Looking To The Stars (A Super 8 Epilogue FanFic)

The Deputy's Girl

June, 1999

--

Elizabeth Lamb hates tourists. They were everywhere. They were the plague, swarming around the carefully gated remains of the Water Tower as if they were auctioning off and there was an oil puddle beneath it. 

The chatter of rumors and stories and questions oozes from the queue that stretches halfway around the block, past the Museum, Charlie's and the arcade. They make her walk in the road, the pavement being so packed, but she could still hear the babble despite the cars passing idly by.

"Story is that it landed here and the government tried to cover it up..."

"Well, there's this one blog claiming that it escaped from experimentation..."

"I hear it visits the town..."

"It's all just a dumb hoax to bring money in to a small town..."

Elizabeth smirks when she heard the claims. No one knew the truth, but for her own father, mother, and uncles. And the government. Naturally. 

As she nears the head of the line, she can hear her name being called by Harkin, one of her father's fellow deputies. Her name would spread throughout the whole guard, as usual. She brought lunch. 

"Oy! Lizzie! Whaddya have for me?" Harkin calls from the gate he was defending.

"Ham and cheese."

He nods. "Nice," he tells her as she tosses him a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. "Make sure to tell Alice thanks for me, as usual."

"Sure."

Elizabeth hands three more to Harkin for the other guys standing near him before walking around the corner. Tony sees her at the gated back entrance and let's her in. He gets a sandwich too, but a specially made one - turkey, pastrami, and salami with American cheese. Alice knows everybody's favorites.

"Joe and the other are inside the Museum," he tells her before eating half his lunch in one bite. 

She nods. "Later, Tony."

The Museum's storage room is cool from the A/C, a savior from the uncomfortable heat from outside. She takes the main hallway, one wall filled with crate-packed shelving, to the breakroom on the left-hand side. Her father, Cary, Sheriff Daniels, and a few others sit around the table, she knows, all in a thoughtful silence, and she pauses before entering. 

"Twenty years," her father sighs.

There's a small murmur of agreement. Even Cary refrains from saying something ignorant.

Her father did this twice a year - once in June, once in December. He'd get all silent and stare out of the front window, up to the starry sky. Then her mother would come over, hold his hand, and whisper something into his ear. He'd take her into his arms, and reply with something along the lines of 'I know, Alice.' Yet he did that every June, and every December. He would stay silent for the rest of the day.

Elizabeth, when younger, once asked her mother why he did that. Her response was to crouch to her daughter's eye level, and to tell her that Elizabeth's grandmother died in December, and that The Occurrence happened in June. She asked to know more, but was told that she was too young to understand. 

Elizabeth understood it now. 

She counts to five before entering the room, and they all perk up when they see her. The last of the ham-and-cheese's are tossed out, then the BLT's to Sheriff Daniels and Cary, and lastly the cheese and pesto to her father. The paper bag goes on the floor for trash. "Mom says hi to everyone."