*** I got this story in class today… I can’t tell you which class because then you’ll get a hint as to what the story is about. WARNING: Graphic gore and violence. This general idea I’ve been hibernating for a while and it finally ripened into a fruit today, but it’s not meant to have any kind of undertones so don’t read too much into it. If you like Stephen King novels or the Twilight Zone you’ll probably like this short story. Began writing: 9/28/04 ***
Jack McGill sat on his front porch, looking through the morning’s newspaper, when he heard them coming. He looked up slowly from the black and gray pages of neat print, shifting his clear blue eyes to gaze off down the length of blacktop that led through the tidy neighborhood. Yes… it was them all right.
His eyes went back to the date on the newspaper. It had only been a week since they’d last come… the short interval was unusual, and he didn’t like it. He stood quickly from the porch swing and left the newspaper, ducking quickly through the front door and calling out for Jonathan, his younger brother. The screen door slammed behind him, but Jonathan didn’t answer.
Swearing under his breath, Jack grabbed his carryall from a hook by the door and moved to the kitchen, beginning to gather the nonperishable food and stuffing it into his bag. He yelled for Jonathan again, annoyed at the strain that hitched in his voice. The noises outside began to grow louder, moving closer. The soft, steady thrum of the gleaming steel cars, the patter of feet on the pavement, the breaking down of doors and windows, the confused and frightened cries of his neighbors…
“Jonathan!” he finally roared, his anxiety beginning to build.
“What?” the younger boy snapped, finally appearing to stand in the kitchen doorway.
Jack glared at his brother, wishing the seventeen year old would hurry up and grow out of his attitude. “Where were you?”
Jon shrugged. “In my room…” his voice trailed off and his eyes sharpened as he too heard the noises from outside. The annoyed expression on the boy’s still youthful face morphed into one of fright. “Jack…” he whispered.
Jack nodded. “Go upstairs and grab us each a few pairs of clothes. Put them in one of your bags, but don’t bring much. Just enough. And hurry.”
“But… Jack…” Jon’s dark eyebrows wrinkled. “They won’t… you don’t think… they will take you…?”
Jack felt a lump in his throat and struggled to swallow it, moving forward to put a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Jonathan, listen to me,” he said gruffly, “go get the clothes, and don’t think about anything else.”
“But-”
“There’s no time!” Jack interrupted sharply. “Go now!” He spun his brother around by the shoulder and pushed him toward the stairs. Jonathan stumbled, righted himself, and then with a last look back at Jack he tore up the stairs to the bedrooms.
Jack went back to the kitchen, but now his hands were trembling. Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them back bitterly. Five years ago their mother and father had been taken away; three years ago Jack’s best friend had been taken away; last week Jack’s girlfriend had been taken away. They had been pushed inside the metal cars, and then the metal cars had slid away down the street, vanishing into the horizon, and none of those taken had ever returned. Many times in the past grieved friends and families of those taken would attempt to track down the cars and find their loved ones, but none of those who ever ventured out ever returned, either.
And now the cars were back. Now the drivers of the cars were back, and Jack didn’t know who they would take, but he knew he had avoided them thus far, and no one could avoid them forever. His time was running out. Jonathan still had time, of this Jack was almost certain… but for himself…
He shook his head, willing the thoughts away, trying to concentrate on gathering the rest of the food. He filled the bag, slung the strap over his shoulder, and moved to the bottom of the stairs just as Jonathan was coming down.
“Ready?” Jack asked breathlessly.
Jon nodded silently, but there were tears glistening in his dark blue eyes.
Jack turned away from his little brother and led the way to the front door. They had to hurry. The cars would be very close now… already the thrum and pulse of the hover engines seemed to swell to fill the house.
The two boys had nearly reached the front door when it suddenly flew inwards, splintering off it’s hinges to come crashing down on the hardwood floor of the foyer. Jack ducked away, his face coming only inches from the edge of the hurtling door. A tall, slender shadow stepped into the open threshold.
