Sixty seven year old billionaire Howard Goldsmith was the center of attention at the congressional investigative hearing on illegal toxic waste dumping.

Howard adjusted his five hundred dollar tie, cleared his throat, and said, “Could you repeat the question please, Mr. Chairman?”

A puny man with a huge mustache, Chairman Brewster, glared at Howard for a moment before repeating his question, “As CEO, did you employ Blackswamp Security during the construction of Advanced Global Energy’s nuclear power plant in Paralesia?”

Howard took a moment before answering, just to piss the chairman off. “It is possible. You will have to contact accounting about that. Next question.”

The chairman glared harder at Howard’s bald head, expensive suit, and big belly – under the table, he could just get a glance of Howard’s custom-made Italian shoes.

With a slight southern twang starting to come through, the chairman said, “I saw your picture on the cover of Fortune Magazine, Mr. Goldsmith – and I was not impressed. Frankly sir, I don’t like your face.”

Howard said, “I would have to concur, Mr. Chairman, I do have an unlikable face… and coincidentally, I do not like your face.”

People chattered, a few even laughed.

The chairman stood up, a huge vein bulged on his forehead. “Silence!”

Everyone shut up except Howard. “You look quite flush Mr. Chairman… maybe we should take a break.”

The other congressmen glanced at each other but didn’t say anything. The chairman called for a break.

Howard slipped a stack of large manila envelopes to a man sitting behind him, he still had one envelope in his hand. “I will deliver this one myself.”

#

Howard sat on a red leather sofa while the chairman poured two glasses of Cognac.

The chairman handed Howard a drink and sat down next to him in a chair. “I understand how you feel, Mr. Goldsmith, but you must understand my position… a certain respect must be shown to the governing body of this country.”

Howard took a sip of his cognac and offered the chairman a Cuban cigar.

The chairman said, “Thank you, but I do not smoke.”

Howard put a cigar in his mouth and prepared to light it.

The chairman said, “And, I would prefer if you didn’t smoke.”

Howard held his gold lighter in his hand for a moment and then he lit the cigar anyway. The chairman ground his teeth as Howard blew a puff of smoke into his face.

Howard tapped the manila envelope – the chairman pretended not to notice it.

Howard said, “I understand you intend to run for president Mr. Chairman. I have a few acres in Beverly Hills that I would like to donate to someone’s presidential campaign, and ten million dollars campaign funding… but I am still undecided.” Howard took another puff of his cigar.

The chairman spoke, this time letting his southern accent really come out, “Do you truly believe that I would succumb to bribery, Mr. Goldsmith?”

Howard took another sip of his cognac while tapping the manila envelope. “I was hoping you would appreciate my gratitude.”

“Enough games, what’s in the envelope?”

“Pictures.” Howard relit his cigar. “Pictures of you and an underage girl… doing you know what.”

The chairman laughed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re right, that is ridiculous.” Howard took the 8×10’s out of the envelope and threw them on the desk – pictures of the chairman wearing a priest’s gown in compromising positions with two naked, adolescent boys.

The chairman grabbed the pictures and flipped them over. He looked around the room even though it was empty and then he looked at Howard. “You son of a bitch.”

Howard chuckled.

The chairman poured his glass full to the brim and guzzled it. He took a deep breath and then he said, “It would look too suspicious for me to back down now, not to mention closing the hearing. And what would the others say?”

“Don’t worry about them, Mr. Chairman… everyone here has a secret in a big yellow envelope.”

#

The next morning, Howard adjusted his boxer shorts and threw a silk robe over his fat hairy body.

He walked passed some authentic Greek and Roman statues that filled the marble lined hallway on the way to the enormous dining room.

A tall, shapely young woman in tight jeans and a cut off shirt gulped down the last of a cup of coffee as Howard entered the room. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and Howard handed her a stack of hundred dollar bills without even counting them.

“See you next week, Kelly.”

The girl said, “Kerri.”

Howard didn’t answer, he just lit up a cigar and sat down in front of a cup of coffee. The girl left Howard’s Manhattan townhouse while Howard looked at a picture of himself on the front page of the New York Times. The headline read, Howard Goldsmith off the hook.

Howard smiled and then collapsed onto the floor.

#

Howard opened his eyes – it took a few seconds to focus and realize where he was – in the hospital surrounded by his ex-family.

Howard’s ex-wife Connie, a 51-year-old plastic surgery made Barbie doll, chomped on a piece of chewing gum while flipping through a magazine. Connie divorced Howard ten years ago after she caught him with two prostitutes, for the third time. The divorce settlement left her and the children with the mansion in Connecticut and a fortune in the bank. Connie spent most of her time shopping, drinking, and keeping a harem of young men.

Howard’s son, 26-year-old Howard Goldsmith III, was dressed in all black as usual and was nodding out on the latest designer drug.

His cute 23-year-old daughter Miriam was in law school, and was a part time political activist who just happened to be her father’s biggest public adversary. Miriam looked at her father and said, “Why couldn’t you just die, you blood sucking leech?”

“It’s nice to see you too, honey.”

Howard looked at his ex-wife and said, “They tell me I have brain cancer… but I guess you vultures already knew that or you wouldn’t be here.”

Connie threw her magazine down and stood up.

Howard said, “My little actress… try and save some of that drama for my funeral, my guests deserve a good show.”

A nurse entered the room and informed the family that they had to end the visit because Howard would be going for tests on another floor.

#

A few days later, three doctors stood next to Howard in his private hospital room filled with office equipment and his personal secretary typing on her laptop.

A white bearded German doctor with a heavy accent said, “I am very sorry, Mr. Goldsmith.”

A middle-aged Kenyan doctor with a British accent said, “I must agree, the position of the tumor is quite dangerous. I would not attempt the procedure.”

Howard looked over at the third doctor, an Asian woman. “What about you? I thought the Chinese had ancient secrets, like acupuncture and green tea.”

“I am Japanese, Mr. Goldsmith.”

#

After months of unsuccessful treatments, Howard lay in his bed, weak from the steady morphine drip – he looked up at the ceiling and smiled. “Yes, I do.”

His secretary stood up and approached him. “Sir?”
Howard continued smiling at the ceiling and said, “Yes, I understand.”

The secretary asked, “Do you need a nurse, Mr. Goldsmith?”
Howard continued smiling at the ceiling and said, “I will do as you wish. You are the one true god.”

#

A few days later, Howard built up enough strength to dictate a speech to his secretary, who then called for a press conference.

The next morning, Howard and his secretary watched the live news cast on TV. Cameras and reporters surrounded the hospital.

Howard’s lawyer spoke. “I am Mr. Goldsmith’s attorney and I will be speaking for him at his request. For those of you that do not know me, I am Howard Goldsmith, CEO of Advanced Global Energy. I am guilty of illegal toxic waste dumping, the displacement of thousands of families worldwide, and the exploitation of the Earth’s natural resources on nearly every continent – and now I want to make my peace with god. I will never be able make up for the damage I have done, but I will be giving most of my fortune, which is roughly fifty billion dollars, to create non-profit organizations that will help rebuild the thousands of human lives around the world that I knowingly destroyed.”

