Showing posts with label Ancient Aliens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ancient Aliens. Show all posts

Origin Pt IV

Some things are better left undiscovered!




Part IV

She shined her flashlight down the hole and was disappointed when the beam failed to reveal anything. She activated a chemical light stick and dropped it down the opening. The glowing stick dwindled as it fell through the shadowy eons of the past. Becoming but a small pin-prick of light, an exclamation point in the crowding darkness.

Turning her attention back to the table, she inspected it as the first glimmer of an idea began to form in the back of her mind. The outer edge of the table was raised, creating a concave depression in the center that fluids could be contained within. Glancing at the bottom of the table, she noted that the raised lip was broken at that point, a means to drain the fluids she imagined as the image of a modern embalming table filled her mind. Inspecting the surface of the table, she discovered several long scars in the stone. As if a sharp object had been drawn across it surface with enough force to create a line. She thought of her uncle’s butcher shop, the massive wooden butcher’s block that dominated the center of the room. Every few years it had to be sanded down and refinished to remove the nicks and gashes from its daily use. That feeling of despair deepened as she realized that what she was looking at could very well have been an ancient meat packing operation similar to the modern meat packaging plants of today.

As she moved through the rows of tables, she came to a wall with another archway leading to a different room. What she saw inside made her heart skip several beats. Lying in stacks along the back wall were the mummified remains of an ape-like creature. Approaching the stack, she knelt down to examine the remains.

The cold and the salt they had been packed in perfectly preserved the bodies. They were no more than five feet tall with sloping shoulders and arms that seemed much too long for their height. Bipedal, they reminded her of large chimpanzees, but the face carried a more human look. A sloping forehead with a small face on the front of a tiny skull. From the size of the cranial cavity there appeared to be little room for more than a brain stem to control basic functions.

Gazing into the sunken eye sockets, she imagined the eyes that once inhabited the skull as being over large and dull, with the same expression one would find on a cow in the field. Troubled not by the future, the past, or the impending doom that was swiftly approaching. Concerned only with the basic needs of food, water, and propagation.

Nothing more than cattle in the field. The thought repeated itself and she shuddered. She saw that each one of them had been eviscerated, sliced open from throat to groin. That was when it all dropped neatly into place and her stomach performed several lazy somersaults as she struggled to come to terms with her discovery.

That was the reason for the tables in the next room. She had convinced herself when she first discovered them that they were nothing more sinister than a means to prepare the dead for their final journey. But after her most recent revelation their true purpose solidified in her mind as the realization dawned.

They were nothing more than meat.

They were not the builders of this structure. A creature far more advanced had built these rooms. Her earlier romantic notion of man’s ancestors being descendants of an alien race sickened her enough that she had to leave the room.

Charlie had kept out of her way as she explored the room. When she abruptly stepped back into the corridor he followed.

“Are you all right?”

Sandra shook her head silently as she struggled with her emotions.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?”

Sandra turned to face him and when she did he saw how drawn her face had become. Her eyes carried a haunted expression that chilled him to the bone.

“What is it?”

“This is not a good place,” she whispered, her words carried on the vaporous clouds of her breath.

“But you said this was...”

“I know what I said,” she cut him off in mid sentence, “but I was wrong.”

“What did you see in there?”

“The truth. When I first got into archeology I had all these romantic notions of discovering man’s true origins. I believed then, and I still believe it to this day, that man’s true past lies beyond the stars. That we are not of this planet.”

“What did you see?” Charlie said as he approached the opening.

“Please,” Sandra said, holding out her hand to stop him, “please, don’t go in there.”

Charlie pushed past her and vanished into that claustrophobic room. She waited for him, keeping the beam of her flashlight pointed at her feet. Her desire to explore the structure had been squashed by her discovery.

Charlie stepped out of the room. “What does it mean?” he said.

