The Tiniest Invaders, Book One Coexistence

by William Bebb

  *****

  Word of the final dramatic report from WBIR's Candace Rogers from the small town of Ragland Alabama spread quickly, and not just around the local viewing area. After less than fifteen minutes of the broadcast, a pirated copy of the segment had been uploaded to the world’s most popular video sharing website. In less than an hour, the segment had been seen in nearly every country in the world.

  Several viewer comments thought it was a pretty good Halloween hoax. A few made the mental connection between Palmerdale Alabama's recent nuclear blast and the lightning ball. But, nearly everyone's comments included references to aliens or aliens doing some anal probing on rednecks.

  The Ragland Police Department was contacted by WBIR and told they'd lost contact with a remote truck doing a story. After relaying their last known location, a patrol car was sent out to investigate. Several cars and trucks were already at the site by the time it car arrived.

  Avery Hartsman, who was perhaps the best known deer hunter in town, had hastily organized the vehicles to prevent blocking the road and had them positioned so the headlights lit up the burnt and blackened TV truck and roughly a hundred yards of the woods beyond. The headlights of the patrol car shined on him, down on one knee holding a water bottle up so Allison could take a sip.

  After telling his partner to call for an ambulance and paramedics, Deputy Collins grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk and hurried over.

  “Evening Avery. What are you doing out here tonight?” The deputy asked, as he looked around at the still smoking remains of the news truck and two bodies covered with blankets.

  “I recognized where they were while I was eating my dinner watching TV. Got here about five minutes ago. This little lady is the only one I found alive. I covered the others with my dogs blankets I keep in the back of my truck,” Avery said, while holding a large bright red umbrella over Allison's head.

  The rain had become little more than a drizzle, but the wind was still blowing fairly strong.

  “Hiya, Allie. Don't you worry. We got an ambulance on the way. Is there anything I can get for you?” Avery asked, forcing a pleasant look on his face as he saw the crispy black burnt remnants of her hair and shocked expression on her face.

  “Miss Candace is dead. I was just talking to her and then there was this loud noise and when I woke up I found her dead. Why Lord? What happened?” Allison said in a weak, confused, and dazed voice before breaking into a quiet heartfelt whispered rendition of Amazing Grace.

  Avery propped the umbrella up so she'd stay dry as the deputy went to check on the other bodies. He stood up and walked over to the milling group of gawkers standing around staring at the bodies and truck. Several of them were people he knew from past hunting expeditions. Making sure the deputy didn't see him, he waved them over to his truck and whispered, “Did you fellas bring yer guns?”

  Five men nodded and headed back for their cars and trucks to retrieve them. Old Mr. Garvins, owner of Garvin's Garage in town, looked at Avery with doubt.

  “What are you going to do?” He asked nervously.

  “If you saw what I did on the TV you wouldn't ask something stupid like that. We're going out to find that thing,” Avery said, reaching into the back of his truck and pulling out his rifle.

  “You think it was a spaceship, don't you?” Garvins asked, licking his lips unconsciously.

  “Sure as shit wasn't a damned ghost ball. And if they're the ones that caused that explosion over in Pinson last week, I think they're overdue for a little payback; Redneck style,” Avery said, with a grim smile.

  “Didn't bring my rifle, but I could carry a flashlight if you want me to come along,” Garvins said looking equally scared and determined.

  “I'd be proud to have you come along, buddy. Pass the word to the fellas, we'll meet up on the other side of the van in couple of minutes and go get the fuckers who did this.”

  “Sure you don't wanna tell the cops?” Garvins asked, watching the deputy's stringing yellow tape around the bodies and news truck.

  Avery looked at him like he'd just farted, before whispering, “They'd fuck around and want to wait until the whole damn army got here or try to stop us from going in, saying some jackass thing like 'It isn't safe'. No, we're going in- just us. Now, go spread the word. It's payback time.”

