A Beginner's Guide to Invading Earth Read online

  “Improvise,” the woman said.

  “And accomplish what we have set out to do so long ago,” the driver said with a nod.

  “Who are you guys?” Jordan asked. Her voice cracked. Her hands, still tied, trembled. She wanted to pull away from the hand on her shoulder, away from these creeps, but the darkness around her held no hint of a safe route to run, and the clicking and chirping of the crickets only underscored her isolation.

  All three smiled in unison at her question. The driver said, “We are the ones who will tell you why your so-called 'friends' left you behind. Won't you please step inside?”

  CHAPTER 16

  JEFF SCREAMED. He ran out of breath; he sucked up a lung-full of air, and he screamed some more. When nothing happened and no one came, he stopped screaming.

  When the dark shape with the glowing eyes had snatched him out of his truck, Jeff had been too surprised to make a sound. And Jordan unlatching his seat belt so the creature could grab him? Somewhat troubling on a more personal level but not scream worthy. Served him right for trusting her. The rest was a blur. Getting taken aboard the spherical craft by what must have been some sort of gravity beam was interesting, a reverse free fall up into the belly of the ship, all the while being carried like a sack of potatoes over the shoulder of the mountainous creature. He didn't get much time to look about the ship's interior as he was soon tossed into a sterile holding cell.

  That's when Jeff started screaming. He knew bad things happened in places like these. The cell had an antiseptic quality to it, like an operating room. Bare white walls, bare floor, no furniture or even a bunk attached to a wall. No toilet, which might prove troublesome if too much time went by. When the dark alien had turned and left, a door closed shut behind it with no latch or knob of any kind. Not even a force field barrier to examine. Jeff pushed at the door, but it proved solid, and his fingers couldn't get into the flush seams to try and pull it open.

  The surface of the cell was, at least, curious. It felt cool to the touch, not quite metal and not quite plastic, with a porcelain finish in an off-white color. It reminded him of the last paint color his wife had chosen for their house. “Something neutral,” she called it, leaving him to implement her desired color scheme as she jaunted off to somewhere else.

  Jeff ran his fingers along the walls, exploring the corners. He found he hadn't missed anything. He was aboard an alien vessel in the most boring room possible. Still, if there was a voyage ahead, the means of travel might prove to be exciting. What transforming experience might the journey thrust upon him? What would weightlessness feel like? How many G's would this ship pull, or would they somehow be shielded from that natural effects of motion? Would there be artificial gravity? And what kind of sounds could he at least hear? Decades of movie sound-effects had left an indelible imprint in Jeff's mind. He listened carefully and heard footsteps.

  The hatch popped open. The big shadow creature stood in the doorway. It stepped aside to reveal a short, large-headed spindle of a grey humanoid being with big pupil-less eyes, lipless mouth, and no nose. Jeff raised his palms to the creature and smiled in spite of the fear building again inside of him.

  The Grey didn't smile back. Its lipless face drew taut. It said something in a squeaky voice, but Jeff didn't understand it. Jeff shook his head. Then the smell hit him. Jeff's recent work history included cleaning toilets, scrubbing pots, treating mildew, recovering or removing flooded carpets, and taking out garbage of every sort, and sometimes burning that garbage in incinerators. None of those smells could match the disgusting aroma coming from the Grey.

  The Grey gave a faint smile then resumed its neutral expression. It then proceeded to crank out more of the nasty smell. Its massive companion looked on passively. Jeff started to cough.

  The small creature stepped forward and aimed something pointy at Jeff. It clicked the device. Nothing happened. It examined the device, tapped it, and it made a chirping sound. Again the Grey clicked the device, and this time it worked. The device flashed. Jeff felt a sting followed by a creeping tingling through his arms and legs. He tried to move, but couldn't.

  The Grey nodded to its companion. Large hands grabbed Jeff and fumbled with his shirt. It was doing something just out of sight behind Jeff's head. Jeff tried to struggle, but none of his muscles cooperated. Then he felt a strange sensation, like pressure inside his head. It didn't hurt, and the feeling didn't last. The big alien released him.

