by P P Corcoran
“Walking makes me hungry,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the view. Such a beautiful day, but now the blue sky was marred by one lone gray cloud that floated in their direction. She stared at the cloud curiously. It looked weird.
“Look at that,” she said.
Tyler tilted his head back. “Is that a cloud?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one like that. And it’s the only one up there.”
Tyler climbed to his feet, sending a cascade of crumbs onto the ground. He swiped at his shirt with his hand and moved to the edge of the cliff for a better look. The cloud began to pick up speed, moving until it stopped directly over Tyler’s head.
“Dude, this is so weird. Come see,” he said.
“Come away from it, Tyler. Please,” Iris said. A knot formed in her stomach. It looked artificial. Could it be a disguised drone?
Getting to her feet, she noticed orange sparks running through the cloud. There was a sudden flash and a bolt of lightning exploded from the cloud, striking Tyler below.
“NO!” Iris screamed. She ran forward to help him.
Tyler fell to the ground and rolled onto his side, where he lay still.
“Oh my God, Tyler! Please don’t be dead. Oh my God. Someone help!”
She knew she was screaming into the empty air, but she didn’t care. She dropped to his side, reaching out a shaking hand to search for a pulse. Shockingly, she found one, although the pulse was erratic and way too fast.
“Tyler?”
She looked up, but the cloud had disappeared. That’s not normal. Turning, she scrabbled for her backpack, searching for her phone. It took an eternity to switch back on and it was only when the screen lit up, that she remembered there was no signal.
“Shit. Tyler it’s going to be okay. I’ll go get help.”
As she got to her feet, Tyler let out a groan. “Tyler? Can you hear me?”
His eyes snapped open.
“Tyler?”
He pushed himself up and stood, looking confused.
“Oh my God, Tyler. A lightning bolt struck you. Are you okay? Say something?”
He blinked once, his head turning to look around him. Is he brain damaged or something?
“Tyler? Say something,” Iris said, placing a hand on his arm.
He glanced down at her hand, then back up at her. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground after he shoved her.
“Hey!” she cried, more from shock than pain.
He ignored her and started walking down the hill. What the hell is wrong with him? The lightning must have fried his brain.
With no other choice, she hurried after him. He walked stiffly, arms swinging at his sides. Something’s seriously off about him. More than his behavior, it was something else. She couldn’t put it into words.
“Tyler, please talk to me. We have to get you to a hospital.”
He stopped walking. “Confirm location. Vista Falls. Planet Earth.”
Iris let out a relieved laugh. He was messing around. “Damn it, Tyler. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Awaiting further scouts.”
“What?”
Iris followed his gaze. Hovering over Vista Falls were four more weird clouds like the one that almost killed Tyler. She watched as they moved in different directions, positioning themselves at the four corners of the town.
Clouds don’t do that. They can’t move like that.
“Begin.”
Four flashes of light, four lightning bolts erupted from the clouds, striking something in the town below.
“Tyler? What is going on?” Iris whispered.
He ignored her and continued his journey down the hill. Iris stared out at Vista Falls. Those clouds weren’t natural and if the lightning struck other people...
She ran after Tyler.
2
“Tyler, if this is some joke or sick game, you need to tell me right now!” Iris snapped.
Angry, she grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled hard. He stopped walking, straining forward. Her fingers slipped and he continued walking. Like a robot.
Why was he heading back to town? Was he going to meet up with others? Thoughts were racing through Iris’ brain as she tried to keep up with him.
It was then she realized what was wrong, what was bugging her. The way Tyler walked, the way he held himself, it was like looking at a completely different person.
“Who are you?” The words came out of her mouth before she knew it.
He half turned his head in her direction but didn’t answer her. So, he could hear her, he was just ignoring her.
“Where’s Tyler?” she demanded.
She didn’t expect a reply, but she got one. “Dead.”
Iris stopped, her breath catching in her throat. “What? You’re lying.”
But was he? Who could survive a lightning bolt to the head? Don’t be stupid, he’s walking, moving. It must have scrambled his brain.
“Okay, I’ll play along. If you’re not Tyler, then who are you?”
“4158 Designation – Communication’s Scout.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
He appeared to be done talking. He carried on walking, not stopping to rest. Iris lagged behind him.
“Where are you going?” she asked, exasperated.
“Leave, human. Or face the consequences.”
Human? He’s human too, unless...
She couldn’t let him reach town. Whether he had a scrambled mind or something else, she felt this overwhelming certainty that if he reached town, something very bad would happen.
I can’t stop him, he’s too strong. I need a plan B.
She stumbled as her foot hit a rock. A thought popped into her head.
She lifted the rock and hurried after Tyler. I’ll knock him out and then I’ll get help.
It seemed like a good plan, but as she raised the rock, she hesitated. Could she do it, hit him? What if she killed him?
You can’t think that way. Do it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Bringing the rock down hard on his head, Tyler immediately stumbled and fell. He grabbed his head and let out an unearthly cry. Iris backed off fast.
