under lockdown. I mean, I hadn't left my apartment in three days and I was wearing the same outfit for the fifth day in a row and I'd just finished a very delicious and nutritious breakfast of crackers and cheese (I hadn't had the energy to cook in over a week and had been subsisting on snacks) and I'd just finished the patch of turquoise blue ocean on the puzzle I'd been working on. 

I was sitting at my desk, writing, or trying to write, when he arrived. My desk heaved, my apartment shook and the tea in my mug sloshed. 

At first I thought someone had driven a truck into the building. That's what it felt like--a deep, sudden impact. I ran out onto the balcony and peered down below expecting catastrophe. Everything was silent and still. 

Shrugging, I went back to work. Must have been a small earthquake. They happen sometimes up here in the Pacific Northwest. 

I had settled back into my writing, or my attempts at writing when I heard something on the roof. This wasn't altogether unusual--seagulls and crows hang out up there, pitter-pattering around. However, this was different. Not a pitter patter, but steps. Slow, methodical steps, as if someone was learning how to walk. Or trying to be very quiet. 

It must be the maintenance crew doing some work up there. 

But it was Sunday. There are no maintenance crews on Sunday. 

Heading back onto the balcony, a snake of dread slithered up my back and wrapped itself around my heart. Something was wrong. 

You know those moments when you just know but you don't know how you know so you tell yourself you don't know, but you know. You know? Well it was one of those moments.

There was no ladder. There were no voices. And yet there was a person on my roof. 

"Hello?" I said, my heart thumping. 

Nothing. 

"Hello? Is anyone up there?" I held my hand up, guarding my eyes against the spring sunlight. 

A head popped into view. A bald head with the palest, slightly blue, most beautiful sparkling skin I'd ever seen. 

I gasped, falling against the railing. 

The head disappeared. 

I backed up slowly. Possibilities swirled. It must be a homeless person or maybe some kid who'd painted himself blue. Or maybe they had hypothermia? How long had they been up there? It was spring. Wasn't colder than ten degrees these days. 

I got into my place, slammed the door shut, locked it, and closed the window beside the door and locked that for good measure. 

I turned around and screamed. 

There was the man standing in the middle of my living room. He blinked furiously and lifted his lips showing me his teeth. 

"No!" I tried to yell. "Help!" But the sound coming out of my mouth was little more than a whisper. I backed up to the door, but I'd locked it. My hands were weak. I couldn't turn the lock. It was like a nightmare except I was wide awake. 

The blue man struggled with his mouth, screwing his face up, sticking out his tongue as if he were choking or had eaten something horribly disgusting. He grunted and groaned. Finally after many seconds of these gross facial gymnastics, he managed to splutter, "Hello. I come in peace."