Followed East

by Andre Gonzalez

  “I’m not proud of this. We’re kidnapping an innocent man.”

  “Don’t call him innocent, and don’t call him a man. He’s – it’s an Exall, and even if it has never personally harmed a human being, it’s still associated with them. Don’t pretend to not know what that thing’s capable of doing to us.”

  “I know that—it just seems wrong, like we’re picking a fight with the nerdy kid at school. He might not even know he’s an Exall, and this could all be a waste of time.”

  “Not know and live in the middle of nowhere? Unlikely.” Dante stopped suddenly, causing Ron to bump into him from behind. “There it is. Do you see it?” He raised a finger and pointed ahead through the trees where a faint glow of light appeared in the distance.

  “About 300 yards out,” Ron said, reaching over his shoulder to grab his rifle.

  “Sounds right. Let me make sure he’s alone.” Dante pulled out his ETD and waited for the screen to load with their current area. It shone brightly, showing two flashing green dots that represented him and Ron, and a lone red dot on the other side of the screen. “It’s just him.”

  They had been assigned a mission to capture the Exall and bring him back to the Pentagon. There were dozens of these peaceful aliens across the world who carried on with their lives as if they didn’t know they were supposed to be raising hell for the humans on Earth.

  Everyone had their conspiracy theories. Some believed the peaceful Exalls were the ones actually calling the shots for The Crew, that they were somehow the past leaders of the country brought back to life through a small infusion of Exall blood that allowed them to essentially be immortal.

  Dante believed every theory he heard. Knowing the government was capable of hiding the existence of an alien species that walked among the population, was it that far-fetched to think that Kennedy had never died and was injected with the black blood to keep him alive? Was it so absurd to think that the Exalls had actually taken over and the peaceful ones were blackmailing the rest of the world with a threat to end humanity?

  Dante pulled his rifle just as Ron had done, cocked it, and continued forward through the darkness, following the distant yellow light like a compass.

  The night seemed to fall silent. Even the crickets stopped chirping as the two men crunched their way through sticks and leaves, weaving between a web of low-hanging branches. Ron trailed Dante and they stopped when they reached the perimeter of the property.

  With the woods to their backs, they took their first step on even ground since beginning their trek from the car somewhere half a mile away.

  “Are we really trying to take this guy back through all that mess?” Ron whispered.

  Dante shook his head. “We’ll tie him up, and one of us will go get the car.”

  “And drive through the trees? There’s no road.”

  “It’ll be easier to drive slow than to drag this monster half a mile.”

  While that was true, they only had a small SUV, which was not exactly equipped to drive through the woods.

  “Let’s just worry about that when we get there,” Dante said. “One thing at a time.”

  The cabin blended in with the darkness, three windows revealing the soft glow from within, flickering like a fireplace. There was no moonlight, no ambient light from a nearby city, leaving them in complete blackness. They had arrived to town around lunch time, but it was now approaching midnight. Colonel Griffins insisted they make their move in the night, even though there was no chance of anyone spotting them in the middle of nowhere.

  Dante proceeded onto the property. They had strict orders to not kill the Exall, but instead to detain him and bring him back to D.C. Still, Dante kept his rifle pointed ahead, ready for the worst should the Exall try anything suspicious. He didn’t trust these gray bastards one bit, even the supposedly “peaceful” ones.

  They continued toward the cabin, the light growing with each step and coming into clear focus that it was indeed from a fireplace. When they reached the front steps, Dante crouched, prompting Ron to follow suit as they moved with the stealth of two ninjas, their feet gliding over the ground to avoid making any sound. They were dressed in the darkest of camouflage, unable to see their own hands in front of their faces on this particular night.

  The front entrance was a door centered between two windows with a thin curtain draped over them, not allowing a clear view into the cabin’s entryway and living room. Dante climbed the first of three steps, his senses heightened as he felt the smooth wooden steps beneath his feet.