A reporter asked, “Why?”

The lawyer said, “Howard Goldsmith said that God instructed him to do this.”

Howard smile and closed his eyes.

#

The next day, Howard glowed when his daughter Miriam entered the room and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Daddy.”

“You’re not upset about the money?”

“I don’t care about the money, we already have more than we could ever spend.”

A tear came to Howard’s eye. “Do you remember when I took you to ride the ponies when you were a little girl?”

Neither of them spoke, they just smiled as their eyes filled with tears.

Connie came in the room and looked at Howard and Miriam. She approached the bed and held Howard’s hand.

Howard asked, “Where is little Howard?”

Connie and Miriam looked at each other, but neither of them answered the question.

“What happened? Is he OK?”

Connie said, “He’s fine.”

Miriam said, “He checked into a rehab, Daddy.”

“That’s good… that’s good. Everything is just right now.” Howard smiled and closed his eyes.

#

Howard headed toward the light at the end of the tunnel – he heard God’s gentle voice guiding him toward it, “Time for you to go now.”

Still moving forward, Howard shielded his eyes.

God said, “That’s it, you’re almost there… come on.”

Howard stepped into the light.

Only for a moment, Howard caught a glimpse of a larger reality – the light at the end of the tunnel was really a hospital lamp – God’s voice was really the voice of a surgeon that was removing the last bit of a cancerous tumor from a woman’s breast – and Howard was the cancer that the surgeon was removing.

The surgeon said, “That’s it, you’re almost there… come on.” He removed the last of the cancerous tissue and Howard ceased to exist.

Sixteen-year-old Sarah looked at herself in her bedroom mirror, tightened up her brown pigtails, adjusted her pink and white ruffled dress, and turned to her best friend Rachel who was dressed as a sexy cop with black shorts, fish net stockings, and a shiny pair of handcuffs on her belt.

Sarah said, “I can’t do this.”

Rachel checked her long blonde hair and black leather cop hat in the mirror behind Sarah and said, “You look cute.”

Sarah fidgeted with her knee-high white socks and hard black shoes.  “This is ridiculous.”

Rachel grabbed a tall Shepherd’s hook from the corner and handed it to Sarah.  “Let’s go, Little Bo Peep, the boys are waiting.”

Sarah grabbed her hook and followed Rachel out the door.

#

Outside, Sarah’s boyfriend Derek, dressed as a pirate with an eye patch, waited in his dented old Toyota.  Rachel’s boyfriend, Ben, sat in the passenger seat dressed as a Viking.

Ben got out of the car being careful not to get his horns stuck.  He kissed Rachel and then he turned to look at Sarah.  “Excuse me miss, have you lost your sheep?”

Sarah gave a fake laugh and went around to the other side of the car.

Derek got out of the car.  “Ahoy there matey.”

Sarah smiled and kissed him.

Sarah and Rachel sat in the back and the boys sat in the front.  Derek started the car and cranked up some Metallica.

Sarah thought about the lie that she had told her mother before leaving – she told her they were going to the school Halloween party and then she would be sleeping over at Rachel’s house.  She felt guilty about lying to her mother, but the guilt quickly passed.

After driving east on the Massachusetts highway system for about twenty minutes, Derek turned down the music, lifted his eye patch, and turned to Ben.  “Light that up, matey.”

Ben pulled out a joint and lit it up, he took a couple puffs and passed it to Derek who took a couple puffs and handed it back to Sarah and Rachel.  Derek turned the music back up as the car filled with smoke and everyone laughed.

About twenty minutes later, Derek turned down a long, crowded stretch of road.  Sarah noticed a sign that read, ‘Welcome to Salem.’

A cool breeze blew brown leaves across cobblestone sidewalks, hundreds of people in Halloween costumes paraded by old wooden houses and small brick buildings.

Derek drove into a huge concrete parking structure that looked out of place in the old colonial neighborhood.  They left the car and headed across the street to a park that was full of people in costumes.

The four of them were still high from the joint they smoked in the car, gawking and laughing at people in their costumes as they passed.  A construction worker with a hammer stuck in his head held hands with a nurse with fangs.  There were vampires, werewolves, demons, and witches.  A fat old man dressed as a baby.  A giant chicken was walking with a wizard and a Roman soldier.  Sarah and Rachel took pictures with their cell phones.

Sarah looked over at an old, stone faced, Gothic building that looked like a church – the sign above the door read, ‘Salem Witch Museum.’  Sarah said, “We have to go to the witch museum.”

Derek looked at the long line of people waiting outside.  “Look at that line.”

Sarah said, “It’s long, but look how fast it’s moving.”

It was almost an hour wait to get into the museum, but they didn’t notice, still laughing and taking pictures of people in their costumes.  Finally, the doors opened and they entered with the next group.

Inside the museum, everyone sat on benches that encircled a large room.  The lights went out and a narrator began to tell the story of the famous witch trials of 1692.  Lights illuminated different statues at different times as the narrator spoke.  Sarah noticed a red pentagram on the floor with the names of the accused witches.  A cool breeze brushed up against her skin – Sarah shivered and grabbed Derek’s hand.

At the end of the show, a statue of Satan glowed red and laughed just before the lights came back on.

#

A couple hours later, Sarah, Rachel, Derek, and Ben shared a bottle of Tequila in The Old Burying Point cemetery just a few blocks from the witch museum.  The sun was beginning to set as they staggered out of the cemetery and into the adjoining witch memorial.

Sarah was buzzed, but not completely drunk.  With her phone, she snapped pictures of the names on the stone benches that were dedicated to the slain witches.

“Do you think their still here?” asked Rachel while looking around at all the people in costumes leaving garbage everywhere in the cemetery.

“Still Here, who?”  Sarah took another picture.

“The spirits, maybe they don’t want people bothering them like this.”

“Fuck the spirits.”

Rachel looked around.  “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Why not?  No spirits can hurt us.”

Rachel grabbed Sarah by the arm.  “Come on scarface, I gotta pee.”

Sarah said, “And you need me for what?”

“Come on, I don’t wanna go alone.”

“And what about…”  Sarah turned and saw Ben passed out on a bench.  She looked at Derek nodding out on the next bench and shook her head.  “Derek, I’m going with Rachel to the bathroom, stay here.”

Sarah took the almost empty bottle from Derek and looked at Rachel.  “If you can’t beat ‘em.”  Sarah swallowed the last of the tequila and threw the empty bottle in a garbage can.

After finding the portable plastic bathrooms, waiting behind about a hundred other people, and squatting to avoid the filthy seats – Sarah started to feel the effects of the Tequila – she burped and then she staggered, almost losing her balance.

