I thought it might be interesting to bring myself into the story. I always have a liking for a tall tale. I can indulge my creativity and idealism.
Chapter 7 – The Appointment
The craft came to a halt in the road outside Ron Forsythe’s home. He was in the kitchen making himself a coffee before continuing with the next chapter of his latest Sci-fi novel. Even in the midst of an alien invasion life had to go on. All this alien activity seemed to have lubricated some gland in his cerebrum. The ideas were flowing. He was finding it hard to keep up with the flow. That’s what he loved – riding the crest of that wave. It felt like heaven.
For Ron writing was a kind of therapy. He lost himself in deep meditative immersion. The world disappeared and he became completely submerged in his characters, setting and plot. Ideas popped out of nowhere, chasing each other’s tails, and sent him eager to get them turned into scenes. Nothing else mattered. Even the invasion of the planet by a race of alien lizards seemed secondary. There was nothing he could do about the invasion so he might as well write. While the ideas were growing he had to harvest them. If he left them they turned sour.
The kettle turned itself off as Ron watched the craft as it hovered above the tarmac. It seemed smaller than the one that had carted George and Jean off but of similar ilk – sleek, metallic and shape not dissimilar to one of those new-fangled concept cars. He studied it with professional interest. It might just provide the template for one of the craft he was writing about in his latest book. About the size of a city coach with a curved hull with organic curves giving the appearance of a living creature. He liked it. It had bags of character, not just a bland technologically sound spiritless piece of practical technology; it had real character. Ron stared at the metallic hull trying to commit it to memory and thought his eyes might be playing with him as if seemed to be made of a strange alloy that shifted before his gaze, flowing with iridescent greens and silver, almost liquid. He was loving this. Perhaps he should start making some notes before it disappeared?
The kettle was forgotten, his spoon of coffee with three sweeteners sitting in the bottom of his mug waited in vain for the boiling water.
The more he peered at that alloy the craft was made of the stranger it seemed. Ron noticed that while it was perfectly smooth it did not reflect light at all. If anything the sunshine seemed to be absorbed into its substance. The reflection from its surface seemed to emanate from within it. Weird and intriguing. But then it was alien shit wasn’t it? You couldn’t expect it to be mundane.
Having an actual alien craft sitting on the road outside your house for you to study at length was manna from heaven to a Sci-fi writer. Who could have imagined?
His eyes sucked it in like a starving leech on an obese backside.
Ron wondered how they operated the machine. There was no obvious cockpit or clear window at the front. He surmised that there had to be some kind of radar and a screen inside. Interesting.
The propulsion was also a mystery. There were no visible nacelles, rockets or boosters. If he listened intently he could just make out a soft throb. Something was going on but he could not say what. It certainly looked fast and agile and he’d seen the other one zooming straight up into the sky. He hadn’t thought of it at the time, more concerned with what had happened to George and Jean to think about that, but he’d seen no rocket flames or plasma pulses. Whatever powered it had to be some strange new science. Intriguing.
Here it was effortlessly hovering above the tarmac with no visible sign of support, no wheels, struts or tangible structure. It just floated. These aliens were incredibly interesting.
Only then did Ron come out of his reverie to think about what the machine was doing outside his house. Were they coming for him or one of his neighbours? Perhaps they were on some alien tea break? At any moment he expected those openings in the hull to dilate and a bunch of saurian Stormtroopers to pour out.
Eventually an opening did dilate and a solitary lizard did step out. A lone lizard, and it hardly looked like a Stormtrooper. Ron studied the lizard as it looked around taking in its surrounds. It appeared just like the lizard he’d seen on the telly. But then they all looked exactly the same, didn’t they?
Ron turned his full attention on to this new alien character. Another opportunity to study an alien up close. Very handy. It was certainly an impressive creature. The face was flattened and scaly with two holes that were obviously nostrils below the most amazing green eyes that sparkled like emeralds in the sunshine. The whole body, or at least all that he could see of it, was covered in large scales although the face seemed to be plated in more flexible skin. They glistened and gleamed in the sunlight as if they had been oiled. Very similar to the alloy of the craft it had emerged from. The scales also seemed fluid, streaming with iridescent colour.
If only he’d had his notebook handy. Perhaps he should rush and get it, but by then the creature and its craft might have gone. Best to study it while he could.
The creature reared upright to a height that seemed more than nine feet but the crest on its head gave it at least another foot and that didn’t seem to be fully erect yet. Wow! He studied the muscular legs and long sinuous tail that was deployed for balance and thought that that ridged tail would probably make a fearsome weapon if it came to a fight, as would the long curved scimitars of claws to be found on all four appendages. He found himself wondering about the nature of the fangs that probably lurked within the thin line of that set mouth. Not something you’d like to encounter on a moonless night down a dark lane. No wonder it seemed confident on its own. You wouldn’t want to mess with it. That alien lizard was a fearsome specimen.
Ron felt Woody press up against his leg. The dog couldn’t see the saurian but he could no doubt sense it and hear that strange pulsing sound from the craft. He hadn’t barked though. That was strange. If the postman had come anywhere near he would have been doing his best impression of Cujo – Stephen King’s rabid hound.
Ron reached down to scratch Woody’s ears reassuringly while watching what was going on outside in a detached manner. The alien orientated itself, leisurely looking around at the houses and then both ways down the avenue, not appearing at all apprehensive.
Seemingly, having ascertained that it was in the right place the reptile strode determinedly towards the front door.
With a start Ron realised that it was coming for him.
Woody, his fearless defender, must have also sensed that the alien lizard was coming to their door as he slunk off back to his bed with his tail between his legs, curled himself up and pretended nothing was happening. So much for fearless defender of his master. Ron kind of wished he could do the same. But there was also a tang of curiosity. What did the creature want with him? Or was it after Liz?
Ron looked from the dog to the doorway. Somehow he couldn’t imagine the giant psychedelic lizard ringing the doorbell and, not wanting the door to end up in splinters like had happened to George and Jean, hurried off to open it before the lizard got there. Whatever the creature wanted there seemed no point in resisting. He’d stand no chance. He’d go quietly. Though if it wanted to take Liz there’d be harsh words.
Ron flung open the door just as Chameakegra arrived on the step.