Category: Fiction Factor

While the crew from Two Brothers and a Wiggle Wagon were unloading furniture onto the driveway of 513 Solidago Drive, Pablo Kahlo and Mio Kusama were already on the porch swing, eying spots for their rockers and side tables. The couple had spent the previous week bringing in a few items at a time, so their new abode was already taking shape on move-in day.

Once the workers got everything off the truck and into the two-story house, it would simply be a matter of shuffling and adjusting before it looked like a home.

“So,” Pablo said, eying the chairs, “should they be facing this way, so we can see the sunrise, or that way, for the sunset?”

Mio picked up a rocker and then sat it back down.

“We can do both,” she said. “They aren’t heavy, so we’ll just move them where we want them when we want them there. As tired as I already am, though, we won’t need to aim ‘em at the sunset tomorrow. I plan to be in a deep snooze when day breaks.”

They got up and peeked at the movers’ progress, but before they could survey the situation they were greeted by a thunderous – yet friendly  –  “Howdy!”

A large man with a shock of red hair trundled up the steps with his right arm in full wave-mode.

“I’m George from across the street … welcome to the neighborhood!”

Mio smiled and extended her hand.

“Hi, George … happy to be here. I’m Mio and this is Pablo. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it here,” George gushed. “All the neighbors are super nice … got a good mixture of young folks, older folks, kids. And I hope you like cats because this place is crawling with kitties. You won’t have to worry about chipmunks, that’s for sure. What line of work are you guys in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Mio is a sculptor and I do a little painting,” Pablo said. “We just really love this area – it’s outside the city a bit and has lots of trees. Figured we could find some inspiration here.”

George glanced at the movers and noticed they were almost finished.

“You two have to be worn out with all this moving,” he said. “And that’s why I want you to come over for dinner tonight. We’re always cooking …  we have three smokers in the backyard. My wife, Elitha, is a real chef – as my belly can attest – and we figure the best way to welcome new neighbors is to have ‘em over. Whaddya say?”

“I say that’s very sweet of you, George, and we’d be delighted,” Mio answered with a smile. “Give us a time and Pablo and I will be there … and we’ll even bring the wine.”

George gave a thumbs-up and headed toward the steps.

“Seven o’clock,” he said. “So happy you accepted … see you then!”

Mio waited until George was out of earshot and chuckled.

“He has no idea what we are,” Mio said. “You can always spot a Cannibalian. When they look at you and start talking about food, the pupils of their eyes turn red. Humans can’t notice it, but Artisans can.”

“When we first got here, I could smell those smokers,” Pablo added. “Definitely human flesh. George thinks he’s gonna kill us and eat us, and we’re gonna have to disappoint him. Almost makes me feel sorry for him.”

Mio walked inside the house, spotted a box, opened it and pulled out what appeared to be a cannister of insect repellent.

“I’ll blast ‘em with this as soon as they open the front door,” she said. “It’s made for Anamniotians, but it should work on primates, too. Their skin will melt away within just a few seconds, and I’ll have some new bones for my yard art project.”

Pablo leaned on the railing of the veranda and looked around.

“We have Cannibalians across the street, we’re from Planet Artisa … I wonder how many other extraterrestrials are in the neighborhood?”

“Well,” she said, “I imagine there are quite a few … not having an HOA is a big draw for us outworlders.”

Mio checked the nozzle on the cannister.

“But there’ll be at least two less later on tonight. Anyway, why don’t you tip the movers and I’ll go inside and try to find a bottle of wine.”

The pair of workers – Buck and Biff – were already back in the truck when Pablo thanked them and handed them each a 20 dollar bill.

“Appreciate you guys,” he said. “Be safe.”

As Buck pulled away, he exhaled.

“Looks like we pulled it off,” he said, looking at Biff. “Uncle George and Aunt Elitha said after the new couple falls into the trap under their walkway, it’ll take a while for ‘em to roast. So it’s still a few hours before dinner.”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Biff said. “Artisans are delicious … they taste just like humans.”

Ben shifted gingerly, trying to straighten up as he began lilting to the right. The elevated head position of his adjustable bed helped him breath a bit easier, but comfort was hard to come by these days.

“Doris,” he said, “Do you mind straightening me up a little?”

The hospice nurse obliged with a gentle smile, and fluffed his pillow for good measure.

“Much better … much, much better, thanks. Sorry I’m so much trouble.”

“You’re no trouble at all, Ben. Whatever you need to be more comfortable, you just let me know.”

The end was very near for Ben now, and he was at peace with his fate. He figured 83 years – most of them filled with love and adventure – were plenty, and an eternal rest would mean an end to the infernal pain he had suffered over the past few months. But as his time slipped away, his mind was buzzing with memories – and one in particular kept popping up.

“I think I might be at that ‘burst of energy before I go’ stage, Doris. I just remembered something from way back. Can I tell you about it?”

“Of course,” Doris said, patting his right hand. “I’m all ears.”

Ben smiled.

“I had a bunch of dogs over the years – crazy about all of them – but when I was a little kid, I had this ol’ mutt named Estus. He had raggedy black fur and his left ear was always turned inside out. He wasn’t much to look at but, then again, neither was I. Guess that’s why me and him got along so well. Only thing, that dang dog was always trying to lick my face, and it drove me crazy. That was about the only time I ever got mad at him. Anyway, he was already an older dog when my folks gave him to me and when I started to get older, too, he slowed down. Couldn’t run much and didn’t like to chase balls or sticks. Idiot still tried to lick my face, though.

