INVASIVE SPECIES PART 06
BY DANIEL J. KIRK
© Copyright 2016 Bride of Chaos/ All Rights Reserved to the Author.
First electronic edition 2016
Edited by A.R. Jesse
Cover by Turtle&Noise
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.
In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes) prior written permission must be obtained from the author and publisher.
READ Part One of INVASIVE SPECIES
READ Part Two of INVASIVE SPECIES
READ Part Three of INVASIVE SPECIES
READ Part Four of INVASIVE SPECIES
READ Part Five of INVASIVE SPECIES
For more information on this series please visit www.brideofchaos.com
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INVASIVE SPECIES
PART 06
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WINGS
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Marcus Gray rolled beneath his pillow.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
He didn’t know what time it was, but it wasn’t what time he had planned to wake up. It wasn’t even his alarm. It wasn’t his roommates’ alarms either. It was another awful fire drill instituted by the inconsiderate campus housing administrators.
In all fairness though, the sun was brightly shining through Marcus’ closed blinds. He wasn’t going to fall right back to sleep, even if he put his headphones on.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
He had to use the bathroom. So he got up, but moved cautiously. He hadn’t heard his roommates stirring yet. He assumed they too were trying to sleep through the drill rather than march outside in their pajamas (or lack thereof) and stand across the street waiting to be allowed back into their dorm rooms. Of course, in order to get to the bathroom, Marcus would have to cross through the common living room where he was sure the blinds were open and any Residential Administrator would see him not responding to the smoke detectors chirping over his head.
He pried the door slowly and peaked.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Dark, dark clouds blocked out the sun. It was smoke from a fire that painted the bottom edge of those clouds with orange.
Marcus tripped over a tennis shoe, caught himself on the kitchen counter instead of falling. He called to his roommates.
“Guys… this one is real!”
Sanjay poked his head around the corner. “Har-har. I know you’re messing with us—Oh shit!”
“I thought it was just a drill too,” Marcus said.
“Chief, wake the hell up!” Sanjay pounded on the other roommate’s door.
“What-what?”
“Dude, fire is real. Grab your pants and lets get out of here. Pronto, today, giddy up!”
Chief flung his door open, half-dressed, half-awake and full-on pissed off. “I’m gonna set you on fire for real. Which one of you assholes—” His jaw dropped as he saw outside the window.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“No. What do we do?” Chief asked.
“Pretty sure we have to get out of here.”
“Oh crap,” Chief’s mouth didn’t hit the floor—he wasn’t that short.
“I’m going to check the news.” Sanjay flipped on the television, but there was no reception.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
“That’s the sign that we should go,” Marcus said.
They each ran back into their rooms, grabbing a few items, like pants and shoes. They weren’t the only ones who had taken a moment to react to the alarm. Their whole floor of students slowly emerged as resident assistants made their way down, knocking on every door. Marcus’s would’ve been next.
“Move it, boys,” said the resident assistant, yelling to fight the choruses of sirens and fire alarms.
“This is really for real?” Sanjay asked. “I’m not dreaming right?”
“Big fire downtown. We have to evacuate.”
“Downtown?”
Downtown was about eight miles away. The black they saw looked as if it were a block away if even that far. Ashes fell like gray snowflakes. They didn’t walk far before they had to brush it off their shoulders.
“This isn’t happening, man.”
Marcus sped up when they reached the stairs. The open stairwell, allowed him to keep his eye on the blaze as it rose higher and higher over the residential living center’s roof. He had never seen so much fire before.
They exited out a back gate and walked towards the crowd on Broad Street. The onlookers didn’t acknowledge anyone new joining their ranks. They just kept staring up at the blaze.
Something exploded within the blaze. The crowd flinched and in that moment, Marcus was able to see over all their heads. A block away and east, Broad Street was just cyclone of fire.
“Get your camera!” someone yelled. Others yelled other things about it being unbelievable and terrifying.
They had no idea.
Something like a blanket jumped from the cyclone. The air caught it and it flew until the fire around its form was extinguished…
By the flapping of its wings.
SHOOT ‘EM UP
The debris made it easy for Rick Coleman and Tucker Woodcock to sneak into the quarantine zone. The whiskey kept them warm, though they’d switched to ice cold lagers as they cut through the woods. But they needed to cool down.
“Gonna put it on the mantle,” Rick said.
“I seen one with a rack on it, big rack,” Tucker said. “But I ain’t gonna put it on my wall. No, sir. Ima stack ‘em up real good like a monument to Get Off My Planet.”
“Figures, we got a Democrat in office when the little green men show up. First thing they want to do is say they are friendly. Tuck yer tails between yer legs. Everybody’s all E.T.”
“We don’t know that,” Tucker said.
“No. We don’t.”
“First thing I learned about people was that they ain’t all nice. Those commies in the White House think everyone will get along if we just pretend like everyone is good. But I bet most of them aliens ain’t nice. Geyrns is what they call themselves. Sounds Islamic to me.”
