The Undeniable Truth

Fresh pine wood crackled in the fireplace, its orange glow casting shadows across the rest of the cabin. Declan didn’t mind the solitude. In fact, he preferred it. No crazy neighbors screaming at each other through the walls. No mom nagging at him to make something of his life. Just a cushy leather couch, his trusty iPad and the faint chirping of crickets through the window screen. He tapped his finger on the tablet, pulling up another hilarious cat video when he heard his brother’s truck come grinding to a halt outside. Boots crunched over the mountain gravel, hasty and erratic, headlights flooding the room as the front door exploded open with a heavy kick.

“Keith?! What the frick, man?!” Declan said, shielding his eyes. “Can’t you see I’m tryin’ to capture some zen here?”

“I hit something!” Keith cried, staggering forward. His frizzy red hair and beard were drenched in sweat, the front of his overalls stained with a strange blue liquid. “Get over here and help me with this!” He ran back outside and shut off his truck, circling around to lower the tailgate. 

Declan dropped his iPad on the couch with a groan, trudging to the door as his older brother pulled a large bundle from the bed of the truck. Something wrapped in a black plastic tarp. It hit the ground with a muffled thud, Keith wheezing for breath as he dragged it closer. 

“Did you plow a deer again?” Declan asked, eyeing the truck’s mangled front bumper. Keith ignored him, flicking on the overhead lights as he pulled the object past the threshold and into the kitchen. Streaks of blue slime trailed along the floor behind it, seeping through the tears in the plastic. “Dude, you’re getting crap all over the place. You better clean all this up before somebody slips on it.”

“Shut up and grab the other end,” Keith ordered. “Help me get it up on the table.”

Declan scowled down at the oozing bundle. “I ain’t touchin’ that.”

Keith looked up with brows furrowed, the anxiety in his voice turning to anger. “Hey, high school dropout, you wanna keep squatting here for free? Get your butt over here and lift or I’ll send your worthless hide straight back to mom’s.”

Declan bit his lip, weighing the options in his head for a second before relenting with a sigh. “Ugh. Fine.” He bent down and grabbed the end of the tarp, only now realizing the suspiciousness of its contents. The length seemed reasonable for a deer carcass, but that cylindrical shape. That weight. The bulbous lump at the other end. “Keith…what did you do?”

“Up on three,” Keith grunted. “One…two…three!”

The brothers heaved, flopping the bundle onto the kitchen table, a pair of empty metal cups clattering to the floor. Once the load was firmly pushed to the center, Keith collapsed into the nearest chair, utterly exhausted. Declan studied him intently, sinking into the seat opposite from him.

“Dude…what’s going on here?” Declan whispered. “What is this thing?”

Keith glanced down at his mud-caked boots, his eyes going out of focus. “I was on my way back from the diner,” he muttered. “I only had one beer, but it was so dark…they just came out of nowhere.”

Declan recoiled in horror. “Th-they?! You killed someone?! I hope you at least bothered to dial 911, ‘cause I’m pretty sure what you did there is called a ‘murder’!”

“It isn’t what you think,” Keith replied, raising his hands defensively. “Look, you gotta see this…” He scooted his chair closer to the table, reaching over to peel away the tarp. Its plastic sheeting crinkled under his fingers, ripping open to reveal a face. At least, what Declan thought was a face.

There was no mouth or nose. No ears to frame it. Only smooth, pale gray skin and a pair of bulging, almond-shaped eyes. They were pitch-black and shiny, seemingly looking everywhere at once, gazing all the way into Declan’s soul. He jolted backwards, nearly flipping over in his chair.

“Wha…what the hell is that?” Declan gasped, pointing at the tarp.

Keith leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hesitating with a faint shake of his head. “Bro, I…I don’t think this thing is human.” He locked eyes with Declan, an odd mix of fear and triumph in his tone. “I think we got ourselves a real-life, honest-to-Bob alien.”

