Dujuan and the Discovery in Hamrick’s Creek by Bruce Buchanan

Dujuan and the Discovery in Hamrick’s Creek by Bruce Buchanan

BLRRING!! 3:05 p.m. Another ninth grade Tuesday in the books.

Teenagers flood Shelby High School’s halls. Sneakers squeak against polished tile. I stop by my locker to cram some notebooks and papers into my backpack. Got a biology project to work on tonight. But first, Andy, my best friend since third grade, is coming over for a Minecraft sesh. Last week, I even beat the Ender Dragon.

As I’m about to close my locker, a catcher’s mitt of a hand does it for me.

The oversized hand belongs to Lance Brady, a senior and star linebacker on the football squad. Lance looms over me, his bushy blond eyebrows furrowed.

“You bring it, dweeb?”

“Uh, I’m still working on it.” The “it” in question is Lance’s U.S. history report. Lucky me—the teacher assigned us to side-by-side desks. As a result, I’ve done his history homework all year. Under duress.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dujuan. That report’s due Thursday. If I don’t turn it in, I won’t play in Friday’s game.” He presses that frying pan hand against my shoulder. “The team needs me—and I need you. You do have school spirit, right?”

“Uh, s…sure.” A lead ball drops into my stomach. Shame and fear grapple in my skull. And fear wins.

“I’ll get you that report, Lance.” Unable to meet his eyes, I examine the tops of my sneakers.

“Dang right you will.” My knees nearly buckle when pats my collarbone.

Lance throws his letter jacket over his shoulder and struts away, just as Andy walks over from the English wing.

“Let me guess—that jerk was hassling you.” Andy, who stretches to five feet tall on his tiptoes, punches his palm. “Stand up to him. If he wants trouble, he’s gotta fight me, too.”

I pull my Charlotte Hornets cap down over my eyes. “Dude…I appreciate that. But let’s be realistic.” Unlike Andy, I’d hit my ninth-grade growth spurt. But I grew up, not out. Even on hot days, I wore long sleeves and pants to cover my spaghetti-noodle arms and legs.

Andy’s eyes gleam as he stuffs his hand into his front pocket and fishes out his phone. “Anyway, forget that chump. I got something that will blow your mind.”

Andy shoves the device scant inches from my face. I squint. Three shiny dots zoom over the Cleveland County Fairgrounds—just a couple of miles from here. The amateur videographer’s hands shake as they follow the blips, which disappear over a clump of scrawny pine trees.

A trio of drones spotted over western NC. This is the sixth such sighting this month.

“Check it out, Dujuan! We got aliens here in Shelby.” He pivots his head to make sure none of our classmates are listening in. Then his face extends into a broad grin.

But I wave him off and hoist my backpack on my shoulder. “Bruh, you heard the news—they’re drones.” While I’m open to the idea of life on other planets, I file this under “Andy’s Imagination”, not “Extraterrestrial Life”.

“Of course they’re gonna tell us that, Dujuan. You think the government would say, ‘The aliens have landed’?” He smiles and wags a finger at no one in particular. “I bet these three are heralds of an invading force! Like the Silver Surfer did for Galactus.”

I chortle as I spin my locker’s padlock. “Dude, I love the Fantastic Four, too. But this isn’t a comic book.”

Andy’s mouth turns down and his eyes drop to black-and-white checkerboard floor. So I soften my tone.

“Look, my uncle Rodney got a drone last Christmas. I couldn’t believe how fast and high he could make it go. Well, until he crashed it into Moss Lake.” I slap the side of Andy’s arm. “Point is, drone technology is impressive these days. Uncle Rodney’s drone sure looked like a UFO from a distance.”

Andy slips his phone back in his pocket. “Guess you’re right. Hey—don’t tell anyone about this conversation. Please?”

“You know I wouldn’t do you like that.” I jab my thumb in the direction of the school’s double exit doors. “Let’s grab a controller.”

& & &

But when we get to my house, an empty hole greets us where the chips and snack cakes should reside.

