Wiley had one last look out towards the backyard before they retreated inside to get an update on how the world was coping with the vanishings. No moving shadows. Just a gentle breeze, but not enough to carry away the lingering heaviness. There was a pool of blood drying on the deck, but he sensed no urgency to clean it. Not out of laziness but changed priorities in this abandoned world.
Wiley and the Sarge sat Bruce down on the sofa.
“I’m ok,” Bruce said. “I don’t know what came over me, but it’s gone. It’s weird—I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
A voice droned from the TV. The person being interviewed looked like a scientist. They were debating whether long-range ballistic missiles had the capacity to destroy Adventus.
“We could possibly destroy the ‘engine room’ but I doubt we could completely destroy it, it’s too big. Laser technology is another possibility, but I’m not sure how advanced that technology was,” the scientist lookalike said.
“But what impact would parts falling to earth have and the consequences of an atomic explosion going off in our atmosphere?” the interviewer asked.
Wiley shook his head. This was going to be bad. He glanced at the others; both had downcast expressions. Bruce removed the towel from his head and used his phone as a mirror to inspect the damage.
“Hopefully our alien friends will leave and take their cargo back to wherever they came from,” Sarge said.
Bruce appeared to be in a semi-comatose state. Sarge had checked and cleaned the wound—only superficial—and he wasn’t concerned, although Bruce was drifting in and out consciousness. Maybe mild concussion.
Bruce was muttering. “Nuclear bombs. Radiation wiping out the world.”
Sarge looked at Bruce then turned back to the TV. “Yes, it would be best if Adventus departed and left us to sort this world out.”
The TV news broadcast zoomed in on a file image of the picturesque Valley of Jezreel, which was soon replaced by a scene filled with variations of camouflage colour patterns as the military build-up continued.
“The sooner Adventus leaves, the better,” Sarge said. “Why are they there? Why so much military?”
“The nations want to obliterate Israel. They see the instability in the region and the world as an opportunity to do something they have longed to do,” Bruce said. “They have a lot of reasons, but I think it’s mainly a religious reason relating to the ownership of land.”
“Well, it looks like it will be sorted out soon,” Sarge said.
Bright red letters flashed on the screen, which changed to a different scene, a satellite picture.
Adventus was descending. The valley was being drowned in darkness—a deep-blue shadow swept out across all the land. The sky was vanishing as Adventus’s massive form filled the sky.
“Parts of Adventus are falling off like onion skin and disintegrating in the atmosphere.” The tone of the newsreader became urgent. “A cube shape is being revealed. The massive cube is descending at an incredible speed. If this hits the Earth, we will all be dead soon, very soon.”
Flares lit up the descending structure. Missiles were being fired from various locations in the valley, now illuminated with battlefield artificial lighting, but the missiles all fell from the sky before they reached their target.
“Scientists speculate Adventus is surrounded by an invisible force field,” the newsreader said.
“Either that, or they’re all malfunctioning,” Bruce said. “Although that’s unlikely.”
“A force field, like on Star Wars or Star Trek? I thought those shows were fiction.” Sarge spoke in a nervous, unsure tone. “I’m having concerns about our not-so-friendly aliens. They’ll start retaliating soon.”
It wasn’t long before the retaliation came. As the cube got closer to Earth, objects resembling large hailstones shot out from an invisible dock in fiery cloudbursts. They hovered like drones in what appeared to be strategic places above the vast armies positioned in the Valley of Jezreel. A cloud of smoke spurt from each object and a mist floated down, spreading on the enemy below, covering the valley.
Land-based rockets were being fired at the objects but were destroyed before reaching their targets.
Wiley’s chest tingled and his pulse raced. He stood up. His legs felt weak, so he sat down again. Something dreadful was coming. The mood of the room was beyond heavy.
Tufts of the ghost-grey mist coalesced and covered the armies. The TV screen showed thousands of soldiers and their weaponry as silhouettes in the mist. Soon the mist reached ground level.
“No. That can’t be happening.” Sarge was on his feet, yelling. “No. that can’t be happening.” He raised his hand to his mouth.
“It … it is happening.” Wiley felt the blood drain from his face.
Soldiers came running out from pockets of the mist, their flesh rotting on their bodies. They’d stop, standing, then crumble to the ground, their eyes empty holes. Some escaped the effects of the mist but attacked one another.
Bruce coughed. “This isn’t real. It can’t be. It must be a Hollywood stunt.” He pressed the off button on the remote.
The room was silent. A dark, black screen looked back at them. A black hole, drawing them in.
“How could they possible record that?” Bruce said. “Surely the news recording equipment would be affected by what was going on. And surely they could think of their audience and be a little more sensitive.”
“You would think so.” Wiley agreed. “Interestingly, media outlets don’t seem to have lost many staff.”
“They’re aliens, Wiley. Anyway, the images are most probably satellite based.” Sarge cleared his throat. “Satellites have an amazing capacity to zoom these days.” Sarge blathered on, as if he wanted to talk about anything but what he just witnessed. “But then how can they still be working? Adventus must have some effect on gravity. Maybe it doesn’t really occupy space. Maybe it’s not really there.”
His ramblings a form of therapy. Anything to hide his true emotions, true reactions to what they’d just witnessed. Wiley was surprised by his own alertness. Maybe that was his form of therapy.
The TV came back on. Bruce looked at his remote. “It does this sometimes. I’m not sure why. Maybe a firmware issue.” He looked at the screen as he went to press the off button. On the right of the screen, a dark cloud appeared. The cloud soon took shape. Birds, hundreds and thousands of birds, were landing and feasting on the bodies filling the valley. Segments of artificial lighting shut down sending pockets of the valley into complete darkness—hiding the grotesque scenes before them.
Wiley didn’t want to believe what he was seeing. How could he escape from this dream, this nightmare? He looked at the others. They stood transfixed, looking at the now blank screen. He didn’t know if it was blank because Bruce pressed the off button, or if they’d lost transmission, and he didn’t care. He thought he heard soft screams in the air, and he hoped that it was just seagulls.
“I think we’ve had the wrong impression of God. I don’t think Jesus is the softly-softly type we’d assumed.” Wiley was rambling. Fear could do this. “My mind is showing me the picture of Jesus displayed in so many houses. The handsome, soft man looking peacefully upward. Why is he doing this?”
“I hate that picture,” Bruce said. “So fluffy. So marshmallowy.”
“But now …?” Sarge asked.
