Chapter 1: Stay Out Of Room 7! continues...

Recommended Listening: Loving the Alien by David Bowie

3rd December, 1985

Loving the Alien by David Bowie was playing on the radio as Jonathan drove through Mirkwood.

"I hate this," Nancy complained from the passenger seat.

"Want me to change the station?" Jonathan asked awkwardly.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I mean this," she tried to explain. "Gordon doesn't trust me, so he sends me on some wild goose chase across Indiana, instead of letting me pursue a real story."

"Listen," Jonathan began, turning down the radio until the vocals of David Bowie faded to a gentle whisper, "you've only been working this job for a couple of months," he reminded her. "You haven't had a chance to prove to your boss just how talented you really are," he explained. "This is your chance, Nancy."

Nancy smiled sweetly. "I guess you're right."

"And for the record, this could be a real story," Jonathan added.

Nancy scoffed. "Please," she said bitterly. "This guy told the cops that there were aliens hiding in his crops, and that they were stealing parts from his tractor to rebuild their flying saucer."

Nancy glanced at Jonathan. "Okay, so maybe it's a little excessive," he replied. "But stranger things have happened, right?" he said, grinning at Nancy, who giggled.

"Believing the strangest things," the vocals on the radio whispered, "Loving the alien."

Jonathan drove past a sign that read: LEAVING HAWKINS. COME AGAIN SOON.

The air reeked of manure.

The sun shone brightly over a field of crops that seemed to go on for miles.

"You ready?" asked Nancy nervously.

Jonathan nodded. "Sure," he replied.

Nancy rang the doorbell.

A strong breeze blew, and Jonathan heard the sound of wooden wind chimes bashing against each other.

With a piercing creak, the front door swung open.

In the doorway stood a short, stocky man with a greying mullet, and a horseshoe moustache. He wore an orange trucker cap and an olive fleece jacket. "Can I help you?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Mr. Clarke? My name's Nancy, I'm from the Indiana Echo," said Nancy, before gesturing towards Jonathan. 'This is Jonathan, my photographer," she added.

Jonathan waved awkwardly. "Hello," he said.

The crop farmer seemed less than impressed. He turned his back on the two of them, walking back into the house. "Come in if you're comin' in," he mumbled, leaving the front door wide open.

Jonathan and Nancy shared a concerned look, then followed the crop farmer inside.

Following the crop farmer down a hallway, Jonathan noticed a framed photo of a young boy, no more than eight years-old, sat atop a tractor, wearing an orange trucker cap similar to that of the crop farmer's.

They took a seat in the lounge, on a floral sofa still in its plastic packaging, rustling as they got comfortable.

On the mantelpiece, Jonathan noticed a Napoleon clock, the hour hand approaching 10 o'clock.

"So, whaddya wanna know?" the crop farmer asked, sitting in an armchair opposite them.

Nancy looked at Jonathan, who smiled at her encouragingly. "You told the Sheriff's Department that you saw something in your crop field," she said.

"That's right," the crop farmer confirmed, his stare intense and fixed on Nancy.

"Mr. Clarke, can you-"

"It's Kenny. Only my little brother gets called Mr. Clarke."

Nancy leaned forward, returning Kenny' stare. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

Kenny smirked. "I wanna hear you say it," he answered.

There was a pause. "Aliens," Nancy uttered.

Kenny's smile widened. "You don't believe me, do you?" he asked her, before rising to his feet, and leaving the lounge.

Nancy turned to Jonathan, who wore a concerned look.

"What if I told you that this wasn't their first visit to my farm?" Kenny asked, returning to the lounge, a framed photograph in his hand. "That, seven years ago, they came to this farm, and they took my son," he said, handing Nancy the photograph.

It was the same photograph of the young boy on the tractor, only now, seeing the child's smile filled Jonathan with sorrow.

"The Sheriff tried to convince me that he got lost in the crop field," Kenny explained, "but I know the truth. I know they took him."

"Did you see them?" Nancy asked, eyes wide.

Kenny leaned forward, returning Nancy's gaze. "Not the first time," he answered. "But last night, I heard one of them. It was hiding," he continued. "And it made this sound… this gurgling sound… like water going down a plughole. I must've scared it off, 'cause when I got closer, I heard the crops rustling… and then I saw it."

"What did it look like?" Jonathan asked curiously.

Kenny sighed. "Well, it was dark," he explained, "so, I didn't get a proper look. But I know what I saw, and I know it ain't nothing like anything else on God's green Earth," he said. "It had long, flapping tentacles, and its skin was coarse and wet, and it… it didn't have a…"

"It didn't have a face?" Jonathan asked expectedly.

Kenny's eyes widened. "How'd you know that?" he asked.

Jonathan and Nancy shared an anxious look.

"So, you believe me?' Kenny asked.

"It doesn't matter what we believe," Nancy replied. "It's what everyone else believes, that matters."

Kenny leaned back in his armchair. "Alright," he said, "and how do we convince the rest of the world that we've got an alien invasion on our hands?" he asked, shaking his hands.

"We find your son," Nancy answered.

Kenny smiled warmly, his eyes narrowing, and the wrinkles on his forehead creasing. "You really think you can find my boy?"

"We can try," Jonathan answered sensitively.

"Where's the boy's mother?" Nancy asked, swiftly changing the subject.

"Lilith died when he was only four years-old," he answered. "She got sick."

"So, it was just the two of you after that?" asked Nancy.

"That's right," said Kenny. "Except for the Doc, of course."

"Doc?" asked Jonathan, confused.

"After his Mom died, I stared taking my son to a pediatrician called Dr. Tamblyn," Kenny explained. "He took good care of him… helped him through a lot."

"Where is this Doctor now?" asked Nancy.

"I dunno," Kenny replied. "He up and disappeared around the time my boy was taken. I never heard from him again."

Nancy glanced at Jonathan, who nodded assertively. They swiftly rose to their feet.

"Wait a minute," said Kenny, taken aback, "you don't think-?"

"If you see anything else in that crop field," Nancy began, handing Kenny her card, "you call me before you call anyone else. You got it?"

Kenny nodded, looking up at Nancy.

Together, Nancy and Jonathan left the house, returning to their car, the wooden wind chimes still bashing at each other in the cold breeze.

"You think this Doctor has something to do with all this?" Jonathan asked, stepping into the driver's seat.

Sat in the passenger seat, Nancy said, "There's only one way to find out."

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