  He reached the top landing. Now with a better view through the window, he saw nothing but an empty living room and kitchen, and a fireplace burning quietly along the back wall.

  “I think we’re clear,” Dante whispered over his shoulder. “There’s no one there.”

  “I don’t like this,” Ron shot back. “Why would he leave a fire burning and go to bed? If he’s an Exall he wouldn’t need any heat.”

  Dante appreciated the logic from his partner, but this wasn’t the time to discuss semantics. They had to make a move quickly as they stood on the front deck of the wanted man’s cabin.

  “Let’s just go in and get him. He might be asleep on a couch around the corner that we can’t see. Are you ready?” Dante asked, not expecting an answer. He reached for the doorknob, wondering why anyone who lived in such a remote location would need to lock their doors at night. There weren’t even animals in this part of the state that could wander in during your afternoon lunch.

  To his delight, the knob kept turning until it clicked and the door gave way, gliding open to let a wave of warmth spill out. Dante thought of his mom yelling at him as a child to close the door when the heater was running, or goddammit, he’d pay for half of the gas bill.

  The light from inside provided them enough to see each other, so Dante looked back and nodded to Ron, who nodded in return with a ghastly expression on his face.

  Dante took the first step into the cabin and tightened his grip on the rifle. Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, he reminded himself. He prayed this would be easy, hoping the Exall would be sleeping where they could tie him up with no fight. But his instincts knew nothing was ever that easy with Exalls. And the creatures didn’t require sleep.

  They were both now entirely inside the entryway, the living room about thirty feet ahead where only the fire was visible from where they stood. The kitchen with its table, sink, and small counter was in front of the wall that divided it from the living room. A hallway ran left from the kitchen, likely to a bedroom and bathroom.

  Dante looked around, noting the lack of decorations. The cabins he had been in—which were only a handful—usually had Southwestern art, or at the very least some sort of animal mounted above the mantle. But not this place. The walls were bare; nothing but wood in every direction. Not a single rug decorated the floor. There were no dishrags or pots and pans in the kitchen. It was as if the place had been abandoned years ago, some long-lost soul leaving it in the middle of the night with the fire still burning. A fire that would never go out.

  It all swarmed Dante’s already overloaded senses, and struck him as eerie, the hairs on his neck prickling. He didn’t notice his hands give the slightest of trembles on the rifle, his legs turning into heavy logs that he had to drag for each step.

  “Close the door,” he whispered over his shoulder, paranoid thoughts present at every turn in his mind.

  Ron obliged, gently closing the door to not make a sound. For a few seconds, maybe minutes, the two men stood in the entryway, unwilling to move forward, clearly wanting to turn around and make a run for the car half a mile away. They had only one prior encounter with an Exall, and even that instance was with a large group of Crew members leading an attack on the lone alien. This was a different ballgame with just Dante and Ron, no backup nearby.

  “The peaceful ones shouldn’t put up a fight – they might even come voluntarily,” Colonel Griffins had told them. But Dante did not feel safe in this cab
in, an unmistakably evil presence hanging in the air like a thick fog.

  Ron stepped forward to join Dante at his side. They locked eyes and Ron nodded, taking the next step toward the living room, Dante now following behind. The next step Dante took caused a loud moan from the floorboards and all the blood to rush to his face. In the silent cabin, the simple creak felt like it had been amplified for the entire state of Michigan to hear. Ron continued forward, craning his neck to see around the wall that blocked the view into the living room. He lowered his rifle and shrugged, whispering, “No one’s in there.”

  The entryway, living room, and kitchen were clear of the Exall, meaning he had to be in the bedroom or bathroom down the hallway. It also meant no one heard the obnoxious misstep Dante had taken.

  Relieved, Dante took charge again and stepped into the hallway with confidence, looking left into a pit of darkness. The fire only provided enough light to see the first door in the hallway that stood ajar.