Andy closes the cabinet door with a scowl. “Dang, Dujuan. You couldn’t save me one Little Debbie?”

I shrug. “Bio homework makes me hungry. C’mon, let’s reload at The Pantry.” I dig into the old peanut butter jar where Mom and Dad store spare change.

Our neighborhood convenience store is a 10-minute walk—if you follow Hamrick’s Creek. The small stream cuts through a wooded area between our house and The Pantry and walking along the edge of the creek is quicker and safer than taking Charles Road.

My dog, Photon, leads the way—on her own time. The shaggy, brown-and-white pooch sniffs every blade of grass along the creek bank. I roll my eyes when she stops to pee for the fifth time. “C’mon, girl. We’re burning daylight. If you hurry, I’ll give you a doggie treat.” Andy whistles and claps his hands, but Photon ignores him, too.

I sigh as my dog keeps sniffing. I should’ve stayed home and written that history report for Lance. The sooner I get that done, the quicker he gets off my back. Until the next time he needs something.

Then, out of nowhere, Photon bolts into a thicket of scrubby pines above the creek. She tugs the leash so hard I nearly tumble tail over teakettle.

“Photon! What has gotten into you, girl?” My sneakers squish in the creekside mud as I lurch forward. Dang it—Mom will ground me for life if I can’t get these shoes clean.

Photon drags me up the hill into the clump of trees. Laying her ears back, she emits a loud “ARF!”

And when I see why, I’m as confused as my dog. There, on a carpet of pine needles, rests a giant metallic egg about the size of a dorm room refrigerator. Perfectly smooth, Its shell is as shiny and sleek as the chrome on a Corvette’s wheel.

“What’s going on?” Andy huffs up the hill, his short legs unable to keep up with my long strides. Instead of answering, I point in the direction of the egg.

He covers his mouth with both hands. “Holee! I told you we had aliens in North Carolina!”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” I stoop down to pet Photon; her muscles tense. She hasn’t taken her eyes off the object, either.

“What? You think a mama cardinal laid that egg?” Andy chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s some type of alien incubator. Like the one Superman came in from Krypton. And, yeah, I know that’s a comic book. But you get the idea.”

Nah…that’s crazy. Giant space eggs don’t just fall out of the sky. But we normally don’t find anything more exotic than empty soda cans on this path. So, what the heck is it?

I reach toward the egg. Photon growls, and I hand her leash to Andy. “Is that a good idea? What if it’s booby trapped?”

I rub my chin and wrinkle my brow. “I don’t think it would be. Why would anyone leave a giant metal egg at Hamrick’s Creek? Unless they lost it.”

My hand trembles as I extend my fingertips forward. I have to do this. Fear may win over shame in my mind, but apparently curiosity can beat back the butterflies in my stomach.

I press my palm against the smooth metal—and it pulsates with warmth. Something inside the egg is generating heat and energy. I press my ear to the shell and hear a faint humming sound.

THUMP! I jump back, my heart rate spiking. Something inside bumped against the shell!

I take a deep breath. Don’t get worked up, Dujuan. It could be something mechanical. But I swear, it knew I was listening.

Andy takes out his phone, clicks “RECORD,” and walks in a circle around the egg. “See! I told you—aliens!”

This time, I don’t argue. Because I’m not sure he’s wrong.

As much as I want a snack, Andy and I skip The Pantry and return to my house to grab a tarp from Dad’s tool shed.

“Shouldn’t we…I dunno…call the FBI? Or at least tell our parents?” Andy billows the paint-stained canvas tarp over his head, and we allow it to parachute over the humming egg.

“Maybe. But let’s give it some time.” My hands smear dirt on the front of my shorts. “I don’t think it’s dangerous, and I want to see what it might do next.”

Andy raises his eyebrow, like a pint-sized Dwayne Johnson. “What it might do next? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep. I think our egg is hatching!”

