Alien Hunt

Chapter 1

        The year is 2031, and it is my third year working as a night-shift guard at Area 51. I am driving to work, across the sandy desert. There is nothing to suggest human existence on this barren plane.

        The red tinged sand stretches away in all directions, with only the occasional blemish of a pile of scattered rocks. I have always hated the silence of the desert, every sound is absorbed by the sand. This is the only place I have ever felt truly alone, robbed of existence.

        When I first took this job I used to think it would be a perfect place to commit a murder. The closest person is ten miles away, if he is that close. If you scream no one will hear you. It could be days before someone found the body, if they ever did.

        The sand covers and surrounds everything. You can't step outside without being covered in the stuff. I am convinced that what causes mirages is sand in your eyes because they are watering so badly you can hardly see anything.

        As the large, flat, ugly, gray building comes into view, the sun begins to sink below the horizon, casting a red glow over everything. It is like sailing on a sea of blood.

           It surrounds me on every side, spraying onto the deck of my sinking ship. The land is in sight, but I will never reach it, the ship is sinking lower into the red, roiling waves. I begin to taste the blood as it sprays into my open screaming mouth. I am going to die, I am...

        "No!" I say aloud, giving myself a mental shake. "You're not on a ship, and you're not sailing on a sea of blood, and you're not going to drown." Talking to myself always seems to help me calm down. This happens often, but I just can't help it. I have a very vivid imagination, that's all. And I work in a desert, and I live alone, and I work at night when it's dark, and silent, and sinister.

        Finally, I pull into the parking lot, and hop out of my tan jeep. My shift starts in five minutes, I have just enough time to change into my uniform and report to my station.

        The shift system at Area 51 is strange compared to most. No post is ever left unguarded. When the night-shift workers arrive they change directly into their uniforms, and go straight to their posts. The second day-shift can't leave until their night-shift partner arrives, and checks in at his post. The same procedure is followed at six in the morning, and at noon.

        Thankfully I don't work every night. I'm one of the lucky ones, I only work the weekends and Wednesday nights. My job is really very simple. All I have to do is walk through my assigned hallways, and investigate any suspicious sounds or movements.

        I walk into the men's locker room to change into my uniform. I button up the dark blue, long-sleeved shirt, and pull on the black slacks that go with it. I tie on my black shoes, pull on my black leather jacket, and pin on my badge. I buckle on my belt that holds my flashlight, revolver, and walkie-talkie, among other things. I pull out the revolver, and check that it is fully loaded. I set off down the long hallway to relieve my partner.

        As I walk I see other guards trading off with their partners. The hallways I patrol are on the other side of the building, in the west wing. As I head that way, I pass scientists in white lab coats, and weary security members, all heading home to get some sleep after a long day.

        As I approach my partner, Timothy, I pass the door to the room labelled for the storage of unidentified objects and artifacts.