Strange Invaders

by Rodman Philbrick

  The people were all adults and they looked straight ahead. They didn’t even speak to one another as they lurched and teetered along like a little kid’s pull toy. The sight was so eerie I kept feeling if I blinked hard enough it would disappear. But it didn’t, no matter how hard I worked my eyes.

  “They look like zombies,” breathed Jessie.

  She was right. The people moved stiffly and there was something wrong with their faces. The light beams crossed and bounced. But even when a bright light flashed directly into a person’s eyes, there was no reaction. Their faces had absolutely no expression. It was like they were plastic dolls’ faces. Only not cute. Not cute at all.

  The line of staggering zombies reached the bottom of Harley Hill and started up. As they wound up between the crags and behind the rocks, we began to lose sight of them. But one thing was for sure. They were headed our way.

  “What’s going on?” Frasier asked, sounding truly stumped.

  “Maybe they’re looking for something,” I suggested, feeling my mouth go dry.

  “Yeah? What?” asked Frasier.

  “Us.”

  19

  There was a short silence as we watched the last of the bobbing flashlights disappear behind a rock face.

  “I guess we better keep them in sight,” Jessie suggested.

  Feeling our way in the dark, we moved around the hill until we could see them again. The long line of people snaked along, weaving around boulders, coming up and up. Everybody’s pace stayed exactly the same no matter how steep or flat or rocky the ground was.

  They were coming closer. I recognized more and more people. There was the supermarket manager and the fire chief and Mrs. Stowe, who always made the best chocolate chip brownies for the school bake sale. But I didn’t see my mom or dad. Or Frasier’s parents either.

  The adults plodded on, climbing the hill, their flashlights beamed into the sky. They could never catch us, I realized. We could easily slip down the other side of the hill and they wouldn’t even see us.

  “I think I know where they’re going,” said Frasier.

  “Me, too,” said Jessie grimly.

  I nodded in agreement and the three of us made our way down to where we’d stashed our bikes above the lightning strike. Quickly, we pushed them behind the big boulder and then crouched down to wait.

  Waiting in the total darkness, the weirdness seemed even more terrifying. I had to clench my teeth to keep them from chattering.

  But it wasn’t long before we saw the beams weaving their way up to us. Footsteps crunched on the scorched rock.

  Just as we suspected, they were heading for the arrow of burned earth that pointed the way to the top of Harley Hill. Without saying anything, the zombified grown-ups fanned out until they’d made a wide circle around the star points the lightning had blasted.

  When the circle was complete, they all held their flashlights steady, aimed right up into the sky. Then they began to blink them on and off in unison.

  “They’re signaling!” cried Jessie in a hoarse whisper.

  We watched in stunned silence for a while as the flashlights blinked. On. Off. On. Off.

  “I learned Morse code in Boy Scouts,” said Frasier, squinting as he concentrated. “But it’s not Morse.”

  The adults weren’t even looking up at the beams. They just stared straight ahead at nothing. It was like they were just hollow shells of people. They just kept switching their lights on and off as if nothing else mattered.

  Our eyes searched the sky but we saw nothing. No return flashes, no strange lightning, nothing but twinkling stars and blackness.

  After a while the beams grew weaker. On, off, on, off. Dimmer and dimmer each time. Until finally the flashlights went dead. The circle of people just stood there for a moment, switching their dead lights. Somehow that made it worse—that they kept going when there was no light left. But at last their hands went limp and the flashlights fell to the ground.

  The circle began to waver and break up. People shifted from foot to foot. They didn’t seem to know what they were doing or what to do next.

  “It’s like they’re sleepwalking,” said Jessie.

  “I guess,” I agreed, shifting uncomfortably in my hiding spot. “But what can we do about it?”

  Jessie looked at me, then at Frasier, her eyes gleaming. “Wake them up!” she whispered fiercely.

  20

  Jessie grabbed her bicycle and stood astride it. She looked over her shoulder at us. “You guys all set?”

