Calvin Anderson gripped the clutch on his dirt bike, kicked into third gear, and felt the bike propel forward with sudden new force. The glee of going up a gear never seemed to go away, even though he had been dirt biking for years. The roar of the engine and that of his friend, Greg's, bike, both muffled by the helmet he wore, were the only sounds he could hear in this wilderness.
Suddenly, Greg's bike whipped past his, going ahead quickly. When he was already far ahead of Cal, he did a wheelie.
"Show-off!" Cal shouted, kicking his bike into fourth gear.
Cal, a seventeen-year-old native of New Mexico, had shaggy, black hair, which the girls at his school loved because it was "untamed," and skin darkened by his constant time spent in the sun. Now that school was over, Cal was looking forward to spending every day of his last summer before college like this... dirt biking with his friends or playing paintball. When they got tired, they would relax afterward with beer he had smuggled out of his father's stash, and then shooting the beer cans with a shotgun (again taken secretly from his father). His parents had commented many times that he might as well live in the wilderness, since he spent every waking moment there anyway. Cal and his friends did go camping occasionally, but the ever-present regulations and anti-overnight signs took the fun out of it. Besides, sleeping all night on top of rocky ground in the cold of the desert wasn't as fun as spending the day alone before...
Cal believed he saw it before Greg did, but he wasn't sure. Behind a large boulder approximately fifty yards ahead of Greg's bike came some sort of spider, only it was nearly as big as the boulder, had four legs, and a pale sack hanging underneath its body. He hit the brakes until his bike screeched to a halt, but Greg did not react until it was too late. The spider squirted his bike with a clear liquid, which instantly ate away at the metal bars and the tires. Greg lost control and went sprawling onto the ground before the giant spider. The spider jabbed with its front legs, dashing Greg's body to pieces, and that's when Cal turned his bike and sped away.
First gear.
The spider noticed his take off right away and gave chase, screaming a high-pitched scream that sent a cold shiver up his spine. Cal turned his head, and to his horror, the spider was quickly gaining, despite its size and the throbbing sack attached to its underbelly. Cal waited until his bike was going fast enough, then shifted gears.
Second gear.
The spider was starting to lose him, and it began running at full speed. Still, Cal's bike was slowly getting ahead of it. The spider screamed again, and sent a squirt of the clear liquid his way. The liquid landed with a sizzling splat on a yucca plant mere feet from Cal's bike.
Third gear.
Cal felt the familiar push of acceleration, only he did not savor it. The spider had sent another squirt of liquid at him, which landed a few yards behind him. When he was going fast enough, Cal shifted gears again.
Fourth gear.
By now, the spider was well behind him. It wailed miserably, but it did not give up. As the spider passed behind a boulder, Cal let out a sigh of relief. He didn't stop or downshift gears until he reached their campsite, where two of his friends were chilling with a cooler full of beers.
Cal screeched to a sudden stop right next to his friends, pushing a cloud of dust into their faces. They coughed and waved their hands irritably.
"Damn, Cal," one of his friends, Alex, said. "Next time you pull that stunt, do it a little farther from..."
"We've got to go," Cal said, killing the bike's engine and rolling it towards the back of his old pickup truck. "Now."
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," the other friend, Nathan, said, standing up. "What about my turn?"
"And where the hell's Greg?" said Alex.
"Greg's dead," Cal said, the words falling out of his mouth like dead rats. "If I took any more time to explain, we'd all be dead. Now, move."
His friends moved quickly now, shooting worried glances at Cal as they folded up the lawn chairs and threw them and the beer cooler into the back of the pickup truck. Cal got into the driver's seat, Alex got into the passenger's seat, and Nathan hopped into the back; the truck had a two seat cab.
As Cal turned the ignition, the spider was coming into sight.
"Jesus!" Nathan said, flattening his body against the back of the cab. "What the fuck is that?"
"No questions!" Cal shouted. "Let's go!"
Cal planted his foot on the gas, and the pickup rumbled off. He never liked how slow it accelerated, and the bumpy path wasn't making it any better. He shifted into second, but the spider was gaining.
"Cal..." Nathan mumbled, his shaky voice full of fear.
"Shoot it, damn it!" Cal roared. "Why do I have to think for you?"
Nathan fished through the junk in the back of the pickup and came up with Cal's dad's shotgun. He loaded it with shaky fingers, pointed it at the spider's sack, thought better of it, and shot for the leg. It missed. When it was close enough, the spider lifted the sack and fired a translucent object into the back of the pickup. When Nathan got a good look at it, he saw that it resembled an infant form of the spider.
