Trail of Blood Crumbs (not the actual title)

Chapter 2

Walking along with whatever this creature is – I'm still pondering that - I can't help but wonder what it wants. It spoke English, which always weirded me out in movies. How does something that looks like it came from light-years away speak my language? Come on, reality check.

We walk for about five minutes, in what to me appeared to be the opposite direction from the cabin I had fled from only hours ago. No longer worried about returning to it, I'm focused now on the task at hand, which now to me seemed more staying calm than staying alive. By now, I'm pretty sure it's not going to kill me, but I've got this thing nagging at the back of my mind. I just can't place it yet.

"Stop here," it said aloud, demanding obedience. I looked around at the trees surrounding us, a mix of deciduous and evergreen wafting gently in the slight breeze that's picked up from who-knows-where. I couldn't see anything of note. Not yet anyway. I knew better than to expect nothing to happen now.

I'm not sure when it happened, to be truthful, but things like this aren't exactly happening every day, so I can't really be expected to note everything as it happens. At any rate, an object appeared in front of it (or at least what I thought was the front), roughly the size of a small car. It wasn't floating or hovering, or anything like that, but it didn't have any wheels either. It was more like a big box with rounded corners. A very strange box, with odd colors and stuff that looked like metal.

Turning to look at me (it is looking at me, right?), it points to the object and says, "Approach."

Walking up to it, I feel this strange hum in the air, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. I'm not sure if it's the object doing that, or the sensation that the creature is watching me intently, but it feels strangely good. I haven't had a rush like this in ages, not since driving that SnoCat over a 200-foot cliff and living to tell about it. Within a foot of the box, I stopped, wondering what that damnable creature wants me to do with it.

"Put your left hand on the surface and press down," it says with authority, before any words even escaped my mouth. Are you reading my mind? I thought to myself.

"Yes," came the reply. Ok, I think I got it.

My hand touches the surface of the object, which is oddly warm to the touch. I hadn't felt any heat from it earlier, and the little remaining snow hasn't melted under it. It hadn't dawned on me until now that the sun had gone down, and I was able to see perfectly in the pitch-black night. The clouds above blocked all moon- and starlight, so what the hell is going on with me?

"Focus." That creature is rather demanding.

Pressing down with all my might, or at least all I can summon into one arm, my hand sinks down into the object like it was made of one of those stress balls. I'm just about to pull my hand out of there, alarmed, when I feel this very warm, very soothing feeling come over me. I've been to the doctor enough times to know what THAT feeling comes from - morphine. I was suddenly quite happy, and without much warning, I was released from the object. It disappeared almost instantly, and in my mind, I reached for it to see if it was still there, but the morphine must be causing a short-circuit, because my arm never moved. Haha, funny. What now? I thought, not really expecting the answer that came.