“Tyler?” she said.
His head still in his hands, he groaned softly. His head rose slowly, eyes filled with fury. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Iris dropped the rock and ran.
3
Iris skidded to a halt at the edge of a steep drop. She turned back to find Tyler closing in on her.
“Stop!” she cried, holding up her hands. To her surprise, he did. He still seemed to be having trouble with his head, he kept shaking it as if trying to clear something.
“You have damaged this vessel,” he growled.
“Vessel? That’s my boyfriend you are talking about,” she snapped.
He glared at me. “He is a vessel. A broken one. But I will complete my mission.”
“What mission?”
“To establish a home base, subdue the population and await the arrival.”
“The arrival of what?”
A horrible grin spread across his face. He pointed a finger at the sky above them. I knew it. He’s not Tyler. He’s... What? An alien?
She tried to push the thought away but couldn’t. What else could he be? If aliens existed, she always expected huge ships like in that movie Independence Day. But taking people over? With lightning? She felt the overwhelming urge to laugh suddenly. This is crazy, totally crazy.
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, knowing he could easily push her off this cliff.
“You will be annihilated, like the rest of your species.”
He grabbed her by the arms, pushing her back to the edge of the cliff.
“NO!” she screamed, as he started to tip her backwards. She grabbed hold of his arms tightly, trying to save herself. He gave her a shake, trying to get her to let go.
&n
bsp; Desperate, she dug her nails into his arms. When he pulled her closer, in an effort to shake her loose, she used the opportunity to bite him on the nose.
He yelled in pain and threw her aside. She almost went over the edge but managed to scrabble onto solid ground. She got up to run, but he grabbed her by the hair.
“Get off,” she screeched.
Rather than pull away, she spun and lashed out with her foot, catching him in the groin. He grunted, releasing her hair. He took a few stumbling steps backwards.
“I’m sorry, Tyler,” she sobbed. Right before she shoved him, hard. He toppled backward off the cliff, landing on the rocks thirty feet below.
Shaking, Iris moved to the edge and peered down. She saw the angle of his neck. He’s dead.
Iris sank to her knees, her body trembling. She started crying and couldn’t stop.
I killed him. I killed Tyler.
How could this be happening? A short while ago, they were happy, they were...
She got to her feet. She couldn’t stay here, she needed to move, to get back to town. In the back of her mind, she knew that she needed to warn people about what happened, but all she could see was Tyler’s face.
In a daze, she started walking. She had no water with her, and her things were still back at their picnic spot. It didn’t matter though, she would keep walking.
Keep moving, don’t think, just move.
By the time she reached the edge of town, she was ready to collapse from fear and exhaustion.
She paused at the top of Main Street. “The Sheriff. I need to speak to the Sheriff, explain what happened,” she mumbled to herself.
She needed to make him understand what Tyler had become. I hope he believes me.
Unless he’s one of them.
The thought stopped her in her tracks. Four lightning bolts, four more aliens or whatever they are. The Sheriff could be one of them. It would make sense wouldn’t it? To take control of the man in charge.
Then why pick Tyler?
He worked at the arcade, he didn’t have any power. So, could it be about proximity? They chose the first humans they came into contact with. That didn’t rule out the Sheriff though. If the Sheriff had become one of them too, he would probably shoot her on the spot.
I need to figure out who has changed and stop them.
But what did that mean? Would she be forced to kill more people? Her stomach roiled at the thought and she vomited on the ground. With her stomach empty, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Whatever came next, she couldn’t do this alone. She needed help.
As she approached the Sheriff’s station, something caught her eye. Mr. O’Neill, the man who owned the bakery, was walking on the other side of the street. He was an old man and for as long as she’d known him, he walked hunched over with a cane for support. Now, he strode down the street in that same stiff way that Tyler did back on the hill.
He’s one of them.
Maybe it would be easier to spot them than she thought. She jogged across the room, careful to avoid him seeing her. If she could figure out where he was going, she could tell the Sheriff. He ducked into an alley, beside the pawn shop with all the TVs in the window.
Iris peeked into the alley. Mr. O’Neill wasn’t alone, Jared Tate stood before him. Iris knew him from school, he worked in the garage now.
The two men weren’t speaking, they stared at each other in silence. What the hell were they doing?
Jared’s head turned in her direction and she quickly ducked back out of sight. She waited to see if they are coming, but they hadn’t moved.
She leaned against the pawn shop window. Okay, I know who two of them are. It shouldn’t be too hard to find the others. I need to go to the police.
She felt slightly more hopeful. I can stop them. Who else is going to do it? As she turned to head back to the station, she glanced at the window. A news report played on the TVs.
The banner headline, ‘Strange Lightning Strikes’ caught her attention. It must be about Vista Falls?
A map appeared on screen and the news reader highlighted the areas where lightning struck. Iris stopped breathing. It wasn’t only Vista Falls. Lightning bolts struck all over the country, in every state. They were everywhere.
How many are there? How can we stop all of them?