  *****

  The rich soft red carpet seemed to suck at the captain's feet as he crossed the lobby of one of Washington DC's oldest and most infamous whore houses. A gallery of extremely beautifully crafted portraits of senators, congressmen, and several presidents lined the walls. At the front desk, which looked like it belonged in an old time hotel, a pretty young Japanese lady smiled at him and spoke in a beautifully melodic voice, “Welcome to The American Inn. Do you have a reservation?”

  “No ma'am,” the captain said blushing slightly. “I need to see one of your guests. I've been trying his phone, but he hasn't answered. It's very important that I see him. It's a matter of national security, in point of fact.”

  “Who is it that you wish to see?”

  “Admiral Brent Branson.”

  She nodded, turned to a computer screen hidden under the counter and typed something quickly. Giving him a sympathetic look, she shook her head and said, “I'm very sorry. He left instructions not to be disturbed.”

  “You don't seem to understand, Miss. I was sent here to bring him back to the Pentagon, immediately.”

  She nodded and said, “Wait here, I'll get the manager,” before turning and going through a dark mahogany door.

  Laughter drifted down the wide curving staircase behind the captain.

  A senator from Oregon was coming down the steps with his arms draped over the shoulders of two beautiful young ladies. The redhead whispered something in his ear when they reached the lobby and he laughed again before sweeping her into a nearly rib snapping bear hug.

  After glancing around the nearly empty lobby, he spoke softly yet loud enough for the captain to overhear. “Carla, if I could marry you I'd do it tomorrow. But we both know if anyone found about my favorite transvestite lover I'd never get re-elected. Now, if you'd get the sex change surgery who knows.”

  “You'd never get to feel Mr. Happy again if it was gone. I know you wouldn't feel as deeply fulfilled without your weekly injections of love,” Carla said, and giggled as they continued across the lobby.

  “You have a point there, and down there,” the senator said, then laughed as they went to the double doors leading to the street.

  “Captain?” A large middle-aged man, who looked like he could have once been a professional wrestler, asked from behind the counter.

  Turning away from the departing senator, he looked up at the manager. “Yes. I am Captain Rockford from the Pentagon. I need to speak with Admiral Branson immediately.”

  “The admiral is a man of great passion, captain. And remarkable sustainability, if you take my meaning. To interrupt him would be simply unforgivable. Perhaps you'd like to have some refreshment in the bar. He should be done with his session soon and at that time, I personally will inform him you are here.”

  The captain looked at his watch and grimaced before reaching for his cell phone. He saw there was no coverage and looked puzzled before the manager spoke again, “I'm sorry but the management, long ago, installed devices to prevent cell phones and other electronic devices from sending or receiving in this building. It's a precaution against, how should I say, eavesdropping. Whether from a jealous wife or the press, we believe it prudent that our guests feel safe here. There are courtesy phones in the bar. Please feel free to use them if you need to make a call.”

  “Thank you sir, I'll do that,” Captain Rockford said, before passing an ornate statue in the middle of a fountain and heading to an archway where light jazz music drifted out.

  *****

  The policeman wearing a large yellow plastic poncho spoke up confidently as several military police walked around the RV. “Evening folks. May I see your driver's lic
ense please?”

  “Sure thing, officer,” Trevor said, handing down one of his many fake driver's licenses. “Everything alright? I sure as heck know I wasn't speeding in this traffic.”

  The officer shined his flashlight in Trevor's face and then looked back at the drivers license before speaking. “Nice rig you got here, Mr. O'Brien. You must really like sports.”

  “You got that right. Our granddaughter got a scholarship to UAB. Have you ever seen the softball team play?”

  “Nope, I'm more into NASCAR. You ever take this thing out to Talladega for the races?”

  Trevor laughed. “No sir, too loud for an old man like me. Besides, my wife gets jealous when I stare at the ladies out there.”

  “Now honey, don't say things like that,” Alice aka Katie said, playfully from the passenger seat.

  A soldier walked up and whispered to the policeman. He nodded and smiled up at Trevor before asking, “So, it's just you and your wife aboard tonight?”