& & &

“Dujuan! Would you care to join us in French class?” I shake the fog out of my head, drawing a laugh from the other students. Mr. Powell crosses his arms, waiting.

“Um, j’ai, tu as, il a, elle a, nous.…”

Conjugating the verb “avoir” doesn’t measure up to mystery metal eggs. I’ve spent most of Wednesday daydreaming about what might emerge from inside. I’m still not convinced that the egg is extraterrestrial. But wherever it’s from, I want to see what it does next.

After fifty of the school year’s longest minutes, French ends and I hit the hallway, counting down until I can go back to the egg.

I stop at my locker and use its door as a shield. Andy texted me the video, which I watched a dozen times in bed last night. Clicking the file again, I marvel at the egg’s smooth metal exterior—I couldn’t find a seam where it had been welded together. I pop in my earpods and hear the mechanical purr, even over Andy’s squeals.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lance. He power walks toward me, knocking ninth graders out of the way with his elbows.

“Got that paper?” His booming voice shakes my spine. Oh God—I can’t let him see the egg!

I stick my phone hand inside the locker. My thumb fumbles for the volume button, but the device still hums as Lance gets in my personal space.

“Hold up, Lance. I don’t have your paper yet, but I will by tomorrow.“

His fingers go to his square chin. “Whatcha hiding, dweeb?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just—”

That lie earns me a hard shove. The back of my head smacks the locker and I wince. “Cut the crap, Dujuan. Hand over the phone.”

“W…why do you want it?” I blink rapidly. The still-thrumming phone drops into my backpack.

“‘Cause I want to see what’s got you so shook.” The corner of his mouth turns up in a sneer.

C’mon—I need a teacher to walk by. “Honestly, it’s nothing.” I brace myself for a slap across the face. Instead, Lance bulldozes his way past me and sticks his hands into my locker.

“Give it back!” My long, skinny fingers wrap around his cordwood arms. But he doesn’t even bother to laugh.

Lance holds the phone over his head. Then his eyes widen. “Holy crap—what is this?”

My chest gets heavy. He’s seen the egg. Now, the secret isn’t ours anymore. He could destroy the egg. Or sell it. Or call the government, who will hide it and I’ll never know the truth about what’s inside.

“Wh…what are you going to do?” I stare open mouthed as Lance pats the side of my face.

He slams the phone into my sternum. I try to stand firm, but I stumble anyway. Then he waves his finger in the air with a flourish.

“Meet me at the flagpole after school. You’re taking me to the egg. If you don’t show, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

I inhale deeply and try to slow the breaths that come in machine gun bursts. Lance will steal the egg.

Unless I stop him.

& & &

The sixth period bell rings to end the school day. Thankfully, Andy has the class next door to mine. I weave through his exiting classmates to find him still at his desk, scrolling UFO fan accounts on the ‘Gram.

He shoots a quick nod in my direction. “Dude! Got time for a little Minecraft this afternoon?”

I grab the crook of his elbow and practically jerk him out of his desk. “Andy, we gotta go! Lance knows about the egg, and he wants it.”

“Wait—what? How did he find out?”

“I’ll fill you in later.” I shove Andy toward the door. “Lance may be a meathead, but we can’t risk him figuring out the egg’s location. We’ve got to get to it first!”

As we run down the science hall, I take a quick peek through the two-story panel window to the flagpole. Sure enough, Lance paces in front of it, cracking his knuckles.

With him out front, we sprint to the rear exit, earning a “Slow down!” reprimand from a teacher. I push the handle and we step into the faculty parking lot behind the school.

Andy slings his bookbag over his arm. “Should be home free, D. We can take Sumter Street, then hang a left at the City Park back to your neighborhood.”

Sounds like a good plan. Too good, I suppose. Because we haven’t made it two steps down the sidewalk when a gruff shout raises the hairs on the back of my neck: “Hey! Come here, you little turds!”

Lance, of course. Somewhere in his dim lizard brain, he figured we skipped out and circled around the vocational building to check. I clench my fists. Time to move.

