Chapter Ten
Agnes Ross tossed her things haphazardly into a duffel bag. Clothes, bottled water, the few toiletries she had in her room. She wished she could bring money, but she didn’t have any. None of the inmates of Home Ranch did. “An unwelcome distraction of the earthbound world,” said The Prophet. He had always said it casually, advice for living rather than a command from on high, but the memory of his words and the force of his opinion were unnaturally vivid. He could have been in the room next to her, frowning and wagging his finger.
She shuddered and hefted the heavy duffel bag. It wasn’t lost on her that a few months ago she’d had trouble lifting a phone receiver. The thought made her lay the duffel on her dresser and look at her face in the mirror one more time.
There was no doubt about it—she was changing.
It wasn’t just that she looked younger. It wasn’t that her eyes had somehow turned ice blue. Her old house in the city had been covered in photographs of her and her husband in the early days of her marriage. The face that stared back at her in the mirror looked less like the woman in those photographs every day.
Anges didn’t know if it was possible to get through the desert and back to the city on foot, but she was going to do it or die trying. It was dark, and the other family members were gathered around the dome for The Prophet’s new devil-voodoo ceremony. No one would notice her going.
She hadn’t been serious about leaving last time. At that point, she had only been nervous, not scared. Half a mile from the gate, when the air turned to steam and her legs pumped as if she were moving through waist-deep water, she had given up and turned back. That wouldn’t stop her this time. Nothing would stop her.
She threw the duffel bag over her shoulder and hurried out the door.
*
They were all here. Family members who didn’t live on Home Ranch had responded to The Prophet’s summons with the same urgency with which it had been delivered. Something big was going to happen tonight.
The highway from the city to the compound had been a solid line of headlights for almost an hour. Many had been forced to park outside the main gate. They were all here now though, sitting together so closely they were touching. The stage before the dome’s entrance had been re-erected. Respectfully, no one sat on the stage itself, but those in the front row had no choice but to rest their elbows on its surface.
Torches on the stage provided the only light. Samyaza stood there, arms crossed, waiting for everyone to arrive. This wasn’t a night for showmanship and grand entrances, but he still cut an imposing figure. No one watching guessed at the panic that was grinding its way through his mind.
His eyes swept the crowd. So many more than there had been at that last, happier gathering. It was time. He stretched out his arms, immediately silencing their chatter.
“Brothers and sisters! We are to be gifted tonight with another visitation. Do not be afraid.”
*
Martin Grant was not outside with the rest of the family, however much he wished to be. He had been one of the first to arrive, but there had been someone waiting for him in the small lot in front of the welcome trailer. A tall, sinister figure with its face obscured by a voluminous hood.
Its presence had worried him as he eased into the parking space. If Martin had known that it was waiting for him, he would have turned his car around and left, regardless of the severity of the situation. He’d switched off the engine, and the robed figure advanced to his driver’s side window. Worry became outright terror and Martin dropped his keys. He was still desperately fishing for them when the figure got close enough for him to recognize its face. Brother Love! Martin’s anxiety deflated like a balloon with an open neck.
Brother Love motioned to join him outside the car and Martin nearly burst with pride. The handsome senior family member had never said a word to him. Martin’s pride didn’t stop him from noticing how unhealthy Brother Love looked. His appearance probably explained the scary robes. You could catch your death out here in the desert once the sun went down, even if you weren’t sick already.
Brother Love led Martin to the interior of the compound without observing the protocol of entering through the welcome trailer. They passed through the yard and into the geodesic dome itself. Martin’s self-gratification doubled and then re-doubled. No one was allowed in the dome! Not even Mike.
It was dim inside. Dark, tarp-covered masses of machinery made the place look like a cross between a junkyard and Stonehenge. Something was flashing purple and green in the center of it all. Martin had gulped as his mood became shaded with apprehension once more. What did Brother Love want with him in here?
