The news studio remained in silence. Nick raised his tear-filled brown eyes and looked directly down the camera. ‘This next clip has just been sent in from Damien Gold, a resident of Frinton-On-Sea, Essex. Again, I must state that some of the images are disturbing.’
The second clip began to play. This time the footage showed another block of apartments, on the South coast, as more square football field-sized ships floated outside the apartments. There, many shadowy alien forms walked in mid air – many storeys high – along invisible “bridges” that enabled them to enter their victims’ homes. They rounded up the humans, exiting one apartment after another as they marched onto the ship. Screams emanated from within the worn buildings as loved ones were abducted by the creatures. Some went voluntarily, too scared to resist. Others had to be carried or dragged, putting up a fight as best as they could.
Nick twitched uneasily in his black leather swivel chair. ‘God have mercy on us all,’ he said solemnly as he tried to clear his throat.
Tom and Connie watched open-mouthed, trembling as the videos played on every news channel.
‘They’re new, we didn’t see those ships earlier,’ said Tom. ‘I think we’d better batten down the hatches, don’t you think?’
Connie looked at him, crushed, beaten. ‘It won’t matter.’ She switched her attention back to the news.
‘And with me now in the studio is Professor Lawrence Fellberg, Head of Physics at Cambridge University. Welcome, Professor, it’s good to have you here with us,’ said Nick politely, yet obviously still traumatised by the videos that he had just viewed.
‘Thank you,’ replied the ginger ponytailed Fellberg, nodding as he spoke.
‘This is extremely frightening. What is happening exactly, can you shed any light on proceedings, Professor?’
He nervously twiddled the cuffs of his sand-coloured jacket. ‘It’s quite simple, Nick. The extraterrestrials – or Greys – appeared in the exosphere before entering our atmosphere.’
‘Then why were they not spotted? Why were they allowed to position themselves in key locations like this?’
‘They weren’t spotted because their ships have an advanced type of cloaking device enabled. These devices allowed them to practically walk right up to the front door and ring the bell.’
‘Yes, okay, but surely there must have been some clue, anything? And why did we open the door to them so easily?’
Fellberg appeared angry. ‘Look, you’ve got to understand that we are obviously dealing with a far superior intelligence here. You don’t dive into any rash decision. How could we have known that this was their intended plan, we couldn’t know – didn’t.’ The Professor took the questions personally, as though the blame was being laid at his feet. ‘The only thing that piqued some mild curiosity was the low signatures from space, picked up by the Hubble Space Telescope.’ He narrowed his beady eyes as he stared at Nick. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘I actually believe him,’ said Connie as the two voices on screen continued to bicker in the background.
Tom looked out of the window, mesmerised. A frost had blanketed the street, glistening under the brightly lit panels. His initial fear at the ships and their arrival still hadn’t diminished, though he looked on with just as much awe at the floating discs. He walked away from the window and sat down on the bed.
‘I do too,’ he said with a sigh. ‘We couldn’t have opened fire on them without knowing their goals. Can you imagine if we had, and then found that all they ever wanted was peace? Well, we didn’t stand a chance either way really.’
Connie held a green elastic hair tie between her lips. ‘But everyone knows the truth now, so why hasn’t the military done anything?’ she mumbled, pulling her generous hair into a thick bunch.
‘That’s a bloody good question, love. Where are the military?’ He stared at the two men on the TV screen, not really listening to what they were saying anymore; he seemed more fixated on the continuous new videos that played. ‘The attacks have started, it’s not like there’s a compromise in this, so why haven’t they acted?’
Suddenly, the building began to vibrate. ‘Tom,’ said Connie, gripping the duvet as she failed to grasp why the room was trembling.
Tom looked down at his feet; the floor seemed to rumble beneath him. He turned to where Connie was to see if she was okay. The stare he received in return was enough as it signalled that she wasn’t fine. Ornaments bounced unbroken on the thickly carpeted floor.