  Trevor didn't like the way he asked the question and decided not to risk another lie. “Well, there's me, my wife Katie and her cousin Russell. He's a bit under the weather. If you want, you're welcome to come aboard and take a peek at him.”

  “Has he been drinking?”

  “Afraid so. But don't worry, I'd never let him drive this baby sober let alone drunk,” Trevor said smiling.

  “Honey, he's not drunk. He's just a little tipsy,” she said, leaning over to look down at the policeman. “It's all his horrid wife's fault for leaving him. I bet you'd have a few drinks too if your wife of seven years just up and left you. She's a witch with a b in front, if you want to know the truth; Cheating on him with God only knows what kinds of freaks, with their two young children at home.”

  “Katie, he's just using that as an excuse. And she left him over a month ago. I can't help it if your family is full of alcoholics. I didn't want to bring him along anyway. It was your idea, not mine!” Trevor yelled the last part at her.

  The officer waved the soldiers out of the road as he shouted up at Trevor, “Sounds just like my family! Have a good night and drive carefully!”

  “Thanks, you too!” Trevor shouted back before closing the window and driving away.

  “I feel like we're a couple of outlaws,” Alice said with a small smile, after they drove through the checkpoint.

  “That's us alright, Bonnie and Clyde. Hell, I even have a machine gun.”

  “Since we're not off to jail or Guantanamo Bay the question remains; Where do we go and what do we do about Professor Anniston?” Alice asked as he drove onto the interstate.

  Trevor didn't answer as he merged into traffic. He looked like he was trying to think, so she let him concentrate and fell silent.

  She took the opportunity to look over the dashboard of the big RV again. It was very imposing compared to her little Honda Civic. She thought the sheer number and different types of dials and gauges looked like they belonged on a spaceship from a movie. The gauge for fuel was pointing almost to full. The speedometer was slowly inching up and then she noticed something blinking on the navigation computer screen that was sitting on the console between their seats. Rubbing her eyes and shaking her head she looked again before speaking.

  “Does your map computer have voice recognition software?”

  “Nope, it has satellite GPS tracking and all kinds of other bells and whistles but nothing like that. Why do you ask?”

  Clearing her throat she read the words that were flashing on the screen. “Take Professor Anniston to Children's Hospital. Wait there for further instructions.”

  “What?” He asked in confusion.

  “It's a message. I didn't write it and if you didn't, the professor must have done it before he got drunk,” She said looking at the screen.

  “I know I didn't write it and I doubt he did either. James hates computers, won't even touch them usually. Plus, why would he write such a weird message in the first place. No, this is nuts. It's like there's a ghost on board or something.”

  “Not ghosts, my old friend. What we've got on board are aliens.” Anniston said softly, swaying slightly as he stood behind them.

  “Sit down, before you fall down,” Trevor said nervously.

  “Professor, are you alright? A little while ago you seemed...” Alice began to speak before the old man interrupted.

  “Inebriated? Wasted? Blotto? Whichever colorful label you prefer, I assure you I was indeed very drunk. But right now I'm unaccountably and painfully sober,” Anniston said darkly as he sat down in the seat behind Trevor.

  “But how and what did you mean by there are aliens on board? You're not serious. Why can't we see them if they're here?” Trevor asked doubtfully heading for an exit to the south side of Birmingham.

  “I believe the message on the screen was their subtle way of allowing me to decide whether or not to tell you about them. I'm sorry for my behavior but from what I've learned, getting drunk seemed and indeed still seems like the best course of action.

  My friends, I believe we should go where they suggest and I'll try and explain everything I know,” Anniston said sounding very near exhaustion.

  “Okay, we'll go to Children's Hospital under two conditions. First, no more booze. You can't sing worth a damn. And second, go put on some pants before poor Alice loses her self control and jumps on you.”

  Alice and Trevor laughed nervously as the old man noticed he was wearing just a pair of old boxer shorts. He grunted softly and clutched his head in pain.