Rachel led Sarah by the hand back to the witch memorial where they found Ben still passed out.  Derek was not passed out – he was kissing a girl that was also drunk, and also dressed as a pirate.

Sarah staggered up to him and kicked him in the shin.  Derek reached down and held his leg while moaning in pain.  Sarah smacked him across the face and glared at the pirate girl.  Sarah spit in the girl’s face and staggered toward the street.

Rachel tried to stop her, but Sarah pushed her away.  A group of about twenty people dressed as animals ran down the block yelling, screaming, and breaking bottles.  A police siren startled everyone.  Sarah bounced off people as they dispersed – her head was spinning – she could hear Rachel calling her name, but she couldn’t see her.

Sarah fell to the ground and vomited.  The last thing she remembered was a red-faced demon with huge goat’s horns and bloody fangs.  The demon looked down at her and everything faded to black.

#

Tied to a chair with her mouth gagged, Sarah woke up in a dark, dusty log cabin lit by a single candle.  She scanned the room, but it was too dark to see anything except the flicker of the candle and the table that it sat on.

Sarah was still a little drunk and her stomach was spinning along with the entire room.  She was scared that she might puke and because of the gag, she would choke on it and die.  She tried to move – the chair scratched the floor.

The demon entered the room wearing a red and black robe and black leather boots.  Sarah knew it was a costume, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

Jerking and bouncing, she desperately tried to break loose of the ropes around her wrists and ankles as the demon got closer.  She managed to lean forward enough to knock the chair over, falling forward – the demon grabbed her and lost his balance – they both fell down at the same time.

Laying on her side, on the ground, the ropes still tight around her wrists and ankles, Sarah continued squirming and struggling, trying to separate herself from the chair – she couldn’t get loose.

The demon rose to his knees, cocked back his fist, and smashed Sarah right in the jaw – everything faded to black.

#

Still tied to the chair, Sarah awoke to the sound of the door slamming.  Two new candles burned on the table.  A car engine started outside the cabin.  Sarah looked around the room and didn’t see the guy in the demon costume.  She heard the car outside drive away.

Sarah knew this might be her only chance, she pulled and struggled against the ropes.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a light flicker behind her.  She stopped, goose bumps covered her skin, she felt like someone was watching her.  She slowly turned her head as far as it would reach and then she exhaled with relief.  A mirror on the wall behind her reflected the flicker of the candles in front of her.

Sarah pushed the chair backward little by little, trying not to tip it over.  Finally, she reached the mirror behind her, she took a deep breath, and then she shattered the mirror with her head.  Blood dripped down onto the broken glass, but Sarah tried to ignore the pain – she made the chair wobble until it tipped over sideways.

Reaching with her right hand for a large glass shard, she sliced her thumb and cringed.  She held her breath and grabbed the glass again – after getting a good grip on it, she twisted her hand back and began to cut the rope around her right wrist.  She thought about the demon guy, wondering where he went, and when he’ll be back.  The glass penetrated her skin deeper as she continued cutting through the rope, but she didn’t stop.

Finally, she had her right hand free and cut the rest of the ropes.  She stumbled to the front door and opened it just enough to peek outside.

The small cabin sat atop a dirt trail in the middle of a dense forest.  The full moon provided some light, but it was still dark.  Sarah could see small but bright lights ahead in the distance.  She ran down the trail toward the lights.

After running for about ten minutes, Sarah found herself standing on the side of a two-lane highway.  She stopped to catch her breath when she heard the sound of a car approaching.

She waved her hands in the air.  The car slowed down and pulled over.  Sarah ran toward it and then stopped – the demon was driving.  She turned around and bolted into the dark woods without looking back.

She ran until she was out of breath and then she walked.  She thought about her mother, wondering if she was worried.  Sarah had made things hard for her parents since their divorce – her grades were slipping, she stopped going to church, and she started drinking and smoking.  She knew that her behavior was self destructive, but she just didn’t care.  Now, she wished she had been a little nicer, she knew that death might be just around the corner, and she wished that she had the chance to tell her parents that she really did love them.

Exhausted, Sarah finally stopped walking and sat down under a tree.  She covered herself with leaves and closed her eyes, but she only slept for about an hour.

#

Sarah opened her eyes and saw the sun rising.  She shivered in the cold morning air and headed back through the woods.

Tired and hungry, Sarah trudged along the side of the barren highway as the sun rose to the middle of the sky – no cars had passed the entire time.

Sarah’s Little Bo Peep costume was torn and filthy, every part of her body ached.  She was just about to sit down when she noticed a clearing in the distance.  She continued forward and saw a dirt road that led into a small town.

Sarah followed the dirt road.  She passed a cemetery and glanced at the headstones – they were old and faded, the writing no longer legible.  Some stones had tipped over and others were cracked.

On the other side of the cemetery stood a white, wooden church with a huge steeple.  Sarah headed toward it – as she got closer, she could smell the rich, spicy aroma of Frankincense and Myrrh.

The church doors were closed.  Sarah looked around at the rest of the town, which consisted of a few cobblestone streets and about twenty wooden, colonial style houses.  Most of them looked the same – yellow, white, or light blue, and they all had a porch in front.  The town was deserted, there were no streetlamps or signs, no cars, no evidence of life at all.

Sarah knocked on the church door.  “Hello?”

There was no answer.  She knocked harder, she pounded – but, still – no answer.

Sarah decided to try the houses.  She knocked on the door of the first house.  “Hello, is anyone home?  I just need to use a phone.  Hello?”  No answer.

She knocked on the door of another house – nothing.

Sarah turned around and looked at the church.  The doors were wide open – a chill ran down her spine – the church doors slammed shut.  Sarah bolted down the road, farther into the town.

She stopped running when she found a small grocery store.  She banged on the door, and like every other place in this town – no answer.  She picked up a large rock and pitched it through the window.

Being careful not to cut herself, Sarah climbed in through the shattered glass and searched the empty store.  “Hello?  Is anyone here?”

The wood shelves were empty and dust free.  The storage room and office were empty.  With her hand on her growling stomach, Sarah moped out of the store.

Outside, the sun was already going down and the air was getting colder.  She decided to sleep in the town tonight and then head back out to the highway tomorrow.

She passed an empty schoolyard, a cool breeze blew her filthy ruffled dress up – she pushed it down.  The swings started to move back and forth, she thought it was just the wind until they went higher and higher – the seesaw went up and down, fast – she heard quick light footsteps across the street – Sarah didn’t even look, she ran past the schoolyard to the nearest house and pounded on the door.  “Help!  Help!”

She grabbed the doorknob – it was unlocked – she opened the door and ran inside.

Sarah trembled while leaning against the door, looking for the lock, but there was no lock.  She turned around and surveyed the room.  Everything was antique, but looked brand new – four wooden chairs surrounded a table in the middle of the room, a bible and an oil lamp sat atop a small desk in the corner.  There was no TV, no radio, and no lights.