  “Now we will be sure of your full cooperation,” the Grey said. Jeff understood the words. “Whistle,” the Grey said to its companion. The big alien responded and produced a canister of some sort with a flexible tube.

  “What do you want?” Jeff managed to ask. His throat was dry. He tried to swallow. The numbing sensation had settled in on his limbs, but he could still breathe and speak with some effort.

  Whistle set the canister down and added an attachment to the end of the tube.

  “You wouldn't understand,” the Grey said.

  Whistle turned on the canister, and it hummed like a small compressor.

  “Try me,” Jeff said.

  Whistle moved behind Jeff. Jeff followed her movements as much as he could, but the paralysis kept him frozen from the neck down so she was now out of his line of sight.

  “This will be like the first time,” the Grey said. “Just a necessary adjustment.”

  “The first time? What first time? We've met?”

  “Yes. And like that time, when we're finished with you, you won't remember a thing. Such a pity.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it will hurt. And I don't like you.”

  Whistle's machine doubled in volume. Jeff made out a sucking noise from somewhere just out of sight. And once Whistle touched him, Jeff resumed screaming.

  “Try to relax,” the Grey said.

  CHAPTER 17

  JORDAN SAT ON A STOOL under a single bulb. The light could not permeate the hangar's gloom, and the darkness beyond the feeble glow looked infinite. The three with the dark glasses stood around her in a circle, arms folded, faces in shadow. She hadn't seen any others since the driver had brought her here. She sipped beer from a can.

  “Is the refreshment making you feel better?” her original abductor asked.

  Jordan considered the can. American macro-brew. Tasted like yeasty tonic water. Gawdawful.

  “It's great,” Jordan said. She guzzled the remains of the container's contents and dropped it under her chair, where four other empty cans already lay.

  “So now you'll tell us?” the woman with dark glasses asked.

  “When will you contact the Grey again?” the second man asked.

  “You know, I'm kinda thirsty still,” she said. “All that driving.”

  The first man brought her another beer. She took it with a grin and checked the label. Same vintage. She popped it open and began to gulp the beer down.

  The three looked at one another, waited. Jordan belched.

  “So tell us,” the first man said.

  “I'm sorry, what?” Jordan said, a bit of a roll to her speech.

  “When is your next contact with the Grey?” the first asked.

  “Where is your communication device?” the woman asked.

  “Where will you next rendezvous with the Grey?” the second man asked.

  Jordan suppressed more burps, failed. She winced as one passed through her nose. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I really have to pee.”

  “You'll answer the questions first,” the second man said.

  “For crying out loud,” Jordan said. “Why is it so important? Why do you even think I know anything? If you weren't so stupid, you'd realize I got left behind here. If I was some important asset to them, you think they'd dump me off? You know, I was told I could go with them when they came for Jeff. But they didn't take me. They left me.” Her words slurred with the last sentence, and the room spun. “So how about lining up another beer? I'm about to kill this one, too.”

  The three inte
rrogators shared another silence. Glanced at one another.

  “Then tell us about the brood of Greys that originally abducted you,” the first asked. “Which ones were they?”

  Jordan's face scrunched. “There was only the one,” she said. “Never saw another like it.”

  “They don't work alone,” the first man said.

  “This one did,” Jordan said.

  “Did it have a companion?” the woman said.

  Jordan nodded. “It was some big guy. Didn't talk much.”

  The woman gave a slight nod to the other two.

  “Was your communication device in your bag?” the woman asked.

  “Stay out of my stuff,” Jordan said. “You need a warrant for that.”

  “We have your bag, but the device was not there,” the second man said.

  Jordan shrugged. “I don't know what else to tell you except that if you don't let me use the potty I will pee all over your hangar floor.”

  The first man took her to a small closet with a toilet. She flipped on the light, closed the door, and looked around. No window. Flanges were screwed into the walls where a closet rod had once been set. A sink was mounted almost above the toilet. Anyone taller than Jordan would need to be a contortionist (or alien) to use these facilities. Jordan managed. She really had to go. She washed up and splashed some water on her face.