  It seemed the aliens could remove the symptoms of being intoxicated, but not the accompanying hangover. Or perhaps they could have done that as well and chose not to.

  *****

  The light emanating from the sphere wildly fluctuated from a dark gray to that equivalent to a sixty watt light bulb, as it sat in the middle of a small kudzu plant covered clearing. A high pitched whining sound cycled up when it was at its brightest, but the sound slowed and dropped in volume as it went to the darkest intensity. It had been doing this since landing several minutes earlier.

  From between two badly scorched pine trees, Betty ran over and placed her hands on the sphere. Her eyes glowed a brilliant white as did her fingertips.

  Rain fell and that was the only sound in the clearing for several minutes.

  Gradually, the near silence was replaced by the sound of distant sirens echoing through the trees. Very slowly, a small rectangle of darkness grew larger on the sphere. When it was several inches across a crow came out and flew toward the sirens.

  As Betty held her hands on the sphere its light and whining sound gradually became more steady.

  After a few minutes the crow returned and flew back inside the sphere.

  Betty turned away and looked into the trees as more sounds drifted toward her.

  Shouting voices grew louder as the small rectangle began to shrink. When it was gone, she took her hands off the sphere. Betty watched it wobble unsteadily for several seconds before it fell back into the tangled vines while its light began to fluctuate again.

  A flashlight beam lit the upper branches of a tree in the direction of the sirens as she bent over and lifted the sphere. Holding it against her chest, she ran back the way she had come.

  On a hunch, Mendez headed to where she'd seen Allison earlier. The storm seemed to be dying down and the rain was now just a slight drizzle. Watching the road, she pulled out her phone and called Amalia to give her an update.

  A man answered on the second ring. “This is Sergeant Jeffers.”

  “Yes, this is federal agent Shannon Mendez. I need to speak to Amalia Armstrong is she there?”

  “She's unable to take your call. Right now, she’s in surgery. Can I help you?”

  “Surgery? What happened?” She asked, while swerving her car around a surprised raccoon that was staring wide eyed at her SUV.

  “I'm not authorized to release that information over the phone.”

  “Will she be okay?” She asked, as in the
distance she spotted a police cruiser blocking the two lane road. Several other cars were lined up in front of her as she came to a stop.

  “You should call the field office of the FBI in Birmingham. If you are actually with them, I'm sure they can help you.”

  “Well shit. Can you at least take a message saying Shannon Mendez needs to talk with her?”

  “Yes ma'am. Is that all you need?”

  “No, but I think it's all you can do for me. Thanks anyway,” she said, ending the call and slipping the phone back in her jacket pocket.

  An ambulance siren heralded its arrival and Mendez watched it pass by the line of cars before she pulled in behind it. As it went past the police roadblock she followed it through without bothering to flash her ID at the yelling deputy who was waving for her to stop.

  Three police cars were parked on the side of the road when they pulled up to the news truck. A fire truck and paramedics were on the far side of it.

  She looked at the nearly dozen civilian vehicles parked on the side of the road, with their headlights shining on the scene and wondered why there were only four spectators around them. A deputy was yelling something at her as she parked and started to climb out of her car.

  “Who the Hell do you think you are! Get back in your vehicle and go home before I place you under arrest!”

  For this deputy, she pulled out and flashed her ID as she walked by.

  The ambulance attendants wheeled a stretcher across the road and she followed them while someone in the group of police shouted, “We found where they went into the woods!”

  Another voice yelled back, “Okay, but don't go in until we get the go ahead from the sheriff!”

  Mendez's heart skipped a beat when she saw Allison being moved onto the stretcher. The old lady looked bad with her burnt hair and shocked face.

  But when she saw Mendez, her eyes cleared and she shouted to her. “Wasn't no damn ghost balls after all! Was some kind of spaceship! You're the lady from this morning, right?”

  She walked over nodding and smiled reassuringly at her, while they rolled her toward the ambulance. “You we're right about one thing, Mrs. Taylor, there sure was something weird out in these woods. Don't you worry, they'll have you at the hospital soon.”