Sarah grabbed one of the chairs and propped it up under the doorknob.

She hurried into the kitchen and opened all the cabinets and pantries – everything was empty.  There was a metal basin on the counter, but no water, no sink, and no plumbing of any kind.

She peeked out the back window, the sun was almost gone, but she still had enough light to see an outhouse.  “Great.”

Sarah headed back to the living room and opened the first of two doors while standing to the side.

Behind the first door was an empty closet.

Behind the second door was a bedroom – it was completely empty, but the wood floor still had its shine.  Sarah closed the door and headed back into the living room.

She laid down under the table and curled up in a ball, wondering how long a person could live without food and water – wondering what her friends told her mother when they got back home – wondering if the cops were out looking for her.

#

Sarah woke up when she felt something wet on her face – she opened her eyes and saw a black cat licking her.

Sarah jumped up and smacked her head on the bottom of the table.  “Shit!”

The cat ran away through the chair legs.

Sarah crawled out from under the table.  “Stupid cat.”

She stood up and looked around, the sun was shining in from outside, everything in the house was the same as it was when she fell asleep.  She removed the chair from the door and went outside.

Sarah looked around before heading back toward the highway.  The town was just as deserted as it was the day before.  She ran past the school, there was something about it that just didn’t sit right with her.

She hurried through the town, back to where she started – the church doors were wide open again.

Sarah looked around before sneaking into the church, staying against the wall as she inched her way inside.

She looked up at a statue of Jesus, her stomach growled, she could taste her own gastric acid like flames inside of her.  She thought about the communion wafers and headed toward the back of the pulpit when she felt as if someone were watching her.  She turned around, trembling.  “Hello?”

Sarah heard someone breathing – she screamed and ran outside.

She he tripped and fell in the middle of the road.

A man’s raspy voice above her said, “Take it easy, little girl.”

Sarah lifted her head and saw a middle-aged man with a dirty face and worn clothing.  Under most circumstances, she would have thought he was a bum – but she looked just as bad as he did and she knew it.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Willie.”

He reached down to help her – she moved back.  She saw how feeble he was and figured he was harmless.  Even though her ankle was sore, she stood without his help.

“Are you one of the girls from the school?”

“No, I don’t live around here.  I’m just trying to find some food and a phone.”

“This isn’t one of those fancy towns, no phones here, but I do have some food back at the house, your welcome.”

Sarah said, “Oh, thank you so much, I didn’t eat anything in two days.”

Sarah followed Willie down a side street to a single house that was identical to the others.

“Where are we?”  She asked.

“Porte Sommeil.”

“Porte what?”

“Here we are.”  Willie opened his front door and a Rottweiler growled.

Sarah jumped back.

Willie raised his hand and yelled, “Stop that!”

The dog cowered down and ran into the other room.

Willie told Sarah to come in.

Sarah hesitated, but then her stomach growled again, she peered inside.  It was exactly the same as the house that she had spent the night in – same furniture, same set up, same everything.

Sarah sat down and Willie gave her some bread, apples, and water.  She devoured everything he gave her.

Willie took a swig from a bottle of clear liquid and winced, he offered it to Sarah.  She just looked at it.

“It’s moonshine.  I make it myself.”

“No, thank you… I don’t drink anymore.”

“That’s right, good little schoolgirls like you shouldn’t drink.”  Willie smiled showing his rotted teeth and then he took another swig.

Sarah noticed that Willie was getting drunk, and horny.  She stuffed another piece of bread in her mouth and stood up while chewing quickly.

“Thank you for the food, but I have to go now.”

“Go where?”  Willie took another swig and approached Sarah.  “I thought you said you were lost.”

“The police are probably looking for me.”  She moved toward the door.

Willie staggered toward her.  “You can sleep here… with me.”  He took another swig.  “I like schoolgirls.”  He burped and then he smiled.

Sarah moved away from him.  “No thank you, I really have to be going now.”  She moved for the door.

Willie grabbed her – Sarah gave him a knee to the nuts – Willie dropped his bottle, shattering it on the floor.  Sarah opened the door and ran outside.

She ran down the road toward the church – she could hear the Rottweiler barking behind her – she ran faster.

Sarah raced past the church and through the cemetery – she looked back – the huge drooling canine was gaining fast.

The black cat was crouched atop a tombstone – the dog spotted it and lunged for it – the cat hissed and darted away – the dog turned around and followed the cat, forgetting about Sarah.

Sarah got to the highway just as a Mack truck was approaching.  She waved her hands in the air and the eighteen-wheeler screeched to a stop.

A burley woman climbed out of the cab and looked at Sarah’s battered Halloween costume.  “Are you OK, honey?”

Sarah took a few seconds to catch her breath and then she said, “There’s a guy after me.”

The woman didn’t answer.  Her eyes glazed over, blood dripped out of her mouth.  Sarah stepped away from her.  The woman fell forward, a knife protruding from her back.  The demon was standing right behind her with a bloody crowbar in his hand.

They stared each other down.  Sarah was scared as hell, but for some reason, she wasn’t moving.

A shotgun blast broke the tension – Sarah and the demon looked at the same time – drunken old Willie staggered toward them with a smoking shotgun.  Sarah looked around for the dog, but she didn’t see it.

Pointing his gun at the demon, Willie slurred, “She’s mine!”

The demon marched toward Willie.

Sarah raced farther down the highway.  Just ahead, she saw sirens – a cop car behind a pick-up truck, parked on the shoulder.  Sarah raced toward the cars and stopped when she saw what was left of a mutilated cop on the ground.  She didn’t get close enough to see the carnage inside the truck, but she could see blood splattered all over the windshield.

A gunshot rang out in the background.  Sarah ran into the woods as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face as her heart almost beat out of her chest.  She continued running as the sun set.

#

The next morning, Sarah woke up on the ground, the bright sun in her face – she looked around through the trees and heard a sucking sound.

She inched toward the sound and saw a pale white, naked woman sitting on a log with her eyes closed, breast-feeding a baby.

Sarah approached, “Hello?  Excuse me, miss?”

The woman didn’t answer.

Sarah got closer.  “Excuse me.”

The baby turned around and hissed – Sarah froze – the baby had bright red eyes, lumps all over its face, and huge fangs dripping blood.  A hole in the woman’s chest revealed her half-eaten heart.

Sarah screamed.

#

Under the tree, Sarah opened her eyes while still screaming and realized that it was only a nightmare.

She stood up and looked around.  Leaves rustled ahead.  Sarah stepped back, trembling – she picked up a broken branch from the ground and held it like a baseball bat – the sound got closer.

Sarah screamed when she saw a girl – the girl screamed, and then another girl screamed.

Sarah stopped screaming and stared at three girls around her age – one tall and pimply, one short and chubby, and one that looked like a Barbie doll in camping gear.

Sarah cocked the branch back.  “Who are you?”

The tall girl raised her hands.  “Relax, we were just looking for firewood.”

