Unwelcome Visitors

Quittin' Time

   The day finally arrived for Rick Breslin to set his last audit report down and pull out the

pistol taped beneath his desk. Francesca Delane, the regional manager, walked into the office

smiling and fooling everyone except Rick. He knew who she really was thanks to the iPod on his

desk. The device was actually a cosmic neutrino detector.

    It had beeped twice. 

    He spent four years of his life at this dull insurance company and never heard a single

beep. Two beeps were like Chopin.

     Rick took the first shot at Francesca, aiming for her head. His coworkers screamed

including the guy from claims who tried schmoozing with Francesca. Too bad aliens don't care

about handing out promotions.

     Everyone watched in horror when Francesca's head splattered green blood on the bulletin

board behind her. But she wasn't dead. Francesca stood erect and opened her mouth. Dozens of

barbs protruded from beneath her tongue.

     Two barbs flew at the claims guy, piercing his neck and abdomen.

     Three flew towards Rick, but he ducked into the nearest cubicle. A cute blonde intern

screamed from beneath her desk as Rick fired four shots from her cubicle wall. The shots missed. Francesca sprinted to the small lunchroom at the end of a string of office cubes. Rick fired several times then reloaded. He grazed Francesca's shoulder. She howled in pain before darting into the lunchroom.

     Rick's forearm twinged—a barb was stuck into it. He pulled it out, hoping it wasn't poisonous. It felt good hunting down a shifter like the old days before bureaucratic politics forced him into freelance work. Many of his coworkers fled the office as he neared the lunchroom. The poor claims guy laid dead near the exit where everyone piled through.

     Rick took cover behind the adjacent wall of the lunchroom, listening for Francesca.

     Nothing stirred.

     “Here kitty, kitty,” he joked.

   Francesca growled softly from the lunchroom. Rick gripped the pistol. He dove into the lunchroom, unloading a magazine inside. Francesca shrieked as bullets entered her body. She spit several barbs at him while he reloaded. Three caught him the legs, one in the shoulder.

      Rick rose to one knee and aimed at Francesca's chest, but he hesitated. The shifter's looks had changed. Francesca's mouth was full of jagged teeth and her eyes were lidless black ovals. Green blood covered her pantsuit and the white tiled floor of the lunchroom.

     “Bet you wish corporate didn't schedule a meeting in this office, huh?” Rick chuckled.

     Francesca shouted in her alien language then lunged at him.

     She sunk her sharp nails into his chest. Rick yelled, firing multiple shots into her torso. He emptied the whole clip.

     Francesca finally fell dead to the floor.

     An alarm on Rick's wristwatch went off. The cops were three minutes out. He yanked out all the barbs from his body.

     “By the way, Francesca, I quit.”

     Rick grabbed the iPod on his desk and left the office for good.