"Holy hell," he mumbled. "It fucking gave birth!"
He shot several shots at the baby. It jumped at him, leaving a small laceration on his left arm. He screamed angrily, then beat the baby with the butt of the shotgun until it was nothing more than a grease mark. He then turned to the giant spider, who was beginning to lose the pickup. It squirted its clear acid at the pickup, which splattered all over the dirtbike. The dirtbike melted down before his eyes. Nathan aimed the shotgun again, this time at the sack, and fired. The bullet managed to pierce the sack's thick skin, and green liquid dribbled out. The spider screamed, but the pain only agitated its anger, and it began to pick up speed. It sent squirt after squirt of acid at the truck, melting down the cooler, the lights, and the bumper. The pickup hit a gouge in the path, losing speed and allowing the spider a chance to gain on it. The spider spewed forth more acid, and this time, Nathan himself was the victim. Alex saw, and Cal heard, Nathan's painful screams, until the liquid's effect terminated his life. The spider continued shooting acid.
"Alex," Cal said, his voice shaky. "Listen to me. I need you to pick up the shotgun and... and keep shooting. Until that thing stops chasing us."
Alex nodded, opened the window between the cab and the back, and reached through it. He grasped the nozzle of the shotgun; thankfully, the acid had not destroyed it. He pulled it free of Nathan's grip and aimed it at the spider. He fired, striking the sack where it met the underbelly. It opened an artery in the beast, allowing green liquid to spurt violently from the wound. Alex had fired two more rounds before the spider's anger gave way to pain, and it finally slowed to a stop. As the pickup truck sped away, the spider wailed its mournful, horrible wail.
Alex dropped the shotgun and turned back to the front, staring out the windshield with blank eyes. Cal looked at Alex's hands; they were trembling. He turned and looked at his own hands, and noticed that they were both white from gripping the steering wheel. The sound of burning flesh and plastic could be heard faintly from the back, until Alex closed the window with a grunt. Neither of them spoke until they reached Carrizozo city limits.
Monday, 3:05 P.M.- Presbyterian Hospital, Albuquerque, New Mexico
Barney crept through an empty corridor of an old prison, wielding a piece of rusty pipe that he had taken from under a bathroom sink. The walls around him were plastered with either old blood or rust; it was becoming hard to tell which was which. The stink of rotting corpses filled his nostrils, and the screams of tortured prisoners filled his ears. He suddenly became aware that he was barefoot, that he could feel the cold stone on his feet. He looked down, and realized that he wasn't wearing the blue uniform he had been accustomed to wearing during this disaster; he was wearing a tattered, bright orange prisoner's uniform. A nagging part of his brain told him, This is wrong. It's not supposed to be like this. But he ignored that part of his brain, because he knew that he had to get out of here, that he had to warn somebody.
He heard shuffling feet echoing from down the corridor, around a corner. He flattened himself against the wall forming the interior of the corner, with the bathroom pipe ready for attack.
It's wrong and you know it, the nagger spoke again. It never happened like this. In fact, there is no prison in the Black Mesa Research Facility. It's wrong and you know it. It's wrong and you know it. It's wrong and you...
"Shut up!" Barney screamed. Deep throated, alien cries came from down the corridor, and the shuffling feet became running feet. His grip tightened on the pipe.
Suddenly, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, turning him around and pushing him down the corridor. The vortigaunt alien in front of him approached slowly, cackling as it went. By the time Barney realized that it wasn't cackling laughter he heard, but the crackle of intense electrical energy, it was too late to do anything but scream.
He did scream, but only briefly. He opened his eyes, and found himself in a hospital bed wearing a light blue hospital smock, with a layer of cold sweat on his skin. He turned his head, and as he did so, pain shot through his head. He put his hand to his forehead, feeling a bandage there. His mind raced to recall what had caused this wound.
The door to the room opened. Barney leaped out of the bed and crouched in a corner, trembling. In walked a bearded man in a white suit.
"Hello, Mr. Calhoun," the bearded man said gently. "I'm Dr. Holmes. How are you feeling?" When Barney didn't answer, Dr. Holmes said with a laugh, "Not too good, I see."
"Wh-wh-where am I?" Barney muttered fearfully.
"You are in Presbyterian Hospital," Dr. Holmes said. "Albuquerque. The police found you some miles north of Carrizozo, unconscious, in the back of a truck. They brought you here." He cleared his throat. "If you're feeling better, the police are here to ask you some questions."
