8. Tammy #2
I turned around in a wide circle, drawing on the nearly empty reservoirs of my hope. Please. Please. Please. I begged the universe. Do me a solid. Put the barn back together. I don’t care if it’s leaning or weathered.
“Breathe, Tammy. Just breathe.” Panic was winning.
My legs shook as I pushed through the fear, approaching the dented and scarred alien vessel currently nestled against splintered beams, smashed hay bales, and frayed rope.
The hum was almost unbearable once I was only a foot or so away. I raised one hand, the other still gripping the wood tightly, and I pressed my palm against the ship. At my touch, the metallic surface began radiating a bizarre luminescence. Warmth pulsed against my skin, seeping into my insides.
“What the hell is this?” I blurted, my heart thumping erratically.
I tried to pull my hand back, but I couldn’t.
My palm felt glued to the ship surface. “Let me go! Let me go!” I shouted, yanking brutally.
I’d rip my own skin off before I let this damn UFO trap me.
What if it took off? Would it drag me into freaking space?
I raised the two-by-four, knuckles going white, and slammed it down on the spaceship.
Its surface rippled, like a stone dropped into a placid lake.
That was enough to spur me onward. I hit the ship over and over again.
When my hand broke free, I stumbled backward violently, losing my footing, and falling. My ass slammed into the ground.
“Ouch,” I grunted out, rolling to my side and nursing my aching hand for a heartbeat before remembering what the hell was happening.
As quickly as I could, I stood, brandishing the wood again.
I held it out, aimed at the ship, wondering if I should keep beating the damn thing in hopes it would suddenly fly away.
And then—without warning—a whooshing sound erupted, a hatch began to lower, and a thick cloud of lavender smoke spilled outward.
The very air turned heavy and cloying, and I instinctively recoiled, fanning the acrid mist from my face with one hand.
But that was futile; the overwhelming smell surged toward me, entering my gaped mouth and nostrils.
It left a sugared, acidic taste on my tongue.
“Ugh, what is this?” I gasped, blinking rapidly and coughing against the smoke.
The lavender haze twisted around me, as if sentient.
A strong sense of vertigo threatened to plunge me into the floor, and my body felt heavy, pulled down by an invisible weight.
My heart pounded in my chest—the panic wasn’t something I could swallow down anymore—and my vision blurred as I nearly fell again.
Desperately, I swung the length of wood wildly. It did nothing to chase away the noxious fog.
A squelching, slithering sound joined the buzzing.
Wet pops and clicks.
Through the smoke, a figure began to take shape.
Then a second…and a third. The indistinct shadows moved low to the ground at first. Stray dogs.
Got to be stray dogs. Maybe really giant raccoons.
Rats of extraordinary size creeping toward me, ready to bite.
I tried to back away, tried to conjure up a fighting fire, but any strong independent, single gal aura abandoned me.
The shadowed shapes were getting closer.
The purple fog began to dissipate, leaving behind an impossible reality.
“Oh… Oh, God,” I breathed out, voice barely audible.
Tentacled beings with rippling appendages undulated gracefully toward me, their bodies changing color like some otherworldly kaleidoscope. They seemed to almost swim across the dusty surface beneath them; their bodies appeared slicked with saltwater.
As they drew closer, their bodies began to lengthen, becoming taller, wider, menacing.
Their damp, shimmering skin turned to oil slicks with colors spreading through a dark pool.
It was like nothing I'd ever seen—pulsing with a rainbow that shifted and flowed across their surfaces—iridescent blues that deepened into royal purples, earthy browns that flickered with flecks of gold.
There seemed to be a translucent outer layer that caught the sunlight, taking on a mirror shine.
They contracted and expanded, gelatinous bodies heaving.
My breath quickened as fear intermingled with a strange, intoxicating curiosity.
I stumbled back, tightening my grip on the piece of raggedy lumber. The beautiful monsters kept approaching in that boneless, disturbing way. My mind fumbled for comparisons, landing somewhere between octopus and Lovecraftian horror. A trio of freaking Cthulhu had crashed into my barn!
