The New Arrival (Danny Kent)
TL;DR: The Kents take in another alien.
The American Southwest has some of the highest found-meteorite density regions. New Mexico has a found meteorite rate of 1.9 per 1,000 square miles. Kansas trails with 1.8. A single farm in Smallville, Kansas, at just under 800 acres, has reported 23. One Dr. Kent reported iron meteorities landing in June, following northwesterly winds and a low chance of precipitation, over the course of several decades. It was an idle curiosity among Kansas meteorologists. A bizarre coincidence.
“How big you think this one’s gonna be?” Jonathan Kent mused as he eyed the streak of green in the sky, leaning on a pitchfork. The still-young corn crop rustled in the breeze.
“Not too big, or Clark would already be here,” his wife, Martha, mused from the porch. She looked up from Bubble Wubble Blast 2 on her phone. “Sweetie, you’ve gotta stop holding the pitchfork like that. I’m not ready for people to start comparing us to American Gothic.” Jonathan grumbled before leaning it against the porch railing, whistling sharply.
“Shelby! Come here, girl!” A rambunctious golden retriever mix trotted around the corner, tail wagging. The streak in the sky had faded, disappearing behind the barn. “Shelbs and I are going to go check it out on the four wheeler.” Martha perked up.
“Log the coordinates, you’ve taught me well,” Jonathan finished, waving his hand dismissively and sending her a smile. The ATV engine roared to life, and he was off. It rumbled to a stop in front of a smoking crater. A head popped up, and two large eyes blinked back. Jonathan’s phone flash went off as he snapped a picture.
The figure recoiled, hissing. Ghostly white hair flickered around their face like fire, and a green sheen swirled across the wet surface of their eyes like rainbows on the surface of a bubble. Green tinged skin stretched across their features, and huge, wrinkled ears angled themselves back cautiously. Their dark nose twitched as Shelby approached the edge of the crater. A series of clicking noises rang out before their long, slender limbs collapsed beneath them like scaffolding.
“Woah girl, you don’t want to scare ‘em,” Jonathan whisper-shouted, hastily dismounting. It was too late. Shelby was already weaving joyfully between the new arrival’s arms, tail going a mile a minute. They obliged the dog with gentle scratches, and Jonathan smiled. “Looks like Clark might be getting a new sibling.”
It wasn’t hard to get them to follow. It was disconcertingly easy, in fact. Jonathan texted Martha to scrounge up some of the leftovers from their early dinner. He wasn’t sure if their new charge ate, given that he hadn’t seen a mouth. Perhaps they could photosynthesize like Clark, if the green hued skin was a clue.
“How do you think they eat? If they eat at all?” Martha murmured, leaning forward on an elbow. Their guest prodded inquisitively at a gently warmed plate of food. The skin beneath their nose was taut and seamless. “I can never believe how lucky we got with Clark.”
“Hell if I know,” Jonathan responded, tucking into his own plate of food. The smell of shepherd’s pie always whet his appetite. Their company watched him carefully. Jonathan gestured with his fork with ‘cheers’ motion before relishing the forkful of luscious potato, mouth already watering from the well browned beef.
Jonathan Kent was a man who sometimes wondered if the point of life was to hear food sizzle while cooking. Cracking fresh eggs and wiping freshly minced garlic from the slightly tacky blade of a knife were simple tasks and simple joys. He wondered if Clark was eating well.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp crack and a soft gasp. The figure’s pointed chin had lowered, the muscles of a jaw straining into visibility. Where their mouth would be, the skin stretched tighter still, before caving in like the hollow of a cheek. They emitted a high pitched, painful whine, eerie as a theremin, limbs tangling around their head like a self imposed cage. Martha lurched forward in concern.
The skin began to split. Fibrous layers burst forth, as if they had only been held together by tension. Their face bloomed like a roll of tissue shredded by a cat's claws. Pieces began to flake and fall off, and the whine intensified as something began to protrude.
A tooth. A startlingly human looking incisor. Jonathan’s fork clattered onto his plate, and he winced in commiseration. They began to claw at the flaking skin, slowly excavating a set of pearly whites. When they finished, piles of white flakes littered the room. They sneezed, shaking their head, rubbery ears slapping against their face.
They gnashed their newly grown pair of human teeth with apparent glee.
“It seems like they might be able to fit in just fine.”