Andy and I sprint down Sumter Street, and even with my feet slapping the sidewalk, Lance’s footfalls haunt my ears. Despite our head start, we can’t outrun an all-conference linebacker.

I pinch the sleeve of Andy’s Wakandan Design Group T-shirt and steer him across the street. I cough after sucking in a lungful of diesel exhaust from a school bus pulling away from school.

The local Episcopal Church sits across the street from the school. Behind the church is the biggest cemetery in town, with graves dating to Colonial times.

“Maybe we can lose him in the graveyard.” This cemetery was built on a hill; you can’t see the full expanse of it from the wrought iron gate. Tall oak and maple trees shade the tombstones. Hopefully, they’ll give Andy and me some cover.

My shaking finger points to a spot behind the Hoffstettler mausoleum. A thicket of trees obscures the dingy white marble structure from the narrow sidewalk snaking through the graveyard.

We crouch behind the mausoleum’s corner. No doubt, Lance saw us duck into the graveyard. But hopefully, he’ll think we kept running and went out the back gate.

My chest heaves and my eyes blur. Not sure if I’m breathing so hard from overexertion or panic. Not that it matters either way. if Lance hears me huffing in our hidey hole.

We could miss the egg hatching because we’re dealing with this nonsense. Because I’m too scared to face my bully.

Within moments, the ominous sound of sneakers clomping on concrete disrupts the graveyard’s silence.

It’s quiet. As if the runner has stopped to figure out his next move. I hold my breath and listen, unable to look at Andy. If Lance finds us, I’ll have to give up the egg. I…I can’t stand up to him.

I close my eyes and wait.

The footsteps resume—on concrete, not grass. They grow fainter and fainter until the sound completely fades.

Andy blows out a big breath. “We dodged one there, Dujuan.”

I wipe the nervous sweat off my forehead and point back toward the front gate. That’s why we have to get to Hamrick’s Creek now.

On our way, we stop by my backyard to grab my Dad’s new wheelbarrow. He doesn’t play around with gardening—this is one of those heavy-duty models, with four wheels, ergonomic handles, and a wide, deep plastic bin.

Dad sticks his head through the open backdoor. “Hey! Where are y’all taking my new wheelbarrow?

I barely look up. “Oh, uh, Andy and I need it for…a science project.” I hate to lie, but what am I supposed to say? That we need it to recover an alien egg?

We cut our eyes side-to-side on the short walk to Hamrick’s Creek. I expect Lance to jump out and force us to show him the egg’s location.

But he doesn’t. We lift off the tarp; the egg glows reddish orange. The hum has grown louder, shriller. I tap my fingertips to the metal, which has gone from warm to downright hot.

Andy leans over the egg for a closer look. “Is it hatching?”

“I think so! Quick, help me get it in the wheelbarrow.”

We place the wheelbarrow on the creek bank below us. Using the rolled-up tarp as a cushion, Andy and I roll the egg into the bin.

The egg continues to pulse, getting brighter by the minute. A tapping noise accompanies the accelerating humming sound. Whatever is inside the shell is coming out soon.

Andy turns to me and sinks his teeth into his lower lip. “D…you think we should call somebody? This is getting real….”

I take a deep breath, Photon curling her body around my leg. I still have no idea what we’ve gotten into.

But if this is an alien egg, it didn’t choose to be dumped in Hamrick’s Creek. If we turn it over to the government, they’ll lock whatever’s inside in a top-secret lab, never to see daylight again. I can’t let that happen.

“Andy, if there’s a living creature in this egg, it needs us. And I’m going to protect it.” Hands on the handles, I put my back into shoving the wheelbarrow out of the creek bank. Andy says nothing else but pushes along with me.

Our luck holds up as we roll our strange cargo out of the creek and back onto my street. None of my neighbors are outside to question us, and we make it back to Dad’s tool shed unnoticed. Wheelbarrow and all, we muscle our secret cargo up the plywood ramp into the corrugated metal building.

