Invasion Earth

by David Tienter

  Larry picked up the bow, took two rapid strides, and pushed the boat out. It floated through the hyacinths and into the clear water of the lake where the wind took control of it again, and suddenly it was gone in the darkness.

  Turning, Trist walked uphill into the woods. He could no longer see the light, but knew he must get off the open beach and in among the trees to break some of the wind’s force. Several hundred yards in, he could see a cabin. It appeared as a large black object before him. No lights visible, no smell of smoke in the air, no signs of habitation led Trist to believe the building was empty. He crossed the porch and pounded on the door. No answer. Moving to his right, he found a window and tried to lift it, to no avail. He wrapped the canvas snugly against his elbow and smashed one pane of glass out. Reaching in, he found the lock, twisted it open, and lifted the broken window.

  Trist could hear the two Tonkians following behind him. He stepped through the open window, followed the wall back to the door, and opened it. He felt around until he located what seemed like a light switch, flipped it up, but nothing happened. The cabin owner must have turned off all power at the end of the summer season. Trist continued to follow the wall around the room, searching for the fireplace, or stove, or kitchen cabinets. Anywhere he could find a flashlight or some match to get light, then hopefully heat.

  Izixebi and Larry crossed the porch, entered the cabin, and shut the door, without Trist hearing them. They’re so stealthy, he thought, as his hand searching the mantle found a small book of matches.

  “Okay, people,” he said. “Look for a candle, a lantern, or at least some paper so we can get a light going.”

  He lit one match. Immediately he saw several decorator candles sitting next to where the matches had been. He started them both, blew out the match, and, carrying the candles, he and the Tonkians began to explore their home for the night.

  Trist went right to the fireplace. Using the wood and kindling stacked next to it, he started a cozy little fire, pulled the flue open, and began to relax a little in the luxurious feeling of heat. The Tonkians were sitting on the couch. They appeared to be all knees and elbows with their weight sinking them deep into the cushions. Larry rose, and walked to the open window. He closed it and stuffed a cushion from the couch to block the opening. It helped block out the cold. A linen closet next to the fireplace provided blankets and pillows. Within minutes they were fast asleep.

  The sky was beginning to show a touch of the deep orange reserved for a few cold mornings at the end of Indian summer when Trist heard steps on the porch. Throwing off the bedding, he was at the door, opened it, and was going outside before the caretaker could knock.

  An unfriendly older man, heavily wrapped in a plaid winter coat, glared at him.

  “You’re trespassing on private property.”

  “We’re sorry,” said Trist, still dressed in the clothes he’d swum in the night before. “As you can see, our boat went down last night and we had to swim to make the island. We desperately needed shelter or we would have died. Of course, we’ll pay for the window and any other expenses. We need warm clothing and a boat. If you could sell us or rent us transportation back to the mainland, it would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Ain’t got any extra clothes, or extra boats. What I do got is a radio. I’m heading back to my place to call the constable and border guards. I suggest you get out of Tom Rainey’s cabin before they get here. The constable’s name is Tom Rainey.” He turned and walked rapidly down a path leading to the west.

  “I’ll handle this,” said Larry. Before Trist’s eyes, he morphed into a twenty-something, blonde girl wearing a short skirt. “Perhaps he’ll be more willing to help me than crusty old Trist.”

  An hour later, Larry walked in, and tossed Trist the coat the caretaker had been wearing. “He didn’t want me to get cold on my walk back. He has the strangest sex needs I’ve ever heard of. Anyway, he’s lying on his couch with a smile on his face, and told me, it’s okay if we stay this week, but he wants us gone by Monday night.”

  Searching through the sparse pantry, Trist found a couple of cans of pinto beans and a can of Spam. He gave the Spam to the Tonkians, while he ate the beans.

  Larry said he was still warming up and wasn’t too hungry so Izixebi had the full can of Spam.

  “I’m going hunting,” said Izixebi. “I need more food. Want to come with me, Larry?”

  “Nope, I’m still half dead after last night’s adventure. Going to sleep for a couple of hours.”

