Red Centre

by Ansel Gough

  Chris’ bloodshot eyes drifted back to the screen. Clicking the back button, he returned to the search result. Purple links covered the page. He had visited all the pages. He scooted in close to his desk. His fingers hovered over the keys and quickly punched in: “alien objects.”

  Web pages he had seen before popped up in the search, mostly UFO sites. He scrolled through the results. Page after page. A site he hadn’t looked at before—alien implants—popped up. His eyes scanned the pages. He read:

  Ancient records reveal visitations from Sky Beings have been happening for centuries. Sumerians recorded these visits 6000 years ago. UFO sightings now dot the globe.

  No one knows why they are here or knows what they want.

  His eyes skipped down the page. Pictures of little devices: transparent cylinders with rounded edges and coils of wire inside—nothing special here. Many looked made up. Chris clicked the back button again. He had read it all before: ancient aliens, sightings—the lot. He rubbed his tired eyes, glancing at the little clock in the corner of his screen: 2 a.m.

  Lifting a glass of blended scotch whiskey, he swirled the drink, brought it to his lips, hesitated a moment, then he quickly knocked back the remainder, wincing as it burned down his throat.

  The UFO photo he just added to the wall was only one day old.

  They were back!

  ***

  In the middle of his backyard Chris stood hypnotized by the stars. He pressed the alien symbols, hoping something would happen on this night. Nothing did, but he held it up to the sky anyway. Maybe they could detect its presence.

  He slowly circled, arm outstretched above his head.

  Nothing.

  Maybe it was broken. Maybe it was a use-only-a-couple-of-times kind of device. Maybe they didn’t care anymore. They got back their missing comrade.

  Chris moved over to his large trash can, lifting the lid. This thing was worthless. Just a reminder of what he had failed to do. He had blown his shot—given the gray back. He didn’t even put up a fight. The only fight he put up was against his own kind and now they were gone too.

  Wanting to toss the device, he questioned that decision. By now he had almost given up hope of ever seeing his son again, and the hope that this damn thing would even work.

  It wasn’t from lack of trying. This was a nightly ritual. Frustration brewed and at times he wanted to smash the device against a wall, but he couldn’t give up on his son, and this was all he had to connect him with whoever had him. Maybe one day it would light up. It was also proof. Proof he was too scared to showcase to the world, or even his wife.

  ***

  Dragging tired feet down the hall towards his bedroom, Chris stopped in front of Shawn’s bedroom. He slowly opened the door and turned on the light. It was a teenage boy’s room. Posters of cars and his favorite bands lined the walls. His bed was neatly made. It felt so empty.

  Even though he knew Shawn wasn’t there, he still had to check it. He had been looking in on his children ever since they were born. It was habit, his duty to check on him.

  Chris stumbled into the master bedroom. Kate was already sound asleep. Sitting gently on his side of the bed, he realized the device was in his hand. He had forgotten to return it to command center for safe keeping. He placed it on top of his bedside table, covering it with a sock to keep it out of sight. It could wait until morning.

  ***

  Moonlight flowed into the room along with a small breeze through the partially open window. Kate was peaceful. Chris tossed and turned. It was 3 a.m. In and out of sleep; his mind still going.

  He slowly drifted into a light sleep. Then suddenly something rattled in the house. Just a small noise. Maybe the house settling in for the night. Temperature changes making the house creak; at least that was what he told himself. Nothing to get worried about.

  Chris’ eyes heavy again. Closing them, he drifted.

  Jolting, his eyes snapped open. He sat up and scanned the room. Kate slept soundly beside him—the sleeping pills doing their job. All okay. He rolled to his stomach, pounding his pillow, trying to get comfortable. Breathing deeply, he considered taking some of his wife’s meds. He had thrown his out long ago. He hoped he would soon succumb to a deep sleep.

  Soon his eyes fluttered, his body falling asleep again. He began to snore, but his mind and body were still active. He rolled to his back.

  In the still and silent bedroom a small red glow slowly lit up the room. One by one, the alien symbols around the oval object began to light up under the sock. The strip through the middle illuminated. Chris grunted and tossed and turned, as though he was trying to wake up, but couldn’t.

  After a moment, Chris’ eyes opened, one more than the other. It was blurry and he was still mostly asleep. For just a minute he thought he saw a distorted, dark figure appear in the doorway. His mind playing tricks after all of that web surfing. Focusing his eyes, there was nothing there. Maybe I should get up, just to check, he thought. That was his last thought, the battle lost—eyes closed once more.

  Long, gray fingers stretched out, taking the oval object in its palm. The red glow went out, leaving the room in darkness once more.

