They're Among Us

by M. L. WILSON

  Surprisingly, there doesn’t appear to be anyone down the alley, not even a drunk or drug user. A few rats fighting over scraps of food dumped out by the local restaurants, but that’s it.

  Rats.

  She earned a PhD from a renowned medical school, she’s a well-known medical examiner in the state, and here she is, in an alley with rats. But just like cops, M.E.s have to go where the crime scene is.

  “Why can’t crime scenes be on exotic beaches every once in a while?” she says to herself.

  She makes it to the scene and shines her flashlight around the area where Phipps’ body was found, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  Laura knows that this could be just a wild goose chase, and that there could be a legitimate reason why government agents would take Phipps’ body. Still, she needs to know for certain.

  She notices that some cleanup work has been done. Fortunately, the attempt at cleaning up the oily substance was not very thorough. She finds spots of the oily substance near the area where Phipps’ body was found.

  “Bingo,” says Laura. She knows that she is one step closer to getting some answers.

  She kneels down next to one of the oily spots, pulls a Q-tip and a Petri dish from her purse and collects a sample. As she secures the sample in her purse, she goes through every possible scenario that could explain the absence of blood, but nothing fits. And why would someone intentionally lay him in a puddle of oil?

  Laura dabs her finger in the substance and rubs it between her finger and thumb and concludes that the substance is a lot thinner than oil. With her suspicions kicking into overdrive, Laura gets a wild theory.

  What if Phipps did bleed out right here, and this was no pool of oil?

  What if this was his blood?

  Laura knows it’s an absurd theory, but she also knows that no other theory fits. One thing she learned from reading Sherlock Holmes is that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever else remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

  Laura smiles and laughs quietly to herself.

  “You’re just being paranoid, Laura,” she says. “But just out of curiosity, let’s see what you look like under a microscope.”

  As she gets up, she hears a noise coming from behind the dumpster in front of her. She shines her flashlight in that direction as she starts backing out of the alley.

  “Who...who’s there?” Saunders nervously says.

  Before she can ask a second time, a kitten comes from behind the dumpster where it was scavenging for food. She’s always had a soft spot for kittens, but the last thing she needs is another mouth to feed. And yet, she could use some companionship.

  Saunders kneels down and beckons the kitten to come to her. Shivering from cold and hunger, the baby kitten slowly, cautiously obliges.

  Saunders picks the kitten up and says, “What are you doing out here by yourself?” She looks around the alley as she strokes the kitten’s soft fur.

  “You wanna come home with me?” she asks with a smile as she pets the kitten’s head. “You can come and live with me. I’ll take good care of you. Now let’s get the hell out of this alley.”

  CHAPTER 37

  CAPTAIN DENVERS KNEW the responsibilities when he accepted the position as supervisor of the homicide division, long hours and often thankless. Yet, if he had to do it all over again, he would, without hesitation. He knows the importance of his work. The NYPD motto: To Protect and Serve. He still believes that wholeheartedly, even though the department has become more about politics than people over the years.

  It’s after eight p.m., and he is the only one in the office. With no family to go home to, the office is more his home than his one-bedroom apartment is. He has a fold-out bed in the corner of his office for those late nights on the job, like tonight.

  His office walls are decorated with his accomplishments and pictures of him with his academy class, the commissioner and the mayor. He also has pictures drawn by his kids nicely framed on the wall. The American and New York State flags stand proudly behind his desk. He earned his status in the department.

  He was told when he joined the force that the divorce rate was high in the police department. He knew going in that it was especially high for detectives. His marriage to Martha lasted all of seven years. He still keeps a picture of her and their two children on his desk. He still loves them. That hasn’t changed.

  Completing the last report, he pulls a bottle of scotch and a glass from his desk drawer. After a hard day’s work, it’s his way of unwinding. He pours his first glass, holds it up and says a toast to the picture of his family.

  “To those we’ve loved and lost.”

  He sits back in his chair and takes his first sip. Captain Danvers closes his eyes and enjoys the taste. Nothing relieves the pressure for him like a good glass of scotch. As he lifts the glass to take a second drink, he hears the elevator open and sees two men in black suits exit.

  Unsure of who they are, he sets his glass down on the desk and reaches into his desk drawer for his weapon. Danvers keeps his weapon from their view just in case they are legitimate. As the two men walk toward his office, he wonders if this has anything to do with Bishop’s case. Can’t be a coincidence.

  The two men enter the office.

  “Captain William Danvers, I presume,” says one of the gentlemen as he approaches the desk. Both of Danvers’ visitors stand over six feet tall. Danvers can see the bulge of small, automatic weapons underneath their blazers.

  “Gold star for you,” says Danvers. “You know my name. Now who are you?”

  “We work for the government, Captain Danvers. Our job is national security. Right now, that security is being threatened by your office.”

  Captain Danvers is now convinced that this is connected with Bishop’s case on the death of Kevin Phipps.

  “If this is about the Phipps case—”

  “In fact, that is precisely what this is concerning, Captain. The Phipps situation is a matter of national security. We must ask that you and your detectives cease all efforts toward a resolution in this matter.”

