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  “I ran back downstairs and saw that Lori and Wendy were herding the ranch’s children to the basement. Many of them were weeping, and a few of them declared that they too, wanted to fight the ‘bad guys.’ One of these children was my own brother, Josh. He stood still and glared at me. I knew that he felt disrespected and far too old to be ‘sitting at the kid’s table,’ so to speak. I almost walked right by him in my haste to get outside, then I paused.

  “‘Come here, Josh.’ I spoke quietly.

  “He hesitated, wiping angry tears from his eyes. Then he walked up to where I stood.

  “‘Why can’t I fight, Naomi? It’s my ranch too, you know.’

  “I put my rifle down and placed my hands on his shoulders. He stiffened and started to back away, but I held on.

  “‘Josh, listen to me,’ I urged. ‘Zack and I need you here, don’t you see? We are going to try to chase those people off, but if things go bad, we need you here to protect the kids! Why do you think you have that rifle? Honestly, we need every gun outside.’ I held my hand up at the sudden, hopeful expression in his eyes, ‘But, the men have decided to leave that rifle and pistol in your keeping, in case the worst happens. They all know how good a shot you are. That’s why they trust you with the kid’s safety, okay?’

  “Josh’s shoulders sagged in defeat and I gave him a little shake. ‘We’re depending on you, Josh!’ Then I stepped close and gave him a hug. I was so frightened; I squeezed a little too hard. He squeaked in protest, saying, ‘Naomi…Ow!’

  “I stepped away and picked up my rifle. ‘Now, go and do the job, Josh.’

  “He stared at me a moment. His voice quivered when he replied, ‘Be safe, Nay…you and Zack. I don’t think I could handle it if…’ Tears flooded his eyes.

  “‘Everything is going to be all right, kiddo. Don’t worry about it,’ I lied and watched as he squared his shoulders and headed down the basement stairs.

  “As I went outside I could hear the sound of many car horns. I shook my head. It was obviously some sort of primitive war cry, like the Scots used to make with their bagpipes, in order to strike fear into the hearts of their foes. Well, for me anyway, it was working. Have you ever heard the sound of hundreds of car horns, blasting away at the same time? It was deafening, and the trees that dotted the surrounding landscape threw the sound waves back at us in a jarring cacophony of reverberating echoes.

  “Pastor Ralph stood in the opening of his tent with a bucket of sanctified water. Many people passed him by, but many others stood in line for his blessing. He was very quick as he dipped his thumb in the water and drew the holy water over his flock’s foreheads with a murmured prayer for their safety. I was third in line and gazed up at his weary, old eyes as he prayed over me.

  “‘May God guide you and keep you, my child,’ he murmured. Then he stopped and gathered me up in a quick hug. ‘Oh, darlin’ stay safe,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘We can’t afford to lose you, you hear me?’

  “I nodded, speechless, and then took off running. The car horns were dying down now, which meant, I supposed, that the fighting was about to begin. I ran to the far side of the barn and down the rutted road toward the nearest roadblock. It was my assigned position in the battle plans. I was meant to stay back from the front lines, and to be honest, I was glad. Although I wanted to fight—wanted to defend my people and my property—my knees grew weak with fear when I saw the enemy spread out before us in the alfalfa fields.

  “In the few minutes it took to gather up my gear and speak with Josh, the cars and people they carried had tripled…at least. A stray beam of sunlight broke through the rushing clouds overhead and reflected off the roofs and hoods of hundreds of vehicles parked in front of our measly roadblocks.

  “I realized then that there was no way our forces were going to keep them out. My heart thudded with the dawning certainty that we would not survive this day. I looked ahead to the first roadblock and saw my brother, Zack, staring back at me. Even from 200 feet away I could see the same knowledge in his eyes. Then I heard a familiar drawl, ‘Are you ready to give up this foolishness, sweet cheeks?’ Trumble’s voice rose up into the air like a noxious fume. ‘We are willing to let bygones be bygones, you know,’ he added. ‘Nobody needs to get hurt. Everybody can be friends here, if you all just lay down your arms and surrender. The only thing we would insist upon is that you and your brother leave here, without a fuss. You and that jackass, Zack, get your things and leave now, peacefully, and nobody dies here today, okay? Hell, we’ll even keep your kid brother for you. Feed him and keep him safe, too. You two skedaddle on out of here and everybody’s happy…otherwise, every damn one of you will die and we’ll take the place anyway!’

