Aliens and Anxiety

By Kaitlyn Carter Brown

It’s not the end of the world.

That’s what her brother would have said if he were here.

But he wasn’t.

Corbin had been called in to work a late shift at the warehouse thirteen miles away. Nora knew because the GPS locator on her phone told her.

If only her phone could pinpoint the monsters, too.

Ducking under the kitchen table, Nora wrapped her arms around her knees. Her heart pounded, pulsing in her ears, and her hands shook.

She’d endured the earth tremor, heard the sirens, watched the news—and felt the steady, strong rise of sheer panic.

Two ships had landed—ugly, oblong things with wings better suited to overzealous sports cars. Even uglier were the creatures—long necks, tentacled arms, and sharp teeth at the end of serpent-like mouths. They’d swept through the suburb, slithering, hissing, and smashing.

Couldn’t they have picked a better day?

A day without isolation? Without loneliness? Without fear?

Who am I kidding? Nora drew a strangled breath, her throat stiff and suffocating. That’s every day.

Corbin knew her best—and what to do in an emergency. In case of a panic—not alien—attack. He knew how to help when the walls were closing in, when each breath became a concentrated effort, when she couldn’t swallow for fear she’d choke.

Instead, she huddled alone beneath the table, acutely aware of the distance between them, wondering whether aliens or anxiety would strike first.

Something—a flower pot maybe—clattered in the silence. Nora held her breath. Her heart rate increased as her thoughts flew to the geraniums on the back porch—just around the corner from the kitchen.

If a creature lurked on the back porch, others could be even closer—on the roof, in the garden, watching, waiting.

They could be in the kitchen.

Nora ran both her hands through her hair, weighing her options—or lack thereof.

I’m going to die. Die here, all alone. Die in the teeth of a monster. Either way, die.

Her eyes grew watery. If she were like Corbin, like anyone else, she could handle this. She wouldn’t be huddled beneath a table, paralyzed by fear. She’d be anything but this. Anything but helpless.

A rusty creak that could only belong to the back door shattered the silence, followed by a squelching, slimy sound—a sound to fuel nightmares.

Nora wanted to run. Her shell-shocked body did not. Could not.

This is it.

The moment she’d anticipated during every attack, despite its level of severity. Her heart would fail. She’d cease to breathe and expire without rhyme or reason. Panic needed no reason.

But never had she imagined that aliens would witness her demise.

Glass shattered. The vase near the back door? More slimy sounds. A long hiss.

Now or never. Nora swallowed, and the effort it took for such a simple action left her full of doubt.

But, at this point, what did she have to lose?

She attempted crawling but instead toppled out from beneath the table. Her shoes scuffed along the tile.

Another hiss, accompanied by a growl.

Panting, whimpering, Nora bolted for the hall. At the end, near the living room, she stopped.

Stupid! The oversized windows, each pane designed to fill the room with light, had been left with their curtains flung back. Darkness pressed against the glass, along with a host of unseen unknowns.

Nora shook her head. Nope.

She needed a plan. A reasonable, viable plan. Her heart palpitated wildly, reminding her that even if she escaped the aliens, she couldn’t escape herself.

But maybe I can get out of the house. Out in the open.

Then the creatures couldn’t sneak up on her.

Inching along the wall, she felt for the closet. Inside, she found their coats, the vacuum, and an emergency kit. Neosporin, band-aids, ramen cups, and blankets—but no anti-alien spray.

She grabbed a flashlight, its weight somewhat emboldening her spirit. But when she stepped out of the closet, her foot slipped. She yelped and fell flat on her back.

White fangs appeared in the darkness above her, dripping with drool.

Nora screamed. Four tentacles slid along the ground, slithering alongside her legs. Eyes glinted through slits, watching her. But in that moment, face to face with the alien, she decided.

I’m not going to die here, no matter how afraid I am.

Maybe she needed the fear.

Without the fear, how could she be brave?

She flipped on the flashlight. Temporarily blinded, the alien reeled back with a hiss. Then she pitched the flashlight at the alien’s head. It hit, providing no more than a momentary distraction—but a moment was all she needed.

Slipping through the drool, she found her footing. Then, her legs aching from their panic-induced cramps, she ran.

She fumbled with the front door, her fingers numb. Once open, the fresh outside air bathed her lungs with hope, and she tore across the lawn.

One streetlight still glowed, and in that light she saw chaos: people running, monsters creeping up the sides of houses. One thrashed its tentacles at a car, flipping it on its side. Somewhere, an alarm blared.

Just breathe. Nora pressed on, focusing on the sidewalk, on her shoes.

A truck slowed beside her. “Nora!”

She knew that voice. “Corbin!”

Her brother reached over to unlock the passenger door. “Get in!”

Inside the truck, Nora began to weep, the ache of isolation melting from her insides. Corbin squeezed her shoulder as the truck lurched forward.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I’m all right.” Nora looked down at her shaking hands. I don’t usually say stuff like that.

“Fort Orson is open for civilians.” Corbin skirted the spray of a broken hydrant, several aliens inspecting the phenomenon. He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “Man, I’m shook.”

Nora reached for his shoulder, returning the reassuring squeeze. Her whole life, she’d rarely felt safe, and that wouldn’t change now. But now she had something new in her arsenal.

Courage.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kaitlyn Carter Brown, audacious adventurer and book lover, began writing at age 11 and never stopped. She writes for the undaunted and unafraid, spinning tales of courage, loyalty, and plenty of intrigue. She lives in southern California with her husband and devoted beta fish and enjoys the outdoors (especially national parks).

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