  “Just like that?” says Captain Danvers. “This is my city. A murder occurs in my city, it’s my job to make sure someone answers for it. No way are we just gonna walk away from it.”

  The agent smiles at Danvers and says, “I suspected you might say that, Captain.” He pulls an envelope from his coat pocket and offers it to Danvers.

  “What’s that?” Danvers asks.

  “Take it, Captain. I’m sure the contents of this envelope will help persuade you to do the right thing.”

  Captain Danvers hesitantly takes the envelope and opens it.

  “This is a very nice office you have here, Captain,” says his visitor as he reviews the awards and recognitions on the wall. “Very nice indeed. I would certainly hate to see all of this go to waste.”

  Danvers ignores the compliments as he pulls the contents from the envelope. He’s startled to see that his ghosts from the past are coming back to haunt him. Pictures of him and two other police detectives accepting a bribe from a well-known mafia boss. Danvers is left speechless.

  This occurred over fifteen years ago. He thought that was all behind him. A deal he made with the devil that resulted in the accidental deaths of three people.

  What choice did he have? Martha was diagnosed with breast cancer, and the medical bills were mounting. No way a cop’s salary was enough to keep them from drowning in debt. He didn’t know about the deaths until months after he took the money.

  “I think you get the picture, Captain. We understand you are a dedicated public servant, a patriot. We don’t want to cause you any trouble, but we must insist that you back off. Leave the Phipps situation alone. You do that, perhaps this evidence goes away for good. What do you say?”

  Captain Danvers doesn’t reply. He just stares at the pictures and nods his head in agreement.

  “Very good, Captain. Now, one last thing, and our business is concluded.”


  Captain Danvers peels his gaze from the pictures to look at the agent.

  “Detective Bishop. He is a persistent one. Order him to back off as well.”

  “Yeah,” says Danvers in frustration.

  The agent smiles at Captain Danvers. “Very good, Captain. Have a good evening and thank you for your cooperation.”

  The two agents depart, leaving Captain Danvers feeling alone and embarrassed.

  “Damn!” Danvers yells as he throws his glass across the room.

  CHAPTER 38

  SPECIAL AGENT JEFFERY Stafford doesn’t really care for his current assignment of following Promelian executioners to keep tabs on them. At age thirty-one, he still longs for the action. Following Promelian executioners and reporting to his superiors on their activity is not what he had in mind when he joined the agency.

  Nevertheless, he is the low man on the totem pole, and his patriotism will not allow him to refuse any assignment he’s tasked with. If he is to watch and observe, he intends to be the best watcher and observer the agency has ever had.

  After following a Promelian agent to an abandoned warehouse, Agent Stafford parks and makes himself comfortable in his government-issued Chrysler 300M. Parked several yards away and out of sight, he has a good view of anyone coming out of or going into the warehouse.

  After about an hour of waiting and watching, Stafford sees more visitors coming to that abandoned warehouse, a lot more.

  He’s been watching their activity for over a year now and is tasked with reporting any unusual activity. This potentially qualifies as such, but he knows he will need to get a closer look in order to make that determination.

  After waiting for what appears to be the last visitor to enter the warehouse, Agent Stafford chambers a round in his government-issued 9mm Glock, exits his vehicle, and walks through a wooded area to get a closer look at the activity.

  He stealthily approaches the building and proceeds down the alley beside the building. He notices a rusted dumpster positioned underneath a window and quietly climbs up on it and peers inside the window to see about one hundred men and women gathered in the middle of the room.

  They were all standing in rows of about ten people each and facing the same direction as if they were waiting for something to happen. They made no sound initially and appeared to be in a trance.

  Even though he knew these were aliens, he still got a cold chill down his spine. Stafford knows he finally has something valuable to report.

  After a few moments, a well-dressed middle-aged “gentleman” enters the room and makes his way to the front of the crowd. Stafford looks on and listens intently as the gentleman address his audience.

  “Brothers and sisters, the time grows near. Our mission here is nearly complete. Our executioners across this world report the near extinction of all Cereleans. With the help of the humans, we will be able to greet our people as heroes,” says the commander as he smiles at the cheers his news brings.

  “What’s more, our armada has picked up on the homing signal from the mother ship. They are on their way. The humans are so grateful for the technology we have given them, they are completely unaware of our plans. This planet will be ours. We will eliminate the humans and harvest the planet’s natural resources.”

  Hearing this, Stafford gasps in disbelief. In his anxiety to alert his superiors, he loses his footing and falls off of the dumpster, injuring his elbow. Unfortunately for Stafford, the noise he makes does not go unnoticed. As he pulls himself to his feet, he looks up at the window and sees one of the aliens looking at him.

  They stare at each other for a moment when the alien issues a command that Stafford knew full well would be coming:

  “KILL THE HUMAN!”

  CHAPTER 39

  AS FAST AS he can, Stafford runs through the wooded area and back to his car. As he pulls the keys from his pocket, he sees the aliens running out of the building in pursuit.

  Stafford nervously fondles with his keys to get the door unlocked, forgetting that the door can be unlocked with the remote on his key chain.

