Writing Prompt #15

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In honor of Revenge of the Fifth and Guardians of the Galaxy being out, I give you….

The special “Sci-Fi” edition of Fictional Fridays.

And it just so happens to be a two parter. I didn’t really plan it this way, it just kind of happened, but yeah.

Let’s get this thing started:

 

 

Ten.

She stuck the brush in her mouth, and felt the bristles against her gums. The small pool of water that had gathered in the sink began to tremble. And then she felt it- it was like a surge that passed through the house until it crawled up her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

It was gone before she could even think the word earth quake.

She thought it odd that there could even be an earthquake in this small corner of the world. Perhaps a transformer went down. Or a neighbor had done something to cause it.

She continued to lather her teeth with paste; her arms still tingling from that odd sensation. Her phone buzzed on the counter, but she waited until she was finished, rinsing her mouth and placing the toothbrush back in its place, before checking it.

All of the text messages were the same, and she felt a sense of urgency as she dashed to the living room.

TURN ON THE TV! NOW!

Perhaps it was about a celebrity. Or a political issue. It couldn’t be about the tremor. A billion excuses popped in her head. But deep down she knew. Something was wrong.

“…we have footage now that confirms that these major cities: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, Phoenix, Jacksonville, Indianapolis, Columbus, Charlotte, Detroit, Boston, Seattle, Denver….”

The list just kept going. One major city for each state.

“…All do not have power now. We are doing are best to stay vigilant on the cause of this, but for now have no answers at this time. Here’s, a word from the president, who was luckily campaigning for re-election outside of these metro areas.”

The feed switched to the president, who asked citizens to remain calm and indoors. That’s when the second tremor occurred, longer this time. The lights in her house began to quiver, until they went out completely.

And it wasn’t just her house. Her phone screen pixelated into darkness.

And then the screams began.

Nine.

Millie had lived in a small town all her life, thinking she was safe from all of the city crime and violence.

But no one, she would soon realize, was safe on this planet.

It had been days since the tremors, and she’d stayed put. She had waited for her father to come through the door, and yet there’d been no sign of him. She assumed he must have been stuck at work, that they were taking good care of him.

Still, her nerves were on edge.

Living far out in the country, everyone knew everyone. Maybe not all were friends or even remotely friendly. But all the faces were familiar, in one way or another.

The face that showed on her doorstep, after the tremors and screams subsided and a long silence ensued, was not.

He had an odd look about him, as she peeked through the peep hole. His hair was slicked back with gel, and his police uniform looked a shade of blue off. He began to knock, and she jumped back. “Mildred Dobbs? I’m a lieutenant and would like to ensure your safety. Please, open the door.”

She had a bad feeling about him. And her instincts were usually never off.

Millie darted to her father’s room, her fingers reaching for and then grasping her prize. She slowly walked back to the front door, where the voice was growing more impatient.

“You’re not from around here,” she said, watching his response.

“No, ma’am. I’m from the county over seeing as how your town is short staffed.”

“Well, I can assure you, officer, I’m plenty safe in here.”

“We’re just taking precautions. We want to make sure everyone under the age of eighteen is okay. Please, open up.”

Her eyes must have tricked her, as she saw the flash of color change in his skin and eyes. She could have sworn the change was real. The green and yellow.

She twisted the knob, cautiously, after unlocking the door. She cracked it open, but that small give allowed him to push his way through.

His hand flashed in a shade of putrid green once more, before returning to a weathered tan.

There was no mistaking it this time. Underneath his fake smile was something dark.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was…”

She pulled the trigger as he stepped in, the force of the bullet pushing him back on to the porch.

Eight.

Her father had taught her how to shoot when she was very young. He taught her to hunt not long after that. Surviving had just come to her second nature. It was that instinct that was driving her now.

Millie went back in the house- her clothes covered in dirt. She’d buried the creature immediately, after searching him and stripping him of his uniform.

She cleaned up and then established a plan. She was smart for a seventeen year old. Smarter still for a former Navy Seal’s daughter.

And then she executed it.

She stepped outside- her school back pack filled with water, a pair of clean clothes, and some non-perishable foods. She had looped her monstrous knife that her father had given her into her belt, and hid away the few light pieces and bullets that she had stole from his gun safe. The weapons and belongings of the alien were tucked away in a separate pack. She carried one on her back, like normal. But the other she wore on her front like a vest.

They, whatever they were, not only knew where she lived, but her very name. That meant she was compromised. And she needed to leave.

Surely there were others. And soon enough they’d discover that their “lieutenant” was missing. She didn’t want to be there when they came back to look for him.

Millie knew how to survive in the woods on her own for an indefinite amount of time. So long as the aliens stayed away.

They had to be aliens, she’d determined as she ventured out. Green skin the color of vomit. Bugged out golden eyes. And something like gills on the side of it’s face. Though she couldn’t be sure.

As she crossed the creek, past their property, she heard a rustle from the brush behind her. She ducked for cover.

Two voices emerged from beyond the crumpling of leaves. She reached for a loaded gun, aiming it at their general direction. Her finger grazed the trigger.

Seven.

 
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK!
Writing Prompt: Your story is a countdown. Start it at 10 and end it with 0.

PS- I hope you enjoyed it. Now I’m about to get my nerd on. Peace. đź––

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