He was led on a snaking path around the piles to the source of the glow, an uncovered column of machinery that had been blackened by fire or something. It was topped by an oblong glowing crystal that undulated in a psychedelic pattern of violet and acid green. At the base of the column, several orange extension cords ran to three brightly painted boxes that looked like car engines mounted on lawn mower wheels. Without a word, Brother Love began stacking fresh coils of extension wire, metal cans that smelled like gasoline, and a red fire extinguisher into Martin’s arms. Reinflated anxiety completely displaced the proud feeling he’d possessed only moments ago.
“What—uh ...” he stammered. “What do you want me to do with this stuff?”
Brother Love had stopped loading Martin down and flashed a smile of absolute confidence.
“Nothing hard. Just keep the generators full of gas and restart them with the pull cable if they trip out. Reattach any wires that get loose.”
Martin forced a tight-lipped smile. “That doesn’t sound too hard.”
“No. You’ve got that fire extinguisher and a couple of spares in the corner if you need them.”
Martin started so violently he’d almost dropped what he was carrying. “I think you should get someone else. I’m not good under pressure!”
Brother Love had grasped Martin’s shoulders with both hands and looked him directly in the eye. “We have faith in you, Martin.” He smiled again. “Now, I’ve got to go. You’ll have to be at your best. Tonight will tax these machines to their limit!” Brother Love declared as he’d marched to the entrance.
And now, Martin was alone. Alone with the steady whir of the generators and the spooky, burnt machines. This time he really did let the equipment he was carrying drop to his feet.
He looked up at the glowing crystal and gulped. “They’re counting on me. I-I can’t ...”
He ripped a gas can and a coil of wire from the floor. Walking behind the column of machines, he traced the orange cables to where they were plugged into the generators and knelt down to examine them. There had to be some kind of directions on these things.
*
The Prophet was bellowing instructions from the stage.
“The correct attitude to adopt for a visitation such as this is one of passive gratitude. Remember, whatever is revealed to you, whatever happens, you are safe here. Do not leave or attempt to physically interact in any way.”
Sister Love, dressed more like a nun than a naughty princess in a bad science fiction movie, appeared from behind the dome. Under her arm she carried a large wooden bowl. The Prophet directed the crowd’s attention to her.
“In order to purify your spirits and facilitate communion with our visitors, Sister Love will distribute an herbal physic.”
She threaded through the tightly packed crowd. Every few feet, she would squat and offer her bowl to those surrounding her. It wasn’t long before she got to Alice.
Alice reached up and put her hand inside. She touched something dry that rustled. She pinched and pulled away a piece of it. Sister Love stood with a smile and moved on. Alice held the brown thing to her eyes and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. A magic mushroom.
“This is so exciting!” Maria Cielo exclaimed. Alice looked behind her to see her mother nibbling the end of a mushroom stalk. Under different circumstances, the very idea of her mother enthusiastic to do drugs together would have been enough to make Alice die of embarrassment. Currently, embarrassment was the least of her worries. She turned back.
Alice let the shroom drop to the center of her palm. She pantomimed knocking her fist back and swallowing. Looking around to make sure that no one was paying attention, she slid the uneaten mushroom into the inner pocket of her denim shorts. For the first time since beginning high school, she was grateful for the preteen years she had spent obsessed with stage magic.
Between the shrooms, those scary texts, and the uncharacteristically urgent summons to Home Ranch, Alice didn’t know what was going to happen tonight, but she knew she wanted a clear head for it.
*
Mike sat behind the wheel of the rusty Jeep and chewed his fingers. What the hell was he doing out here? As instructed, he had driven to the top of a hill a few miles from Home Ranch and was waiting. For what? Aliens?
Yeah, he had seen the UFO, and a lot of other unbelievable things over the past few months, but the idea of taking potshots at one seemed ridiculous. The heavy black rifle lying across the back seat argued for the sincerity of his mission. Mike didn’t like it. Nothing good could come from an object that looked so villainous.
His one source of comfort was the fact that he couldn’t see much to shoot at. Clouds had rolled in after sunset, and there were no stars in the sky. The Jeep didn’t have a top. Mike could see darkness in 360 degrees. Only the fires at Home Ranch and the lights of the city, miles and miles away, were visible.
Oh, for some whiskey to pass the time....