  “How about you, my Warrior-Hero?”

  “Absolutely. I’d love to see how you hunt.”

  Izixebi, in her Tonkian form, walked steadily from the cabin heading east. “Looks like the trees are thickest here,” she said. “Probably some game in there trying to keep out of the wind.”

  A few steps later, she pointed out a small herd of deer. “Wait here. Try not to move.”

  She walked slowly right up to the animals. Swinging her arm rapidly, she beheaded two deer. While they bled out the last of their lives, the other deer scattered into the trees. She carried one deer under each arm and walked back to where Trist waited.

  “Impressive,” he said. “Did you cloak their minds?”

  “Yes. All they saw was a small deer approaching the herd. No danger at all. Let’s take them back to the cabin. We’ll have a feast tonight.”

  “I’m going to look over the island,” said Trist. “See if we have any other people or dangers.” Larry’s lack of hunger had raised his suspicions. He circled the small island noting little of interest. Near the caretaker’s cabin, he slowed. The yard did not seem as neat as he believed the crusty old man would have it. He noticed the front door was open, just a crack, but he was very suspicious. He entered the empty cabin, and took the caretaker’s shotgun and a pistol he found in the top drawer of the nightstand. Better to be prepared, he thought. He took the man’s winter cap. Now he was also ready for the cold. He put a twelve-gauge shell into the shotgun and exited the cabin. He could see Izixebi, now in human form, approaching him from the dock.

  “Good evening, My Hero. The caretaker has returned to the mainland and won’t be back for a week. I thought maybe you and I could use his cabin and let Larry have the other.”

  “Certainly sounds wonderful to me, Mary. I’ll get a little more wood for the fire.” Trist went over by the stacked wood, keeping ten to twelve feet between himself and the alien. After Mary walked past him and stepped up on the porch, Trist shot the alien, in the middle of his chest, a blast that destroyed most of its spinal/nerve stem.

  The wounded beast thrashed about, kicked wildly at Trist, and hissed at him. It would have attacked, but its legs didn’t work properly.

  “I told you before not to kill any humans, Larry, damn you,” said Trist. “You’ve turned absolutely everyone in this world against us.” He reloaded and ended its suffering.

  Izixebi came running into the clearing. “Why, Trist, why did you kill Larry?”

  “That skunk killed the caretaker. With everyone searching for us, that stupid move could alert the authorities that we’re here. Also, he tried to cloak my mind into thinking he was you. A foolish thing, I would know you anywhere in any disguise. I’m sure he meant to kill me, so I did him in first. You’ll find the caretaker’s body hanging down by the dock. We can take that and Larry’s body as further food stores for the winter.”

  Together they walked slowly back to their cabin. Izixebi had the caretaker under one arm and Larry slung over her shoulder.

  “I think we’re now as prepared as we can be, Trist.” She walked slowly, looked at Trist frequently, and acted almost coquettish.

  “Yes, I think so too. Plenty of food and fuel. The winter will be long, but we’re ready.” Unsure of what her unusual behavior signified, he tried to keep his mind on winter preparations.

  They ate venison steaks that night. The glow from the fireplace was warm and welcoming. Trist sat next to Izixebi on the soft couch.

 
“I have chosen you to mate with, My Hero. Tonkians mate only with the biggest strongest males they can find. But I chose you. Your appearance is of a small weak human, but I can see the immense power of your being. You are kind and you exhibit a true dedication to life.”

  “I love you, Izixebi. I am dedicated to you with all my heart and soul. Zanper surely meant us to have children together.”

  Trist kissed her on the cheek. She pulled him close and they cuddled for a minute, but he refused to couple with her.

  “I understand Tonkian tradition and I understand devotion, but you and I are breaking new ground here. I know the female Tonkian eats the male Tonkian after consummation. This provides strength to the female and gives instinctual knowledge of the father to the children when they are born and eat their mother. If we let ourselves follow the demands of nature, our children will not survive the first year. This land is too foreign. One of us must remain alive to guide them. If you wish to be the survivor, you can feed on me. The children can feed on the body of Larry. That way, they will understand their Tonkian heritage, and you can teach them about earth. Otherwise, if you consume Larry, and let them feed on you, they will learn about their heritage from you, and I will teach them how to survive on earth and help them get settled here.”