  When finished, she left the water running in the sink. She turned off the light and peeked out the door. The three were gathered near the stool under the dangling bulb. They had linked hands and stood with their heads bowed as if praying. She exited the bathroom and moved silently away from them. Various boxes and crates were stacked and scattered about as well as what must have been fiberglass panels from an airplane's fuselage. The smell of oil and dust lingered in the air. She could make out at least two plastic-covered workbenches, but a quick examination yielded no tools or viable weapons. She saw no exit. The door to the hangar must have been on the opposite end past the interrogation space and the three penitent weirdos.

  The first man looked up and towards the bathroom. Said something to the others. They spread out and began to search for her. Their footfalls sounded throughout the hangar. Jordan ducked low and moved along the edges of one of the workbenches and behind an aircraft engine suspended in a hoist. The woman captor checked the bathroom.

  “She's not in there,” the woman called.

  Their soft footsteps continued to pad about in the dark. It was hard to tell from what direction they came or where they were going. Jordan dropped down to her hands and knees and crawled along the concrete floor until she came to a door. It was unlocked. She opened it and slipped through, closing it as silently as possible. An office of some sort. Could this have a window to the outside or a ladder to the roof? So dark...

  She felt around as she moved and touched the cool metal of a filing cabinet. Her feet pushed at papers scattered on the floor. The air smelled of dust. She inched forward and made contact with a wall and bumped her head on something solid. She reached for whatever it was. A small metal box attached to the wall. First aid kit? She fumbled around, running her hands to the left and the right. Just to the left of the metal box, she found an open door and another room. Jordan entered. She felt a light switch. The walls around it felt gummy, as if covered with glue. She wiped her hands on her pants. From the hangar just outside the office, she heard the woman.

  “Jordan?” the woman called.

  Jordan made her way back to the office door and found a small deadbolt. She engaged it with a click just as someone from the other side gave the door a hard push. The door rattled. The bolt was flimsy, but it held.

  “Jordan,” the woman said through the door. “Come out now.”

  Jordan flicked on the lights. It was a cluttered office. The room held one desk, three chairs, several filing cabinets, and stacks of papers everywhere. A white metal box with a faded red cross was attached to one wall. What looked strange was a film of white that clung to the far corners of the room and ran down the opposite wall. It was a sticky, sinewy weave that crisscrossed into some kind of latticed pattern as it got thick towards the floor. There was more of it on the door to the other room. She didn't see any window to the outside nor a ladder up. There was a hatchway to what must have been a crawlspace in the ceiling, but it was out of reach. She went to the next room.

  “Jordan,” came the first man's voice. “Come out here now.”

  The woven webs covered every surface in the second room. She guessed that some of what she couldn't see were stacks of boxes and stored furniture under the blanket of white sticky stuff. The patterns in the weave shimmered even under the dull brown lights. Against the far wall were four lumpy shapes, human sized, and mummified like spools from a loom. A limp hand with a silver pinkie ring hung from one of the lumps.

  Jordan stifled a scream. The deadbolt at the front office door clicked. Someone had a key. The door opened, the first man rushing in to grab her from behind. Jordan drove an elbow into him, and he let go. She burst past him towards the door and collided with the woman. She snatched Jordan around the waist. Jordan kicked her. It was like kicking a tree. Jordan reached for the woman's neck. The woman's glasses went flying. As Jordan clawed at her, the skin at the woman's throat tore away like it was tissue paper, revealing thick, dark hair underneath. Long, spindly branches popped free of their torn wrapper above the woman's collar. Jordan realized they were arms of some sort. There came a tearing sound. More hairy limbs burst free from underneath the woman's clothing, and the woman bulged into an odd shape. The woman's new limbs grabbed her. Horrified, Jordan struggled with all her strength, but she was powerless against the bristly arms' embrace.

  The two men watched without a word.