Slowly, things began coming back to Barney. He shuddered as memories of the events of the past weeks came back to him.
"Would you like to rest some more?" Dr. Holmes asked.
Barney shook his head violently. "I want to get out of here," he said. "The sooner the better."
"Good!" Dr. Holmes said cheerfully. "We'll need you to sign some forms, and, of course, the police still need to ask you those questions." Dr. Holmes lifted a clipboard and put a pen to it. "Will your employer... er... 'Black Mesa Research Facility...' cover this?"
"No," Barney said weakly, standing up. "Not anymore."
When the hospital staff returned Barney's uniform to him, they asked if he would rather wear a hospital loaner. The blue uniform was grimy, torn, bloodstained, and stinky. Barney acquiesced, but didn't say the reason why... he wanted to be rid of the memories of what happened while he was wearing that uniform. He got a pair of loose-fitting work pants, sneakers, and a white "YMCA" t-shirt. The only thing he kept was his watch.
A nurse then escorted him to the waiting room, where a stern-looking, Hispanic police officer was waiting for him. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Lopez, and added, "but call me Alfonso."
"We need to know what happened with the truck you came in," Alfonso said. "And what you know about those creatures inside."
Barney frowned, pushing his recent memories as far away as possible. "I'd rather not," he said. "I really have to get..."
"Would you like to know the circumstances under which you're obliged to answer my questions?" Alfonso said sternly. "Two police officers are dead, one civilian is dead, and a whole shit-load of police equipment is destroyed. So either you cooperate with me or I'm going to have to take you in for obstruction of justice. Understood?"
Barney nodded.
"Good," Alfonso said. He turned his head, surveying the waiting room, full of women, children, and elderly people. "But, ah, not here."
Monday, 3:30 P.M.- Carrizozo Police Department, Carrizozo, New Mexico
Barney was taken to the police department in Carrizozo, into an interrogation room. Alfonso watched through a one-way mirror while an investigator named Charlie entered the room and sat across from Barney.
"All right," the investigator said. "You know why you're here, right?"
Barney nodded.
"Good. Now, first off, I have to ask you about this particular creature. There were a dozen or so found on the truck, dead."
Charlie pushed a photograph across the table. Barney took one glance and pushed it back.
"Headcrab," he muttered. "Nasty things. Parasites. Grab your face, chew through the bone until they reach the brain. That's when they take over your body, controlling it, even if it's dead."
Charlie turned ghostly white. He cleared his throat. "Do you, ah, know where they originated?" he said.
Barney sighed. "You know, if I tell you, and a government agent ever finds me, I'll disappear off the face of the planet," he said.
"Don't worry," Charlie said. "This conversation will never leave this room." It was only a partial truth; the whole thing was being recorded, and Alfonso could hear it clearly in the other room, but it was not allowed to be shared with the public. Unless required in court, of course.
"All right," Barney said. He paused. "Black Mesa. They came from Black Mesa."
Charlie frowned. "Isn't that where you work?"
"Yes," Barney said. "I'm not exactly sure how it all happened, but one day while I was at my post, all hell seemed to break loose, and before I knew it, these headcrabs were literally everywhere. Not just headcrabs, either... all sorts of weird things that could kill you in a flash."
"Are they... some sort of crossbreed?"
"No. They're aliens."
In the other room, Alfonso sighed.
Charlie looked down at his papers uncomfortably. "Oookay," he said. "Um... let's move on to what happened in the truck."
Barney leaned forward. "I'm not bullshitting you," he said. "These things are the results of a top-secret Black Mesa experiment gone wrong, which allowed dozens upon scores upon hundreds of aliens to come to Earth. But fine. You don't have to believe me. I bet you that, in less than twenty-four hours, some bizarre phenomena are going to confirm my story."
"Let's just move on, shall we?" Charlie said. "What happened in..."
"This thing got so bad, in fact," Barney interrupted. "That the entire facility was overrun by aliens. The government sent in the military, but they were slaughtered in a matter of days, just like my colleagues. For days I managed to survive, but I and the group I survived with began to realize that it couldn't go on forever. Aliens were appearing faster and stronger than before, and we were running low on energy and ammo."
"Mr. Calhoun, I really need..."