“One morning, I woke up and didn’t see him … he was always asleep at the foot of my bed. I thought maybe he had gone outside but when I asked ma, she said daddy had taken him off to live on a farm. Said he was too sick to stay in the city and the city was what was making him sick, but if he lived on a farm he could run and play all day … be happy again.”

Ben shook his head.

“I didn’t know they were just trying to let me down easy. About a week or two later we were going somewhere in daddy’s car and I saw this pretty red barn up on a hill beside the interstate, and I just knew that’s where Estus was living. I asked if we could stop and see him but they just ignored me. Wasn’t too long after that I realized Estus was gone and never coming back. You know what? I still miss that little guy. Shoot, I miss all my dogs.”

Ben coughed and then started wheezing.

“I think,” he said in a weak voice, “I’m gonna to go live on a farm now, Doris.”

Moments later, the nurse checked his pulse, and there was none. Ben’s breathing had also stopped.

“Goodbye, Ben,” Doris said, carefully covering his face with a sheet. “I’ll miss you.”

Ben couldn’t hear her, of course. How could he? All of his dogs were running around and barking. Plus, Estus was slurping the side of his face.

He didn’t get mad at the raggedy mutt this time, though. Ben just kissed the dog’s head, took a big stretch, and started walking toward that pretty red barn.

The bright silver alien patrol vehicle moved quietly through the street, occasionally emitting a red-yellow glow that prompted people to go inside their homes in observance of curfew.

For anyone under the age of 40, it was simply a way of life – they had never known a world that wasn’t ruled by the Sagittarians. Nations, governments and cultures had long since come under control of the humanoid beings, who arrived on Earth in the summer of 2043.

Sarah Nevins peered out the window as the patrol passed by, shaking her head.

“It’s been a lifetime ago, now, but it’s still hard to believe,” she said.

Her husband, Bart, looked up from his information cube.

“What’s that, hon?”

“I was just thinking back to before, when humans dominated the earth. Then just like that, because of our stupidity, it was over.”

On a late June night four decades before, a huge spacecraft had appeared above the Whittier Hills Memorial Park and Mortuary in California. For two days it hovered, releasing various sounds and color displays. Scientists could not determine what the chirps and whistles were meant to convey, but the series of radiant flashes seemingly corresponded with the American alphabet.

It was determined that the messages were “F-O-R-M-A” “M-E-T-H-A” and “G-L-U-T,” but what exactly any of those letters meant was unknown at the time.

However, the codes suddenly disappeared and the spacecraft went silent as it dropped to the ground below.

“Remember when we watched it on TV?” Sarah mused. “I never once thought it was an invasion or that they were gearing up for an attack. Admittedly, I didn’t know what to think, but that didn’t enter my mind.”

Bart nodded.

“Me, either. I wondered why they hadn’t landed in Washington or London or Moscow … you know, one of those, ‘Take me to your leader’ type places. A cemetery just seemed random … and odd.”

It didn’t seem random to the myriad conspiracy theorists who quickly decided the extraterrestrials were ghouls. And matters weren’t helped by the fact that President Chad Odiosa – a controversial former podcaster and verbal grenade lobber – was more than happy to spread panic to an already worried nation.

In a speech televised across the world on Day Three of the craft’s arrival, Odiosa claimed that the aliens had come to earth to reanimate the dead and create an army of zombies, stoking rage among those fueled by it. In years past such claims would’ve been deemed ridiculous, but ridiculousness had been normalized ever since the millennium had reached its teens. Once the fuse was lit, thousands of Odiosa’s well-armed followers converged on California. They were joined by military personnel, pushed into action by the commander in chief.

“That ignorant asshole,” Sarah spat. “I’ll never forget his rallying cry … ‘They might have come from the heavens, but we’ll send ‘em straight to hell.’ All the tiny brains loved it. Still makes me sick just to think about it.”

There was no way for humans and the Sagittarians to verbally communicate early on, which is why the aliens were attempting to do so with light and sound. But once the craft crashed, their only choice was to emerge in hopes of finding a way to explain their presence face to face.

“God, that was horrible,” Bart said. “Once the door opened and they came down the ramp, it was a massacre. The missiles didn’t do a lot of damage to the craft, but those poor Sagittarians were wiped out. That one guy little in front just held out his arms and  … boom. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

Odiosa was quick to make a victory speech, and brazenly dared Sagittarians to return to earth if they “wanted more of the same.”

Odiosa got his wish in short order.

Before their ship lost power, a distress signal had been sent. But once the Sagittarian rescue vessel intercepted human communications – and determined an act of war had taken place – it turned back.

Within days, the skies over Earth were littered with a Sagittarian armada. After a week, they had wiped out every organized military in the world, and tens of millions of humans died in the process.

Then – just a few months after the takeover – the Sagittarians adapted to human language.

“That bastard Odiosa went into hiding, but if he survived, I wonder what went through his mind when he learned what the Sagittarians wanted that first day,” Sarah said wistfully. “’Forma,’ ‘Metha,’ ‘Glut’ – formaldehyde, methanol, glutaraldehyde. That’s why they were hovering over a cemetery … the ingredients to embalming fluid could’ve refueled their ship. If we had shown just the bare minimum of  patience, we could’ve helped them and they’d have been on their way. Hell, we might’ve even become our friends.

“Instead, we declared war on them and became their subjects … simply because they stopped for gas.”