By Joshua C. Chadd
A small bell rang, and Joe looked up from his cup of coffee to the front door of Bob’s Stellar Diner. Darcy and Ben Jackson had stopped at the hostess’s desk, and Lucy smiled before leading them to the same booth they occupied at 7 a.m. every Saturday. As the elderly couple moved past, they gave Joe that typical pitying look they always did. Even Lucy, who was by far the kindest to him, could never look him directly in the eyes; no one could. Everyone seemed to fear that if they did, they’d catch his insanity.
Joe returned his attention to his coffee and lost himself in the swirling depths as flashes of bright light warred in his subconscious. Visions of sleek metallic surfaces at impossible angles and terrifyingly tall figures hiding in the shadows threatened madness. Sweat broke out on his forehead as his white knuckles gripped the edge of the table where he sat alone in the booth. His mind strained under the burden of these images, the weight of them pressing down on him like a massive machine. He would break under them if his mind stayed there too long. More scenes of unintelligible voices speaking above him while he lay on a surprisingly warm, metallic surface flashed inside his head.
The clear ringing of the front door opening broke the memories—or were they just delusions—and his eyes snapped open. It was only Pete Brown walking to the counter. Afraid of getting lost in his jumbled memories again, he gazed at the brightening sky outside. There was a brief flash of the early morning sunlight glinting off something in the distance. Joe’s heart rate, which had begun to slow when he’d been pulled from his memories, redlined. He knew what it had to be. He’d known for two years, ever since he’d reappeared after being declared MIA for three months. Then again, he’d seen things before, and it was always something mundane, so maybe it was just his fractured mind.
Joe was on his feet, looking out the big window next to his booth when something large and silvery streaked across the sky above the diner. It looked almost like a shooting star glistening in the light, except it was only a few hundred feet in the air. As the object blazed overhead, something the size of an RV fell from it and smashed into the parking lot. The shockwave of its landing flung vehicles onto their sides and created a massive crater in the pavement. Glass from the diner’s shattered windows flew into the air, and Joe barely got an arm up in time to protect his eyes.
The dust and debris settled and the screams began. The first was from the Jacksons’ booth as Darcy gawked at the impact site. Three tall, sleek figures climbed out of the large egg-shaped craft with weapons at the ready.
He wasn’t imagining things this time.
They had come.
After two years, they’d finally collected enough intel for their attack—and attack it surely was. Joe didn’t need to try conversing with the beings, didn’t need to call out in the hope of peace. He knew. He’d seen them before. He’d been their captive for three months, and he knew they were not here for peace, not here to trade with the lesser humans that lived on this planet. They were here to eradicate all sentient life and take Earth for themselves.
Before the lead alien was fully out of the crater, Joe swung his dark duster open to reveal an AR-10 pistol chambered in 7.62x51mm. He nestled the collapsible buttstock in his shoulder in one smooth motion as he opened fire on the first alien.
Sparks flew from the invader’s chest as the 150-grain bullets collided with its protective armor. Joe moved his aim to its head, and the alien had enough time to shoot only once before its facemask shattered inward—the armor-piercing round doing its job. The lead alien fell in a heap, and Joe switched his red dot reticle to the next as the other two zeroed in on him. Blue beams of light flashed by his head and burned holes in the wall behind him, their shots going wide. A three-round burst from his AR dropped the second alien, but Joe was forced to take cover as another beam burned into the booth mere inches away. The acrid smell of burning plastic assailed his nose, and his eyes darted to the blackened hole six inches into the cushion. Whatever these aliens were packing, they sure didn’t mess around.
Staying low, Joe moved toward the entrance as blue beams continued to burn all around him. He finally reached the front door, which had shattered from the impact of the drop-pod’s landing, and leaned around the corner. The last alien advanced slowly towards the diner, still firing wildly inside. Despite their advanced technology, Joe had to wonder about their combat tactics. Two of its allies lay dead on the pavement, leaking orange blood from the backs of their heads, and yet this thing didn’t take cover, making it easy for Joe’s next round to take it in the facemask.
With a reassuring thud, the third alien hit the pavement. Joe rose from his knees and rapidly scanned for more threats. Nothing stirred. Returning his focus to the diner, he glanced around. All the patrons seemed to be alive and uninjured, huddling in corners and under tables. Maybe he should say something, urge them to prepare themselves for the fight ahead, but he’d never been one for words. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook his head. They’d figure it out sooner or later. Without another look back, he exited through the shattered door frame.
Stepping out into the apocalypse, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction.
He hadn’t been crazy after all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I like the shift from crazy one to hero, even in the hero’s mind.
Thanks, man! It was a fun dynamic to write.
Exciting and a great read.
Thanks, Chris!
I love the concept of the “crazy” person being right! Cool story =D