  CHAPTER 18

  OLIOP PUSHED, SQUEEZED, and wormed his way through the entrails of pipes and ducts. Well behind him, before the half-dozen removed service panels, were posted signs that read No Admittance, Entry Forbidden, Keep Out, Danger Past This Point, and Permanent Damage to Organic Tissue. The signs were coded so anyone with a translator could read them and pictographic so anyone with visual sensors and a sense of self-preservation could follow their instructions. The smell of burned fur from an encounter with a stripped conduit and an arcing power surge followed Oliop like a cloud. The burn was superficial. Oliop hummed to himself as he found the shaft that would descend down to the Grey's hangar.

  He made quick work of the descent, even as he kept hold of his multitool with its built-in light. Its piercing green illumination preceded him down the shaft. Oliop dropped onto a pipe near the bottom.

  He checked a sensor he wore on his wrist. It gave him a ping. A field of sensors lay ahead. His sensor sensor detected that. Oliop reached into his pouch and pulled out a homemade crawling drone the size of a cockroach, a little something he had whipped up once while waiting for the Head Grey to stop talking to him on his com. He flicked the drone on and dropped it down to the floor. The invisible intrusion sensors would detect the fake bug and decide if it was worthy of alarm. The fake bug scurried forward and sent a burst of garbage signal that scrambled the alarm sensors before they realized the bug was no more than a nuisance. The drone notified Oliop that the alarms were down.

  Oliop checked his wrist device, liked what he read, and dropped to the bottom of the shaft, careful not to squish his mechanical cockroach. He scooped it up and put it away.

  He used his multitool on another panel on the floor. Below the panel was the expanse of the Grey's hangar. The spherical ship occupied much of the space, with a pair of ramps ascending and descending on either side of the vehicle. A crane arm hung limp above the ship near a series of conveyors that connected back to the interworld elevator system. Oliop slipped through the opening and found a perch atop one of the mooring arms. He waited.

  From a room just off the top of the ramp, he heard the Grey's clipped voice. It sounded angry and impatient, but the words were indistinct. The smell of musty vegetation wafted from
that part of the hangar. The Grey appeared for a moment, pacing as it spoke. Its skin looked paler than normal.

  It moved back into its room. The hangar fell silent.

  Oliop closed his eyes and took a deep sniff. Past the Grey's irritated pheromones and the comforting smells of metals and grease, Oliop made out the odor of human sweat coming from somewhere in the lower reaches of the hangar. The Grey and Whistle both remained out of sight. Oliop dropped down onto the ramp opposite the Grey's office.

  The scent of human sweat came from further below. Oliop headed down the ramp to a hallway that ran beneath the ship. There were several doors to choose from. One door was locked. He activated a view screen on the door, and saw Jeff Abel inside a holding cell. He wore some kind of white jumpsuit. Oliop tried the cell's door. It refused to open. He sighed and brought his identity reader and thumbed through its settings until he found the Head Grey's DNA, lifted from a water cup post-Welcome Committee meeting. The door lock obliged and unlocked. Oliop swung open the door.

  “Jeff Abel?” Oliop said. He crouched over the human. Jeff was covered in cold sweat but appeared undamaged otherwise. “Hello? Jeff Abel?”

  Jeff glanced up at Oliop and punched him in the face. Oliop fell back. Jeff sprang up and ran for the door.

  Oliop pressed fingers to his tender, petite nose. Pink blood oozed down onto his fur. Pain blossomed across his face. “Wait,” he said feebly. He gave chase.

  Jeff Abel wasn't stopping. He was already down the hall and entering the hangar. Oliop sprinted forward in a stooped posture, his hands pushing off walls and floors as he went. Jeff ran up a ramp. Oliop leaped to the ramps railings and vaulted in right behind the human.

  “Get away from me,” Jeff said. He backpedaled, almost fell.

  Oliop didn't slow down but grabbed Jeff by an elbow and the rump of his jumpsuit and gave him a push up the ramp towards the exit.

  “Hurry up,” Oliop said in a hoarse whisper. The human ran loud, spoke loud, yet moved so slowly.