The Originators

CHAPTER 23: IT REALLY IS THE END OF THE WORLD (LAURA)

I.

I move towards the front window of my parent's home. A soot swept sky is happening when it shouldn't. I open the glass doors to step out onto the wide cement deck into the moment before twilight, as light begins to drain from the Sun.

An imminent shadow is cast; the largest shadow I have ever seen is above me, above all of us, as doors opening along the street. There it is; the plastic underside of a beetle, with cardinal blue legs projecting, wiggling, a green, blue, and red outer layer of membrane continue the in-perpetuity of this massive alien craft engulfs the sky

It's as if a crazed, hallucinogen-loving, drug-addict, resting upon an inner-tube floating in a river envisioned this monstrosity; planting it right above all of us.

The sky graduates in intensified layers of darkness, caused by its presence, thousands of small dots start falling from the black-inked commas lacing the craft's underbody. I watch them. They turn into parachutes, tumbling from the alien beetle; black, bubble babies; the kind that come from a bug. Spinning, roiling; they will turn into large and destructive bugs

You find such bugs shiny on a floor, a little round speck, wondering, waiting for it to move; when it finally does, you pick it up. In the back of your mind you wonder why you are picking it up. It couldn't possibly be something organic, alive. It must be piece of dirt, a dust speck.

As you examine it, it moves. You either throw it away in disgust or crush it.

I used to do the former. Now, I practically choose, without thought or disgust, the latter.

II.

I ran downstairs, and went outside.

"Look! Look!" I keep moving out across the rusty bricks, making up the random pattern of the pathway, I point upward. I feel them pushing up behind me. My mother, my father; they murmur, "What is happening?"

I round on them to find their faces are blank; unmoving.

"Don't you see what is happening?" I raise my hand; in unison, their eyes follow my hand to the skies.

Neighbors, out on the street as well, are looking upward, pointing. The dots increase; the parachutes multiply a-thousand-fold. We are being invaded.

Running back to my parent's open front door, I scream for them to get inside. I lock the door.

"Hurry! They're not to be trusted. Close the drapes. Quickly." I push my parents back.

"What is going on Laura? Are you sure? If they have parachutes they must be helping us?"

"They are fooling us, mother." How can they not understand this?

My father wanders over to my mother; holding her to him.

My heart is beating so fast I am floating. If I released control over everything, I would be bouncing around, off the ceiling, with my parents trying to catch me.

There is a knock on the door. It is a rapid double knock.

"Don't answer the door," I hiss. "Don't open the drapes."

"Come now, Laura. It can't be that bad." My father tilts his head, giving me a pleading smile. I look at them. Are they so foolish they don't believe me?

"Please don't. We will all be sorry. They are that bad. They will trick you."

"I'm opening the door." My father moves forward, passing me to swing the door open.

Seven helmets swivel from looking upward to us; dirty, beige helmets, shiny shellacked. The protective shell hides their skulls; spotted scarves cover their faces from the nose down. Their eyes are black with powder.