"Don't worry, I'm getting there. Anyway, we finally made it to the surface, where we fought our way to a vehicle, which we attempted to flee in. We were almost at the abandoned military barrier at the edge of the compound when a group of strong aliens ambushed us. Our car was destroyed and my other companions were killed before the group of aliens were eliminated. I wandered in a daze past the barrier and down the road away from the compound. Finally, I noticed a trucker approaching. I flagged him down and stayed in the back, resting as well as I could.
"Suddenly, I heard those all too familiar bursts of energy, and I realized with dismay that the terror of Black Mesa was not confined to Black Mesa. I killed eleven of the headcrabs that appeared inside, but the twelfth one was allowed to go free, for I had run out of ammo. Before I could catch up to it, it had crawled into the cab. The muffled, short-lived scream of the truck driver confirmed my fear. I knew I was done for; I could not reach the cab from where I was. I hoped the truck would eventually run off the road, but luck was against me in this. The last thing I can remember was hearing your captain's call on the megaphone."
"Wait, wait," Charlie said. "Sudden bursts of energy? You mean these things appear out of nowhere?"
"That's what I've been saying, isn't it?" Barney said irritably.
Charlie shuffled through his papers, sighing. He stood up. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Calhoun," he said, before excusing himself from the room.
Charlie approached Alfonso, whose eyes were locked on Barney.
"What do you think?" Charlie said quietly.
"I think he's still a little hysterical," Alfonso said. "Making shit up to compensate what he went through."
"What do you think really happened?"
Alfonso shrugged. "I believe that thing is the result of a crossbreed experiment, like you suggested," he said. "Perhaps something did happen at Black Mesa, but I think he's exaggerating it. I also think that when he flagged down the truck, a few of these things crawled on board and hid in the crates. You know, like wharf rats."
There was a knock at the door, and another officer appeared.
"Some kids are here, sir," he said. "I think you may want to hear what they have to say."
Monday, 3:45 P.M.- Carrizozo Police Department, Carrizozo, New Mexico
When Cal and Alex had finished their testimony, sitting across Alfonso's desk, Alfonso was still skeptical. Of course, the boys had Nathan's half-melted corpse in the back of their truck as proof, but Alfonso was more ready to charge the boys with murder than to accept this new piece of evidence as proof of the truth in Barney's story.
Finally, Barney was admitted, and heard the boys' story. When they had finished (a while before they finished, actually), he held his head in his hands.
"It's happening too soon, too fast," he muttered. "They're coming faster than I expected." He looked up to Alfonso like a dog looks to his master when he wants table scraps. "They'll be here by tomorrow. Warn the people! Set up roadblocks! Issue..."
"Get him out of here," Alfonso called to the officers by the door. When they grabbed Barney, he grew violent.
"You've got to warn the people!" he screamed. "They won't stand a chance! You won't stand a chance! They'll chew you to pieces like they did those military goons at Black..."
But his voice faded away as he was dragged out of the room to the other side of the police station, where the jail cells were. Cal and Alex watched them go, horrified.
"What's all that about?" Cal asked.
Alfonso shook his head. "That's confidential information, kid," he said. "You kids go on home. We'll take things from here."
Cal laughed forcefully. "Excuse me," he said. "Two of my friends just died, my dirtbike is soup, and my truck is damaged beyond repair. You think we can just leave without knowing what the fuck happened?"
"Look, kid," Alfonso said gruffly. "Your stuff will be covered by insurance. As for your friends, well, I'm sorry for your loss, but right now I have a hell of a lot of work to do to figure it all out. We'll let you know when we do; rather, the media will let you know. As for now, I..."
Alfonso trailed off as his phone rang. He picked it up. Several minutes later, he slammed it down on the hook. "Goddamn it," he muttered. "You kids get the hell out of here." With that, he pushed Cal and Alex out the door, and left the police station himself.
Cal and Alex sat on a bench outside the police station, absorbing the afternoon heat, watching the paramedics take... scrape, rather... Nathan off the truck and onto a van bound for the morgue.
"What a day," said Alex.
"Yeah," said Cal. "I don't think I'm ever going dirtbiking again."
"Should we, um, tell their folks?" said Alex. "Nathan and Greg, I mean."
"No," said Cal. "Let the cops do it."
They sat a few minutes longer, until the heat began to get to them. They got into the truck, and after driving Alex home, Cal parked his truck inside his parents' garage and got out. He grabbed his dad's shotgun, grabbed for the cooler, only to realize that it was now a lump of plastic fused to the truck. He shook his head and closed the garage door. It was then that he realized that he had not cried for neither Greg nor Nathan. It was so sudden, he decided, that he literally forgot to mourn.