  “With those last words, the car horns started blasting again. The sound rose all around us like a funeral dirge, until I thought I’d go mad with it. I wondered if maybe Evan Trumble was right… what were the lives of two people compared to the continued existence of over 300? Maybe Zack and I should surrender so the others could stay safe?

  “My thoughts somehow found their way to Zack, who stood up suddenly, and shook his head at me in denial. Then, in front of my eyes, I saw my brother fall. There was too much noise to hear the shot that spun my brother’s body around and turned his blond hair red. I opened my mouth to scream, but then one horn after another fell silent as a large shadow painted the ground black. I looked up and saw something emerge over the treetops. At first, I thought it was another alien spacecraft, and then I saw something so unlikely, so strange and out of place, I thought that I must have gone insane.

  “A big, yellow school bus flew by overhead. I could see its undercarriage and its wheels spinning uselessly as a strange beam of red light shot out of one of the windows and sketched the ground below in a pulse of silent energy. Cars rose up into the air as the school bus sailed by. They were lifted up and flipped over by blue and orange gouts of fire. The bus, or at least the people inside of it, were attacking our enemies!

  “I heard ragged cheers and the sound of gunfire as Harmony’s people opened fire on Evan Trumble’s followers. There were huge explosions on the ground as the bus flew by overhead. I ran as fast as I could to where my brother lay crumpled on the ground in a pool of his own blood. I knelt on the ground and lifted my brother’s head onto my lap. I knew by the blood that covered his head and face that he must be dead. Someone had shot him in cold blood, before he even had a chance to surrender.

  “It was a melee in the pasture now as car after car burst into flame, and those that were left tried to back up and turn around in a frenzy of panic. There was still some shooting going on as members of the Harmony ranch tried to pick off our foes as they fled into the sheltering trees.

  “I heard and saw nothing, though, except the solid beating of my own heart and the closed eyes of my little brother…my brave brother, Zack, who had tried so hard to protect us. I lifted my face to the uncaring sky overhead and howled in grief as black snow flittered down in moist, ashy kisses. My heart was as broken as his body.

  “Then Zack’s gorgeous hazel eyes opened and he grinned.”

  Chapter 16

  Michael Anderson – October 2-4, 2015 – The Magic Bus

  The Remi in Michael’s palm blazed hot, and the children screamed as the stairwell filled with red-tentacled aliens. The creatures spat and hissed. Their long horns writhed forward like antennae.

  “Gary, hide the kids!” Michael shouted, lifting his hand.

  Immediately, a red-hot beam shot from his palm and hit the aliens in a sizzling concussion. The aliens and the staircase disappeared in a shower of blood, wood splinters and concrete. There was a moment of quiet, as Michael stared through the dust and smoke. Just as he spied the hole in the floor overhead and the aliens staring through the opening at him, the Remi blazed to life again.

  Michael cried out in agony. It felt as though his right hand was about to burst into flame. He understood that although the Remi did not mean to injure its host, it was still a he
avy burden to carry…a formidable weapon, yes, but one that took courage and strength to wield. Knowing what needed to be done, he raised his hand once again, but before he had a chance to blast the aliens a second time, the floor at his feet glowed green.

  He yelped, and jumping backwards, he saw the concrete floor begin to dissolve into a stinking, sulfurous puddle. The Dizo’s were deploying their weapons now, and the Remi throbbed angrily. Michael knew the aliens could simply dissolve the basement and everyone in it, so he turned with a shout and ran to where his brother and the children hid by the back wall.

  His heart was breaking. He knew that he and his charges were trapped and that there was no place to hide. They were in the basement, surrounded by earth and rock. Nevertheless, he would do his best to shield the kids. If nothing else, he hoped that after he and his brother were dead, some of the children might be able to hide long enough for the aliens to lose interest and move on. He could see their frightened faces and the stricken knowledge on his brother’s face as he ran toward them.

  “Get back in the closet, you guys. Hurry,” he urged, and turned around to face the aliens.

  The downstairs room was quite large, about forty by forty, filled with boxes, broken furniture, buckets of paint, oil and old engine parts. Through a haze of weak sunlight, Michael saw that the aliens were lowering themselves to the basement floor on a long rope, and he knew that he was about to die. He raised his hand to destroy the aliens as they dropped to the ground, but was surprised to find the Remi cool and tugging him in a different direction.

  What the hell? he thought, as his hand rose into the air, forcing his body to follow like a dog on a leash. The Remi was growing warm again. Sensing its urgency, Michael hissed, “Come on, you guys, follow me—and stay low!”

  This section of the room was filled with rows of tall, steel shelving. Dusty, cardboard file boxes covered the shelves from top to bottom and, for the moment, provided adequate cover for the fleeing humans. The children were crouched and running. Michael felt their shoes and hands on his back and heels. He could hear Gary urging them forward murmuring, “Go. Go!”

  Then he felt an icy blast at his back, and heard his brother cry out in pain. He started to turn around when the Remi jerked him forward again, into a concrete wall. Michael fought to turn around, to go to his brother, but the Remi became excruciatingly hot. Despite his best efforts, Michael’s hand raised and a tiny focused ray of orange light shot from the Remi into the wall.

  Michael managed to glance over his shoulder as the orange light drilled into the wall and through the hard packed dirt surrounding the foundation. He saw his brother, Gary, and heard his muffled cries of pain. Some of the Dizo’s green slime had splashed on his face and clothes. Although Gary was scrambling to get the goo off his face and remove his ruined jacket and jeans, Michael could see that the alien weapon was destroying him.

  The green liquid was some sort of fast acting acid. Even as Michael tried to gather the children into his protective embrace, and his hand became as hot as a furnace while the Remi drilled a tunnel into the earth’s surface, Michael watched in horrified grief as Gary’s right cheek and eye melted like wax. Gary’s anguished cries turned into howls of agony, and he fell to his knees, then down onto the floor into a pool of green, writhing mud.

  The Remi tugged Michael forward into the new earthen tube and Michael turned back once more to gaze at his little brother. Green goo covered Gary’s ruined body and was starting to move toward them; he knew he had no time now to mourn.

  Michael urged the frightened, weeping children ahead of him into the newly formed cave. Then the Remi made him turn around. His hand rose into the air and Michael saw dirt, rocks, and concrete slam back into the jagged opening. There was so much dust in the air that he and the children began to cough in great, heaving gulps. Then Michael saw a strange blue net cover the ragged opening and a high-pitched whine pierced his eardrums.

  There was a loud popping noise and then a deafening silence. Michael looked at the building’s foundation and saw that the walls were smooth now, and sealed. His heart was cracked with grief, but he understood that it was his responsibility to protect these children. He looked around and saw that the Remi was glowing again, providing light to see by. He swallowed his tears and said, “You kids need to be brave now, okay? I’m not sure what the Remi has planned for us, but we’re in its hands now.”

  Tommy looked at Michael’s hand and asked, “Is that what you’re holding in your hand?” His eyes were wide in fear, and Michael nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s a weapon. See?” He held out his hand, and the children gathered around to look. The Remi seemed to sense it had an audience, and shifted slightly on Michael’s palm. A couple of the kids stepped back in alarm, but most of the children “ooh’d and aah’d” in delight, as the little creature writhed and displayed its pink belly.

  A few moments later, the Remi decided to get back to the task at hand and disappeared under the surface of Michael’s skin. Then it grew hot and began blasting at the dirt wall ahead of them. Somehow, the dirt was removed from the ever-expanding tunnel and Michael marveled as giant boulders cracked and sifted into ash, and truckload after truck load of earth was ground away into nothing.

  He assumed they were only going far enough away to escape the Dizoramulans, but the Remi kept drilling. Michael didn’t trust his watch, but he guessed that they were far from the bus-barn by now. He felt sure they had been in the tunnel for at least a couple of hours, and at the rate the Remi was drilling, had traveled at least five miles—straight down. Now that the immediate threat of death was behind them, Michael mourned the loss of his brother. The Tatularian had said that Gary was in the continuum. It had spoken as though both Michael and his brother would save the children and move on to the Harmony compound! Had it lied? Was it some sort of trickster who would do and say anything to gets its way?

  Michael gritted his teeth against the threatening tears. He had to be strong now, for the kids, as well as himself, if they were going to get out alive. Two of the littlest girls were overcome with fear and exhaustion. They dozed in Michael’s arms as the small group made its way north, underground. Finally, the Remi in Michael’s palm grew still and cooled down. It seemed exhausted as well, and turning over twice on Michael’s palm, like a dog on a pillow, it burrowed deep and rested.

  Michael advanced slowly and saw that the tunnel ended in a concrete wall. Dirt and pebbles shifted slowly and fell in a small mound at Michael’s feet. What are we supposed to do now? Michael thought, feeling despair enter his heart. A dark wave of sorrow and fatigue washed over him; for a moment, he felt like sinking into the ground below and taking the kids with him into quiet, peaceful oblivion. Then a small hand gripped his. He heard Tommy say, “Michael, look!”

  Michael looked at the wall and saw a line of light etch a nearly perfect circle in the concrete. The Remi stirred and rolled over in his palm. A moment later the concrete within the circle disappeared. Michael blinked at what stood before them in a smooth, tubular, white-painted hallway. He understood immediately that these two tiny creatures were the Tatularian guardians.

  They were very small; smaller even than the human children. Gray, wrinkled skin like that of an elephant covered their bodies and their heads were abnormally large. They had enormous black eyes that were filled with kindness and compassion, tiny beak-like mouths and long, delicate three-fingered hands. The Tatularians wore long, sheer robes that seemed to shimmer, and both of them held delicate, silver instruments. Michael suspected that the slender, pencil-like tools were actually weapons.

  One of the little aliens stepped forward. “Michael Anderson, my companion and I grieve for your loss.” Then both of the Tatularians bowed low.

  Some of the kids gasped, and cringed away at their first glimpse of the aliens, but like most kids, instinct and intuition told them that the Tat’s were harmless. One of the little girls in Michael’s arms wriggled down, climbing Michael’s body like a tree, and ran th
e few feet separating them from the aliens. Then she threw her arms around the one who spoke. The Tatularians eyes gleamed, and a look of profound joy creased its cheeks. The alien’s long fingers stroked the little girl’s hair while it cooed a high, warbling whistle in response to the girl’s grief-stricken sobs.

  The other children gathered around the aliens in joy, but Michael stood back, aloof and angry. The Tatularians allowed the children’s caresses for a few minutes and then stepped back. They gazed at Michael’s stormy expression wordlessly. Then the smaller of the two aliens—the one Michael still thought of as the co-pilot—said, “Michael Anderson—we perceive that you blame us for your brother’s death at the hands of the Dizo troopers.”

  Michael realized that the smaller of the two aliens must be female. Its voice was higher, thinner, and almost musical. Its face and body was also slightly more delicate than that of the other alien. The female’s eyes were wide with compassion. Michael’s voice shook with anger and sorrow.

  “Ma’am, you said that Gary and I were in the continuum, but you were wrong! Now Gary’s dead, and I…I don’t know what to believe!”

  Tommy had walked back to stand by Michael. Now he reached up and grabbed Michael’s hand, while the big man’s chest heaved and tears flowed down his face.

  The two little aliens closed their eyes and nodded. The bigger male said, “It is truth that we see in the table of time. The pictures we see are visions of what has happened…is happening, and what will come to pass. The calculations, however, are transitory. My partner and I are accomplished in this field. We are considered experts, but even we cannot know, or calculate, every ripple in the time/space line, or predict every circumstance.” The alien hung its head, as though in shame.

  “We have made mistakes and miscalculations. For this we are very sorry, and will be held accountable.”

  Again, Michael felt an almost uncontrollable urge to comfort the aliens in their sorrow. He shrugged and lightly squeezed Tommy’s shoulder. He cleared his throat and asked, “What are your names?”