A hand clamped down on her shoulder. She had time to see Jared’s face, a fleeting glimpse, before being struck across the face. As she crumpled to the ground, her last thought was: They’re here.
- THE END -
About S. K. Gregory
S. K. Gregory is the author of several urban fantasy, paranormal romance and young adult novels. She runs a blog that supports indie authors by offering book reviews and promotions.
She is an editor and proofreader with JEA Press.
With a background in journalism and film making, she recently worked on an arts based radio show called Lisburn Reads, with a focus on local writers.
Connect with S. K. here:
www.castrumpress.com/authors/sk-gregory
First Friendship
by A.N. Myers
Robert always found meeting the Shoma unsettling, and yet he struggled to pinpoint exactly why. What was it? The Shoma induced a vague panic in him, that was certain, and whenever he was face to face with one, his hands would sweat as if he had been rolling butter in his palms, and he would experience a most uncomfortable burning in his chest. Perhaps it was that were so tall, three meters from huge feet to luxuriously coiffured head when fully grown. Was it their hands, those seven fingered creeping explosions of bone and joint whose jerking movements he studied with no little disgust as they flicked through the papers on the desk? Robert didn’t like their bulbous green eyes either, with the sideways blinking lids that reminded him of slamming windows; nor the greasy alabaster skin; and the chirping, child-like voices, which combined wheedling sympathy with crushing threat, were utterly loathsome to him.
The most likely cause of his anxiety, Robert concluded, was that the Shoma were such slave driving alien bastards, and that any encounter with one was inevitably followed by weeks of miserable, pointless, hard graft for Robert Pell.
“High-rise window cleaning?” said Robert, trying to stop his voice from quavering too much. “Friend Shoma, I’m merely the caretaker of the Block, the caretaker, that’s all. I look after the boilers, the elevators, and organize the maintenance crews. I don’t know anything about high-rise window cleaning.” Robert wiped his moist hands on his rough workman’s trousers, adjusting his tight community collar, in order to allow the chunk of concrete in his throat to descend through his esophagus.
“But Hoo-man Robert, it says here, you are the estate manager. So, this task would fall into your zone of expertise.”
“You are mistaken, Friend Shoma.” It always struck him that the courtesy term Friend by which humans were expected to address the Shoma, and which was never reciprocated, was entirely inappropriate. “The estate manager is Keith Spungeon.”
“Hoo-man Spungeon is dead.”
“Dead...but...I just saw him yesterday. He was fine...how?”
“Oh, it is very sad,” cooed the Shoma. “He was in here. This very office. And he died. In the very chair that you yourself are sitting in.”
Robert shifted in his seat staring past the Shoma, to the cityscape beyond the window. They were very high up, nineteen floors. There, close by, was the North End of the city, with its gleaming, imperious office blocks, where humans labored and Shoma, on the whole, managed them; to the South, hunkering in the shadows, the human residential districts, dilapidated and grimy. A tug of a breeze swayed the open window and for a moment the impeccable black locks of the Shoma lifted from its dome-like skull. With barely a blink, the Shoma eased its alien curls back into place.
“Why-why did Keith die?” asked Robert.
“A heart attack, that is what Hoo-men doctors say. Just one heart, that is problem for your species. You should have three hearts, like Shoma!” It
laughed. “So, now his task falls to you. You have not been informed of your promotion, we see, but of course we Shoma are so busy. So, you learn this now.”
“You want this done for the centenary of First Friendship? I’m not sure how, in three weeks...”
“Ah yes, First Friendship! The joining of our two races, the beginning of our glorious alliance! An occasion well worth celebrating, and the more so here in London, the site of the first arrival! All Shoma and Hoo-men leaders will be here, and the Shoma Marshal himself! Essential that all business blocks will be shining, shining, and this one will be the brightest!”
The burning sensation in Robert’s chest had ignited into tongues of flame which leaped up his throat. “But Friend Shoma, this building is...enormous...it must have five thousand glass panels. It will be time consuming- and very expensive.”
“Hoo-man defeatism! Hoo-man laziness!” squealed the Shoma, its voice rising to an indignant whistle. “You complain of injustice, how we Shoma take your opportunities. But surely, is it not that you don’t work hard enough, that you would prefer to laze about in your hoo-man pits, while we Shoma generate the wealth? You are a fool to spurn Shoma offer!”
“I am grateful, Friend Shoma, of course I am, but- will you guarantee me that the funds will be available from the building budget? Because last time – “
The Shoma waved its giant white knuckle airily. “There are no guarantees of anything, Hoo-man, but we are sure if you speak to the correct authorities, the funding may be arranged. In the meantime, we assume that you agree to this challenge?”
Robert nodded.
“Good. You will report your progress to us here in seven days. Do not let the Shoma down.”
Robert left the office and for a moment or two leaned against the wall. He felt sick and dizzy. He pressed the button for the elevator but nothing happened. He would have to order a maintenance team to repair that. Last time it took two months.
Robert made his way to the stairwell and began descending the eighteen flights of stairs, his mind crowded with miserable possibilities.