Jack looked up, squinting through the dust, and instinctively pushed Jonathan behind him, protecting his younger brother with his own body. The tall silhouette belonged to one of those that drove the cars, but this was the first time Jack had seen one of them clearly. They were very tall, reaching at least nine feet, with pale transclucent skin and long, skinny necks that supported small, domed, hairless heads. The eyes were large and dark with tiny, evil looking pupils. The nose consisted only of two narrow slits above the small, sharp toothed, lip-less mouth. The Driver that stood in the doorway wore a loose fitting dark blue garment, and enfolded in the long, bony fingers was a weapon of some sort, resembling a shotgun. The creature looked down at the two boys impassively and blinked it’s double lidded eyes.
Jack held his breath, his eyes locked on the Driver, and began to slowly back away. “Jon,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Run. Now.”
He could feel Jonathan shaking his head vigorously, but his brother did not speak.
In the ringing silence another loud crash sounded from the back of the house, and without thinking Jack leapt around to face it, grabbing Jonathan to him. The back door had been broken down, and another Driver also clad in a long dark blue garment stepped through, cutting off their only other escape.
Jack felt his heartbeat quicken, the blood roaring passed his ears. This second Driver met Jack’s terrified gaze, and at that moment Jack realized they had come for him. He was their target now… but Jonathan… Jonathan would be safe.
He tried to swallow, recognized he had no spit. His breathing came in short, hard pants and with effort Jack tried to regulate them. He had to stay calm… he had to stay calm for Jonathan’s sake. He turned his brother around to face him as the two Driver’s began to move forward and gripped the boy’s shoulders hard. “Jon,” he croaked in a whisper, “listen to me very carefully. I want you to take this,” he unshouldered the carryall full of food and put it around Jonathan’s shoulders, “and leave. Do you hear me? Leave right now, and don’t look back. Find a way out.”
Jonathan began shaking his head, the tears overrunning his lashes. “No Jack,” he whimpered, “I’m going to go with you. They’re not going to take you away from me too… I’m going with you.”
“No. No, Jonathan.” Jack tried to steady the quiver in his voice, but it was impossible. The second Driver had nearly reached Jon and Jack could feel the first one looming over him even now. Jon’s eyes bored hard into his own and Jack felt his heart wrench in his chest, tears falling over his lashes to run down his cheeks. On impulse Jack pulled Jonathan forward, wrapping his younger brother in hug and holding him tight. All of a sudden he didn’t care about the boy’s usual attitude or all the time’s he had refused to clean his room and eat his dinner and be home by curfew. None of that mattered. None of it was important. The only important thing right now was that they got to say goodbye. Jack had never had the chance to say goodbye to his parents, or his best friend, or his girlfriend. But that would not happen here.
He held Jonathan at arm’s length again. “I love you, little brother,” he choked out.
Hands fell on Jack’s shoulders from behind and Jon gripped the arms of his older brother’s shirt. “No, Jack,” Jon sobbed. “No!”
But then the second Driver touched the end of his weapon to Jonathan’s back, and a small zap punctuated the air. Jonathan jerked once, and then his grip on Jack’s shirt loosened and he fell to the ground unconscious. Jack felt a wave of nausea hit him… he remembered that weapon from before… when their parents had been taken… he tried to move toward his fallen brother but the hands on his shoulders jerked him back.
A sudden burst of panic swept over him. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be smashed into those metal cars and carried off into some strange unknown. He didn’t want to go to a place he could never return from.
He wrenched away from the Driver holding him and sprinted for the open back door across the expanse of the living room. The second Driver leapt after him, but the thin grasping hand missed his shirt. He had nearly reached the threshold when a loud bang sounded behind him, and then a powerful force hit him between the shoulder blades, knocking him through the doorway to land sprawling in the grass of the backyard.
His body twitched and tingled, then went numb, and a heavy blackness slowly began to close in around his vision. Jack willed himself to rise, to keep running, but his limbs would not respond to his commands. He saw the bare, ugly, four toed feet of the Drivers step from the house into the yard, heard them speaking to each other in odd, buzzing sounds, and then the blackness closed over his eyes, and he wondered if he was dead.
***
TO BE CONTINUED…
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