Invasion
Deborah knew that, now, she was the last. They had gotten her family. She could hear them outside of her bedroom door now. Sometimes they knocked softly, trying to soothe her with soft words, trying to convince her that they meant no harm. Sometimes there was hysterical screaming and banging on the door. They made threats.
She was the last human alive.
She’d barely escaped. Deborah had holed up in her tiny cabin for a week before they found her. She hadn’t seen another human being in all of that time. Evacuation efforts. Everyone fleeing an inescapable fate. But she’d survive. She had food for at least two weeks, plus she knew how to distinguish poisonous plants from edible ones. She’d even hunt if it came to that–as long as the infection didn’t affect the animals.
Maybe “infection” wasn’t the right word. “Possession” didn’t fit either. Whatever the proper word, she had seen no evidence of it happening to animals so far.
The banging again. Using her sister’s voice. Begging, pleading for her to open the door. Deborah covered her ears. Even though she knew their tricks, knew it wasn’t her sister out there, it hurt to hear the tears in that voice. She could almost believe…
Anyway, the only thing she’d forgotten was bullets. She had a five-shot revolver. She’d shot a few as practice before she realized that she only had what was in the damn gun. She couldn’t hunt. She couldn’t defend herself. But she could make sure they didn’t change her into a monster.
She’d tried to tell them. Of course they still looked human. What did they expect–that an alien creature would walk up in all it sslobbering, slimy, reeking glory and announce that they were here to inhabit Earth, eat the children, mate with the men, and make the women their slaves? If you wouldn’t mind, they’d say, we don’t want to waste fuel, artillery and such. Men line up on the left for lubricants and, ladies, be dearies and please start seasoning those kids up for the victory barbecue.
“Deborah,” her sister-alien said, “we’ll have to call the authorities. They’ll take Jenny away from you. At least send her out to me.”
Right. Dinner mustn’t be late.
Her daughter Jenny sat next to her, face red, tears streaming down her face. Jenny looked at Deborah with such fear in her eyes. Deborah had told Jenny what was going on. She’d also told her what would have to happen if the aliens found them. Jenny struggled but didn’t make a sound as Deborah tightened her grip around Jenny’s neck. Finally she stopped struggling and her eyes closed.
It was in the eyes. The cold indifference, the mocking arrogance. These aliens no longer held doors for ladies or helped the elderly across the street. They disguised themselves as priests and diddled the children to destroy our faith. They formed gangs and shot innocent people. They waited on you in McDonald’s with a rudeness bordering on contempt. They screamed personal information into cell phones just to rack your nerves, keep you off balance. They filled music with sex and TV with violence so that their actions seemed normal, just and right. So humans would never see the invasion happening.
But she knew.
She had tried to warn her family for years. They wouldn’t listen. Made her see shrinks and take drugs that stifled her soul. Cassandra Complex indeed.
Now they knew the truth.
And it was too late.
She should have brought bullets.
She put the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger.