by Joe Stanley
A swath of earth cut across what had been the road. It looked like a giant hand had scooped it up and tossed it aside. The great gouge was filled with jumbled trees and branches and a wall of earth and stone had been thrown up on either side. Something seemed to sparkle in the mud.
He sat in the car blinking. He tried the key but the motor wouldn’t start. Grabbing his flashlight, he found it working and he stepped out again into the blustery night.
Something like a child’s curiosity drove him forward to the astounding, rough scar left in the land. The direction of the crash was clear, running from his right to his left. As he drew near, he saw that the sparkles were small puddles and smears of a golden oily substance that the torrential rain was powerless to disperse.
“What the hell is that?” he whispered, nearly sticking a finger into the glowing goo before he caught himself.
His dinner sat uneasy now. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want this. He wanted to go back and get Luke, get the state police, hell, get the army involved. But he knew that going back would mean hiking along a flooding road for several miles and at that moment, he felt age as never before.
He checked his sidearm, though he wouldn’t admit to himself just why, and started down the cluttered mar. Fallen trees forced him to weave and several times he had to climb over mounds of debris to press on. The rain hammered down and chilled him, but he caught himself stopping to look into the darkness on either side. Something about the cave-like hollows filled him with instinctive caution and made him shiver even more than the rain.
He had thrown the beam of his flashlight into that dark several times, expecting to see someone or something, but each time he found nothing. Turning back to the way ahead, it suddenly lit up in the light. When he saw it, he couldn’t believe it, even though he had known exactly what he would find.
Despite the damage it had done to the ground, it seemed intact. It was made of silver-gray metal, smooth and shaped like a lozenge or short cigar. There were no wings or visible engines and nor could doors or windows be seen. And he saw with a growing wonder that it did not rest on the ground, but hovered a few inches above it.
People don’t make things like this, he thought. Maybe in the future someday, but this was not the work of man. It was a thing made on some distant world. It had come across a span of deadly space and time that he couldn’t even begin to imagine. He moved closer, wanting to touch it, this thing from the stars.
But his finger tips met some strange force. It was like compressing a string or pulling against a giant rubber band. His hand trembled in the air as he fought to push it forward. The nearer his hand came, the harder it pushed back.
Then, behind him, he heard the strange chattering noise that had come through the radio.
He wheeled and, for a moment, he saw nothing. In the darkness and the rain it was a wonder that he could see anything. But more than poor visibility, the human mind recognizes patterns and by this it quickly understands what it perceives. This was something else, something no human mind could have recognized, something that only dimly matched the life and its patterns that are to be found here on Earth.
When it became clear, the sight froze him in place. A raw, cold terror ran through his frame like an electric shock. It stood, only about as high as his waist, watching him silently with its gigantic eyes. Those eyes were deep, black pools, as dark as the most remote recesses of space. They seemed to contain an eternity of secrets and thoughts shrouded in shadows. He understood that he could never hope to know or understand what took place behind those inky orbs, but he likewise knew that there was no regard for him, for his kind, or for his world.
Then near it, he caught sight of another and another. They were moving forward, toward him and a single thought screamed in his brain.
They’re coming to get me!
His mind ordered his hand to draw his pistol and shoot. It was more than fear for his life, somehow, he knew that they intended something much more horrible, something far worse than death. His mind gave the order, but his hand would not obey.
And closer and closer they came.
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