Declan threw him a sideways glance, his eyebrow raised in skepticism. “An alien? Like, the kind from outer space?”

“Yup.”

“You’ve gotta be kindin’ me.”

“Haven’t you seen all those TV shows about people gettin’ anal probed and stuff?” Keith slapped his hand on the table. “Exhibit ‘A’!”

“You seriously killed E.T.?”

“Yup.”

“What was it doing in the middle of the road?”

“Heck if I know. Maybe it got tired of probin’ and decided to go for a late-night stroll?”

Declan buried his face in his hands. “Dude, slip off that tin foil hat for a second and think about what you’re saying. You probably just ran over some idiot wearing cosplay.”

“There’s one way to find out…” Keith stood up and began pulling away the rest of the tarp. “If this thing’s just a costume, then let’s take it off and see who we got.”

The plastic sheets fell from the body, Keith’s heart pounding like a jackhammer as Declan’s theory gradually came into the light. Two arms. Two legs. All the usual human proportions encased in what appeared to be a gray rubberized suit. If not for the single-toed boots and lipped seam around the neck, he could’ve sworn it was actual skin. A masterfully crafted illusion. But what about the open gashes across the chest and stomach? That viscous blue fluid seeping out of the wounds?

“See any zippers?” Declan asked, inching up to the table.

Keith slowly reached for the seam along the neck, springing backward with a yelp as a breath of pressurized air hissed at his fingertips. “The hell was that?!” he shouted.

“Stop being such a baby,” Declan shrugged. “It’s just an air pocket. Haven’t you ever heard latex fart before?”

Keith squared his shoulders and turned back to the body, going in for another try. This time he grabbed a firm hold of the rubbery lip, pulling upward with a sharp yank. The mask peeled off in an instant, unveiling a basketball-sized mass of wrinkly pink flesh. Both brothers scrambled up against the kitchen sink, gaping at the true identity of their battered guest. 

The creature’s head was entirely hairless, ears fused to the sides with a pair of vertical slits for a nose. Its small, sunken eyes were wide open, glassy and white as milk, its jaw hanging slack as though frozen in a moment of perpetual terror. After what felt like hours, Declan’s voice finally broke the silence, quivering in disbelief. 

“M-m-mother of Mercy…it’s real…it’s really an alien…” He took a step closer to the table, clutching his face with both hands. “W-what should we do? Call the government or something?”

Keith scowled, replacing his shock with frustration. “Dude, screw the government. They’d probably just erase our memories and tell us we found a Chinese spy balloon. We’ve gotta get some reporters in here. Show the world what we found.”

Declan’s expression suddenly lit up. “Wait…wait, you’re right,” he mused. “This is gonna be huge. Do you realize what this could mean for us?”

“I won’t get charged for DUI and vehicular manslaughter?”

“Well…yeah…plus we’re gonna be rich! People from all over the country will be lining up to give us interviews and shoot documentaries! We might even get our own Netflix deal!”

“What?! You mean like that guy with all the tigers?!”

“Even better.”

Keith flashed a toothy grin, mentally salivating at the idea. “Alright, let’s do this thing. Go grab some ice packs out of the freezer and pile them on top of Marvin while I ring up channel 5.”

Declan cocked his head. “Marvin?”

“We gotta give the alien a name, don’t we?”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this first? I mean, this is the biggest discovery since—”

“His name’s Marvin,” Keith interrupted. “I found him. I get to decide what to call him.”

“‘Found’ him?” Declan sneered. “You fricking splattered the poor sucker. And how do you even know it’s a ‘he’?”

“You wanna pull his pants down and check?”

“Just shut up and let me get the ice.”

Keith fished his cell phone out of the pocket of his overalls, scrolling the news station’s website for a number. Finding only the anonymous tip hotline, he quickly punched in the digits and pressed the receiver to his ear. Declan paused as he placed a bag of ice over Marvin’s face, quietly listening to the dial tone. After a few seconds, a woman’s voice answered, too muffled for him to discern. 