  Chris opened one of his eyes. A distorted gray face, with large, black, almond eyes, peered into Chris’. Its head turning slightly, watching and observing. He wanted to scream, to leap out of bed—but, seemingly against his will, his eyes closed. Too heavy to open. His body too heavy to move; his mind dream-like.

  ***

  Chris jolted awake, sucking in air, sitting up in bed. He frantically scanned the room, rubbing his eyes. The curtains bounced about in the wind.

  Just a dream! he told himself. Surely.

  His heart pounded. So real.

  He did another quick scan of the room. Empty. No intruder. No gray. His attention was drawn to Kate as she moved a little.

  He carefully laid his head back on the pillow. 4:23 a.m. He slowed his breathing. It’s okay, he told himself.

  Letting his mind wander. It would be sun up soon and he had barely slept. A long day at the office was ahead of him. Calling in sick was an option.

  Remembering the device on his bedside table, he reached for it without looking. He tapped around. Nothing.

  Flipping to his side he checked. The reading lamp snapped on. The device was gone! All the fine hairs on his body instantly stood on end at what he was looking at: a photo of Shawn sat in its place. Drops of purple blood stained some of it. He snatched it, examining the photo. Tears welled up. His mind thrown back to outback Australia. He had placed this same photo in the wounded gray’s hand.

  The suddenly realization hit him like fire: the fuckers are here!

  His eyes grew wide, nostrils flared—truly awake. Glancing to check Kate, she had her back to him, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the events. He placed his hand on her shapely waist, shaking her awake. “Someone’s in the house!” he said in a cautious whisper.

  ***

  Baseball bat in hand, Chris hurried down the hallway, Kate close behind. Fear in their eyes.

  He burst into the girls’ room. They jolted from deep sleep. Fear instantly filled their faces. They knew something was wrong and cried a barrage of questions. Chris told them to be calm and quiet. He moved into their room to lock it down. No signs of forced entry. At least they were safe, for now.

  “Take the girls!” He spun to face Kate, who had run to her girls. “Lock yourselves in the bathroom.”

  Chris darted out the girls’ door.

  Shawn’s bedroom door burst open. Empty.

  He rushed down the stairs. Two at a time. A powerful red glow shone through the windows. So bright. So red. He felt as if he was on Mars. Making it to the bottom of the steps, his head and body spun, trying to locate a target.

  Were they here just to take back their property? Their alien device? Were they here for him? Were they here for his family? Was this revenge? His mind racing with questions.

  Chris made his way through the crimson ho
use, finally ending up in the kitchen. The back door wide open. Light poured in.

  Chris slammed it shut. Locking the door.

  He had to protect his family. Breathing with a degree of relief—no harm had come to them. But this was also what he wanted, to make further contact. His son was still out there. And they knew where he was and if he was still alive.

  Suddenly a figure cast a shadow through the window and across the room. Tall and slender. He knew that shape; it was a gray trying to make an escape. Chris gripped the bat tightly.

  The back door ripped open. Chris stormed outside. The cool, spring night air whipped violently as though it had been disturbed. He shielded his eyes from the bright light above, quickly scanning the area, looking for the gray.

  A lonely figure stood on the lawn. Without thought or fear Chris rushed towards it, bat ready, cocked for a fully-loaded swing. Suddenly he stopped, a few feet short.

  The figure in front of him … human—their back towards him.

  With a lump in his throat, he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real. He lowered the bat, calling softly, “Shawn?”

  The figure remained still. Chris knew Shawn’s short, brown hair, his build. After all this time and the strange red light, it was hard to imagine, but he knew.

  “Shawn?” he called. Almost frightened for him to actually turn around. What if it wasn’t him? Did he dare hope again? What if Shawn’s brain was fried?

  The person slowly turned. A dazed, semi-hypnotic look possessed Shawn’s face.

  “Shawn!” Chris called again, seeing it was indeed his son. He quickly closed the gap, grabbing his son in a tight hug.

  After a moment, Shawn kick off his disorientated trance and suddenly realized he was home and in the arms of his father. “Dad! Dad,” was all he could say. He returned the hug.

  The red glow slowly faded as the craft ascended further and further into the sky, until the Marshall men were nothing more than little dots, almost like ants left on the earth.

  The craft continued to soar into the night sky, becoming what looked to be a small star amongst the heavens above.

  Chris watched on as he held onto Shawn. He couldn’t believe his son had finally been returned, but he feared that these supreme creatures were not done with his family; that it wouldn’t be the last he’d see of these Sky Beings.