Strange Invaders

by Rodman Philbrick

  I was dead meat for sure.

  15

  Something shaggy and huge was emerging from the garage. I felt paralyzed. All I could do was wait for it to get me.

  No! I had to fight. Panicky, I ran my hand over the grass, looking for the rock that had tripped me. I got my fingers on it, gripped, and pulled. But that rock was stuck tight.

  “Nick! What-are-you-doing?”

  The shaggy thing stood up and suddenly I recognized my dad. His hair stood up all over his head in messy spikes. He was wearing some big, thick, grungy coat I’d never seen before. And it was about eighty degrees out.

  “I—I thought you’d left the door open when you went to work,” I stammered. “I was going to close it.”

  Dad seemed to have trouble focusing on me. His eyes flickered and he passed his hand over them, then rubbed his head, making more spikes stick up. “Work? Yes-I-have-work-to-do. Nothing-that-concerns-you.” He pushed the garage door back open. “You-just-go-off-and-do-recreation-activities-with-your-friends.”

  He bared his teeth in a snarl that was maybe supposed to be a smile, then turned to go back inside.

  As I scrambled to my feet, I got a look at what was littering up the workbench. Then I heard Frasier calling from the road and ran to get my bike.

  “What were you doing?” asked Jessie when I met them at the road.

  I explained about the noise I’d heard. “But it was only Dad. He’s working on some stuff on the workbench.”

  Jessie’s face screwed up in a puzzled scowl. “The workbench in the garage? Dad’s never used that once since we moved here. He hates stuff like that,” she said forcefully.

  I nodded. I hadn’t even told the strangest part. Taking a deep breath, I went on. “He’s messing around with flashlights. He’s got about a million of them in pieces all over the workbench,” I told them. “More flashlights than we’ve ever owned in our lives.”

  “So he got a bargain on flashlights somewhere,” said Frasier. “Big, hairy deal. Now let’s go. We’ve already wasted half the morning.”

  We rode single file, in silence, until we reached the turnoff into the hills. As soon as we rolled our bikes onto the dirt path, I got a nasty feeling. Looking up at the shadowy hills, I said, “I think maybe this is a bad idea.”

  It felt like the hills were watching us eagerly, waiting for us to come closer. For some reason they reminded me of my dad in that strange shaggy coat, scraggly and menacing. The deep shadows between the hills were like huge mouths, ready to snap open and swallow us, leaving no trace. The way Mom and Dad were acting, they wouldn’t even miss us.

  “There’s something out there,” I said quietly. “I can feel it.”

  “Don’t be a wuss,” scoffed Frasier.

  “No, he’s right,” Jessie insisted. “Something’s watching us.”

  “Something?” asked Frasier, looking at Jessie with a grin. “Don’t you mean someone?”

  “You heard me right the first time,” said Jessie, grim-faced.

  “Uh-oh,” said Frasier. “Sorry I asked.” He jumped on his bike and started up the trail. “Come on, you dorks.”

  Jessie and I looked at each other. “What a jerk,” said Jessie. “But we can’t let him go up there alone.”

  “We’re just spooking ourselves anyway,” I said. “What could be out there?”

  Jessie didn’t answer. She just put her head down and got back on her bike. When we reached the foot of the three Harley Hills, Frasier was already climbing, pushing his bike into the burned area. Jessie and I followed, staying off the black earth. I couldn’t shake a crawly feeling under my skin, but I told myself it was just my imagination working overtime.

  We caught up to Frasier at the top of the hill where he was exploring the scorched star shape. “I think we should dig right here at the center where it looks like the lightning originally struck full force. Then we can see how far down the earth is charred,” suggested Frasier.

  “What good will that do?” asked Jessie.

  Frasier shrugged and pulled his mother’s gardening trowel out of his pack. He started to dig but the earth was so hard he could hardly chip it. Jessie climbed a little higher so she could look toward town. Watching her, I was surprised to see a grin light up her whole face.

  “Hey, Nick. Come here!” she called.

  I scrambled up beside her and looked out. There was our town, looking like a picture postcard with its houses all nestled in the trees and the tall church steeple rising into the sky.