  “Ready to rock and roll,” Frasier answered, tightening the strap on his bike helmet.

  “On the count of three,” I said, glad we were finally doing something. I refused to think about whether it would work or not. Or whether whatever happened to the adults might happen to us, too. “One, two, THREE!”

  We zoomed out from behind the boulder and raced down the hill, straight for the line of zombified adults. The balloons on Frasier’s tires whomped as we sped and skidded over the rocks and dirt.

  “AAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” we screamed at the top of our lungs, careening down the hill. “YAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOO!

  But nothing happened. They didn’t seem to hear us, even though our voices split the night and shattered the quiet. They weren’t going to move.

  Then I had a brainstorm. I hoped it would work. “Hey, Mr. Grover! Mr. Rodriguez! Watch out!”

  As I’d hoped, the two men’s heads snapped around when they heard their names. Their eyes blinked. They saw the bicycles hurtling toward them and jumped out of the way.

  We all started yelling out names and more people snapped out of their trances, blinking and looking around them in confusion. “What are you doing here?” they asked each other. “What am I doing here?”

  We drove our bikes into their midst and pulled on people’s sleeves, yelling their names into their faces. “How did we get here?” they asked, slow and confused.

  I jumped onto a rock and began to tell them what we’d seen—all about them following each other single file and the flashlight signaling. But none of them seemed to remember any of it. “It must be some kind of atmospheric thing,” said Mr. Forester, the fire chief. “Something in the air that induced mass sleepwalking.”

  “Yeah,” said Frasier under his breath. “Right.”

  Some of the people turned and began to straggle down the hill. Others followed until the whole crowd of people was moving. But they didn’t seem to know what to do. They wandered off the path, stumbling over rocks and into holes. When the first ones reached the bottom, they turned the wrong way, away from town.

  “Whoa,” cried Jessie, pushing off on her bike. “This way. Follow us.”

  We rode after stragglers and got them pointed in the right direction. Most of the people still moved like sleepwalkers, as if they weren’t really sure how arms and legs were supposed to work. But finally we got them all to the bottom of Harley Hill and headed back to town.

  “It’s like herding cattle,” muttered Jessie as we joined up again.

  “I’ll ride behind and make sure we don’t lose any,” said Frasier.

  It took a while but eventually everyone was on the road to town. Soon lights and houses began to appear. The crowd thinned out a little as people dropped off to go to their own homes.

  “Oh, no. Look!” said Jessie, pointing down the road ahead of us.

  Approaching us were two bobbing flashlights. “Not more of them,” she groaned. “Is this going to go on all night?”

  “No,” I said with determination. “We’re going to wake them up right now.” I stood on the pedals and put on a burst of speed.

  “AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!,” I screamed, heading full speed straight for them.

  Jessie was right behind me, her yell piercing the night.

  But suddenly I squeezed the brakes hard, skidding across the pavement. “Mom! Dad!”

  21

  Glaring light hit my eyes and blinded me. I felt the bike skid and knew I was going to
fall. I couldn’t see a thing.

  Then all of a sudden a giant hand snatched my bike off the ground. The bike stopped abruptly in midair. I stuck my feet out but couldn’t find the pavement. All I could feel was empty air.

  The next second the light fell away from my eyes and I saw it was only the flashlight in Dad’s hand. My foot struck the pavement as Dad’s other hand steadied my bike.

  His eyes were dark pools in his expressionless face.

  Jessie pulled up beside me. “Mom,” she cried. “What’s happening to everybody?”

  “Everybody? Let’s-talk-about-what-you’ve-been-up-to-young-lady,” Dad said. “And-you-young-man. What-are-you-doing-screaming-around-on-your-bike-late-at-night?” The words sounded like the sort of thing Dad might say but the tone was all wrong. He sounded like an actor pretending to be stern.

  The sound of that voice filled me with cold dread.

  “The-two-of-you-had-us-worried-half-to—” Dad frowned and looked at Mom. “What’s-the-word? Mortality?”