*
The shrooms had begun to take effect. The crowd swayed back and forth. People laughed and smiled. Samyaza was sober as a judge. He had to be.
One problem was solved. His followers wouldn’t be leaving, and anything they saw or experienced could be easily explained away. As far as what Samyaza would do if the priest couldn’t shoot that thing down or drive it off ...
He mustered all the charm he was capable of. He couldn’t risk harshing everyone’s vibe.
“Are you ready, my disciples? Can you feel the approach of our visitors from the stars?”
People in the crowd shouted responses of “I do!” and “Me too!” Near the back, one woman started singing “Welcome, holy visitors,” over and over in a deep, soulful voice.
Samyaza’s smile didn’t waver, but a thick sheen of sweat coated his face.
*
It was dark. It was scary. Anges Ross could go no further.
She wasn’t tired. She couldn’t remember being tired since ... since ... Wracked by sobs, she threw her duffel bag on the desert floor and stumbled forward once more. And once more, she was shunted backward by an invisible tide. Youth and vitality had been returned to her, yet she was still as powerless as she had been in her hospital bed.
She collapsed on the ground. It wasn’t fair! Other people could come and go. She had seen them driving here for hours. Why not her? Why did she let them do it to her?
Home Ranch glowed with firelight behind her. There was only darkness past the barrier. Faintly on the wind she could hear unsteady laughter and voices. Singing? Chanting?
She wasn’t going back. She wouldn’t go back! But, but ... what was she going to do?
She curled herself into a ball and wept freely onto the dry, sandy ground.
*
It was a test. Mike had decided. Or maybe a con. Some combination of the two. The idea had come to him while he was taking a piss a few feet behind the Jeep. He had decided it was incontrovertible by the time he made it back.
There weren’t going to be any aliens, or anything to shoot at. His fear dissipated and irritation took its place. Samyaza’s intention was for him to spend all night on this chilly goddamn hill, eyes peeled for a threat. When Mike returned, confused and exhausted, The Prophet would turn his head with another cock-and-bull story. How could he be so gullible?
He slid into the front seat with a sigh and turned the ignition. That was when it came out of the clouds.
Huge. Glowing. Rotating. It was either farther away than Mike had thought last time, or this was a completely different, much bigger, flying saucer. It took up the entire sky above Home Ranch. As it descended, the glow intensified to white-hot. A mechanical growl rumbled across the desert floor.
As the spaceship approached Home Ranch, a thick band of violet light interposed itself in between. It started like the waves a stone makes when it’s thrown into a pool of water. They spread, wrapping themselves around the compound until it was enveloped in a glowing bubble.
The ripples didn’t stop. They were most intense where they had started, at the point closest to the saucer. The glow began to die there. Slowly, the color was being milled out of the sky.
*
It was beautiful. Above their heads, waves of purple light undulated on an invisible tide. It sparkled, like it was filled with liquid stars. The saucer rotated above the transparent firmament. It was as big as Home Ranch. You could pick out individual lights on the underside! Seams on the metal! It would have been awe-inspiring without drugs. The crowd was fascinated into silence.
It was lucky for Samyaza that they were distracted. He was in physical agony. He crouched, doubled over on the stage, eyes screwed shut and clutching his head. It was like God was screaming in his ear.
Whatever they were doing, it was directed at him alone. Through the pain, he could feel the presence of Sister Love, staring up in wonder like all the rest. He envied her ironclad naivety. She knew more than anyone but him, knew that this could be the end of everything, but she still surrendered with childlike awe to the incredible sight playing out before her eyes.
He focused on her. He could feel more than her presence. The joy and wonder she was filled with was a physical quantity. He could touch it, and it soothed him. It was like cool water to his scalded brain.
Suddenly he could concentrate again. He was still in pain, but now that his perception exceeded three feet past his skull, he noticed something. Whatever it was that Sister Love was filled with, it was all around him.
Just past the edge of the stage, there was a sea of it.
*
The scope of the rifle was powerful. It reminded Mike of looking through the microscopes back when he taught biology at parochial school. The intense magnification meant that any jiggle was enough to throw his aim wildly off target. To compensate, he scanned slowly, with the barrel of the rifle resting on the Jeep’s windshield. He prayed he’d find some kind of weak point.