Sarah lowered her weapon.  “Firewood?”

The chubby girl said, “I’m Natalie.  What’s your name?”

Sarah looked at the other two girls and turned back to Natalie.  “Do you know where the highway is?”

The pretty girl said, “If we knew where the highway was, we wouldn’t be here.”

The tall girl said, “We’re lost.”

Sarah said, “Me too.”

The tall girl said, “I’m Lucy.”  She looked at the Barbie doll and said, “That’s Allison.”

The girls took Sarah to a small cave where they had some camping gear.  They told Sarah that two days ago, they were camping with their church group and got lost when they snuck away to smoke a joint.

The girls gave Sarah some food and a blanket and told her to get some rest.  Sarah thanked them and closed her eyes.

It was still dark outside when Sarah woke up to the sound of laughter.  The three girls were sitting around the fire talking and laughing – Sarah could see the faint image of a man in the flames.  She stood up and the image disappeared.  She looked at the girls and then again at the fire, wondering if she was dreaming, or hallucinating, or maybe losing her mind.

Natalie asked, “Did you have a bad dream?”

Sarah sat down and stared into the flames.

The next day, Sarah climbed a tree and looked around for the highway.  The only thing she saw was more trees – miles and miles of trees.

She tried to convince the other girls that they should try to find a way out of the forest.  The girls didn’t agree, they tried to convince Sarah to stay and wait for help.

Later that evening, dark clouds gathered in the sky as Sarah bathed in a small creek.  She grabbed her wet clothes and ran back to the cave.

The other girls already had a fire burning.  Sarah laid her clothes out to dry.  The rain outside came down harder.  Sarah decided to stay one more night in the cave and then head out early the next morning.

Later that night, Sarah woke up when she heard the girls laughing again, but when she opened her eyes – they were all sound asleep.

She wondered if she was dreaming again, but she was sure she was awake.  She closed her eyes and eventually went back to sleep.

Sarah woke up again to the sound of laughter – this time the girls were around the fire.  The man’s image in the fire more pronounced – he was wearing all black, but she couldn’t see his face.  Sarah choked on her own breath, every hair on her body standing on end.

The image of the man in the fire disappeared as the girls got up and approached Sarah.  Sarah dashed out of the cave.

#

Running through the woods, everything was spinning, Sarah’s head was pounding.  She kept having flashes in her mind – flashes of a bright, white light – and the headache got worse.

She kept running, her throat getting dry, her mind started flashing back to memories – memories of things that didn’t happen.  She remembered short flashes of Salem – she was drunk, her friends put her in the back of their car – but that didn’t happen.

Sarah had more memories that didn’t happen – she remembered her friends, and her mother, helping her into bed.

Her head was pounding harder, she couldn’t breathe anymore – Sarah stopped running and looked down – she was standing at the edge of a cliff.

The sheer edge dropped endlessly into the darkness.  Sarah stepped back, trying to figure out if this was real.  She flashed back to another new memory – she remembered lying on her bed and throwing up on the floor, still dressed as Little Bo Peep.  She remembered her mother yelling at her friends.  How could she be having memories that didn’t happen?  Maybe they did happen and everything else was just a dream.  Sarah was scared and confused, possibly going insane.

Dark clouds blocked the sun – the temperature dropped.  Sarah turned around and saw the three girls standing in front of her.  Sarah screamed, trying to wake up from this nightmare.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky.  Thunder shook the Earth.  Sarah looked up as rain poured down onto her face.  She saw a faint image of a man in the clouds.  The three girls cowered down and hissed, huddling together to shield themselves from the rain.

Sarah knew this wasn’t real.  Was she dead?  Was she dreaming?  It didn’t matter, she just wanted it to end.  She turned around and jumped over the edge – screaming all the way down, into the darkness.

She plummeted farther and farther – she heard voices of people screaming.  She opened her eyes, but didn’t see anything but darkness.

A man’s voice spoke loud.  “I command you unclean spirits!”

Sarah wasn’t falling anymore – she was floating – light blue forms started to take shape in the darkness, they looked like people, floating all around her.

The voice spoke again.  “I command you unclean spirits!”

The blue shapes turned red and joined together to form a giant image of the demon that abducted her.  The demon roared – Sarah screamed.

The man’s voice spoke from the darkness again.  “It is he who expels you… he who has prepared everlasting hellfire for you and your angels… from whose mouth shall come a sharp sword!  He who is coming to judge both the living and the dead and the world by fire!”

Flames engulfed the demon as it roared louder.

The voice shouted, “We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies and sects. In the name and by the power of our lord Jesus Christ!”

A flash of white light blinded Sarah as the demon continued burning and roaring in the background.

The voice got louder, “In the name of Christ I cast you out!”

Another flash of white light and the demon disappeared.

“In the name of Christ I cast you out!”

Sarah woke up in her room – on her bed – convulsing and screaming – the room was spinning and it was as cold as a freezer.

“In the name of Christ I cast you out!”

Sarah looked up and saw a priest throwing holy water on her while reading from an exorcism book.  “In the name of Christ I cast you out!”

She rolled over and vomited on the floor, the room stopped spinning, but her head was still pounding.

The priest stopped chanting and watched for her reaction.  “Sarah?”

Sarah looked at him and then she cried.

The midday Nevada sun scorched the barren two-lane desert highway as two men in beige and blue pinstripe suits and Fedoras stepped out of the back of a ‘52, black, four-door Desoto parked on the sand next to the highway.

The taller of the two men was Big John Sullivan, a fifty-year-old heavy hitting Irishman from Boston. Big John made the sign of the cross before reaching into the backseat of the car for a full-length shotgun.

The shorter man next to him, 48-year-old Vince Calabrese from Chicago, adjusted his tie and smiled showing the space between his two front teeth. He slapped a 50-round drum-magazine into his Thompson sub-machine gun and turned around.

Vince and Big John marched onto the silent highway and stopped right in the middle. Big John loaded his shotgun and wiped the sweat from his brow. Vince put on a pair of sunglasses and lit up a Lucky Strike.

After a few minutes of the desert heat drying out their skin, they heard the roar of a Mack truck approaching. Vince pointed his Tommy gun at the oncoming truck. The truck blew its horn – Big John fired a warning shot into the air. The truck screeched to a stop, tires burning, almost losing control.

Vince and Big John raced to opposite sides of the cab and opened both doors. With one hand, Big John grabbed the driver and yanked him out of the truck.

Vince jumped in the passenger seat while Big John jumped in the driver’s seat. They took off leaving the truck driver standing alone in their dust.

The Desoto peeled out after the truck.

Vince pointed his Tommy gun out the truck window and emptied his magazine into the air while laughing and yelling.

#

Less than an hour later, the Desoto followed the hijacked truck up a dirt road leading into an old, abandoned mining camp hidden in the rocky hills. The truck passed some deteriorating wooden cabins and boarded up brick buildings before stopping near a sealed mine entrance on the side of a hill. The Desoto stopped near a boarded up warehouse with a brand new steel gate covering the main entrance.

