Chapter 4: The Cloud Alien Arrives
The days settled into a strange, secret rhythm. The large plastic tub lived in Eric’s bathtub, a permanent saline bath that Eclaire would submerge himself in for hours, his frill undulating gently in the water, his eyes closed in bliss. The prepaid phone became a treasured object; Eclaire carried it everywhere, tucked against his body, and had mastered not just calling Eric, but taking blurry, bizarrely-angled photos of things he found fascinating: the inside of the toaster, the pattern of water droplets on the shower curtain, Eric’s face as he slept.
It was during one of their carefully timed “park runs”—Eric’s euphemism for letting Eclaire experience indirect sunlight and fresh air deep in the overgrown, abandoned ravine behind the apartment complex—that Eric saw it.
He was keeping watch on a mossy log, Eclaire a few yards away, his head tilted back as he sampled moisture from a broad leaf. The evening was thick with the scent of damp earth and impending rain. A flicker of movement, light catching on something that wasn’t quite solid, made Eric turn.
Hovering above a patch of fiddlehead ferns was what looked like a captive piece of fog. It was about the size of a basketball, amorphous, its edges blending softly with the moist air. Inside its translucent body, subtle pulses of pale gold and silver light travelled in slow, dendritic patterns, like neurons firing in a slow-motion storm. It made no sound. It drifted, ponderous and serene, absorbing the lingering heat of the day from the rocks.
Eric’s biologist brain switched on, overriding initial alarm. Atmospheric plasmic organism? Gelatinous aeroplankton? He took a slow step closer. It had no visible eyes, mouth, or limbs. It simply was. Eclaire, noticing his focus, crept silently to his side. He saw the cloud-creature and went completely still.
A low, complex warble rose from Eclaire’s throat, a sound Eric had never heard before. It was layered with recognition, aching curiosity, and a note so profoundly lonely it made Eric’s chest tighten.
Eclaire took a hesitant step forward, then another. The cloud-creature’s internal lights flickered rapidly. It didn’t flee. It drifted slightly lower, extending a wispy tendril of itself toward the approaching alien.
“Easy, buddy,” Eric whispered, a hand half-outstretched, ready to pull him back. He had no idea if this thing was toxic, parasitic, or explosive. “We don’t know what it is.”
But Eclaire was already within touching distance. He raised a hand, his movements reverent and slow. The cloud-creature enveloped his fingers with its misty form. There was no reaction of pain or shock. Instead, Eclaire let out that high, joyous trill from the park weeks ago—the one he’d made when Eric first offered food. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated connection.
The cloud-creature puffed out gently, doubling in size for a moment, and a wave of soft, warm air washed over them. It carried a scent—clean ozone, the electric tang after a lightning strike, underpinned by something rich and sweet like wildflower honey. It was utterly alien and completely non-threatening.
Eclaire chirped, a rapid, happy string of notes. He leaned his forehead into the cloud’s body. The mist swirled around his head, condensing slightly on his scales, making them gleam. Eclaire’s long tail, which had been held stiff with caution, now lifted and curled around the cloud-being in a loose, gentle embrace, not to restrain, but to cradle. The creature’s light pulses synced to the rhythmic sway of Eclaire’s purr.
Eric watched, his scientist’s caution melting under the obvious, visceral truth before him. This wasn’t a random organism. This was a piece of context. Eclaire wasn’t just examining it; he was communing with it. The lonely warble, the immediate physical trust—this was something from his world. A missing piece.
“Okay,” Eric breathed to himself. “Okay, okay.”
The problem was immediate. He couldn’t leave it here. It was mesmerizing, but it was also utterly exposed. A kid, a dog, a sharp stick—anything could end it. And the look on Eclaire’s face, as he drew back to glance pleadingly at Eric, was one of desperate hope. Don’t make me leave it.
“You’re going to get me arrested for interstellar kidnapping,” Eric muttered, but he was already shrugging off his light hiking backpack. He emptied the contents: a water bottle, the emergency phone, a bag of dried apricots. He held the pack open, its mouth wide. “I don’t know if this is insulting or not. But it’s that or we leave it.”
He mimed placing the cloud into the bag. Eclaire watched, understanding dawning. He turned to the creature and made a series of soft clicking sounds, gesturing from it to the open pack. He pointed to Eric, then to himself, then made their “home” gesture—hands forming a roof.
The cloud-creature’s lights danced. It condensed, becoming denser and slightly smaller, a puff of luminous vapor. It drifted toward the open pack and, with a sighing sound like a distant breeze, settled into the bottom. It filled the space, its light glowing softly through the navy fabric.
“Right,” Eric said, shouldering the pack carefully. It was weightless, but warm, like carrying a sleeping sunbeam. “Let’s go. Fast