“It means we came from the stars, but not as masters of our own destiny. Our ancestors did not build this place. Something far more savage than man could ever hope to be built this structure.” She lifted her flashlight and gazed into the crowding darkness that swallowed the beam less than a hundred feet away. “What if they’re still waiting for us? What if they’re not dead like I thought.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No. I can’t. I have to see this through.”

“Will you be all right?”

“I have to be,” she said, trying hard to convince herself that it was the right choice. She had to know for sure, she had to find absolute truth to back up the theory that was formulating in her mind.

With that she plunged into the unknown, the beam of her flashlight pushing back the emptiness as Charlie followed. In time they came to another doorway, this one much wider than the first. Sandra approached the threshold and stopped.

This room was different, much larger than the last one, and she sensed its immensity on an instinctive, primitive level. From somewhere a soft breeze stirred, ruffling the fur-lined collar of her hood, whisking away the vaporous clouds of exhaled breath that issued from her mouth. There was a faint ozone-like scent that tickled her nose with its familiarity. Though she was shielded from the restless winds, the cold still penetrated to her flesh deep beneath multiple layers. Her fingertips were becoming numb and she knew she would have to return to the group soon. But first she wanted to check out this new room. 

To be continued!


Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

Click on cover for more info or to order!

Also available from these fine online retailers.





Also available in print from Createspace

Receive a personally autographed copy of Adversary for only $11.99 with free shipping to the continental United States. Drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com for details on how to order your copy today.




Origin Part III

Some things are better left undiscovered.



Jerry gazed at the shattered section of the wall, noting the jagged end of the stone hanging down over the opening, much like the teeth of a massive mouth that was closing. “As long as there is no more seismic activity we’ll be okay, but I believe another tremor may cause more of the passageway to collapse. If we’re inside when that happens…” Jerry finished his sentence with a shrug.

Albert turned to each member and asked, “Should we push on, or turn back?”

Everyone agreed that pushing on was the preferable choice. They were scientists devoted to the discovery of new information. The appearance of the obviously man-made passageway was one of the greatest discoveries of all time. To have their names attached to such an expedition would secure their careers for the rest of their lives.

So it was with high expectations they pushed on. Into the unknown to shed the light of the present into the shadows of the past. Once inside the structure, away from the constant wind, their exploration began in earnest. ?They found themselves in a narrow hallway that vanished into an impenetrable night

The first thing they noticed was the relative warmth of the interior. It was warm enough for them to discard the bulky parkas and insulated coveralls they had worn for the trek from the aircraft.

Establishing a base camp within the mouth of the opening, Albert radioed for more supplies to be brought up. He remained at the radio while the others spread out  to probe the shadowy corners. Always in pairs, they had been reminded, and Sandra made it a point to make herself available to Charlie. What he had told her about that story written so long again intrigued her. Not to mention he was pretty pleasing to the eye.

Together they approached the opposite wall of the narrow hallway and as they got closer the intricate writing that covered every available surface became clear. Strange swirls and vortexes formed lines of type that could only have been created by an intelligent mind. The floor, she noted, while covered by a fine layer of dust, was devoid of any skeletal remains that might have provided a clue as to the age of the structure. Using a sheet of paper, she transferred a line of the type by taking a rub using the side of a pencil.

“What do you think it means?” Charlie said.

“I don’t know, I’m not a linguist.  We’ll have to wait until we can get some photos back to civilization before they can even attempt to decipher what it says.”

The writing disturbed her on a level she’d never experienced before. She’d been present at the opening of tombs in the past, and each time she had been filled with a sense of great expectation. Imagining that she was on the verge of an enormous discovery. She felt that way now, that she was standing upon the threshold of an immense breakthrough, but the feeling was tinged with the fear that what she was about to discover held no joy for the human race in general. There was an alien feel to the writing that awakened primitive sensations of dread that made her hesitate as she explored the cavernous space.

Following the wall, Charlie silently snapped photographs behind her as she explored with her flashlight. The corner the wall on her right turned away from her to vanish into a vast emptiness. She stopped for a moment, shining her light into the shadows, trying to locate anything she could use as a landmark. She felt like she was poised on the lip of an immense chamber containing secrets that were better left undiscovered.