He entered the house through the door in the garage. He carefully replaced the shotgun in its proper place. "I'm home," he shouted.
Monday, 5:20 P.M. - Eighty Miles North of Carrizozo, New Mexico
Alfonso surveyed the scene grimly. Here was an average, rundown, roadside store. Inside were two average, rundown, roadside workers. Both had "headcrabs" clinging to their heads, and both were lying on the ground, dead.
"There's more," said an investigator. "There's at least three more lying around here. They're all dead; thanks to this guy."
In a corner, talking to two police officers, was an elderly, mustached man, who looked like the sort of guy you would see playing the role of the sheriff in a western movie. He looked laid back, despite what he had just went through.
"Ah, tell that story one more time. For this guy," said one of the officers, pointing to Alfonso.
The man looked Alfonso up and down, and then repeated his story. "Well, I just pulled my vehicle over there into this here store," he said, with a heavy Southern accent. "While I was tryin' to fill up my truck, I noticed that the self-serve pump wasn't quite workin' right. So I went into the store to talk to the manager 'bout it. What do I find but these things wanderin' around! I ain't too intel'gint, officer, but I know a human when I see one, and these things weren't too human-like. Naturally, I pulled out my revolver and put a hole where they shouldn't be one in each of them. I took a look around the store, found a couple of those little scamps, and put a bullet in them, too. That's when I decided to call y'all up here."
"Headcrabs," Alfonso muttered.
"Yeah, that's what I'd call 'em, too," the man said.
Charlie, who had been listening to the story, turned to Alfonso and said, "You know, the possibility of these things traveling all these miles up here in the burning heat..."
"What are you suggesting, Charlie?" said Alfonso.
Charlie hesitated. "Well, this guy, Barney. Maybe he's right and all about the..."
"Aliens?" Alfonso snapped. "You think he's right about the aliens? It's bad enough that there are nuts in the world who actually believe that aliens visited Roswell, but to have my own..."
"No, not the aliens," said Charlie. "The whole deal about these 'headcrabs' being able to appear out of nowhere."
Suddenly, an officer who had been sitting in the car with the radio came bursting through the door. "We've got a live one!" he shouted. "A hundred miles southwest of here! Everyone get your guns ready and head down there!"
Monday, 5:45 P.M.- Carrizozo Police Department, Carrizozo, New Mexico
The sound of clanging metal filled the cell, and for a terrifying moment, Barney was reliving his dream. It soon passed, and he noticed the guard, banging on the bars of his cell.
"Hey, you," the guard was saying, banging the bars wildly. "'Mulder.' You got a visitor."
The guard walked off, and a teenager, the one who had been telling his dirtbiking story earlier that day, appeared.
"Hello, Mr. Calhoun," the teenager said.
"Hello," Barney said. He frowned. "Kyle?"
"Cal."
"Right. Sorry." Barney stood up and stretched his arms, which had been sore ever since he woke up at the hospital. He approached the bars. "What can I do you for, Cal?"
Cal hesitated. "I, um, want to know more about those creatures," he said.
Barney looked up at the ceiling. "Should have figured," he said. "Well, what do you want to know?"
"Do you really think they're aliens?"
Barney sighed. "I didn't see them come to Earth in a flying saucer, if that's what you mean," he said. "But what else can they be? That Charlie guy thinks they're the result of a crossbreed experiment. Crossbreed of what, exactly?"
"Well..." Cal thought hard. "Spiders and squid? Crabs and octopus? It could be anything out of..."
"If it was just the headcrabs, I might agree with you," Barney interrupted. "But there's more. Lots more. There are black little humanoids with three eyes, three arms and a tail, who shoot bolts of electricity at you. There are scaly, red blobs that hang onto ceilings and wait for you to fall into their trap so they can eat you alive. There are squat, tentacled, four-legged brutes that spit acid at you and chew you up when you get close enough. Need I go on?"
"What about the one that attacked me while I was dirtbiking?" Cal said. He described the creature, but got only a blank stare from Barney.
"I haven't seen one of those," he said. "But I'm sure they're one of them. There are high-ranking aliens and low-ranking aliens. The ones I've fought were mostly low-ranking, thank God. Maybe that thing was high-ranking."
Cal felt like a fool talking seriously about aliens. He looked around at the other cells, to see of the other inmates were listening in, but they were mostly having conversations of their own.