Ace Cohen, a small but tough Ukrainian Jew from New York’s lower east side, jumped out of the Desoto, opened a lock, and pulled a chain raising the steel gate. The truck entered the warehouse followed by the car. Against one wall were a few stacks of wooden crates and cardboard boxes.

Vince and Big John climbed out of the truck.

Cowboy Jack Romano from Los Angeles was the youngest of the group, thirty years old, six feet tall, and thin – wearing cowboy boots, cowboy hat, and a hubcap-sized belt buckle to match.

Cowboy parked the Desoto and started up a generator that made the place smell of gas fumes – a few seconds later, the lights turned on.

Ace closed the gate while scanning the area outside.

Puffing hard on a cigarette between his teeth, Vince couldn’t wait to get inside the truck.

Cowboy Jack said, “Hey Vince, you were right, the Custom does handle much better than the new Powermaster, and I thought you were just being cheap getting last year’s model.”

“Forget about the friggin’ car,” Vince said, “let’s get this thing open already.”

Cowboy lit up an acetylene torch and cut through the lock. Big John pulled open the latch. The truck was full of pallets – stacks of bags – bags of manure.

Ace said, “What happened to the television sets?”

Cowboy scratched his head. “I thought this was the truck.”

Big John, at about six foot five, looked down at Cowboy and said, “I needed this score, I got shylocks to pay.”

“You think I don’t?” replied Cowboy.

“Hey!” Vince stopped the bickering before it started. “We’re all in the same boat here, let’s just get rid of this bullshit, and work on the next job.”

#

The next day, Vince drove his Desoto through downtown Las Vegas which at the time consisted of two and three story brick buildings and only a few casinos.

Vince thought about how Vegas had looked when he first arrived five years earlier in ‘48 – there was nothing – and now there were new buildings going up all the time. Vince was a long time member of the Chicago mob, but his drinking, gambling, womanizing, and fighting always got him into trouble. He came out to Las Vegas for the warm weather and wide open opportunities – and to escape two angry ex-wives and a greedy girlfriend. Despite his constantly being in trouble, he was a good earner – the Chicago mob allowed Vince to assemble his own crew in Las Vegas under their protection, for a monthly fee of course.

Vince made a right turn and passed a one story, glass front casino. He parked in front of a construction site across the street. Vince got out of his car, lit up a Lucky, and waited.

A few minutes later, a tall, ugly, white haired man in his early fifties came out of the construction manager’s trailer wearing a white silk suit and hat – Jimmy The Fist from Chicago. Vince wasn’t scared of anyone, but he did have respect for a few people, and this was one of them. Rumor had it that Jimmy The Fist was one of the shooters in the St. Valentines Day massacre.

Vince and Jimmy kissed each other on the cheek and strolled down the block.

Jimmy asked, “So how’d you make out with that thing?”

“Not good.”

“Why, you didn’t get it?”

“Yeah we got it, but it was bullshit.”

“What?”

“It was bullshit, Jimmy. The friggin’ truck was full of manure.”

“What am I gonna tell the guys in Chicago, Vince? Not only do you not pay your street tax, but your crew owes more money to shylocks than the national debt. You want me to tell them you jacked a truck full of manure?”

Vince didn’t answer.

Jimmy pointed across the street. “Your two friends – the Jew and the Cowboy – they’re in the casino right now, Vince – I’d like to know where they got the money for that.”

Vince didn’t know what else to do but lie. “We’re working on something big, Jimmy. We just need a little more time.”

“You got one week.”

“Come on Jimmy, get us two weeks, this is really big. You know you can hold them off for another two weeks.”

“Two weeks Vince, and then your on your own.”

#

Inside the casino, Vince walked passed the slot machines and toward the craps tables where Cowboy was losing as usual.

Cowboy was an auto mechanic slash auto thief from LA that had served in the war as a grunt under Patton. In 1950, he came to Las Vegas to make his fortune as a gangster. Cowboy had an uncle in Chicago that was in the 42 gang with Vince when they were kids.

“I just talked to Jimmy,” Vince said.

Cowboy asked, “What’d he say?”

“He said we better come up with some dough, and quick.” Vince looked ahead and saw Ace sitting at one of the poker tables and then he looked back at Cowboy. Vince bought fifty dollars worth of chips and threw them all down on the pass line.

Cowboy looked at Vince, “Fifty dollars?”

Vince looked up with his hands clasped together. “God is looking out for us, I can feel it.”

A tall woman rolled the dice… it was a three. Vince slammed his fist down on the edge of the table.

“Craps, everyone out.” The dealer took all the chips from the pass line.

Vince told Cowboy. “Meet me at the poker table… and don’t take all day.”

Vince continued toward the poker tables while wondering what the boys from Chicago will do to them if they don’t come up with some money.

Vince sat down next to Ace who was also losing.

Ace came out to Las Vegas in 1946 with Bugsy. He was going to be the casino night manager, until someone killed Bugsy in Los Angeles. The new owners offered Ace a job as a dealer, but he couldn’t manage his money due to his own gambling problems. One night a few years ago, before they all knew each other, Ace was dealing cards in the casino – Big John and Vince started fighting at his table. After a drink spilled on Ace’s brand new blue, silk shirt – he joined the fight, and as bad luck would have it, the cops just happened to be nearby. Vince, Ace, and Big John spent the night in three adjacent jail cells in the Las Vegas sheriff’s department and had been friends ever since.

Vince sat down next to Ace at the poker table and bought fifty dollars worth of chips.

Ace looked over and said, “Fifty dollars?”

“I might as well go out with a bang.”

Ace said, “I guess things didn’t go well with Jimmy.”

“He gave us two weeks, but we have to come up with some serious bread this time.”

Vince and Ace played their hands and they both lost. Vince slammed his fist down on the table. A security guard turned around – when he saw that it was Vince Calabrese, he didn’t say a word.

Vince and Ace stood up as Cowboy approached them.

Vince asked Cowboy, “Where’s Big John?”

“Take a wild guess.”

#

Vince, Cowboy, and Ace entered a dark, musty saloon. A burly Irish barmaid eyed them as they passed a few drunken old men and headed toward the back.

Big John was at a table with four men playing poker. Vince noticed two bottles on the table and only four glasses. Big John apparently had one bottle all to himself, and it was almost empty.

Big John drank whiskey for breakfast and loved a good fight. A member of the Boston mob since before prohibition, Big John came out to Vegas in ‘48 after his wife of 25 years died of breast cancer.

Vince approached the table and said, “How you makin’ out there, John?”

John slurred, “These guys cheat.”

One of the men replied, “You’re just drunk and stupid, you big moron.”