To her left, several of the other members of the group were following the outer wall of the chamber. From her vantage point it was obvious the wall curved in to create a domed ceiling. Keeping her hand in contact with the wall, she crossed the threshold from the passageway into the domed room proper. Glancing back at the others, she saw the narrow beams of their flashlight ineffectually piercing the darkness.

“What do you think this room is?” Charlie said.

“I have no idea. Could be a gathering place. We’ll need to set up some work lights so we can get an ideal what the room looks like,” she said as she took several more steps into the shadows. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they did not belong here. That she should turn back before it was too late. But her curiosity drove her forward. She didn’t know how far she had gone before she reached another corner. This one framed an opening to another passageway, carved into the solid stone, that measured approximately twelve feet across and vanished into the mountain itself. From the opening she detected a slight breeze that brushed against the exposed flesh of her face.

She glanced back at the others. Several work lights had been set up, but their comforting glow did little to push back the heavy darkness that shrouded the room.

She turned back to the opening and shined the beam of her flashlight into the corridor. “What do you think?” she said.

Charlie shrugged as he gazed down that narrow corridor. “After you.”

With Charlie close on her heels, she stepped into the corridor. Here the curious writing was replaced by bas-reliefs of strange creatures in a narrow band about eighteen inches high, running the length of the corridor, two feet above eye level. The rest of the stone was as smooth as glass; its black surface weakly reflecting the beam of her flashlight.

Charlie snapped several photos, the flashes momentarily blinding her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to get her eyes readjusted to the dark. When she did, the images on the wall came to life in her mind. Moving in a hideous manner that deepened her feelings of unease. Opening her eyes with a shudder, she moved down the corridor, ignoring the images chiseled into the walls around her, drawn by curiosity as she followed the beam of her flashlight into the unexplored depths.

Charlie had grown silent as he kept pace with her, and she sensed that he too was disturbed by the images. Coming to a junction, she stopped. Looking first one way, then the next, she peered into the black depths, at the dust covered floor that vanished into the shadows.

Which way? she wondered.

Straight was the most logical course. She crossed the corridor and continued her trek into the never-ending night that swirled before her. On her left a curved archway materialized out of the shadows. It led to another room and the beam of her flashlight picked out a rectangular stone table, its surface tilted towards one narrow end. Several feet to the left stood another, its surface tilted as well, and beyond it there were more. 

She was struck by an odd sensation of despair as she crossed the threshold into the room. The beam of her flashlight picked out rows of stone tables vanishing into the emptiness beyond the shadowy edge of her flashlight beam. At the foot of the table to her left was a circular hole in the floor. It was a good two feet across, the floor around it sloping down as if it were a drain.

To be continued! 


Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

Click on cover for more info or to order!

Also available from these fine online retailers.





Also available in print from Createspace

Receive a personally autographed copy of Adversary for only $11.99 with free shipping to the continental United States. Drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com for details on how to order your copy today.

Origin Part II

Some things are better left undiscovered.





The door to the cockpit in the wall opposite from where Charlie stood opened, and the pilot stepped into their cabin.

“Any word on when we can move to the camp?” Albert said.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a few hours yet before they have the central section ready for habitation,” the pilot said. “We have coffee if you’d like some.”

“Brandy would be better,” Robert said. He was an archeologist from Berkley and had spent the entire trip wholly engrossed in a study of a recent fossil bed somewhere in the deserts of Arizona. He had the look of one who had spent much of his time outdoors beneath a blazing sun. A deeply tanned face lined and wrinkled with age. Even though he was only forty, the years of exposure to the sun’s rays had left their mark on his leathery flesh.

“I’m sorry sir,” the pilot said, “but alcoholic beverages are not permitted on a military transport.”

Robert gave him a wink and a thumbs up. “Got ya, skipper.”