  Ron pulled out a flashlight, but Dante quickly waved him off, shaking his head. They were close. The Exall was behind one of two doors, and they now had the advantage of containing the bastard within the confines of whichever room.

  But why was the fire lit? he wondered. Even though it wouldn’t kill him, why risk having the whole place burn down just to keep the fire going overnight?

  “Cover me,” Dante whispered, stepping into the hallway with his rifle leading the way. “Watch my back on this first door.”

  He glided toward the door and took a silent leap into the room, his rifle jerking left to right. Ron waited in the hallway, but nothing happened.

  Dante flicked on the light switch to see it was the bathroom, again with no decorations or personal belongings scattered about the sink.

  Do we have the right place? Dante asked himself. Surely The Crew never gave faulty intel for missions, but this particular cabin appeared as if it had never been lived in by so much as a mouse. Just because Exalls didn’t require food to live or a bathroom to relieve themselves didn’t mean the place should look untouched. Did the Exall just sit on the couch all day, staring at the walls? Staring at the fireplace?

  Dante turned the bathroom light off and rejoined Ron in the hallway, both of their heads turning to the closed door they could now see at the end of the hall.

  “He’s in there,” Ron said, just below a whisper.

  Dante nodded. “Let’s go in together and get him.”

  This was actually one of their favorite drills to practice: barging into a room and destroying everything in sight. Only this wasn’t practice, and this time they couldn’t kill the target.

  Why? Dante pleaded with himself. Just let me kill the gray piece of shit. They don’t even belong on this planet.

  He thought Colonel Griffins was placing too much trust in the “peaceful” Exalls. Why wouldn’t they fight back? Even an alien species wouldn’t want to be arrested and taken away for doing nothing. They had abilities that made him quiver at the thought. What if it controls my mind and makes me kill Ron? Or even kill myself? They can do anything without laying a finger on me.

  They remained silent as Dante reached out for the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder to confirm Ron was still ready, and when he nodded back, turned the knob as quietly as possible and pushed open the door.

  It creaked, a long, drawn out groan as further darkness was revealed. Dante’s heart thudded in his ears as he felt around the wall for a light switch, his fingers stumbling as his hands shook out of control. He knew whatever the light would reveal would change everything.

  Why am I so scared? I’ve trained for this; I know what I’m doing.

  His fingers found the switch and flipped it up.

  “On your feet!” Dante barked, his free hand snapping back to his rifle.

  The light revealed a bedroom no different than the rest of the house: bare walls and floors, an empty dresser and nightstand, and a perfectly made bed with not so much as a wrinkle on its solid blue comforter.

  “What the fuck?” Ron asked, stepping in behind Dante. “Check the closet?”

  The closet doors were on the wall to their left. Dante doubted their Exall friend was in there and strode right up to pull open the doors, revealing what he suspected.

  “I don’t get it,” Ron said. “Where is he?”

  “He had to have known we were coming and is hiding. I’m not sure what other explanation there is.”

  “How would he know?” Ron asked, voice cracking with fear.

  “That doesn’t matter. We just need to find him and finish this up.”

  A knock banged from the front door, causing the two men to jump as the sound echoed around the deserted cabin.

  “Turn the light off,” Ron snapped, and Dante obliged immediately. It had still been the only light on in the entire cabin. “It has to be him.”

  For a brief moment, Dante had a sick feeling that a whole gang of Exalls were waiting outside the cabin. That the one they had come for sent out a call for help and now there were at least a dozen of them waiting to take him and Ron away. But he shook off the thought as unlikely; these creatures didn’t need help and could fend for themselves.

  Another knock came, this time softer, like the person was brushing their fist along the door instead of actually pounding it.

  The looked at each other, puzzled.

  “Let’s go,” Dante said, unsure why they were acting so scared with their rifles snug in their grip. If it came to it, they could blast any Exall making a threat on their lives. Sure, Griffins wanted the Exall returned alive, but he’d rather not have to clean up the mess of two dead Crew members. “Yeah, let’s go,” Dante said again, more to himself.