“Don’t you know?” Rick came to a full stop as if what he said next had the utmost importance. “We gave America away to the Islamics,” Rick said. “No congressman gives a rat’s ass. They don’t really care. All they care about is saying the right things that get them in office so they can show off their yachts.”
“My brother’s got a yacht. Used to belong to some mafi-as-o. Got confiscated.” Tucker flung his empty, and then pulled another can from his pocket.
“Maybe we’ll all run off on that yacht and get ourselves an island. This country had gone to shit long before those asshole showed up.”
“No,” Tucker said. “Hell no. This is our U.S. of A and our fathers didn’t die for nothing just so the socialist cowards of D.C. could bend over for a bunch of E.T.’s.”
“Hells yes.”
“And we are gonna get it back. Fourth of July, buddy.”
“Fourth of July,” Rick repeated.
“Shh, look it.” Tucker pointed through the splintered trees. After three months, the debris still smoked.
Rick whispered, “Heard there are collectors, pay you a grand for a piece of their ship. Not just fuselage. They’re looking for working bits and pieces. They gonna put it in our smartphones and charge a fortune.”
“Not if Uncle Sam gets his greedy hands on that technology first.”
One part of the wreckage was glowing. A long piece debris illuminated it. It pulsed neon blue—then a silhouette rose from the ground. It tinkered with the blue light. It was one of them, one of the aliens.
“Our lucky day,” Tucker said. “We pop him, and take this thing-a-ma-bob. No one will ever know we were here.”
Rick looked over his shoulder, scanned the area. No one else would even be within in earshot.
No.
They might be able to trace his bullets. But would anyone really care if one of them got shot?
Six hours of drinking had made that clear to Rick. While America might’ve been eager to hug the ugly aliens, they were far more interested in cheap housewives and bachelors than anything else.
“Look at them. They’re disgusting. Worse than those aliens in movies. Just like giant sphincters in the shell of a cockroach.”
Tucker nodded. “You know why a snake looks evil, right?”
“Huh?”
“It’s cause we’re supposed to know it’s bad. Deep down in us is a primal instinct. Liberals want to call it prejudice, but it’s good sense. Good sense telling us there ain’t no way those aliens are good.”
Rick said, “You’re right. But we aren’t supposed to be…”
Tucker put a fresh can of beer in Rick’s face. Rick drank it rather than making an excuse. He felt it start to hit him. He should’ve stopped two cans ago. He was destined for a hangover.
Worst part about it was that he felt sober.
Something about the aliens terrified him. Just like stepping on a rattlesnake would.
“I got us special rounds. They’re untraceable. Guaranteed. Leaves the evidence in your chamber. It’s a bitch to clean out, but it’s worth it.”
“Like I believe that,” Rick said
“They are used by Special Forces, by the actual C.I.A. You think they want to broadcast their assassination games?” Tucker dug into his front pocket, and pulled several shells. “These aren’t traceable.”
“Like I care. I’d be doing the world a favor.” Rick chuckled.
“Damn straight.”
“Give me those.”
Tucker obliged. “Shame there’s only one of them out there.”
“You’d probably miss anyway,” Rick said.
“You calling me drunk?”
“I’m calling you a bad shot.”
Tucker raised his rifle, set it on a stump and took aim. “I was almost a sniper in the Army. But I was too smart. They wanted me to learn Arabic and be an interpreter. I said, screw that. They kept trying to demote me. Wouldn’t let me go to sniper school. They were scared of me. C.I.A. even asked about my availability. But my sergeant hated my guts. Told them lies about me.”
“If you were so smart you would’ve been in the Air Force.”
“Ain’t got the bladder for it. Every time I go up in the air, it’s like I drank a bathtub full of soda.”
Rick shook his head, took aim as well. “How about if I miss, you can show me how much of a dead shot you are.”
“Don’t forget to use the special rounds.”
Rick nodded. He released his own bullet from the chamber, and exchanged it.
“How many shots does it take to get to the center of a Geyrn?” Tucker asked.
“A one.”
Rick squeezed the trigger.
The alien silhouette dropped beneath the pulsing blue light.
“Perfect shot,” Tucker said. “I was wrong about you.”
“I shoot better when I’m drunk.”
“Let’s go claim its head.” Tucker started to stand up. Rick ripped him back down.
Nearly two dozen aliens poured out from the debris. They ran right to their fallen comrade. Then they threw their heads back and howled. The wails rose until their pitch was near blinding.
Tucker and Rick recoiled in pain.
“We got to shoot them all,” Tucker said. “They’re tying to get in our brains and scramble them. Shoot them all! Shoot them all!”
“Ahhh!” Rick screamed. He couldn’t even think.
A beat developed in the background of their cries. A familiar beat.
That of a helicopter.