  “Death,” Mom said, her eyes hard and blank. “Worried-half-to-death. When-we-realized-you-and-Jessie weren’t-in-your-rooms, we-came-out-looking-for-you.”

  Dad nodded as if pleased with Mom’s explanation. But he seemed to have lost interest in us. He was searching the eyes of the other adults as if he were looking for something he couldn’t find.

  Jessie explained that we’d fallen asleep in the afternoon and woke to find the hills full of sleepwalking adults. “We had to help them find their way back to town,” she said.

  “A-likely-story,” said Mom as if reading lines in a foreign language.

  “It’s true. You can ask them,” I said, spinning around to find one of the people we’d helped. But the streets were almost empty. Most of the adults had melted away, gone back to their homes. Then, across the street I caught sight of one. “There,” I told Dad. “Ask Mr. Rodriguez. He was there.”

  “’Evening, Gus,” Dad said, waving to Mr. Rodriguez and baring his teeth in a meaningless grimace. “Some-kind-of-do-up-at-the-Hills-tonight? My-boy-says-he-saw-a-lot-of-people-climbing-Harley-Hill.”

  Mr. Rodriguez looked blank. “Not-that-I-know about,” he said flatly. “There’s-a-lot-of-folks-out-and-about-tonight-though. Seems-like-everyone-had-the-same-idea-I-did—it’s-a-real-nice-night-for-a-walk.”

  Jessie and I exchanged glances. Mr. and Mrs. Grover walked by and waved. “Hi-Bert. Hi-Amy. Lovely-night-for-a-stroll-isn’t-it?”

  There was no expression in any of their voices. They were just going through the motions of acting normal.

  Dad faced us. “We-must-deal-with-this-unusual-situation,” he said. “Your-behavior-is-unacceptable. I-think-we-need-a-few-changes-around-here.”

  “What kind of changes?” asked Jessie, her voice squeaking a little.

  Mom and Dad were both silent a moment, although they didn’t look at each other. Then they spoke in unison. “Grounded,” they said grimly. “You’re-both-grounded.”

  “For how long?” I cried, seeing my summer begin to shrink.

  “Until-you-start-acting-normal-again,” said Dad.

  Mom nodded. “Perfectly-normal,” she said.

  22

  It was almost a relief to be grounded, I told myself the next morning, after Jessie and I once more fended for ourselves at breakfast. Mom and Dad were both in the basement again.

  We listened at the door but couldn’t make out what they were doing. All we could hear was things being dragged over the floor and the occasional murmur of voices.

  But at least today we wouldn’t have to go back to Harley Hills.

  A couple of Jessie’s friends came by—girls from school—but I didn’t hang around. I went back up to my room.

  But what was there to do? I didn’t feel like starting a new model airplane or reading a book—not on a sunny summer morning. Those things were for rainy days. I was staring aimlessly out the window, worrying as usual, when my door banged open.

  I jumped at least a foot, but it was only Jessie. “There is such a thing as knocking,” I said, embarrassed.

  “The door wasn’t all the way closed,” said Jessie, plopping down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Notice anything strange around here this morning?”

  I shrugged. What wasn’t strange these days? But I didn’t say that. “Okay, what?” I said.

  “For starters Mom and Dad said they came to look for us when we weren’t in our rooms, right? Well, how come they didn’t notice that we didn’t show up for dinner?”

  “Mom hasn’t been into meals much lately,” I said. It sounded kind of lame, even to me.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” said Jessie. “But if you don’t think that’s weird, then how about the fact that Dad hasn’t gone to work since the night of the storm? And he’s not on vacation.”

  “So maybe he’s taking some time off. He’s done that before,” I argued halfheartedly.

  Jessie shook her head. “This is different. None of the other adults are going to work either. Ashley and Judy noticed it,” said Jessie, referring to her school friends. “And Frasier told me his parents are staying home, too. They all said their parents are just hanging around the house. Like they’re waiting for something to happen.”

  “Like what? An invasion?” I asked sarcastically.

