A YEAR UNDERFOOT – entry #25

A Year Underfoot

 

August 3rd, 2033

I had another vision this afternoon.

This time I was wide-awake when the images came. That has never happened before

I saw a great alien ship in the skies over Los Angeles and I knew it to be one of nine such behemoths worldwide. I knew there to be one over Moscow, another over Mexico City, along with one each over Paris, Buenos Aires, New York, Johannesburg, New Delhi and Beijing. All were battleships of the same class and represented the backbone of the invasion.

A mothership, circling the globe in low earth orbit, connected the dots and ran the show.

The vision shifts gears and I find myself in the loose scrub nestled along a razor wire fence. A Threak warbird screeches overhead and I pull myself in a little tighter.

Slowly, I raise my head and have a look around.

Three things I know instantly.

I am along Interstate 5 in the Central Valley of California.

I am outside of a Threak air base.

And, I am not alone.

A perimeter patrol is headed my way, but whether or not they know I’m out here remains to be seen. The vehicle approaches slowly, but to my amazement rolls on past, oblivious to my presence.

It’s a vision, so they can’t see me. Perhaps, but I too frightened to find out for certain. I remain completely still.

The patrol disappears into the night and I find myself walking through a highly charged fence and onto the air base.

It is a vision.

The nearest building is a few hundred feet away and I walk straight toward it. The smell of rotten eggs permeates the air.

I hear the guttural rumblings of the Threak language and freeze. Troopers are approaching. I seize up, not moving a muscle, barely drawing a breath.

Of course, they walk right on by

I keep moving forward and head for the opening in the structure. I peer inside. It’s a hangar, a staging area for freight heading off-planet to the battleships, and more importantly, the mothership. Shipping containers are staged in neat rows inside the dimly lit warehouse as far and wide as the eye can see. This is a massive operation.

There is no one inside.

Curious.

I enter the darkened warehouse and gazed down an even darker aisle. I‘m strangely attracted to the circular containers all around and reach out to touch one. My eyes adjust to the lack of light and at a certain distance I see the containers have a smoked, glass-like facade. Another step closer reveals the contents.

A woman. A human woman. Mid-twenties, red hair, medium build, quite pale. Sealed alive and encased in a gel-like substance that both imprisons and sustains her.

I pull back and stare down the aisle at thousands of similar vessels.

Oh, my God.

A light flashes in front of me and I fall to my knees. My hands shield my eyes, but it is too late. I am blinded.

When my eyes clear, I am back here, back at camp. Its as if I’d never left.

I believe someone wants me to fight back.

Okay, I’m listening.

amazon.com/a-year-underfoot

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About paul nevins

Fiction writer, reader and baseball fan.
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