Big John stood up and smashed his whiskey bottle across the guy’s face. The other three men at the table jumped on Big John and started pounding him. Vince, Cowboy, and Ace grabbed the three guys and returned the beating. The table crashed to the ground, glasses and bottles broke.

Two shotgun blasts shook the doors and windows in the old wooden building. Everyone stopped fighting and turned around to see the Irish woman with a smoking shotgun in her hand. Suddenly, the drunks were all awake.

The woman said, “I think it’s time for you lads to pay your tab and go now – and you will be paying for that damage, one way or another.” She winked at Cowboy, reloaded the shotgun, and knocked back a double shot of Scotch.

#

After four cups of coffee and three plates of food at a greasy little coffee shop, Big John started to sober up.

Vince lit up a Lucky and said, “I had to lie, what else could I do?”

Ace said, “OK, we got two weeks, now what are we gonna do?”

Cowboy said, “I say we hit a bank.”

Ace replied, “I didn’t even rob banks in the depression and you want me to start now, at forty nine years old?”

Vince said, “We need to do something or we’re in big trouble. Jimmy still doesn’t know that we owe money to the boys from New York too.”

Big John said, “I might have something. But it could be dangerous.”

Cowboy said, “I’m in.”

Ace looked at Cowboy and said, “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

Cowboy pointed at Ace’s half finished breakfast and said, “You gonna finish that bacon?”

Big John said, “My nephew in the marines told me about a truck full of guns and ammo going from New Mexico to his base in San Diego next week. If we could get a truck like that, it would be worth a lot more to the boys in Chicago – more than what we could get at any local bank.”

Cowboy said, “I’m in.”

Ace shook his head again. “You wanna hit a military truck? No way, forget about it.”

Cowboy said, “Why not? They got guns, and we got guns.”

Ace said, “This ain’t like shootin’ at the cops, kid. These are trained soldiers, and they got more than just guns.”

#

One week later, on a sweltering afternoon, Vince drove his Desoto down an unpaved road in the middle of the desert while Cowboy flipped through a comic book in the passenger seat.

Vince said, “This is no time to be reading Buck Rogers.”

“Captain Marvel.”

“What?”

“I’m reading Captain Marvel, not Buck Rogers.”

“Just put the friggin’ magazine away!”

“OK, OK.” Cowboy closed his comic book and started polishing his .357 magnum.

They passed an old cactus and turned onto a newly paved road. After a few miles, just before the intersection of another newly paved road, they pulled onto the sand and waited in the car, watching the road ahead as the desert heat distorted reality.

Vince looked at his diamond studded Rolex and then lit up a Lucky. Cowboy loaded his Magnum.

An hour later, an unmarked military Jeep full of soldiers dressed in all black passed on the road in front of them.

Behind the Jeep followed a three-axle cargo truck and then another unmarked Jeep full of soldiers in black.

Cowboy asked Vince, “Why are they dressed like that?”

Vince replied, “Who the frigg knows? Let’s just get this over with, huh?”

Cowboy opened the car door, jumped out, and ran down the road after the caravan.

Vince started the car, opened the door, got out with his Tommy gun, and waited, looking ahead in the distance.

The hijacked Mack truck full of manure rolled down a hill, on fire, toward the leading Jeep – the soldiers fired at it – one of them fired a bazooka – the truck exploded, but the flames still engulfed them. Vince looked up into the rocky hills, he could see the flashes from Big John and Ace’s Tommy guns as they gunned down the burning, screaming soldiers.

Vince knew that the cargo truck and the first Jeep would turn around and head back the opposite way to avoid the burning Mack truck – and they did exactly that.

As they got closer, Vince opened fire on the Jeep killing the driver and a few soldiers. The Jeep was all over the place – the cargo truck slowed down to avoid hitting it.

Vince caught a bullet in the shoulder while reloading his Tommy gun – he cringed for a moment – then he focused – he ripped the Jeep to shreds taking out any surviving soldiers. The Jeep ran off the road and into the desert.

Vince looked over and saw Cowboy kneeling on the side of the road with his pistol.

Cowboy fired a single shot that took out driver of the truck. He sprinted to the rolling truck, latched on to the side, opened the door, pulled the dead driver out, and jumped in taking over the wheel just in time.

Vince jumped in his car and took off after the truck.

#

Later that night, inside the gang’s warehouse, Ace pulled the M1 Carbine slug out of Vince’s shoulder while Cowboy cut the locks on the cargo truck. Vince guzzled a half a bottle of Scotch to dull the pain and then he stood up and staggered toward the truck.

Big John popped the latches. Everyone gathered around – the truck was empty except for a rectangular, chrome box about six feet by two feet. The chrome box sat on a black metal box the exact same size with hoses and wires connecting it to another large metal box that hummed like a machine.

Cowboy said, “What the–”

Vince smashed his half-empty bottle of Scotch on the floor.

Ace shook his head. “I should have known… it was too good to be true”

Big John climbed in the truck and tried to open the top of the box. “Maybe it’s some new technology, it could be worth millions.”

Ace said, “Or, maybe it’s a refrigerator for the general’s caviar.”

Big John said, “It must be something important or we wouldn’t have had to kill all those soldiers to get it.”

“He’s right,” added Cowboy, “I remember hearing about–“

“Shut up Cowboy.” Vince picked up a crowbar. “Let’s get this thing open already, huh?” He tried to pry the box open but he was just too drunk.

Ace said, “What if it’s radioactive?”

Vince slurred, “It would have one of those little… friggin’… symbols. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Ace shook his head. “Not if it’s top secret.”

Cowboy said, “I read this comic book one time about–“

Vince just looked at Cowboy and Cowboy shut up.

Big John looked down on the side of the box and saw a tiny panel with two buttons. “I found something.”

Ace asked, “What?”

Big John answered, “Looks like two buttons.”

Ace said, “Don’t touch anything.”

“Too late,” said John.

Everyone was silent until Big John broke out laughing. Vince was the first to realize John was joking, after he started laughing Cowboy joined in. Ace just shook his head and opened a bottle of aspirin.

Big John was ready to climb out of the truck when he slipped and fell backwards. Everyone laughed even harder, including Ace and Big John.

John pushed himself up with his tree trunk arms and accidentally leaned on the side panel, pressing both buttons with his huge hand.

The lid on the box opened with a hiss of what at first looked like steam, but cold, like dry ice.

Everyone crowded around and stared into the open box until the icy vapor dissipated. There was a short gray alien lying on a metal bed, frozen. Everyone jumped back, stunned. Vince was still drunk, but he was beginning to sober up quick.

They pointed their guns and gradually got closer to the box – they studied the alien’s huge head and short thin body covered with thin skin.

Ace said, “It looks like a child.”

Vince said, “This is a military experiment. This thing came from New Mexico.”

Ace said, “What’s the difference where it came from?”

Vince said, “New Mexico, where they do A-bomb tests. I heard they got Nazi scientists there and they force them to do experiments.”

Ace said, “Damn Nazi’s.”