There. On the underside. A tube like an inverted telescope was pointed at Home Ranch. Mike traced the trajectory of its barrel to the target and back. It was pointed dead center where the band of light had begun to dissolve. He couldn’t be certain that shooting the tube would stop whatever was happening, but he had already spent too long in indecision. Mike’s finger tightened on the trigger.
BLAM! The sound was deafening. The windshield cracked. Mike’s shoulder felt like a mule had kicked it.
The saucer continued to rotate in the sky above Home Ranch. Unaffected.
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Mike reciprocated the bolt the way that Brother Love had shown him, ejecting the spent shell casing. No longer bothering with careful aim, he fired three times at the heart of the ship, reciprocating between each shot.
He moaned in pain and massaged his pulped shoulder. As soon as he was physically able, he lifted the rifle back on top of the damaged windshield and squinted through the glass. Nothing. He didn’t know if he had missed with all four shots or if they had just been completely powerless to damage the thing. “Damn it ... goddamn it ...” he whimpered.
He threw the rifle, butt first, on the passenger-side floor. It settled against the seat, taller than the headrest. He dropped behind the wheel and turned the key. As he did, he began intoning in a low, steady voice.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name ...”
Mike threw the Jeep in gear and hurtled off down the hillside. As he closed in on Home Ranch, the underside of the saucer widened from a curved outline to a fat oval. He took one hand off the wheel and rooted around the back without turning his head. He found what he was looking for and drew it forward. A full box of rifle shells, each almost four inches long. He placed the jangling box on the seat next to him and stomped the gas pedal to the floor.
*
Martin yanked the starter cord with one foot braced on the generator’s body. The damn thing rumbled but didn’t restart.
“Start! Please, please fucking start!” he whimpered as he pulled again.
Only one generator was still running, and it was taxed to its limit, screaming. The crystal in the center of the room sizzled like a pan of burning grease. It was almost entirely green now. Purple only clung to the bare edges. Martin had abandoned his glasses long ago. His shirt was soaked clear though with sweat. He would have thrown that away too if he had time to get it off him.
The generator roared to life. Martin fell over backward and leapt up laughing. Two generators working! He had bought himself some time. He unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it to the ground, and started toward the third, non-operating generator. A deafening pop went off behind him.
One of the cables had ripped loose from the tower of machinery and was spraying sparks across the room. Martin ran to the corner and grabbed a coil of wire and a fire extinguisher. It was the last full one.
He ran back, sprayed down the sparks and the small fires they had started, pulled the damaged cord free, and started replacing it with the fresh cable. By now, he’d performed all of these actions intuitively and without conscious thought. There was only one thing running through his mind: a constant refrain of “I can’t keep this up much longer, I can’t keep this up much longer, I can’t keep this up much longer, I can’t keep this up much longer ...”
*
Agnes ran through the night, terrified and not knowing where to go. When that horrible flying saucer had appeared in the sky above her, so did the wall of purple light that blocked her path. It curved into the night on either side as far as the eye could see. It rose a mile above her until it arced overhead and formed a dome. There was no way she was going to get past it.
She started to run back to Home Ranch. There was nowhere else to go. The UFO closed in behind her. Chasing her. Becoming larger and larger as it eased itself downward. Agnes was delirious with fear. Why was anything so big and important after her? She was nobody! She was—
In an instant, it all made sense.
It wasn’t after her. It was going for Home Ranch.
She tried to stop, but her momentum was too great and she tripped onto all fours. She bounded up without checking to see if she had hurt herself and took off running again, this time parallel to the violet wall. It cut through the rocky hills behind Home Ranch, leaving much of them on her side. Maybe there was a cave or something to hide in.
Home Ranch seemed to rotate as Agnes ran around it in a circle several miles wide. She could feel Samyaza’s presence there. She had been able to sense him for months now, but never this far away. The feeling had never been pleasant before either.