  “Everything in me demands that I consume you, my Hero Warrior.”

  “If you wish to have our children survive, you must let them feed on Larry when they hatch out.”

  “I understand My Hero, but thousands of years of customs are hard to ignore. They must, at least feed on me. That is my meaning in life. They are my children, they must know me.”

  Trist held her close for comfort. “Give me a minute to set everything up my precious Izixebi.”

  The coupling was awkward. Her size prevented any tender caring embraces. When he had finished, he crawled up onto her lap.

  “You were wonderful, my Hero Warrior. Please know I will not cause you pain.”

  “I know that, Izixebi. Remember always that I love you deeply.”

  “Trist, we have conceived fourteen children. Long will they sing your name.”

  Trist leaped from her, over the couch, as her nature made her lean over and attempt to grab him. He was already out of her reach. He pushed the body of Larry on top of her, and bolted for the door. She made another quick lunge to catch him, but he dodged her and left the cabin. He knew she would consume Larry and then fall into a deep sleep. He could hear her sing to their unborn children, as he walked back to the caretaker’s cabin. She sang about the joy of her life and their great Hero father.

  Trist remained separate from Izixebi during this time. The primal forces within her would force her to kill and eat him. Her heritage and hormones would rule.

  When he returned to the house several weeks later, he saw her exoskeleton. The children had completely stripped the flesh from her. He knew their children would grow strong knowing their mother through the process of consuming her. He buried her behind the house. His children were already six inches tall and growing rapidly. He was busy feeding them with the deer, but the herd was thinning rapidly.

  There were fourteen children, but one son, Larry, was killed while going out on a hunt by himself, when he was only six months old. Trist had difficulty dealing with the extreme sorrow of losing a child, and began to plan their exodus from the island.

  One morning, soon after he accepted the role as father, he loaded them into a boat with lots of warm blankets and returned to the mainland. Incredibly, his pickup was still parked where he’d left it. Have to love these honest Minnesotans, he thought. Loading his family in, he left the state heading west.

  PART TWO

  TONK ATTACKS

  The late afternoon sun warmed the meadow and the tiny mountain creek below the tiny bluff where Trist lay. He looked out on several hundred yards of sweet prime grass. He knew it well. He had paced it, marking the distance from visible landmarks to the bluff. This was his favorite hunting place for the deer and elk he used to feed his rapidly growing brood.

  `The creek below him was rich in brilliant-colored fish. They moved through the water with lightning speed to catch minnows and insects. The trout were wild, this far from civilization, and watching them was usually a pleasant distraction while he kept a hunter’s eye over the meadow.

  Today was different. Today the trout and the game were of no matter to him. Today was the day his life changed totally. The telescope on his rifle told the whole story. It was focused on a Bigfoot. He had seen the pictures of them, he had heard the rumors and legends about them, and he was certain, absolutely certain, there was no such creature as a Bigfoot. It was the disguise he had taught to his children.

  He recognized the being in the meadow as his enemy. It was a Tonkian. He had known they would come someday. Having suffered a defeat here on Earth, their leader, King Ceidas, was here seeking revenge. Now there could be no safe place for him and his family. They were trapped on a planet soon to be engaged in a world-wide war for existence.

  He tried to locate the true being inside the Bigfoot disguise with no success. His half-Tonkian children could not fool him. He easily saw them through any illusion they threw into his mind, but the Tonkian before him had him completely fooled. He continued following the beast seeking any weakness with his rifle’s telescope, but the shaggy fur and disjointed walk left him unsure where the body of the extraterrestrial was inside the fur.

  It looked to him that the Tonkian was in search for something, maybe game, maybe earthlings, possibly for him, although he doubted they knew his current location. Given his inability to crack the disguise, attacking the Tonkian was probably a bad idea. Still, he knew he must try.

  He centered the beast in his scope, crosshairs lined across the middle of its chest. Curiously, it seemed to sense him, and, turning, it looked directly at his hiding place. It began to walk in his direction. Had it smelled him, perhaps seen a glint of light from the scope?

  He leaned into his rifle, pressing his cheek hard against the stock, smelling the reassuring odor of gun oil. He took two deep breaths, let the air pass from his lungs and focused on the center of the creature’s chest. He gently caressed the trigger, then slowly tightened his grip until the rifle roared, throwing the barrel several inches upward as it sent the round toward the Tonkian. He quickly chambered another round with a sharp snap. In the acrid smoke from the round, he refocused on the Tonkian, in time to see his bullet enter the center of the beast’s hairy chest. The disguise lifted immediately from Trist’s mind as the being tried to run. Two steps, maybe three, and it sank to the ground like a balloon losing air. Trist lay motionless watching.

  He could discern no movement in the long thick grass. Shit, he thought, if it had run, or at least thrashed around a bit, he would know he had hit it. Was the grass movement caused by the wind, or the creature?

  He doubted the alien was controlling what he saw. Was it possible the Tonkian could find him merely by his brainwaves? If he lay motionless would he remain hidden from the beast? Unknown. Too much was unknown about his enemy. But enemies they were. He was absolutely sure of that. He was caught between the Tonkians and the men of earth. If he had torn off the creature’s head or perhaps a limb, he knew the Tonkian would simply reattach it. They had the powerful ability to regenerate growth to an injury.

  He glanced at his watch. He would wait a full ten minutes before descending. He had five rounds left for his carbine, and would have felt more comfortable with another dozen rounds.

  He’d brought his children to live here in Washington State five years ago. In the largely unsettled area, east of the mountains, they had lived comfortably. A small hand-built shelter and plenty of fresh game had made the site ideal. He taught them the living skills they needed. Teaching them to hunt had always been his biggest regret. One son, Larry, had been killed, when he had gone on a hunt by himself. He had been less than one years old, and had sneaked out of the house to try a hunt on his own. Trist blamed himself becaus
e he had taught them too early in their lives.

  The rapid growth of his offspring was surprising. They were all taller than him. Mentally, they were superior beings. They easily remained hidden from humans. He taught them to read, to speak English, and to know the fundamentals of linear algebra. They worked magic with the small laptop computer he had. He had been surprised with their knowledge of Izixebi. Somehow, their consumption of her when first born, passed knowledge of her to them. His worry before today was their awakening sexuality. Soon they would begin to pair up and want to start forming their own lives. Still, desolate spaces here on earth were limited. He knew the clash with humans would eventually be inevitable. Humans were remarkably unaccepting of extraterrestrial life forms.

  He had hoped to re-settle them on another planet, somehow, but now that hope had disappeared. Tonk had begun its invasion of earth and all alien existence would soon be revealed.

  His watch told him ten minutes had passed since he had shot the Tonkian. He eased slowly down the small bluff face and walked toward the area he had seen the creature fall. He stood quietly for several minutes, but even this close, saw no movement. He went to the site where the Tonkian had fallen.

  The light was failing and he was filled with fear, but he had to be sure the creature was dead. He checked his surroundings, nothing could be seen emerging from the trees on the far side of the meadow, and the grass was waving slightly in the gentle twilight. It could be the Tonkian trying to fool him but he believed it was due to the breeze that always seemed to blow out here in the foothills.

  The grass was flattened out. The Tonkian had fallen. But no body was evident, no blood, no body parts.

  Trist followed a slight indentation in the grass for several yards, but found nothing. He began a circular search, widening the area two yards with each circuit. On his third pass, he found the dead body. His round had hit the creature mid-chest and severed its spinal-nerve center. The lucky shot had been perfect. Thank God. On the ground next to the dead Tonkian lay a large bow and several arrows were scattered about. They had learned about the use of weapons during the last six years.