“Coffee sounds good, I’ll have mine with cream and sugar. Anyone else?” Albert said as he looked around at the others.

“Sounds good to me,” Sandra said.

“I’ll send a steward,” the pilot said before stepping back into the cockpit.

“They have stewards on this flight?” Jenny asked.

“Probably just an airman who never expected one of his duties would be playing nurse maid to a group of geeks,” Charlie said as he settled into his seat, where he turned his attention to what was happening outside.

The wind, which had been mild when they landed, was starting to pick up and the aircraft rocked under its pressure. It howled as it swirled under the wings, driving a line of ice crystals before it, battering at everything that refused to yield to its relentless assault. The steward stepped out of the cockpit with several steaming mugs of coffee, drawing the attention of the group. Steve, Charlie’s partner in keeping the base running smoothly, plopped down into the seat next to him.

“Have you looked at what we came to explore?” Steve said.

“Not yet, why?”

“You need to take a look,” Steve said as he handed him a pair of binoculars.

Charlie held the binoculars to his eyes and focused on the exposed rock beyond the group of penguins. As he adjusted  the dial, the exposed stone leapt into focus and he concentrated on the details as he slowly panned the area.

“What am I looking for?”

“Next to the hill that comes out like a shoulder, on the right side, there is an exposed section of what looks like a tunnel.”

“I see it,” he said, and then became quiet as the realization of what he was looking at slowly dawned on him. There was a band of writing on the wall running the visible length of the tunnel that terminated in what looked like a vast circular room carved out of the solid stone. Several jagged teeth of solid stone hung over the opening, giving it the appearance of a monstrous mouth.

At this distance it was hard to discern its origin, much less what was written, but just the realization that something intelligent had been involved in the construction of this tunnel set off warnings in his mind. They were looking at something man had never seen before, nor would likely ever see again. It reminded him again of the story he’d read by a writer long dead, and the carvings those fictional characters discovered. It was said that life imitated art. Here they stood upon the threshold of a discovery that had been foretold by a writer almost a hundred years earlier. He just hoped the outcome would follow a different course.

Three seats behind Charlie, Albert and Jerry, one of the scientists who’d volunteered for this expedition, were viewing the structure through their own pair of binoculars.

“How large do you make that to be?” Albert asked Jerry, a geologist whose hobby was ancient construction methods.

“I’d say at least a hundred feet from floor to ceiling, almost twice that across at the widest point,” Jerry said.

“I see a trail we can follow to the top,” Jenny said.

“What about the penguins?” Jerry said.

Sandra Falcon shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you for a fact that they’ve abandoned their normal migratory routes to gather here. Why, is anybody’s guess.”

“They seem drawn to the structure,” Albert said.

“It could be an instinctive memory,” Sandra said.

“Will they bother us if we go near them?”

“The only time one really needs to be careful is when they’re roosting. They shouldn’t bother us, but I wouldn’t take any chances. Give them a wide berth.”


***


After a few hours of climbing, they reached a small plateau above a field of shattered stone that was quickly being buried beneath a steady snowfall. They were accompanied by a platoon of soldiers who had been tasked with protecting the seven members of the scientific team. Albert was the leader of the group, but when it came to matters of security second lieutenant Stokes could overrule Albert’s decisions. On the plain below them, another C-130 came in for a landing as a ground crew worked against the elements and time to complete the structure the scientists would live and work in for the next few weeks.

As a group, they stopped when the exposed void came into view. The smooth sides of the passageway vanished into the mountain. It looked like it had been carved from solid stone. The narrow passage led into a vast domed chamber

“You’re the geologist,” Albert said, nodding at Jerry, “do you feel the structure is safe to enter?” 


To be continued!

Check out Adversary, book one of the Shadows of the Past series.

Click on cover for more info or to order!

Also available from these fine online retailers.





Also available in print from Createspace

Receive a personally autographed copy of Adversary for only $11.99 with free shipping to the continental United States. Drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com for details on how to order your copy today. 
 