“Yes, I’d like to report a breaking news story,” Keith said, tossing Declan a thumbs-up. “What? Is this an emergency?” Declan prompted him with a vigorous nod. “Heck yeah, it’s an emergency! My brother and I just discovered something up in the Big Bear Mountains that will change the future of the entire world! I hope you’re sittin’ down ‘cause your head’s about to burst into confetti…” Keith leaned into the phone, beaming with anticipation. “We captured an actual real-life alien!” Keith’s smile abruptly melted. “No, the kind from outer space…no, I don’t need to contact ICE…of course we’ve got evidence! There’s a dead frickin’ body lying on my kitchen table!...No, I hit it with my pickup truck. Hello? Hello?!” Keith lowered his phone, glancing up in defeat. “They…they didn’t believe me…”

“Those corporate shills!” Declan fumed. “You should’ve told them we ran over Bruno Mars instead. They would’ve been here in a nanosecond.” He folded his arms, foot tapping impatiently. “Forget those losers. We need to cut out the middlemen and get the word out directly. Reach the people where they are.” Declan snapped his fingers. “That’s it! We could use social media!”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you mean like Bookface and Pentagram?”

Declan stifled a chuckle. “Penta-whatnow? Calm down and let me get my iPad before you hurt yourself.” He confidently adjusted his skinny jeans and sauntered over to the couch, returning with his tablet in hand. “I’ll just snap a few pics and post them publicly on all of my profiles.” Declan pulled up his camera mode and removed the ice packs from Marvin’s head, carefully photographing it from multiple angles. After selecting the most dramatic one, he went to work on a caption, his fingers dancing across the screen. “Add a few hashtags aaaaaand send. Now all we gotta do is sit back and watch the sparks fly.”

The brothers fell back into their respective chairs, eyes darting between the alien corpse and the iPad as they eagerly waited for a response. The wooden cuckoo clock on the wall seemed to be moving in slow motion, every passing tick growing increasingly louder. 

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

Keith bit his thumb, nervously chewing on the nail. Was anyone bothering to look at the post? Couldn’t they see what was happening here? This was it. The answer to the age-old question of whether or not we’re alone in the universe. It was sitting right in front of them, ready to shatter everything humanity had ever known about science, philosophy and religion. Were they too scared to accept it? Too paralyzed with denial? Keith could feel the incessant ticking steadily driving him mad, each flick of the clock’s needle like a hammerblow to the back of his head.

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. BING!

“What is it?!” Keith bellowed. “Are they sending the national guard?!”

BING, BING, BING! BING! BING!

“Comments are flooding in!” Declan said, squinting down at his tablet. “Let’s see what we got.” He turned the screen towards Keith, dictating the responses. “TheRealElonMusk says, ‘lol, did you carve that face out of a pumpkin? Nice work using Chicklets for teeth.’ Skidmarx360 says, ‘Way to go with those practical effects. What did you use for the fake blood? I like to use windshield wiper fluid.’”

“What the crap is going on?” Keith demanded. “They think this is a joke?”

Declan hunched over the iPad, angrily muttering his replies aloud. “This thing isn’t a sci-fi prop, you dorks. It’s literally the dead body of an extraterrestrial, I swear.” 

“What did they say? What did they say?” Keith prodded, scooting closer.

“‘I smell a troll,’” Declan parroted. “‘If that’s really a dead body, then show us the insides.’ ‘Take video or it didn’t happen.’”

Keith slouched against the back of his chair, the color draining from his face. “They want us to do an autopsy?”

“I don’t see what choice we have,” Declan replied. “I’ll set up a live stream while you cut the thing open.”

“M-m-me? Cut open Marvin?” Keith glanced over at the table, a shiver running down his spine. “B-but I’m not a doctor. I don’t even have a scalpel.” 