Rick saw it between wincing and covering his ears. He saw the CHANNEL 6 logo clear as day. It was the damn traffic copter.
“They see us!” Rick said.
Tucker tried to pull Rick back down to the ground, but it was too late. The Geyrns had spotted their attackers.
“We better get the hell out of here,” Tucker said.
“Screw that. I’m dying where I stand. Those ugly mothers need to shut their…” Rick had reloaded his rifle, and then fired again.
The aliens didn’t even flinch. They also did not attack Rick and Tucker.
“We gotta get out of here,” Tucker said. “Run!”
Tucker and Rick took off in a drunken scramble, leaping over fallen trees and wreckage. The news helicopter stayed on Rick and Tucker as they ran.
The hunters became the hunted.
HUMAN BEINGS
-Twenty Four Years Earlier-
The sky went dark. Rick Coleman remembered the weather forecast from the morning. There wasn’t supposed to be any storm.
Dale crunched his beer can in his fist and chucked it in the back of the pick up with the rest of their daily rations. It was almost quitting time and there was no point in digging another hole for another fence post that evening. They just sat and drank a few more while the sun turned orange and the clouds above it turned black.
“Bitch thinks she’ll get the kids.” Dale said, already cracking open the next 12 pack.
“Well she’s damn crazy. Judge will see that.” Rick said.
“You know, she doesn’t know how good I made her life. She just watches these damn television shows and comes away with all these ideas. Like I’m cheating on her or something!”
“The world is going to hell, Dale.”
“Yeah,” he said as if there was more to it, but he filled his mouth with beer instead of words.
“Come on. I’m hungry.”
“Yeah.” Dale chugged. Most of the beer dripped down the sides of his chin. “At least she still gets dinner on the table.”
Something struck them.
Like the whole field was suddenly electric, even their toes tingled a bit. Rick looked up. He felt the light. Like for the first time as if light had never passed through his body. There’d be no shadow on the other side.
Dale! Rick said. But Rick knew his lips weren’t moving. Dale! Rick tried to look. He couldn’t see Dale because his eyes didn’t move. Where are we? The bright light above him changed. It flickered like a fluorescent when you sit and stare at it long enough.
Rick knew they were above him. Rick could hear sounds that his ears couldn’t hear.
It was inside his head.
It felt like a spider, like it was touching eight places all at once and entangling his mind in a web as it went. It began to hurt the tighter it grasped. Then it was like he had no bones in his body. He could feel his body deflate, muscles and organs just dropped down to the ground in which he was laying on.
It felt like that for a while and then it really hurt.
They put his bones back.
The light went dim. Rick could feel his teeth and his tongue, and then his lips and soon his fingers started to feel like they were waking up. But his feet still felt tingly, like they had fallen asleep.
Then Rick could turn his eyes. He saw Dale lying next to him. He looked back at Rick too. He looked scared.
“Dale.” Rick’s voice hurt.
He blinked.
“Dale, I couldn’t talk, but now I can.” It hurt too much. Rick couldn’t keep going. His mouth was dry and his tongue was swollen. “Aliens.” he said. They had been abducted. Rick was sure of it.
Dale just blinked.
Something behind his eyes was missing. Maybe he couldn’t talk or hear like Rick had been before?
The light that passed through them
returned.
Rick woke up in the field next to the pick up truck. The sky above him was all orange. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Dale was sitting in the truck. Rick could see him staring straight ahead. Then he turned and made eye contact.
“What in the hell are you doing? Are you alright?” Dale got out of the pick up truck and helped Rick up. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“We were abducted, Dale.”
“I think you just fell. Come on. I can take you to a hospital.”
“I’m not going to no hospital. They’ll lock me up and call me insane. I can’t let that happen. I never believed in aliens. But Roswell… it’s all true.”
“Alright. I’ll drive us home. Maybe you should take tomorrow off.”
It was like it never happened.
And then they were home again and everything was supposed to go back to normal. They wouldn’t talk about it. They didn’t know how.
Rick screamed at night now. He got angry when he couldn’t remember what he was watching on the television because he can remember the bright light they shot into his eyes. Sometimes it felt like they were still trying to remove all the bones from Rick’s body again.
Dale never really returned. Rick believed they removed him from his body. All that was left were chemical reactions, habits and instincts. Half the time, Dale didn’t remember things that he should. And then a few minutes later he’d acknowledge some memory he couldn’t recall earlier.
But only Rick seemed to mind.
Dale was a good worker.
A good husband.
A good friend.
He reconciled with his wife a day or two later. He managed to remember their anniversary.
Rick assumed that made him a good human being.
Rick guessed the aliens fixed him.
Lucky him.
Whenever Rick’s wife left the room after an argument or when his children tried not to make a sound when they walked by, it was because they were scared of Rick. He wondered why they couldn’t have fixed him too?
Invasive Species Part 06 Page 1