Are they Out There?

Was watching an episode of Ancient Aliens on H2 yesterday and it piqued my curiosity enough to do a little digging. There are some who debunk everything the series offers as proof of alien visitation in the past. 

Personally for me, when I look to the stars, I’m not conceited enough to believe that among the thousands of spots of light spread across the night sky,  representing a very small fraction of what can be seen with the naked eye, that we are alone in the universe. With that thought in mind here is something to consider.

Many people cannot wrap their minds around the concept of time beyond the measure of a human life, which is but a brief twinkle, a nanosecond if you will, when compared to the immensity of cosmic time.

Current estimates place the age of the Universe at around 13.75 billion years. The Earth, by comparison has only been around for 4.54 billion of those years meaning the Universe was 9.21 billion years old when the Earth, and the solar system it inhabits, first formed.

Allowing sufficient time to cool to support life, say it was 4.6 billion years after the big bang before the first single cell organisms could have conceivably formed on earth like planets. A point in time over 9 billion years ago. Life on Earth has had 4.54 billion years to develop into the intelligent beings of today. What’s to say intelligent alien life wasn’t standing at the point we currently find ourselves, when the Earth first formed? Giving them a 4.5 billion year head start on humans.

Granted some alien societies would not have survived beyond the nuclear age. We ourselves face the possibility of extinction as a direct result of our nuclear proliferation. I’m sorry, but while others may disagree with me, there are some nations and leaders who should never possess such capabilities. Iran being the first that comes to mind.

But at the same time we face unlimited potential. Given time I’m confident electricity can be generated in a safe, low cost, manner that protects what natural resources we have. Just as I’m confident many alien societies faced the same hurdles we do now when the Earth was but a spinning ball of mud and gas vapors whipping around a newly formed star.

Those that didn’t succeed perished. But not all of them would have fallen to extinction. Some would have realized the potential we now face. Some would have overcome their internal bickering to become a single species united in a common goal. Be it a life of leisure, or one of exploration. Some would have chosen to live their lives in eternal comfort, focusing on their concept of beauty and the arts.

Others would have followed their curiosity to the stars in vehicles capable of reaching across the vast expanses of time and space. Quite possibly visiting our world at a time when man viewed these visitors from the stars as gods.

Could it be the legends of the past were inspired by these otherworldly visitors?

Are the creations of H.P. Lovecraft, and Clarke Ashton Smith, mere imaginings, or did they come to these same conclusions?

Everything should be taken with a grain of salt and much of the proof presented on the program is in the eye of the beholder. But the cosmic timeline is indisputable, opening a possibility, no matter how slim it may be.

Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II) Chapter 5


Chapter 5

Deputy Pete Forest and his partner Deputy Bob Michaels gazed up at the silent house as they sat in their cruiser parked in the driveway of the Reynolds residence. Both of them were familiar with Mark and his story, and each in their own way was rooting for the young man to be successful in his life. Bob had been present when Mark and his two friends had tried to rob the Pick and Go several years earlier. The fact that he had been released early for good behavior was a plus, so when Mark’s parole officer told them about his failure to show up for work and his employer’s inability to reach him, they decided to check things out, and make sure everything was okay.

It was obvious everything was not okay at the Reynolds’. Their old Cavalier was still sitting in the driveway, and after a bit of digging they’d discovered that Mark’s wife Jenny had not shown up for work for the past two days. Which led to a couple of possible conclusions.  They might have left town in the misguided hope to start new somewhere else, but the more likely answer was their bodies were both inside right now after a murder-suicide.

“Are we going in or not?” Ronald Stevens, Mark’s parole officer said from the back seat of the cruiser. He had agreed to come with them.

“Let’s get this over with,” Pete said as he opened his door and stepped out into the relentless midday heat. The incessant cry of the cicadas filled the day, coming from the forest behind the house, and the earthy scent of decay was carried on a soft breeze stirring the leaves of the trees.

