The Skeptic

By Stoney M. Setzer

“Ain’t no way they ever put anybody up on that moon,” Hank Owens said confidently.

Mayor Geoff Collins raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

As Hank laughed, a thin stream of tobacco juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “They shot that rocket straight up into the air, right? How’s a rocket shot straight up gonna hit the moon when it’s in orbit and always moving?”

Geoff was speechless, aghast at such simplistic thinking. He thought about explaining that spacecraft had navigational systems but decided against it. For an aging Tennessee redneck who had probably quit school at a young age, such things would be—well, rocket science.

“Do you believe they put a man on the moon?” Hank asked, a hint of challenge in his voice. Even his daughter Val, near silent up until this point, leaned in expectantly, her rocking chair creaking loudly on the floorboards of the dilapidated porch.

Geoff’s instincts said to tread lightly. “Well, that’s what my history teachers always said.” There, he had told the truth without committing either way. Couldn’t get much safer than that.

Val looked at Hank. When he seemed content to take Geoff’s response at face value, Geoff saw her tension ease, and she leaned back once more.

“What them teachers don’t tell you is that the so-called moon landing was just a diversion,” Hank said. “The government wanted everybody distracted from something else.”

“And what would that have been?”

“The fact that our world has already been invaded.”

Geoff’s mouth fell open. “Say what?”

“Our world had already been invaded ages before that so-called moon landing.” Hank took another pinch of tobacco, even though he could barely close his mouth as it was. “We were targeted by a hostile force bent on conquest but willing to do it at a slow, steady pace.”

“From where? Outer space?”

Hank and Val exchanged a look. “No, not outer space,” Hank answered. “More like other space… Some folks might call it another realm.”

“Another dimension, so to speak,” Val chipped in.

Geoff wondered if they were moonshiners, if maybe they had been sampling their own product a little too much. “Another dimension, trying to conquer us?”

“Ain’t that what I said? They’ve already taken a few places. Little town called Ichabod, North Carolina, was the first to fall. Now, they’re here in Sardis County too, gradually working their way in. They’re in a whole bunch of other places, too.”

“If they’re really wanting to take over, why would they hit little communities like ours and that Ichabod place? Why not target Washington or New York or…”

Hank smiled, showing his crooked teeth. “Because that ain’t their way. Big cities are too obvious, too well defended. They like to take out little targets that don’t have much defense and nobody pays attention to very much—under the radar, ain’t that it? Then, once they have a bunch of little strongholds, they work their way up to bigger targets.”

Don’t laugh, Geoff cautioned himself. They’re nuts, and they might get violent if you laugh at them. “So how are they conquering these places?”

“They do things to people—stuff out of nightmares. They might cause accidents—some little, some horrific. Other times, they give people what they think they want, only at a higher cost than some folks are willing to pay.”

Geoff fought the urge to scoff. “And you say they’re here in Sardis?”

“Yes, sir. Surely you’ve noticed that we have some weird stuff happen around here sometimes.”

“Well, yes, but…” Geoff looked at his watch, ready to deploy his standard escape tactic. “Uh-oh. I’d love to stay here and have you tell me more about these invaders, but it just so happens that I have an appointment at two o’clock. If I leave now, I can just make it…”

“Oh, we understand,” Val said. “Man like you, you’ve got a full plate, even in a community the size of Sardis County.”

Hank and Val waved as Geoff drove away. He had promised to come back later, but they both knew better. Once he was gone, they shared a sigh of relief.

“Pretty clever,” Val said. “For a minute, I thought that was gonna backfire on you.”

“Took a chance, I’ll admit. But I knew how to handle him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t really think the moon landing was a fake, do you, Dad?”

“Of course not! But see, that’s the whole point. I start out with that, make him think we ain’t nothing but a pair of stupid, backward rednecks, and immediately our credibility with him is gone. Then, when I tell him about the invasion, naturally he thinks it’s just hogwash.”

“But I don’t understand why you told him anything in the first place.”

Hank chuckled. “Think about it, honey. I once heard a preacher say the best way to keep folks from fearing the devil is to make him look ridiculous. If they saw him as a dark, malevolent force, of course they’d be afraid. But if they see him as some little cartoon characters decked out in red with horns and hooves and toting a pitchfork, they’re more likely to see him as a myth or even a joke. That’s all I did with our esteemed mayor… I made it all sound so ridiculous that he’s automatically unbelieving. We can do whatever we want, and he’s gonna write it off as something else.”

“Any accidents planned for him?”

“What, and have him suddenly start believing us?” Hank laughed. “He’s far too useful as a skeptic for us to ever victimize him.”

“What do we do if people ever do start to believe?”

There was no mirth in Hank’s smile, only malice. “Then we make that belief a nightmare.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stoney M. Setzer lives south of Atlanta, GA. He has a beautiful wife, three wonderful children, and one crazy dog, and he is also a diehard Atlanta Braves fan. He has written a trilogy of novels about small-town amateur sleuth Wesley Winter and a short story anthology entitled “Zero Hour” featuring Twilight Zone-like stories with Christian themes.

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