“What now?” Andy huffs, hands on his knees. “We just wait?”

I point to the glowing oval. “I don’t think we have to wait long!”

The egg vibrates so hard that I nestle it in an old blanket, so it won’t shake itself out of the wheelbarrow. Then, a crack erupts along the smooth metal shell. That first hairline crack splits and expands into larger seams. The rounded end of the shell falls away. Another chunk crumples into tiny fragments.

And a baby bird—made entirely of the same metal as the egg and the size of a Great Dane—pokes its head out from under the blanket. Its eyes glow like twin rocket boosters.

Andy was right. This is an alien egg! I should be scared. Instead, a warmth fills my chest. A smile crosses my face. Extraterrestrial life exists—and Andy and I are the first people to meet it. He grabs me in a bear hug. “Told you, Dujuan.”

The bird blinks its smooth metallic eyelids, looks at me, and opens its shiny beak. “CHEEP!!”

Andy, whose smile had been as big as mine, raises his eyebrows and turns to me. “It’s hungry! What does something like this eat?”

I have no idea—worms and grasshoppers don’t seem likely to satisfy this bird. Before I can give it any more thought, three silver streaks appear above the neighborhood. With uncanny precision, the dots zip down to my backyard.

I gawk at the sight before me. Three metallic birds—each the size of a horse—appear in front of our pear tree!

They stand still and erect, glowing eyes focused on Andy and me. None of the birds speaks, but I hear a voice inside my head: You have our child.

My mouth drops open. Child? These three are the baby’s parents? “Uh…right here.” I gesture to the hatchling, who again utters a “CHEEP!”

While the others continue to eye Andy and me, the third parent steps to the baby in two strides of its long, skinny metal legs. It lifts the little bird and tucks it under its wing. The little bird coos, then closes its eyes and rests its head against the larger bird’s breast.

Andy finally finds his voice. “Whuh—why are you on Earth?”

The telepathic voice again fills our brains. Because we wish to create a new aerie. This planet has all the requisite natural resources. And its primitive organic life forms would offer minimal resistance.

Minimal resistance? They’re talking about invading Earth! I lick my lips and swallow hard.

“You can’t turn our planet into your aerie. We found your baby and took care of it. Isn’t empathy a sign of advanced intelligence? And if so, doesn’t that make us smarter than you thought?”

Andy nods. “We could’ve left it at the creek. But Dujuan said we had to keep it safe, and I’m glad we did.”

Three sets of unblinking ember-colored eyes shift to me. They weigh my words. I stand, hands at my side, trying unsuccessfully not to shake under their judging gaze.

“Look, I know humans can do crappy things. But there is a lot more to us than that.” I hold out a hand. “Here’s an idea: Instead of conquering earth, why don’t you study us? Maybe you’ll learn something.”

The alien birds form a circle and look at each other. I’m not privy to their conversation, but they chop things up via telepathy. Finally, as a group, they turn back to me.

What you say is true. You have shown our child mercy. In return, we will spare your world. And with that, every molecule of oxygen spews out of my lungs.

One of them points its wing at the broken egg. Blue light washes over the metal fragments and they disappear. Except for a small, bird-shaped pendant. The big bird gestures and the piece levitates into my hand.

Wear this. Through it, we will monitor your activities. Perhaps you have something to teach us after all.

I press the smooth metal into my palm and squeeze my fingers around it. I’ll never give this up.

I don’t have time to thank them, though. The three grown birds, now with metal chick in tow, streak off into the sky heading for…who knows where? I’ll never know.

I give Andy, who’s as breathless and quiet as me, a slap on the back. We’ll talk about this later., when we’ve had time to process what we saw. Not now.

He still stares at the spot in the sky where the birds vanished. “Dujuan, what about Lance? You owe him a history paper tomorrow.”

“Nah. I don’t.” I laugh and finger the bird pendant. “C’mon. Let’s go to The Pantry, then play some games.”

Image Source: Teuku Faza Rivaldi from Unsplash.com