Barney leaned in close. "Now, listen," he said softly. "Those creatures will probably be here by tomorrow. If not, it will be because they decided to build up their army first. Let a few more warp to Earth, you know. But they will be here. Sooner or later."
"What do you expect me to do?" Cal said defensively.
"Just... be prepared. Know what you're about to face." Barney then began describing each of the aliens he had encountered, and the nicknames they had received. The grunt. The headcrab. The mawman. The bullsquid. The barnacle. The vortigaunt. The houndeye. The garg. When he finished, he continued, "I'm not even sure if they will attack Carrizozo first. It could be any of the surrounding cities. Maybe weird things are happening elsewhere in New Mexico. But when they do come, Carrizozo doesn't stand a chance."
Monday, 6:50 P.M.- Twenty miles west of Roswell, New Mexico
The sun had begun to set by the time they got there. When they did, Alfonso stepped out of the police car and stared, dumbfounded. The creature jutting out of the ground looked, acted and sounded more frightening than anything Hollywood could every produce. It looked like a giant snake, with a large, sharp beak, hard exoskeleton, and a body so strong and sleek that it could hold its giant head high off the ground without resting. Occasionally, it would snap its head at the ground with cobra-like speed, making all the officers who watched jump.
An officer in front of Alfonso drew his pistol and advanced slowly. Alfonso put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do anything fancy," he said. "Look what that thing did to the last guy who tried that."
The officer looked at the ground below the creature, where a wide splatter of dried blood was. Even in the fading sunlight, he could make out human body parts that had been dashed to pieces. There were even bodies of vultures nearby, who had been foolish enough to try to nab a piece of meat.
"There's a car wreck back there," said Jason, the officer who had been at the site first, said. "Apparently, this guy wandered out of his car to look for help. He left his wife in there."
"She alive?" Alfonso said.
"No. Brain hemorrhage. The car was upside down, and..."
"Yeah, I get it," Alfonso said. He waved his arm at the creature. "Has anyone tried shooting this thing?"
"Yep," said Jason. "That skin is tough as hell. Even if a bullet did manage to penetrate the skin, it would take a hundred to down a creature of that size."
"Then what we need is a sedative," Alfonso said. "Put the thing out, then do what we can to kill it. I don't think we could contain it. I mean, look what it can do to the ground!"
The creature snapped again, putting a foot-deep crack in the ground. It moaned mournfully.
"All right," said Jason. "I have some sleeping gas in my car. Hang on."
The sleeping gas was administered, and all the surrounding officers put oxygen masks on. It took a while, but the creature finally fell limp. The officers cheered quietly.
Jason took a hatchet from his car and started hacking at the neck. David took out a knife and bent down to help him.
"This is harder than cutting metal!" Jason remarked, taking the hatchet high in the air before slamming it down into the impenetrable skin. David, meanwhile, had stopped trying to saw the neck, and proceeded to stabbing it.
Suddenly, the creature lifted its head with a moan and drew back. David scrambled away, but Jason did not move fast enough to save his leg; the creature sliced it in half. Alfonso rushed in and dragged a howling Jason away before the creature came back for a second strike. The police force's initial response was to shoot the creature. Every officer, except Alfonso and Jason, was shooting countless rounds into the creature. It moaned angrily and, reaching farther than any of them expected it to be able to, cut the front of the nearest police car all the way through. It then returned to striking the ground nearby.
"We're going to have to get some more powerful weapons here," Alfonso muttered. "In the meantime, put up a roadblock. And put a splint on this guy's leg. We need to get him to a hospital."
Monday, 7:43 P.M. - Carrizozo, New Mexico
Cal lay sprawled across his bed, listening to the robotic drone of the TV across his room. He finally muted it, and continued laying there with his thoughts.
Earlier that day, when he arrived home from dirtbiking, his mother wondered why he was home so early. It was hard answering the series of questions that followed, and when he was done, he felt even worse than he had before. He couldn't think of his friends, so his thoughts drifted to the creature itself.
Cal began considering Barney's suggestion. He had never seriously believed in aliens, but he had never seriously doubted them, either. He usually only entertained the possibility of their existence for a day or two after watching alien sighting documentaries, but all in all, aliens existed only for tourist traps, drunks, and fishermen. Until now.
Cal suddenly realized that he was exhausted. He shut off the TV and lay down on his bed. As he fell asleep before 8 P.M. for the first time in ten years, he decided that, before the end of the week came, Barney's theory would either be confirmed or denied.