Samyaza wasn’t angry at her for trying to leave. He was filled with love for her and everyone else. It was just them, the good ones, against the harsh and sinful world. They would defy anyone who tried to break up their family. Agnes stopped running.
The light from the saucer overhead grew dim, as did the purple glow behind her. Home Ranch was shining with a holy blue light, so bright she could barely look at it. The Prophet was there. Beckoning. Pleading for her to come and join him.
Agnes took a step forward and fell unconscious to the ground.
*
Everything went black. Samyaza could still see the saucer overhead, but the trailers, the crowd, the stage—everything else was gone. His pain was gone, too. He was floating in a dark sea of bliss.
He knew Sister Love was still beside him, even if he couldn’t see her. It was in her that he had first found this tranquility, and it still flowed out of her. He embraced it, drew it to him, and as he did, he began to see it. Sister Love’s outline was traced in glowing blue smoke. It wafted toward him, encircling him like a cloud. She wasn’t its only source.
Samyaza looked out over the black expanse where he should have seen his followers. The feeling surged over him like the smell of frying onions when you’re starving. In the distance, another human form was traced in smoky blue light. Then another. Then another. They lit up before him like Christmas lights. In moments he could see the entire crowd, now outlined in a glowing blue.
The feeling saturated him, overwhelmed him, but he wanted more. He reached out to one of the glowing figures. It rocketed toward him and began to orbit his body. The Prophet laughed from the bottom of his soul. Then he reached out once more.
*
Alice knew something was wrong. Even in the context of how wrong everything had been up to now, something was wrong. The spaceship terrified her, but she was alone in that feeling. The rest of the crowd ooh’ed and ahh’ed like they were watching a movie, including her mother. Maybe it was the shrooms.
Abruptly, they all stopped their oohing and were silent. They stared straight ahead like zombies. All except The Prophet. His head swayed. He was grooving to a music that Alice couldn’t hear. Smiling.
In front of her, someone keeled over and slumped to the ground. Then another. Then another. Then her mother.
Alice gasped. She grabbed Maria by the shoulders and shook her. There was no response. She was breathing, with a dopey grin spread across her face, but she was insensible to the world.
All around Alice, the crowd was dropping like flies. Sister Love collapsed on stage. Next to her, The Prophet had begun to glow with an eerie blue light. It was all too much. Alice took off running.
She glanced over her shoulder once as she passed the circle of trailers that surrounded the dome. Samyaza, glowing an even brighter blue, was levitating six feet off the stage.
*
Mike zoomed beside the wall of light and stomped on the brake, spinning to a stop. The barrier still looked bright and strong this close to the ground, and he had no idea if he could get past it. This was as close as he was going to get to the flying saucer.
It had to be close enough. The ship’s belly was exposed like the underside of a water tower. Mike could pick out individual details on it without looking through the scope, including the sinister tube pointed at Home Ranch.
He snatched the rifle across his knees and fumbled to eject the clip the way he had been shown. He held his breath to calm himself as he snapped the long bullets into place. He still managed to drop half of the box into the crevice between the seat and door.
Finally the clip was full again. He shoved it into the rifle’s body, stood up on the seat, and took aim at the dead center of the ship. Right where the tube hung. He fired until the gun was empty, not even noticing the pain in his shoulder.
Nothing.
He jammed the scope in his eye, searching the undercarriage of the saucer for any damage, any effect at all, but there was nothing. He threw the gun to the dirt outside the Jeep and clung to the backrest, nearly crying.
“Jesus! Jesus, help me!”
Mike raised his eyes to Heaven, but the saucer was all he could see above him. It had nearly eaten through the barrier. The light was even growing dim at ground level next to the Jeep. When Mike tried to imagine what would happen when the barrier was gone, all he could think of was scenes from the low-budget science fiction movies that played on late-night TV in his youth. People screaming. Disintegration.
It wouldn’t be long now. The saucer was so close, it hung below the peak of the small mountain behind Home Ranch. More a mesa than a mountain. The top was quite flat. Mike’s eyes went wide.
He jumped back behind the wheel and squealed off toward the rocks.