Their attention was diverted as several people began shouting as though in argument. Tom stumbled as he made his way towards the windowsill. He grasped it firmly before gazing out through the glass. Shocked, he pulled his head back as an alien craft hovered three floors below.
‘Tom,’ called Connie again, a look of fear contorting her features.
He raised his hand to suggest quiet, stillness. He slowly lifted the heavy window, delicately sliding it up, and poked his head out through the shuddering, flaking frame.
The voices increased in volume as the sound of large crashes echoed through the flimsy walls and ceilings of the apartments. He started to shake as he watched the Kelvin family – all four of them – forcefully marched out along the unseen bridge, and onto the ship. The father, John, shivered in the icy breeze as the aliens cruelly dragged his bare and bloodied body. Tom closed his eyes for a second, and clenched his fists.
Good on you, John. Looks like you put up a hell of a fight, mate.
Five of the Greys loaded the screaming family on board the craft amidst a humming drone. The two young daughters clung petrified to their mother’s arms as they were aggressively pushed towards the orange lit entrance.
Tom, still fascinated by their technology, let his gaze wander along the invisible structure. Looking down, he could see the entire street through the bridge. He watched, captivated as thin veiled ripples shot outwards as the aliens’ weight crossed the transparent walkway. People who came out to witness the abductions stood below, looking high up. Their figures wobbled like jelly as Tom stared through the bridge. His eyes followed the line back from the ship, stopping midway. There, one of the aliens had paused, and was staring back at him with an empty expression upon its face. It pointed a spindly finger at him; he studied its smooth face for a few seconds before a chill shot down his spine.
‘What’s happened, where is that noise coming from?’ said Connie, rubbing her arms to keep warm as she moved towards the window.
Tom pulled his head in quickly from the cold. ‘It’s nothing, you don’t need to see this,’ he said fiercely as she approached and attempted to look past his head. He rapidly closed the window as the smaller craft took off, the rumblings becoming more distant. He struck the walls twice with the balls of his fists. ‘I said leave it!’ He tried to hold her back by her shoulders, but it was no use. Connie barged past him, thrusting her face into the glass panels as she tried to see what her husband had just witnessed.
‘What did you see? Tell me!’ she asked angrily as her breath faded from the glass. Her face flashed a tone of deep red as the blood surfaced in her cheeks. She slid her hands underneath the frame and pushed upwards with force. Her freckled scowl surveyed the freezing darkness for a minute. ‘Leave this window open a little bit, we need some air in here.’
‘What, so you want them to jump straight in, with no resistance?’
‘Tom, just leave it open,’ she said flatly, pulling her head back in. ‘I don’t think a window is going to stop them, do you?’
He thought about it for a second. ‘Then keep the bloody heating on, it’s bitter out there!’
He placed his arms against the wall, above his head. He could feel the pitted texture of the paint as it pressed against his skin. It was strangely calming, grounding him. He was beginning to worry about Connie. Her bizarre comments gave him the feeling that she wasn’t coping well with the events, though to be fair, who was?
‘John. It was John and Marie… and the girls, they were all taken,’
he said as he rested his damp forehead against his toned arms.
Connie dropped her head as the tears began to form in her eyes. They both knew the family, and liked them. ‘Why would they take the kids, what possible things could they have done?’ She brushed her arm in an apologetic, yet loving gesture across Tom’s back before climbing onto the bed. ‘Why?’
‘I think it’s time, Connie. We need to be ready.’
‘I know, I know.’ She looked at his strained face for suggestions. ‘What do we do?’
Tom gave her an empty look in reply. I don’t know the answer to that.
The darkness within the room had begun to close in. The glow from the bedside lamps lit the room in a low level yellow. They both sat on the bed, still watching the incessant stream of video footage that kept flooding in from all over the globe. Tom had tried earlier to find something other than the news to watch, but all other channels had ceased broadcasting. It made sense, he thought. After all, who was going to hang around? Most who worked had probably vacated the city by now anyway.
Nick MacMillan spoke slowly, tiredly. The blank look upon his lined face was one of defeat. The crows feet etched into the corners of his eyes deepened with each meaningful twitch. He knew that this was potentially the end of civilisation. But he still had a job to do as the black and yellow news tags flowed across the bottom of the screen.
‘He looks ill doesn’t he,’ said Connie, munching on a chocolate biscuit.
Tom was pleased that she was eating, but knew that deep inside his wife had accepted her fate, and this worried him. He placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder, smiling as she gazed at him.
He looked at the alarm clock, it read 17:36 p.m. The sound of grumbling skies had become normal background noise over the course of the last 12 hours. He stood at the window looking out into the white light. The faint, almost nonexistent wintery evening desperately strived to penetrate the false brightness that sat over and around the ship. Reddish glows littered the old streets, sputtering out from the worn steel lampposts. Crazed shouts and screams could be heard far and wide. His palms felt clammy as he lay them on the sill; the breeze that shot in under the inch high window opening felt briefly refreshing against the radiator’s heat.
Tom was enjoying the modest serenity as the light flickered around the bedroom. Lone rumbles emanated from afar as glowing dots could be seen scattered across the horizon. Suddenly, a thunderous roar blasted their street as one of the alien crafts descended from the sky at speed. The deafening noise positioned itself directly outside of the apartment, 50 feet away from their window. The whirring mechanical vibrations shook the building, causing dust and dirt to fall all around. The ornaments had fallen to the carpet again, followed by picture frames, some of which broke. The throbbing sensation was beginning to make him feel sick. He placed his hands over his ears as the din grew louder still. Stepping away from the window, he moved towards Connie who sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. With one hand held out, his fingers jerked backwards then forwards as he beckoned her to follow him, all the while never taking his eyes away from the glass.
A blinding white glow blasted out from the ship, lighting the whole of their bedroom. The beam’s filmy surface scoured every nook and cranny as it probed the apartment. It circled, like a lighthouse warning vessels of impending rocks, as it searched high and low.
Tom stood frozen, silent. The light stopped over Connie’s trembling face, causing her to close one eye. It crackled with static as it ran a scanning program over her body. Strange red symbols typed themselves out on an invisible screen within the light. Once it had completed its cycle, a smooth digital picture of her face was displayed next to the unique text.
‘Tom,’ she whispered with fear as she crept backwards from the bed on all fours.
The light then shifted its attention towards Tom. He remained statuesque as the same procedure was repeated over his shaking torso. The cycle again ran its course before his picture was displayed in the same fashion as Connie’s. The light then shut itself off. They looked to each other hesitantly, cautiously.
Momentary quiet followed. Bang! The window suddenly shattered, blowing inwards as the vibrations intensified. Tom held up his hand to shield his face from the showering glass. Connie screamed as she planted her head into the duvet. Standing at the foot of the bed, he summoned the courage and peered around the curtains. They flapped furiously from the propulsion system discharges that held the craft aloft.
‘Fuck!’ he shouted as he danced from foot to foot, ‘they’re coming, shit, they’re coming!’
Connie began crying hysterically. ‘Oh no, what do we do?’ she said, now scrambling faster across the bed.
Four Greys walked the invisible bridge to the broken window. Within seconds they were in the room, hunching silently, ready for attack.
‘Leave us alone, we haven’t done anything wrong!’ shouted Tom above the howling breeze as it blew through the broken glass.
Tom grabbed Connie by her hand, pulling her from the bed. They both backed up against the wall, shouting for help as eight outstretched grey arms arrowed towards them. No one was coming. He looked around in desperation as he sought a weapon, anything for protection. His eyes locked onto the empty red coffee mug that sat on the bedside cupboard. Instinctively he picked it up and threw it. The mug struck the nearest alien in the face before dropping to the floor; an aggressive snort left its twitching nasal holes as it shook its head.
‘Stay away from us!’ he warned as Connie inched slowly behind his back. Tom winced as her nails dug through his white t-shirt and into his skin. He could feel his back quiver as her hands clung on for dear life.
One of the creatures produced a thin gadget. Tom knew that this was the paralysis pen that he had seen earlier on the news. He grabbed the paisley lamp and smashed the device out of the alien hand that intruded upon their space. The instrument dropped to the floor and began rolling underneath the bed, slowing in the rich carpet fibres. The tension from the lamp cord pulled Tom back, causing him to nearly fall as he crashed into the bedside table. The alien retracted its hand like an injured animal, turning to its compatriots as it sought its next set of instructions.
A grey finger pointed outwards before rejoining the rest of its digits in a closed fist; the fist bounced up and down twice in quick succession. The alien turned back from what seemed to be its superior. It moved in closer again, crouching as it readied itself for a second attempt.
Tom raised his left arm to shield Connie, before gently pushing her slim body further behind his own. With his trembling right hand he ripped the cord from the wall and held the lamp up, waiting to strike the encroaching enemy. The other aliens spread themselves out into a triangle formation, surrounding the disorientated, terrified couple.
He tightened his grip on the lamp’s gold base. ‘Stay away – I’m warning you!’
Connie was now squeezing Tom’s arm so hard that it began to go numb. His dark eyes shot in every direction as he tried to be ready for whichever creature came first. A raspy squeal left the creeping alien’s mouth as it attempted to lunge at them. Tom swung hard, crunching the lamp into its large head. The glass cracked into several pieces that flew in all directions. The alien collapsed to the floor, stunned as jagged shards protruded from its skull. Its face grimaced in pain as it gripped the duvet in an effort to rise; a bloody handprint remained upon the cover as it pulled the duvet to the floor. The others all looked at it with curious eyes before turning their attention back to the humans. Long sharp fragments around the lamp’s base were all that remained in Tom’s shaking hand.
‘Come on then!’ he raged, swiping the base through the air.
Another Grey leapt forwards like a praying mantis, grabbing at Connie as she let out a horrific scream. Tom turned and stabbed the creature in its neck and arms several times with the broken object. It raised its thin limbs in an effort to protect itself as its brown blood spattered across Tom’s animated face.
T
he alien let go of Connie, staggering as the others became keen to end this. One jumped over the bed sideways, effortlessly landing directly at Tom’s left side. Again he attacked the creature, stabbing it repeatedly in a blind frenzy, leaving its leathery torso covered in deep gashes. It backed away, dazed as it touched its bleeding wounds gingerly. It appeared in shock, as though it didn’t believe that a weak human could inflict such damage upon itself. The lead alien’s face lost its smooth exterior. It looked to the splintered window frame and signalled for them to leave. The injured soldiers struggled, ducking awkwardly through the hanging pieces of wood and glass. They floated out across the air before boarding their vessel.
The alien leader sat on the windowsill, its gangly legs hanging half out as it stared intensely at Tom. Connie released her grip slightly, allowing the blood to circulate back in her husband’s arm again. Her eyes gently peered over his shuddering shoulder. He glared back at the creature, disgusted. He spat as he wiped the extraterrestrial blood from his face. He thrust his body forwards in a mock attacking motion. The alien dropped out of the window.
‘This isn’t over Connie, this is far from over,’ he said quietly.
Connie looked into Tom’s eyes, squinting as she studied them carefully. She gently prised what was left of the bloodied lamp from his stiff fingers, and placed it on the bedside cupboard. She was unnerved by the man who now gazed back at her. Gone was the warm and friendly kindness that had once accompanied his good looks, that had often drawn her into his strong arms. It was now replaced by a harshness that seemed empty, devoid of any feeling. She hugged him, never wanting to let go; his firm arms wrapped around her. Connie closed her eyes. She felt a tiny glimmer of the man whom she adored come flowing back – he was still in there somewhere.
Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced Page 8