  “I wonder why we couldn’t see it yesterday?” asked Jessie.

  “Atmospheric inversion,” I said, imitating Frasier. “Who knows?”

  Jessie looked thoughtful. “It just shows there’s a logical answer for everything,” she said and then grinned at me. “Even midnight projects in the basement and peanut butter sandwiches for dinner and doughnuts for breakfast. Mom probably doesn’t feel like cooking. Who can blame her?”

  “Right,” I said. “We ought to kick back and enjoy it while it lasts. They’re probably working on some big surprise for us. We’re just being silly, getting all bent out of shape because things are a little different at home.”

  Jessie laughed and started climbing up the rocks. “I’m going to go look for that eagle’s nest,” she said. “Give me a shout when Frase gets tired of his stupid digging.”

  I wandered away, staring aimlessly at the ground, wishing the sight of town had made everything better for me like it had for Jessie. But I still felt queasy, like something was biding its time, waiting.

  Then suddenly I stopped, goosebumps crawling up my spine. There were weird footprints in the dust ahead of me.

  And they weren’t human footprints. They were like nothing I’d ever seen before. The toes fanned out for about a foot, each one as wide as a man’s heel and the heel itself was a circle as big as a basketball. Whatever made these prints was huge! Maybe twelve feet tall. Taller. Maybe as tall as a tree.

  “Frasier!” I shouted in a strangled voice. “Come here!”

  Careful not to step on the prints, I followed them to see where they went. I didn’t have to go far. The weird footprints ended at the edge of a cliff. Leaning over slowly, I looked down. The drop was sheer. Either this thing had suction cups on the bottom of its feet or it could fly.

  I tried to imagine the beast that could have feet like this. The prints were not only as long as my arm and as wide as my whole body, they were deep. How could anything be that heavy, that tall, and still fly?

  I knew one thing. There was nothing on earth that was even remotely like it.

  I steadied myself against the rock wall. I felt weak just thinking about it. Fluttery inside.

  But wait. I snatched my hand off the rock wall and the fluttery feeling stopped. Not really wanting to, I put my hand flat against the rock again, but lightly. There it was! The vibration. It was like the sound we’d heard—or felt—the night of the weird storm. A vibration in the rock.

  There was something inside the hill.

  My whole body started to tremble. I looked down at the huge, alien footsteps and how they ended at the edge of the cliff. Then I put my ear to the rock wall.

  “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIII!”

  The high-pitched, ear-splitting noise was right in my ear. There was a sharp pain in my head and then the world went dark.

  16

  “Nick! Hey, Nick, are you okay?” Frasier’s voice sounded distant, but his hand was shaking my arm.

  My head throbbed and there was a sharp, hot pain in my temple. White spots danced in front of my eyes. And there was a frozen cold spot right in the center of my stomach.

  “There’s something—something inside the rock, burrowed in the hill,” I said to Frasier, holding my head. “I heard it.”

  “Aw, man, I’m sorry,” said Frasier. “That was me. I was just fooling around. I didn’t expect you to jump like that.”

  I shook my head and winced at the pain. “No. I heard it.”

  �
�You mean this?” Frasier scrunched up his face and bared his teeth. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIII”

  I stared at him.

  “It was a goof,” he said, backing away from me. “I saw you put your ear to the rock and I couldn’t resist. It was supposed to be funny. But then you jumped and banged your head on that sharp bit sticking out—really, I’m sorry, Nick.”

  “For such a smart guy you’re really a moron sometimes, you know that?” I said, feeling angry and foolish. But I was also relieved that it was just a jagged piece of rock I’d banged my head on and not an alien brain probe needle. “But it wasn’t just you being a dork, Frase. I heard a vibration, like the night of the storm. Touch the rock. You can feel it.”

  He squinted at me, suspecting I had some kind of revenge in mind. But then he edged over to the rock and placed his hand against it. After a minute he shrugged. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “What?” I put my hand on the rock wall, in the same place as before. Nothing. Nada. No flutters. No humming vibrations. Just warm rock. “It’s gone now,” I said, knowing he didn’t believe me. “And look! What about these footprints? Don’t tell me you can’t see them.”