The rational part of my brain shut down completely as I stared at the impossible beings before me. Each had a bulbous central mass—like a head but not quite—from which extended multiple writhing tentacles that propelled them forward over the debris with surprising efficiency.
The largest one—a towering mass of primarily bluish-purple tentacles now that its coloring had settled—paused a few feet from me.
Its skin flashed with patterns of light that reminded me of fireflies on a summer night, but more ordered, almost like...
communication. The smallest one, whose earthy brown coloration seemed to ripple with green undertones, swayed from side to side, studying me. It uttered a string of wet noises.
The third creature, whose iridescent skin was now pulsing with lavender and turquoise, moved to the right of the largest one.
It extended two tentacles toward a piece of twisted metal, lifting it with casual strength before tossing it aside like it weighed nothing.
The metal landed with a clang that echoed across my silent property, startling a chorus of frantic whinnies from the stables where the horses were still corralled.
My breath caught in my lungs, trapped by shock and disbelief.
This couldn't be happening. Aliens didn't crash-land on failing horse ranches in Kansas.
That was the stuff of movies, not real life.
Definitely not my life. Yet the evidence stood—or rather, rippling and waving—a yard away from me, as tangible as the useless piece of wood clutched in my aching hand.
The air around me and the creatures swirled, carrying that spoiled fruit scent mixed with a briny, ocean-like smell that had no business being in landlocked Kansas.
It reminded me of the one vacation I'd taken to the Gulf Coast years ago, but twisted somehow, overlaid with notes of copper and something acrid that burned the back of my throat when I finally remembered to breathe.
Each one of them was larger than me, looming above as they advanced cautiously.
Yet rather than feeling threatened by their size, I felt something more than my earlier curiosity flicker within the depths of my terror.
The saltwater and banana odor gave way to an almost pleasant cocktail.
Cucumbers and mint. Tangerine and vanilla.
Honeydew and musk. My Omega nature coiled inside of me, reacting in a way it never had with Derek or anyone else.
The creatures went perfectly still for several heartbeats, then their bodies began to ripple and flow once again.
Fireworks exploded across their skin, and the wet noises they made came quickly, tumbling over each other, their voices warring with one another for dominance.
Suddenly, the closest creature pulsed—its brightness threatening to blind me—and it shot forth a torrent of thick, dark fluid that sprayed across my face before I could react.
The substance coated my glasses, my cheeks, my neck.
It hit me with an immediate shock—sugared and unexpectedly dizzying.
I dropped my makeshift weapon to frantically swipe my palms down my face, knocking off my glasses.
But the liquid wouldn’t budge, no matter how desperately I rubbed.
My vision blurred instantly, and I staggered back, collapsing to the ground as my limbs grew heavy and unresponsive.
“Hey! Wait! Stop!” I tried to shout, but my voice came out as nothing more than a choked whisper. The creatures loomed larger and closer, their iridescent bodies all becoming a violent shade of green. I lifted an arm, but my movement was sluggish, stunted, futile.
“No, no, no…” The protest felt distant, swallowed by the brain fog. I was confused and helpless.
I fought against the heaviness clinging to my mind.
The aliens hovered over me. I had to stay awake.
I couldn’t pass out. With that flicker of defiance sparking inside me, I held onto the last strands of clarity, raising one arm, curling my hand into a fist, and limply hitting out.
My knuckles only contacted air. I moaned, eyelids weighted down, thoughts fading.
This was not how my day was supposed to go; I was meant to salvage my ranch, not find myself at the mercy of otherworldly beings.
Struggling, I rose onto my knees. My head swam and I felt like I was going to throw up.
Desperately, I pressed both hands into the ground and tried to push myself upright.
But a second spray of the sticky, viscous fluid rained over me.
My body tilted sideways and I fell onto my side as my consciousness dimmed into oblivion.
Be a dream. Be a dream.
Those three words cycled through my head as darkness swallowed me.