“Just use one of these,” Declan said, snatching a steak knife off the counter. “It doesn’t have to be surgical. He’s already dead anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Keith reluctantly took the knife, his fingers trembling as he approached the body. “OK, so where exactly do I start?”

“It’s like dissecting a frog,” Declan said, readying the camera. “Stick the blade into the base of the neck and slit ‘em across the belly.”

He made it sound so easy, Keith thought to himself. It was one thing to imagine a nice, clean sweep of the hand, effortlessly parting bare flesh with a sharpened razor. It was something else entirely to hack away a rubbery spacesuit with his dull, serrated knife. He drove the handle back and forth, sawing off the alien’s clothing down to the waist while the iPad’s camera light glared over his shoulder.

“Yeah, Bro, that’s it,” Declan cheered from behind the screen. “The crowd’s going wild.”

Keith tried to tune out the peanut gallery, redirecting all of his focus on that first incision. The skin of Marvin’s chest was just as pink and wrinkly as his head, glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Keith swallowed hard, steeling himself for a moment, then slammed the knife blade into Marvin’s sternum and dragged it to where his navel would be. The stench of bile and guts filled the air, blue slime spraying from the wound all over Keith’s hands and face. He leaned away from the table, retching his dinner onto the kitchen floor as Declan cupped his mouth with excitement. 

“Dude, this is so sick! It’s like we’re in a John Carpenter movie!” 

Keith wiped the vomit from his lips, anxiously peering over his shoulder. “Is that enough?” he asked. “Do they believe us now?”

“Not yet. You gotta pull open the chest cavity.”

“No way!” Keith shouted. “Look at me! I’m covered in this gunk! I can taste it! Just tell me what they’re saying!” He pulled the tablet away from Declan, reading aloud the comments. “Cherubum69 wrote, ‘Show us the Bojangles’? And who the heck is Murica’s Warrior? He keeps saying, ‘Grab a turkey baster and show those alien pervs who’s boss’.”

“Those are our followers!” Declan cried. 

“They’re a bunch of crazy people,” Keith shrugged.

“They’re our loyal acolytes, now gimme back my iPad!” Declan caught the tablet as Keith tossed it in the air, aiming the camera at himself to address their audience. “Sorry, ladies and gents, you’ll have to forgive my brother for being a spineless coward. As you can see, the creature behind me is the real deal. Let’s go in for a close-up, shall we?” Declan scurried over to the table, sweeping the tablet up and down Marvin’s desecrated torso. “There it is, people. The undeniable truth that humankind isn’t the only…” His voice trailed off, a look of tense confusion washing over him. “No…no, no, no, this can’t be happening!”

“What? What is it?” Keith asked.

“We’ve been banned for spreading misinformation!” Declan moaned in agony.

“But...but how?” Keith demanded. “That wasn’t misinformation, it was just really gross info-mation.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Declan said, pounding his fist on the table. “Those tech tyrants in Silicon Valley got us in checkmate. They don’t want the world to know what’s really going on.”

Keith clenched his jaw. “I think it’s a little bit early to call checkmate, Dex. We’ve got ourselves at least one more move to play.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“What if we got a second opinion? A professional one. Abby Cunningham is the local doctor. She only lives a few miles away.”

“Keith, you’re a genius!” Declan declared. “Call her up and get her over here. It’s time for some vindication…”

The cuckoo clock was pushing half past four when a new set of headlights beamed through the cabin windows. Declan sat up from the couch, groggy and disheveled, a fresh coat of drool running down his chin. “Hey…hey, Bro…is the doctor here?”

Keith had fallen asleep still propped up in his chair, waking with a start as a soft pounding rattled the front door. “I’ll get it!” he said with a slur. Keith staggered across the kitchen to the entry, sliding back the deadbolt to find Dr. Cunningham waiting on the porch. She was already sporting her white lab coat and big bag of medical tools, her dark gray hair tied up in a loose bun. 

“This better be good, Forester,” Cunningham said flatly. “I’m running on three hours of shuteye and the clinic opens at eight. