centers.'
The newsman paused and admitted, 'I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing ‘Hivvan’ correctly.'
Rich steered the Chevy around a sweeping turn. Overhead the sun glinted through the plush treetops casting alternating bands of light and dark across the car.
The woman said, 'This is the third report we’ve heard of organizations or groups being a part of…of…all this. The first came an hour ago when an AP wire story from Hartford referred to a column of unidentified soldiers wearing strange uniforms and riding in transports that hovered above the ground. We were not able to confirm that report. Of course, confirming reports has been difficult since many of our correspondents are dead, missing, or in hiding.'
The man added, 'There have been scattered accounts of well-planned assaults on police barracks and government buildings by organized forces armed with a variety of weapons. One eye witness account from the San Francisco area tells of silver-skinned aliens using over sized insects as if they were attack dogs.'
Something big flew overhead but thankfully, paid the Malibu no mind.
To his surprise, Rich nearly missed the turn for his home. He braked hard, squealing the tires as he threw the vehicle into the driveway and then sped along the gravel surface toward his house where he stopped behind his father’s parked SUV. Dick hopped out, started toward the porch…and froze.
Goosebumps erupted all over: the front door lay torn from its hinges. A tremble-a deep, low tremble- vibrated in his bones.
With forced courage, he approached the smashed-open doorway as if it were the jaws of a sleeping monster.
A noise stopped him at the doorframe: a sound of clumsy movement.
Rich dared a step inside where he inhaled a moist smell that hinted of sour fruit.
No lights were on and the sun did not shine in. Even before his pupils expanded to compensate for the dark, Richard sensed something awry.
The walls…blotches on the walls? Did mom repaint the walls?
Movement stole his attention: a shadow in the kitchen at the end of the hall.
Richard experienced an epiphany. He realized he had never been this afraid. Ever. Simple, basic fear for his life. Deep, primal, and complete. It unlocked an entirely new level of consciousness.
To feel the flight instinct screaming run! Run! Run!
To feel the fight instinct muster adrenaline for battle.
Nonetheless, Richard stepped two tentative paces across the front room.
The shadow knocked over clutter in the kitchen. Pots and pans, perhaps?
Dick’s foot squished into something.
On the floor he saw a mess-a big chunky mess-strewn over the carpet his mother installed two years before. She loved how the rich rusty color blended perfectly with the decor.
As his eyes adjusted to the low lighting, the mess took form.
Rugs? Shaggy rolled rugs? What are rugs doing…no…oh no…
Enough recognizable slabs remained to solve the mystery: that mess had been his mother and father.
The walls…they had been repainted. Repainted red.
Air exploded from his lungs, catching the attention of the shadow in the kitchen. A strange silhouette wobbled to the hallway swaying side to side as it lumbered toward the front of the house. A pear shaped body with short legs and even shorter barbed arms, it stood bigger and wider than a man, barely fitting between the walls of the hall.
Richard retreated a step…two steps…
An oversized head dominated the brute and featured one big eye surrounded by small red dots that might also be eyes. Teeth gnashed inside a massive, disjointed jaw. Its heavy legs shuffled on the floor and its wide sides brushed against the walls.
Richard withdrew to the front porch. He stumbled down the stairs and bumped against the side of his car where he stopped and waited. Certainly, the creature would not follow; such nightmares could not survive in the light of day.
Wrong.
The nightmares had been freed from the dark passages. A new world had dawned and that world belonged to the nightmares. Man would now hide in the shadows.
Out to the porch it came. The sun splashed the ugly red and brown body of tough flesh in golden rays. It did not howl in pain. It did not retreat. Birds still chirped; a breeze still blew.
The creature stumbled forward on those two short muscular legs leaning oddly as if maybe Earth's gravity differed from its home environment. It descended toward Richard who stood against his car transfixed.
A creak from the steps snapped Rich from his trance. He moved off in a staggering walk then a fast jog. He ran to the side yard of overgrown, weed-infected grass wedged between the cedar home, the garage, and the thick woods. Two strange objects blocked his flight. He skidded to a stop in the knee-high growth and tried to understand what he saw lying there.
After a moment, he recognized the mounds: two more of the big-headed monsters motionless on the ground, one ripped nastily along its gut and legs where a weird red molasses drained. The second face down, its head torn open.
Stone anxiously wondered what could mutilate two of these monstrosities? He would have an answer shortly.
The living monster wobbled into the side yard in pursuit.
Richard jogged to the rear of the home.
A recently added sunroom extended into the back yard: mom had planned to install a hot tub there next month.
Dad kept the back lawn green and trim. He considered it his job-more a passion-despite how often Rich volunteered to handle the chore.
A wooden play set with swings and a metal sliding board sat atop a bed of wood chips along the edge of the grass. When he had been eleven years old, Rich fell from that sliding board. Or had Dante pushed him?
Exhaustion forced him to stop in search of breath.
Thus far, his plan entailed running around the house, nothing more. He dared not go inside and face the bodies of his parents and he could not think of anywhere else for escape.
The pursuer-the monster with the big round red eye and the gaping jaw-arrived in the rear yard.
Yes, he could run around the house some more, but he decided to give it a good look. He decided to see if this were some man in a mask, some massive prank pulled by Dante Jones and Lori Brewer.
They would all jump out now-Ashley, mom and dad, that lady who had been eaten by the jellyfish thing-they would all jump out and surprise him. The whole world would be fine again.
A surprise did come, yet not what Richard hoped.
Two more animals joined the fray.
Tyr and Odin-the Stones’ stocky black and gray Norwegian Elkhounds-bolted around Richard and closed on the monster. As he watched, Rich realized what had dispatched the other two creatures.
His household pets showed the clever instincts and fast reflexes that had empowered their ancestors to hunt moose and bear alongside the ancient Vikings. Now Rich’s dogs acted clever and fast with a different type of beast.
Tyr demonstrated directly in front of the creature, easily dodging the clumsy flails of the barbed arms and the snaps of the massive maw. Odin circled behind and lunged. The dog’s jaws ripped into the bottom of the leg of the thing. A liquid squirted and the monster howled.
The brute slowly turned to face Odin, only to have its lower body savaged by Tyr, all while Odin took his turn dodging snaps and lunges with barks and yaps.
Richard watched in awe.
In short order, the demon’s shredded legs no longer supported the weight of its oversized skull. It toppled like a dictator’s statue before an angry mob of peasants. Once on its back, the creature was doomed.
Canine jaws worked again and again, pulling and tearing.
Richard cringed as gore spewed from the fallen foe. Its grunts and groans faded. Its jaw stopped gnashing;