*
Martin was lucky the fire was small. All the extinguishers were completely empty. He had to resort to putting this one out by smothering it with his sweat-soaked button-up. He didn’t burn his hands that badly, but his shirt was toast. The fire had dried it until it was crispy. How he’d put out the next fire was anyone’s guess.
He stumbled to his feet and staggered toward the generators. Only one was still on, and it was struggling. Choking. The crystal lit up the entire dome in a garish acid green. Before Martin could reach the generators, the last one snapped off. He gasped in panic. No one had explained to him what would happen if he failed. He leapt at the pull cable, hoping against hope that he still had time to restart the machine.
Before he could yank the cord, a peculiar feeling fogged his brain. Peace. Comfort. He hadn’t failed. He had done his best, and it had been good enough. Now The Prophet was inviting him back so he could congratulate him.
An exhausted “Thank you” escaped Martin’s lips before he passed out.
*
Alice burst through the Home Ranch’s open gate to confront barren desert and the violet barrier in the distance. She didn’t stop. She’d figure out how to get through the wall when she got to it.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to worry. She was less than a hundred yards from the gate when the remaining barrier blinked out of existence. Alice still didn’t stop running, but she also didn’t stop thinking. The flying saucer was clearly responsible for the barrier’s destruction, meaning it was The Prophet’s enemy, but what did that mean? Her thoughts raced back to the text messages she had received a few days ago.
Above her, the saucer emitted a sound like a jet engine starting up. Whatever it wanted, Alice didn’t want to be around for it. Her feet continued to carry her away from danger, but fear and curiosity kept her attention skywards. That was probably how she slammed into the human figure without noticing its approach.
Arms stronger than iron locked her in a bear hug.
“Now where are you going, dearie?”
It was the backflip woman. The one they were always being asked to pray for at church. Alice struggled with all her might but couldn’t break the small woman’s vicelike grip.
“Didn’t you hear The Prophet? It’s not safe outside.” There was something strange in her voice. It didn’t sound like it belonged to an eighty-year-old woman, or even a woman at all. It sounded like The Prophet.
“Come back to your seat, little Alice. You’re about to see some major shit.”
The woman let go. Alice didn’t try to run. There was no doubt in her mind that the woman would catch her. Together, the two of them marched back to Home Ranch. They passed through the main gates just as the mechanical whine from the flying saucer reached an ear-splitting crescendo.
*
The spirits circled Samyaza like dolphins. A thousand of them. Even if his eyes had presented him with the normal, physical world, Samyaza would have been unable to see past the glowing blue figures due to their number. Even though he couldn’t see, he could sense everything. The saucer above him, the desert below, every heartbeat for miles in every direction. He was a god.
He was a god, and there were sinners that required punishment.
The light surrounding him grew to blinding intensity. At the outer rim of the trailers, Alice screamed and covered her eyes. Samyaza threw his arms to the heavens.
The spirits dove toward the saucer in a never-ending torrent. They smashed into its hull with tremendous force, passing straight through. Then, with their momentum spent, the spirits returned to orbit their master. They regained their strength after a few revolutions and tore back upward for a renewed assault.
The saucer tilted with the force of the attack. The jet engine sound wound down and died.
*
Mike gunned the Jeep up a rocky incline. It fishtailed slightly as he swerved onto its flat upper surface. He jerked the wheel straight and shifted to a higher gear. The Jeep was higher than Home Ranch. Higher than the saucer. The spaceship floated below the lip of the cliff. Mike couldn’t see its body, but the light it emitted drew him unerringly closer. His knuckles whitened on the wheel.
The spaceship edged into view as he raced closer. It was directly below him. The solid ground between his front bumper and the edge of the cliff shortened to mere yards. With a scream, Mike leapt from the Jeep. He landed hard on his shoulder and tumbled to a stop. He knew he wasn’t dead, but he was too concerned with the outcome of his plan to assess how badly he was hurt.
Propped up on his elbows, he watched the Jeep sail over the cliff. The rusted vehicle hung in the air for several heartbeats. It could have been a lifetime.