“You wait here, Ronald,” Bob said as he exited the cruiser and rounded the hood to stop alongside his partner. Each of them had been in sticky situations in the past, and they each knew they were taking one hell of a risk walking up onto the house as they were. For all they knew, Mark had gone over the edge and was right now watching them through a telescopic sight ready to end their lives.

Having served themselves, they were aware of the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Each vet reacted differently when his or her options dwindled in the civilian world as Mark’s had. Being an ex-con had heightened that situation for Mark, whose only desire was to do what was right.

Reaching the foot of the steps of the front porch, they breathed a sigh of relief. Above them the house stood silent in the midday heat, blank windows watching them with unseeing eyes.

“After you,” Bob said and Pete started up the stairs, followed by his partner.

Looking through the window into the living room, Pete saw the food tray next to the easy chair; on it sat a plate of food. The television was still on and he could hear the sound of canned laughter. It was as if something urgent had happened to take them away from their meal. Moving down the porch, he looked into the kitchen window. A pocketbook sat on the counter, a set of keys lying next to it.

“I’m going to try the front door,” Pete said.

“I’ll go around the back. Give me a minute to get into place and we’ll go in.”

Pete waited for his partner to get into position, his hand resting on the doorknob of the front door. He’d already tried it, finding it locked, and knew he was going to have to kick in the door. From the radio mounted on his belt came a single break. That was Bob’s signal to get ready. It was followed by two breaks in quick succession and Pete stepped back in preparation to kicking in the door. When three quick breaks came from the radio he raised his foot and slammed it into the door right next to the knob.

The lock shattered, parts of it skittering across the floor as the door swung in and Pete entered the hallway with his revolver drawn. Crouched low, in order to make himself as small a target as possible, he quickly moved down the short hallway and scanned the living room, checking each shadowy corner before he was satisfied that it was clear.

“Living room clear,” he said.

“Laundry room clear,” Bob’s voice came from the depths of the house and each of them moved through the first floor, clearing the rooms as they went. They met in the hallway by the front door. 

“Let’s do the upstairs,” Bob said and Pete followed him up the carpeted steps.
#

Ronald had watched as Pete and Bob entered the house; from his place beside the cruiser he could easily follow their progress through the downstairs rooms. When they had moved up the stairs, he approached the house as well. He’d been a sheriff’s deputy himself for a number of years before he became a parole officer, so he was familiar with the procedure and to be honest he felt a little left out of the loop by the deputies’ admonishment that he stay there. So when they moved upstairs he entered the house.

The sound of a television playing came from the living room on the left and he crossed to the set to turn it off as the sound of the two deputies moving through the upstairs came to him through the ceiling. In the resulting silence he heard the buzzing sound of insects that drew his attention to the plate of half eaten food sitting on a TV tray beside the easy chair across from the television. Flies buzzed about the congealed mass of what had once been hamburger helper, lighting briefly on the squirming mound of maggots mixed with the putrid mass of meat and noodles.

It had been a couple of days, at least, since the couple had fled.

But why?

It made no sense. Ronald had spoken with the owner of the small diner where Mark worked and had learned that he was a dependable worker who was always on time, always finished his job without complaint, and was willing to stay on the few occasions they’d asked him to. In fact they had been planning on moving Mark up from dishwasher to food prep, along with a slight raise.

They were as surprised as Ronald when Mark simply hadn’t shown up two days before. No phone call, and their calls to his house had gone unanswered. 

Familiar with Mark’s past service, Ronald had become worried and enlisted the help of a couple of the deputies to lend him a hand and check up on young man.

Ronald heard Bob and Pete coming down the steps just as he became aware of another sound coming from the floor beneath him. The slow, steady scrape of metal over concrete.

Bob and Pete entered the hallway and Ronald waved to get their attention.

“I though we told you to stay in the car,” Bob said as he crossed the living room towards him. Ronald motioned for him to be quiet by placing his finger over his lips. Bob stopped and tilted his head to listen.