John laughed and then he said, “Hey Ace, that might be your Uncle Sol.”

Ace said, “You think I can’t kick your big Neanderthal ass?”

Vince and Cowboy laughed while lowering their guns.

Cowboy said, “It’s a Martian, just like in the comic books. What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?”

Everyone looked at it again.

Vince said, “I’m not that friggin’ drunk.”

Ace sounded like he was trying to convince himself when he said, “It can’t be a Martian… there’s no such thing as Martians. Maybe Vince was right about the experiments.”

Big John said, “It’s alive.”

Vince said, “It looks pretty friggin’ dead to me, whatever it is.”

Big John said, “It’s alive. I can hear its thoughts.” He pulled a revolver out of his pant leg.

Vince said, “Take it easy there, John. I’m tellin’ you, this thing is already dead.”

Big John pointed his pistol at the alien and pulled the hammer back.

Ace said, “Don’t shoot it, it won’t be worth anything if it’s full of holes.”

Vince said, “John, put the gun down.”

Big John didn’t respond, he just pointed his pistol at the alien, staring into its big, black, oval eyes. Everyone held their breath until finally, Big John lowered his gun – everyone exhaled.

Big John said, “It’s true.”

Ace asked, “What? What’s true, John?”

Big John raised his gun and shot himself in the head. Blood and brains splattered all over the other three men. They all jumped back, wiping the blood from their eyes. They looked down at John’s convulsing corpse and the hole in his head.

They turned back to the alien – it was gone.

Everyone grabbed their guns and jumped out of the truck. Something moved behind a stack of wooden crates – Vince sprayed the stack with bullets – liquor and glass splattered everywhere.

Across the room – something moved behind a stack of cardboard boxes – Cowboy and Ace fired their pistols at the same time, ripping cartons of cigarettes to shreds, paper and tobacco everywhere.

Everyone reloaded and looked around, pointing their guns, waiting for movement.

Vince snuck toward the boxes while Cowboy scanned the rafters above their heads, Ace stayed behind Vince and Cowboy guarding against a rear attack.

Vince checked behind the boxes… nothing. He glanced at the three doors against the back wall – one to a bathroom, one to an office, and the third to a closet. He glanced over at the metal gate – it was still down, they would have heard it if it opened. Vince glanced back at the three doors.

Ace fired two shots at what was left of the crates. Vince and Cowboy turned around, but they didn’t see anything.

Ace turned around facing Vince and Cowboy and said, “Sorry guys. My nerves are–”

Vince and Cowboy waited for Ace to finish his sentence, but he never did. Vince realized that Ace was staring at something – Vince slowly turned around and saw the alien standing across the room, staring at them with its big black eyes.

Cowboy said, “Put it down Ace.”

Vince turned back around and saw Ace pointing his pistol at Cowboy’s face.

Vince said, “Ace, put the gun down. We’re your friends, you can’t shoot your friends.”

Ace pointed his pistol at Vince.

Cowboy pulled his gun and shot Ace in the hand, Ace’s gun fell to the floor.

Vince turned around and fired at the alien, but it was already gone.

Vince turned back around – Ace whipped out a knife and lunged at Vince – Vince fired – Ace went down.

Vince dropped his gun and knelt down. “Ace. Ace.”

Ace didn’t respond – he just stared at nothing. Vince and Cowboy looked around for the alien, but they didn’t see it.

Vince looked back down at Ace as he took his last breath.

Cowboy said, “The Martians can hear our thoughts, and they can implant our brains with thoughts.”

Vince picked up his Tommy gun and stood up. “I’m gonna plant this Martian’s ass with bullets.”

Cowboy said, “We can’t fight it, we gotta get out of here.”

“Vince Calabrese don’t never run from no fight, kid.” Vince fired a couple shots randomly around the room. “Come on you coward! Come and fight me like a man!” He fired a couple more random shots.

A high-pitched squeal made Vince and Cowboy drop their guns and cover their ears – their faces became red, their veins bulged under their skin. They fell to the ground, a trickle of blood dripped from their ears – and then suddenly, the noise stopped. Vince and Cowboy caught their breath while still on the ground, dizzy and bleeding from the ears.

After a few moments, Vince struggled to his feet and started toward Cowboy, everything in his head was ringing – he called out for Cowboy, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice, his ears and head were pounding.

The lights and the generator died out, everything was dark.

Vince called out, “Cowboy?” The ringing in his head began to fade, but his head was still pounding. He called out again, “Cowboy?”

The generator went back on and then the lights. Vince looked around, pointing his gun… he didn’t see Cowboy or the alien anywhere. He tried to open the steel gate, but it was stuck. He scanned the room another time – he still didn’t see anyone.

Vince grabbed the other guns on the floor before checking every inch of the dusty warehouse.

Vince flung the bathroom door open, ready to shoot – he looked up, he looked down – the bathroom was empty.

After opening a new bottle of Scotch and taking a gulp, Vince flung the office door open and pointed his gun – nothing. He looked under the desk and behind the cabinet – nothing.

Vince was getting nervous, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. He took another gulp from the bottle and lit up a Lucky, he inhaled each drag slow and deep, savoring it – he knew it might be his last.

After finishing his cigarette and most of the Scotch, Vince staggered out of the office red-faced and belligerent – ready to fight to the death.

“You think you can control my mind you friggin’ Martian? Do you know who I am?” Vince pointed his gun at the closet door, grabbed the doorknob, and opened it – the generator and the lights went out – Vince stumbled backward in the dark.

Fast, light footsteps shuffled across the room.

Vince fired a few random shots. “Come on!” He fired again, spinning around in a circle, the sparks from his Tommy gun illuminating the warehouse like a strobe light until his clip was empty.

There was silence in the dark for a moment until a rumbling sound came from outside.

The generator and the lights came back on – the rumbling outside got louder.

Vince scanned the room and saw Cowboy hanging by his neck from the rafters. “You bastard!”

Vince looked down – the alien was standing right next to him – Vince jumped, tripping and falling backwards. He looked up – the alien was gone.

The rumbling outside became louder as the building began to vibrate. Vince got up and threw down his empty Tommy gun. He tried to pry a sheet of plywood from one of the sealed up windows. He got one corner of the wood loose, just enough to peek outside and see two Sherman tanks rolling toward the warehouse.

He turned back around and saw the alien standing across the room – he froze – they gazed into each other’s eyes, just standing there, like an old western gun duel.

Vince pulled a pistol and pointed it at the alien – the alien glared at him. Vince’s hand started to tremble – his mind fought against his body as his arm involuntarily pointed the pistol at his own head. Vince gritted his teeth, fighting the alien with his mind – his will was strong, he forced his own hand down.

Two simultaneous explosions outside rocked the building, and then the sound of two tank shells approaching fast – Vince and the alien stood their ground – staring at each other – both of them too stubborn to move.

The massive tank shells blew apart the wall and the entire building exploded into a ball of flames.