  But Jessie didn’t scoff or roll her eyes like I expected. “I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “That’s what scares me.”

  Suddenly something clattered against the house. We stared at each other, startled.

  SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

  Both of us jumped. Jessie gasped and pointed at the window, her mouth working soundlessly.

  A pale, white hand was clawing desperately at the glass, trying to break through.

  23

  Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do but I leaped up and ran to the window.

  Scriiitch. Screeeeeeeeeech.

  The writhing hand scrabbled and clawed at the glass, making an awful noise. I threw open the window, furious and terrified, ready to launch myself at the alien. But as I leaned out the cold fingers fastened on my wrist with an iron grip.

  It started to pull me out the window. Jessie grabbed my waist and pulled the other way. My arm felt like it was coming out of its socket.

  “Nick,” came a strained, raspy voice. “Let me in.”

  “Frasier?” Jessie let go of me and I almost tumbled out the window.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” said Frasier, gripping the windowsill with one hand and my arm with the other. “Help me up.”

  I should have known. Frasier and his tricks!

  “Why didn’t you use the front door?” I demanded as Jessie and I heaved Frazier into the room. He had a skinned knee, and there were bits of dirt and leaves sticking out of his crew cut.

  “Couldn’t,” he said, shaking his head and scattering leaf bits all over the floor. “I’m grounded, too, remember? Since your parents brought me home last night. My parents hadn’t even noticed I was missing until then. Anyway, my mom thinks I’m cleaning my room.”

  Jessie leaned forward and plucked a twig off of Frasier’s shoulder. “Are your parents acting strange, Frasier?”

  Frasier laughed. He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “My parents are always acting weird. So I can’t really tell if they’re any weirder than usual. But, hey, I’m more worried about the squirrels than I am about the humans. Not to mention the birds.”

  “Squirrels? Birds?” I echoed. “What are you talking about?”

  Frasier beamed, looking pleased that he knew something we didn’t. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Jessie shot me a warning look, like she thought it was Frasier that was squirrelly. “We’re grounded, Frase, remember? I don’t want to get in any more trouble.”

  “You’ve got to see this,” Frasier insisted. “It’s truly bizarre.”

  He started for the window but I stopped him. “We’ll go out the kitchen door,” I said. “Then, if my mom catches us, we can sa
y we were getting something to eat.”

  The three of us moved very quietly down the stairs. There wasn’t a sound in the house. It felt deserted. But my heart pounded. I kept expecting Mom or Dad to be hiding behind a door, ready to leap out, yelling “Gotcha!” as we snuck past.

  We crept down the hall and nothing happened. The kitchen was so clean it looked like no one ever ate there. Mom liked to hum or sing while she worked but when I put my ear to the basement door I didn’t hear so much as a peep.

  The silent house gave me a creepy feeling. I felt like our parents had moved out and left us.

  Frasier opened the kitchen door. “Ready? Let’s go.”

  We slipped out and headed across the lawn toward the woods at the back end of our yard. I kept expecting someone to stop us, but no one did.

  The sun was hot, but as soon as we stepped into the woods, cool air surrounded us. It was quiet here, too. Too quiet. Usually there were birds flitting around even in the middle of the day, and squirrels chattered at everything that went by. But except for a little breeze ruffling the leaves above us, there wasn’t a sound.

  “Look,” said Frasier in an awed hush, pointing up into the trees.

  I looked up. Rows and rows of glowing eyes were staring at us.

  24

  Jessie gasped. It sounded loud in the silence. The eyes seemed to hang in the cool darkness, glowing red, yellow, green, like tiny Christmas tree lights. Hundreds of glowing eyes. All watching us.

  I wanted to flee but I was afraid to move. My eyes adjusted slowly to the dimness after the bright sun. After a few minutes I could see that the eyes belonged to squirrels.

  They lined the branches of every tree around us. The squirrels were packed together as tight as sardines in a can. There were squirrels in every nook and cranny of every tree. They just sat there tensed on their haunches, perfectly still, staring at us with those weird, glowing eyes.