In his memory, it happened silently. The Jeep smashed into the central dome of the flying saucer, metal buckling. Wheels and shrapnel flew in every direction. The dome crumpled inward like a giant Coke can. The saucer began to sink sickeningly toward the ground. Its rotations sputtered like an old man coughing.
Then, with a flash, it was gone. Disappeared. Chased off.
Mike rolled in the dirt laughing. He had done it! They were safe.
He winced as he rose. He didn’t have any obvious broken bones, but everything hurt. He held his side and limped toward the incline, hoping he could find a stick to support himself with on the way down.
*
It was nearly pitch-black inside the geodesic dome. The tarp-covered machinery loomed overhead, a darker black against the prevailing gloom. Without human input, the machine in the center began to hum, like a heating system switching on to compensate for a drop in temperature. The crystal blinked on, filling the room with a soft, violet glow.
Martin’s eyelids fluttered open. He rose to a sitting position from where he had fallen. He remembered everything that had occurred, but it was hazy. Like something that had happened in a dream. He stood, rubbing his eyes. His immediate concern was where he had left his glasses.
*
Dawn breaking over the horizon found The Prophet on the stage, arms still stretched toward the empty sky. One by one around him, his followers began to awaken. They were tired, their hair was disheveled, and there were dark circles under their eyes, but every single one wore a knowing grin.
They chuckled to themselves and nudged each other. Had it been real? Had it all just been a hallucination? It couldn’t be—they all remembered the exact same thing.
Maria Cielo lifted herself off the ground. Stretched and yawned. Alice noticed immediately and ran to her mother. Agnes Ross didn’t stop her. Agnes Ross didn’t do much of anything. She swayed slightly on the balls of her feet, a blank expression in her eyes.
“Mom!” yelped Alice. Maria hugged her warmly in response
“Ali! That was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Alice gulped. The depth of the embrace meant her mother couldn’t see the worried look that crossed her face.
“I feel like I became one with everyone here, and we were saints! Fighting off all the evil in the world!”
Alice took her mother by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length to examine her. Maria looked tired and happy but otherwise normal. She just smiled back.
“Thank you so much for opening my eyes, my little Chiquito!” she exclaimed as she drew Alice into another hug.
*
It was almost noon when Mike’s ragged body limped through the gates of Home Ranch. He had been overjoyed at his success in driving away the UFO. Hell, he was still overjoyed with it, but the long, painful walk back had been enough to remind him of what had been promised when he returned.
Hobbling through the compound, he saw knots of happy people chatting in hushed tones. It reminded him of the morning after a destination wedding, when everyone gathered to say goodbye in the hotel lobby. Maybe there was a rational, benevolent explanation for everything, even what was going on with Agnes Ross. Samyaza hadn’t been lying when he said that everyone had been in danger last night. Well, whatever explanation, it was owed to him, and he was going to get it.
Samyaza was lying on his back on the stage, his head resting on folded arms.
“I did it!”
Samyaza swiveled his neck to look past his shoeless feet at Mike. “Heh. You helped.”
“I helped!?”
The Prophet stood and brushed himself off. Mike was worse off by far, but Samyaza was obviously spent, too. Even battered and exhausted as they both were, Samyaza’s cat-that-ate-the-canary demeanor made Mike’s blood boil.
“Martin helped too. And everyone here.” He paused. “Heh. Almost everyone.”
“I crashed a damn car into that thing!”
“Yeah ... Yeah, you helped a lot. Do you have my gun?”
“Your gun!?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Mike stood with his mouth hanging open. After everything that had happened, after everything he had done, Samyaza was going to put him off again. He knew it! Mike would have leapt at the stage and grabbed the son of a bitch by the throat if he didn’t think it would cause one of his bones to finally snap.
Sure enough, The Prophet looked him up and down before sighing. “Hmmm. You know, you don’t look quite strong enough to take what I have to tell you right now.”
“But you—but you promised!”
“And I still promise. We need to rest up, Mike. I owe you quite an explanation. It’s going to take a lot out of us both.”
He turned and walked away. Mike didn’t have the strength to yell after him, let alone give chase. He was left standing in front of the stage. Stammering in impotent rage.