  Frasier shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “’Course I see them. I made them myself.” He grinned. “Watch.” He dug the ball of his foot into the ground, hard. Then he did it four more times, making five of the big toes. When he was done he stood on one foot and spun in a circle, making the heel that looked as wide and round as a basketball.

  I was starting to get super irritated with him, plus, of course, feeling like a total idiot.

  “I made them yesterday, for the visitors,” explained Frasier. “I wanted the aliens to see them and think there was something majorly scarifying snooping around. I thought if they ended at the cliff the aliens would think it could fly, too.” Frasier looked pleased with himself. “It was a dumbo move, I suppose. I mean, obviously there aren’t any aliens. But the footprints look pretty real, don’t they?”

  I stomped over the prints, scuffing them out, and stalked past him. “I don’t get you, Frasier. Yesterday you were all excited about UFOs and today it’s like a big joke.”

  “Yesterday was yesterday,” Frasier explained, hurrying after me. “I have a very active imagination. Everyone says so,” he added proudly.

  I shook my head in disgust, scanning the hillside for Jessie. She saw me and waved, starting down toward us. “I’ve had enough of this cheesy place,” I announced. “I’m going home.”

  “No, wait,” cried Frasier. “I brought lunch.” He scurried past me and grabbed up his knapsack. “Look. Bologna, your favorite. And Oreos. Jessie won’t want to miss out on Oreos.”

  I was kind of hungry. And if I insisted on leaving without lunch, Jessie would want to know why. It wouldn’t be any fun explaining what an idiot I’d been, fooled by Frasier’s goofy monster prints.

  “Ooh, food,” said Jessie, sliding down the last bit of hill and landing beside us. “I didn’t find the eagle nest, but I found a perfect place for a picnic. Come on.”

  Jessie led the way up. She clearly wasn’t thinking about aliens or things watching us. But I kept looking over my shoulder as we climbed, feeling cold eyes drilling into my back. I told myself it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.

  Jessie led us to a great spot. A broad, flat area along the side of the hill, it ended in a cliff with a long, sheer drop. We could look out over the whole badlands and down onto the town, too. Jutting out from the side of the hill over our heads was an overhang that provided plenty of shade.

  There was only one thing wrong with this spot. It was right on top of the rock where I’d felt the vibrations. I sat down gingerly, expecting to feel the hum through the seat of my shorts.

  But the ground felt ordinary, cool, and hard. Jessie reached for Frasier’s knapsack, and soon the two of them were laughing and joking about UFO landings and rock-eating aliens with scorching fire for breath. I wished I could join in, but I couldn’t—none of it seemed funny to me.

  Frasier had brought a lot of sandwiches and we ate them all. Then we ate the whole package of cookies and washed it down with warm soda. So it was no wonder we were sleepy afterwards.

  My eyelids got heavier and heavier. An uneasy twinge in the back of my mind told me this wasn’t a good time or place for a nap. I tried to sit up, to warn Frasier and Jessie that we should go, but my body felt so heavy, so sleepy. I heard Jessie begin to snore softly.

  Then a hypnotic humming began to buzz inside my head. My eyes refused to open. My chin fell heavily onto my chest as if my jaw were made out of the same rock as these hills.

  Zzzzzzz, Jessie snored.

  I fell asleep and in my mind the hills began to grow eyes. Round eyes with no lids. They popped out of the rock on long stalks. The stalks swayed in the wind, then twisted to peer at us. Hundreds and hundreds of them sprouted from the rocks to stare at us.

  I struggled to wake up from this terrible nightmare, but my body was pinned to the rock.

  17

  I stirred, dreaming that it was night and we’d been sleeping all afternoon. As I shifted, a rock dug into my hip and I woke up—to total blackness. It was night.

  We’d been sleeping for hours and hours on this hard, rocky ground. How could that be? Unless—unless my dreams were true. I sat up, wincing from all the places sharp rocks had dug into me. Blurry images of dark dream shapes were fast fading, although I struggled to hold onto them.

  What had happened to us? I remembered something about eyes and urgent whispering but that was all. It was scary to feel the dreams slipping away into the dark. Not knowing what had happened was worse than anything.

  “Jessie! Frasier!” I called out. “Are you awake?” There was no moon and it was so dark I couldn’t see anything but black shapes. I couldn’t tell which were rocks and which were Jessie and Frasier.

  Suddenly Jessie’s voice came out of the dark. “Wow! What time is it?” I heard her move and saw her start to stand up, rubbing her leg. “Ow. I hurt all over. How could all three of us sleep so long on this cold rock?”

  There was no sound from Frasier. “Frasier?” I called again. My voice sounded small and shaky. Nothing moved around us. No one answered. Where could he be? I called louder, “FRASIER!”

  My shout echoed weakly between the hills and died away.

  “Maybe they got him,” whispered Jessie, sliding close to me. She sounded scared and close to crying. “The things in the hills.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her, dreading the answer.

  “It’s what I dreamed,” she whispered fearfully. “They crept down out of the hills. They were big and ugly and covered with scales. Tentacles stuck out all over them. They uncurled the tentacles and snatched us up, one by one.”

  “It was just a dream,” I said. “A nightmare.”

  Just then, a cold, bony, scaly tentacle grabbed me by the ankle.

  18

  I thrashed to get free. I felt Jessie grab my arm to keep me from being carried away. The tentacle on my ankle wound its way around my leg.

  As I opened my mouth to scream, another slimy tentacle, writhing with cold appendages, smacked down onto my face, covering my mouth and cutting off my air.

  “Sssssssssss.” There was a hissing sound in my ear. Was it sleeping gas? Was that how they’d got us before, kept us unconscious all day? With tremendous effort I twisted and felt one tentacle pull free of my face.

  “Sssssshhhhhh! Be quiet.” It was Frasier’s voice!

  “Frasier?” Was it really him? Or an alien mimicking his voice to fool us? As he let go of me, I realized the tentacles I had imagined were only Frasier’s cold hands.

  “Be quiet or they’ll hear you,” said Frasier. “If they haven’t already with all that yelling.”

  It really was Frasier. I could see the outline of his big head and the familiar gesture as he pushed his glasses up his nose. No alien could imitate that.

  “Who? Who will hear us?” Jessie demanded u
rgently. “What did you see? Tell us!”

  “You won’t believe it!” Frasier exclaimed. There was a strange tone to his voice, as if he didn’t know whether to be excited or scared. “It’ll totally blow your mind! Come on, I’ll show you. All you have to do is look over the edge of the cliff.”

  His hunched shape, keeping low to the ground, scuttled back in the direction of the cliff edge.

  “Come on, guys, quick!” urged Frasier. “Before they get away.”

  I took a deep breath. “This better not be another stupid joke,” I said quietly.

  “I think he means it,” Jessie said. Together we started after him, creeping carefully toward the edge.

  As we moved we began to see a strange sort of bobbing, flickering light. Thin beams crossed and waved in the air.

  I could see Jessie’s face in the weird light. She looked scared. I figured I probably looked the same. Frasier was stretched out flat on his stomach, his head hanging over the edge.

  “Get down!” he ordered, without looking back at us. “You don’t want them to see you.”

  How could I feel so scared and curious at the same time? Jessie and I both dropped to the ground and crawled on our bellies toward the cliff edge. My breath sounded loud in the night quiet.

  As our heads cleared the edge, we could suddenly see everything. The badlands stretched out below us, shadowy and secretive. And winding slowly through the narrow valley was a long line of people! Each person carried a flashlight. But the flashlights’ beams were aimed up at the sky, not at the ground!

  “There must be a hundred of them,” said Frasier, handing Jessie his binoculars.

  “Wow!” said Jessie breathlessly. “There’s Mr. Rodriguez from the hardware store. And there’s the school librarian, Mrs. Pringle. They’re all from town!”

  “Let me see!” I cried. But when Jessie handed me the binoculars, I almost wished she hadn’t. It gave me a sinking feeling, seeing so many people we knew. There was Mrs. Perkins, who drove the school bus. Mr. Costello, the lawyer. And Mr. and Mrs. Grover, who lived down the street from us. I searched the line, afraid I was going to see our own parents, but I couldn’t find them.