  He took the first step out of the bedroom and felt Ron following behind.

  Another knock never came as they tiptoed down the hallway, the sounds of their own beating hearts the loudest things they could hear. When they reached the end of the hall, they had a clear view of the living room, its fire still ablaze, and Dante peeked around the edge of the wall for a view of the front door.

  “No one’s there,” he whispered, stepping completely into the living room. He crossed to the entryway and pulled open the door, wanting the confirmation for his own peace of mind.

  “Are we just hearing things?” Ron asked in a nervous voice. “I mean, let’s not kid ourselves – this is a bit scary, coming to an abandoned house.”

  “We’re soldiers, Ron, we don’t get scared,” Dante said, knowing damn well they were both terrified.

  A new knock came, this time from the bedroom they had just left, and Ron gasped, jumping into the living room.

  Dante’s heart nearly leapt out of his mouth, but he managed to keep his composure despite his vision drastically coming in and out of focus thanks to his throbbing adrenaline. “We need to go in that room and start shooting,” he said, taking advantage of his adrenaline and bolting down the hallway. He lowered his shoulder into the door like a running back trying to plow his way through a defender.

  The door swung open and banged against the wall as Dante started spraying bullets all across the bedroom, glass shattering from the windows as several rounds stuck into the cabin’s wooden walls.

  After firing off about three dozen rounds, Dante ceased, panting for breath and looking around the room in disappointment.

  “What the fuck?!” he screamed to the ceiling. “Come out and fight us like a man, you piece of shit!”

  Ron shuffled into the room, seeing the shards of wood on the floor, their corresponding chips in the walls scattered about like sprinkles on an ice cream cone. With the windows blown out, they stood and listened as the wind howled outside.

  “It wasn’t windy our entire walk up here,” Ron commented, feeling like he needed to say something to ease the tension, but doing exactly the opposite. “Do you think the wind was making the knocking sound?”

  It was a valid question, but one they both knew was false. No, the wind didn’t knock on the front door, then r
un around to the other side of the house to knock on the bedroom window. It was a goddam Exall, and he was toying with them now, probably somewhere out in the woods laughing with all his gray friends as they watched the show with buckets of blood-covered popcorn.

  The wind picked up, the intense rustling of the trees sounding more like a waterfall outside. Dante crossed the bedroom to the window for a better look, but refused to stick his head out. No Crew member was trained to be that stupid.

  Ron trailed behind. “It sounds like a tornado out there.”

  “No shit. Were we expecting this weather?”

  Every mission had a full-detailed report where the forecast was listed.

  “No. We were told clear skies and no moon, just like it’s been. I think the wind was making those sounds, listen to how strong it is. It could have blown over a trash can or something outside.”

  The wind howled like a rabid wolf, the cabin creaking as its structure fought to resist the gusts.

  A hard thump! came from the kitchen, causing them to spin on their heels to look down the hallway.

  “What was that?!” Ron gasped.

  The sound was barely audible over the wind, but there was no mistaking its sharpness under the white noise.

  Dante never saw it coming, only catching the glimmer of the blade reaching in from the open window before a squeezing pain erupted across his throat. Ron still had his back to him as he stared down the hallway. Dante opened his mouth to speak, but his throat swelled and clenched shut as if stuck in a bear trap. He thought drool was pouring out of his mouth, but he looked down to see scarlet droplets of blood splashing on the floor. His breathing slowed to desperate gasps for air as bright spots of lights flashed in his vision.

  The rifle fell from his grip, clattering on the floor and drawing Ron’s attention.

  “Dante!” Ron shouted, dropping his own rifle and lunging toward his partner.

  Dante collapsed to his knees, his hands clawing for his slashed open throat which blood spewed from like a fountain. He held himself on his knees for only a few seconds, all energy draining from his body, before tipping over to his side, head thumping on the ground with a hard thud.