From the basement beneath them came the sound of metal scraping against another object.

Bob motioned to Pete that they were in the basement. Pete turned and crossed the kitchen to the basement door with Bob and Ronald close on his heels. Opening the door, he tried the light switch on the wall but the basement remained as dark as the bottom of a deep well.

The beam of his flashlight pierced the darkness as Bob, followed closely by his partner, moved down the basement steps. Reaching the bottom, each man searched the corners of the basement with a flashlight. Thick strands of an unknown substance hung from the exposed rafters, creating long shadows cast by the flashlights that offered refuge to anyone hiding in the basement.

Bob settled the beam of his flashlight on the vertical fin sticking up from the basement floor. Around it a number of large black insects were lying on the floor.

“What the hell is that?” Bob said.

Pete shrugged as he stepped into the jungle of hanging strands, playing the beam of his flashlight all around himself as he ventured deeper into the basement. The sound of movement came from his right and he swung around in that direction just as Jenny emerged from between two strands with an axe held in her hands. Dark flesh lay around each of her oversized eyes as her lips were pulled back in a grimace.

“Hold it,” Pete shouted as he drew his revolver. She continued her advance on him, lifting the axe over her shoulder as if she were about to strike him with it. He fired his revolver from the hip, the muzzle flash temporarily blinding him as the roar of the shot rebounded from floor and ceiling. Jenny was driven back by the impact of the round, a black spot blossoming on the bottom of her chin as the angle of the round took it up into her brain, dropping her instantly. 

Bob quickly crossed to Pete just as Mark appeared from the shadowy depths on his blind side, wielding an axe in his hand, the head resting on his shoulder in preparation for a swing. Bob fired as the sound of Pete’s shot reverberated in his ear, the muzzle flash illuminating the jungle of hanging strands around him, temporarily blinding him. Bob’s shot caught Mark in the center of mass, a black spot suddenly appeared in the center of his chest as he was driven back into the shadows.

Mark returned, surprising Pete, who had expected him to go down from the impact of the shot, and he managed to swing his axe, the blade slicing into Pete’s calf muscle and dropping him to the floor as he screamed and fired again, his shot going wide, ricocheting from the block wall somewhere in the shadowy depths of the basement.

Bob came to him as Mark raised his axe for another blow, black blood blossoming on Mark’s shirt as Bob’s round slammed into the center of his chest. He stepped back from the impact of the round but remained on his feet as he approached them to take another swing.

“What the fuck,” Bob shouted as he fired again, his round hitting Mark in the throat, forcing him to stagger back, yet he remained standing, impervious to their rounds. Pete fired from his position, aiming up, and the round slammed into the bottom of Mark’s chin, angling up into his brain, and he dropped lifelessly to the ground, the axe clattering to the floor beside him.

“Where’s the other one?” Pete said.

“She’s down, I hope,” Bob said as he knelt over his partner with his pistol in one hand and his flashlight in the other as he tried to look everywhere at once.
#

Ronald stepped back from the basement door as Bob helped Pete into the kitchen. Blood was flowing freely form the deep gash in his calf, and after sitting Pete on the floor, Bob grabbed several towels from the towel rack and used them to try to stem the flow of blood.

“What happened? Did you find them? What was all the shooting about?” Ronald said.

“Go to the cruiser and get the first aid kit,” Bob said.

“What happened?” Ronald persisted.

“Do it now, dammit,” Bob said and Ronald turned on his heel to race from the kitchen.

Bob looked up from the wound on Pete’s leg. “Are you going to be all right?”

Pete nodded in response, pain evident on his face. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Who knows, but I’m calling for back up.”

Bob keyed the mike clipped to his shoulder that was attached to the small radio on his belt, that was further powered by the cruiser’s more powerful radio.

“Base, this is six three, over,” Bob said into the mike.

From the small speaker on his shoulder came the reply in a female voice.  “Roger six three, this is base, go ahead.”

“We have shots fired at our location, one officer is down, over.”