  “COME ON, DAMMIT!” Stafford says as he finally gets the door open. He gets in and sees his would-be killers rapidly approaching. Stafford starts the car and hits the gas. The rear tires spin out, and the Chrysler 300M accelerates, much to Stafford’s delight.

  Most of the aliens are able to get out of the way of the oncoming vehicle. A few others aren’t so lucky, as the Chrysler makes contact with them at fifty miles per hour, sending them hurling through the air.

  The leader of the executioners stands at the doorway of the abandoned warehouse and watches Stafford drive away with far more information than any human is supposed to have. Stafford looks back to see if he is being followed. He isn’t. Not yet, anyway. He knows this information will make him a wanted man.

  “An alien invasion,” Stafford says to himself. He’s seen the technological capabilities of the Promelians. There’s no way the human race would survive their attack. Stafford wanted a little action; he may have gotten more than he bargained for.

  “Clean up the bodies,” the Promelian leader orders. The aliens disintegrate the bodies of their fallen comrades using the yellow liquid. There can be no evidence left behind. Once completed, the alien executioners are given another order, an order that is very much to their delight.

  “Find the human and kill him.”

  CHAPTER 40

  AGENT STAFFORD IS finally getting the excitement he always wished for. He never thought the excitement he wanted would mean running for his life from alien executioners. Be careful what you wish for.

  With a top-secret security clearance, he is extremely limited on the things he can tell his family and friends. If he makes it out of this alive, it’s in his best interest to tell it to anyone who will listen. The more who know, the better his chances of survival.

  Breathing heavily, he looks back over and over again to make sure he isn’t followed. Weaving in and out of traffic, Stafford tries to develop a plan. He knows what the aliens are capable of.

  Who can he trust? The agency? They could be in on it.

  Who knows how far this conspiracy goes. He considers going home, but that will be the first place they look for him. Besides, going home would only put his family in danger. The Promelians will do anything to protect their secret.

  There is one chance. He heard earlier that a Cerelean was killed, and a detective named Ken Bishop was working the case. Stafford knows the body was taken from the M.E.’s office to be disposed of.

  Stafford also knows no NYPD detective is going to just walk away from a case like this. He knows Bishop is probably asking questions right now. If he gets too close, they will hunt him down and kill him as well.

  Perfect.

  Stafford fumbles in his pocket and manages to pull out his cell phone. He swerves to avoid hitting the car in front of him and nearly drops the phone on the floor.

  After a few deep breaths, he dials the police station and gets Bishop’s cell phone number.

  The only person in the world he can trust with this information is likely going to think he’s crazy. If someone told him the world was about to be overrun by aliens, he would think them crazy, too. Nevertheless, he has to try.

  After two rings, Bishop answers.

  “Bishop.”

  “Detective Bishop, I have information about the case you are investigating. Kevin Phipps.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Please listen, Detective. There isn’t much time. Meet me on Wilshire, in the alley behind the Twin Dragons restaurant.”

  “Who is this? How do you know about my case?”

  “Please hurry, Detective. There isn’t much time.”

  Stafford hangs up the phone and abandons his car, leaving his phone on the seat. He knows it can be traced. Probably already is.

  He runs two blocks and gets to the alley behind the restaurant. Stafford takes out his weapon and takes a defensive position behind a trash dumpster. The smell is aw
ful, but it provides the perfect cover. He can also see anyone who comes down the alley. The only thing to do now is wait.

  And pray.

  CHAPTER 41

  DETECTIVE BISHOP ARRIVES at the designated meeting place, a dark alley in an area where crime runs rampant. Bishop reminisces on some of the crimes he’s investigated in this area, mostly homicides.

  “Down here, out of the light,” says a voice from behind a garbage dumpster. Bishop, ever cautious, pulls out his weapon and chambers a round, just in case. He proceeds down the alley to the dumpster.

  “You won’t need that with me, Detective. I’m not the threat,” says the stranger as he emerges from behind the dumpster to come face-to-face with Bishop.

  Instantly, Detective Bishop sizes him up, determining if he is a threat. Tired and disheveled, the stranger voluntarily raises his hands in the air as a gesture of innocence.

  “All right,” says Bishop, feeling confident that the stranger is not a threat.

  “Who are you? Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?”

  “My name is Jeffery Stafford. I’m a government agent, Detective. You encountered some of my colleagues at the medical examiner’s office. I have a story to tell you, Detective, a story that will change the course of human history, but I don’t have much time, so listen carefully.”

  Detective Bishop listens intently but is still skeptical.

  “Have you ever wondered, Detective, how mankind was able to make such huge medical and technological advances in a relative short period of time?

  “Nope.”

  “The year was 213 AD. Earth became home to an alien race called the Cereleans. Their home world was attacked by another race of aliens, the Promelians. The Promelians attacked the Cerelean home world and killed millions, made the Cereleans an endangered species. Some Cereleans were able to escape the slaughter and found sanctuary here on Earth. They live among us, disguised as humans, in an effort to escape the Promelians and eventually return and rebuild their home world. The Promelians found the remaining Cereleans and arrived on Earth in 1962 with a single mission: kill the remaining Cereleans.