“Roger six three,” came the immediate response, tension evident in the dispatcher’s voice, “back-up is en-route, emergency services have been notified. What is the status of the officer down, over?”

“Status is stable, but life threatening, over.”

“Will he be okay, Bob?” came the dispatcher’s worried voice, breaking all protocols.

“He’ll be all right, Maggie. I’ve got it under control. Out.”

Ronald rushed back into the kitchen with the first aid kit and Bob opened it, removing several cellophane wrapped bandages and placed them next to Pete’s leg. Removing the blood soaked towel, he laid it aside and opened the bandages, carefully wrapping the puckered wound with the sterile bandage.

As Bob worked on Pete, Ronald walked over to the basement door and looked down into the darkness below. “What happened down there?”

“They attacked us.”

“They? Who?” Ronald said.

“Mark and Jenny. I guess you’re not going to have to worry about his parole violation anymore.”

“Are they dead?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Bob said, shuddering as he looked at the open basement door, recalling the way Mark had kept coming even after being hit several times at close range.

Must be a drug or something, he thought as the sound of a distant siren came to them.

Ronald screamed and jumped back as Pico, the cat, darted through the opened door. Pico stopped halfway across the kitchen and looked back at them; he hissed, and then turned and fled through the back door.

Chapter 4                       Chapter 6

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Ancient Aliens?

Was watching an episode of Ancient Aliens on H2 yesterday and it piqued my curiosity enough to do a little digging. There are some who debunk everything the series offers as proof of alien visitation in the past. 

Personally for me, when I look to the stars, I’m not conceited enough to believe that among the thousands of spots of light spread across the night sky,  representing a very small fraction of what can be seen with the naked eye, that we are alone in the universe. With that thought in mind here is something to consider.

Many people cannot wrap their minds around the concept of time beyond the measure of a human life, which is but a brief twinkle, a nanosecond if you will, when compared to the immensity of cosmic time.

Current estimates place the age of the Universe at around 13.75 billion years. The Earth, by comparison has only been around for 4.54 billion of those years meaning the Universe was 9.21 billion years old when the Earth, and the solar system it inhabits, first formed.

Allowing sufficient time to cool to support life, say it was 4.6 billion years after the big bang before the first single cell organisms could have conceivably formed on earth like planets. A point in time over 9 billion years ago. Life on Earth has had 4.54 billion years to develop into the intelligent beings of today. What’s to say intelligent alien life wasn’t standing at the point we currently find ourselves, when the Earth first formed? Giving them a 4.5 billion year head start on humans.

Granted some alien societies would not have survived beyond the nuclear age. We ourselves face the possibility of extinction as a direct result of our nuclear proliferation. I’m sorry, but while others may disagree with me, there are some nations and leaders who should never possess such capabilities. Iran being the first that comes to mind.

But at the same time we face unlimited potential. Given time I’m confident electricity can be generated in a safe, low cost, manner that protects what natural resources we have. Just as I’m confident many alien societies faced the same hurdles we do now when the Earth was but a spinning ball of mud and gas vapors whipping around a newly formed star.

Those that didn’t succeed perished. But not all of them would have fallen to extinction. Some would have realized the potential we now face. Some would have overcome their internal bickering to become a single species united in a common goal. Be it a life of leisure, or one of exploration. Some would have chosen to live their lives in eternal comfort, focusing on their concept of beauty and the arts.

Others would have followed their curiosity to the stars in vehicles capable of reaching across the vast expanses of time and space. Quite possibly visiting our world at a time when man viewed these visitors from the stars as gods.

Could it be the legends of the past were inspired by these otherworldly visitors?

Are the creations of H.P. Lovecraft, and Clark Ashton Smith, mere imaginings, or did they come to the same conclusions I have?

Everything should be taken with a grain of salt and much of the proof presented on the program is in the eye of the beholder. But the cosmic timeline is indisputable, opening the possibility, no matter how slim it may be.

Do you believe in Aliens?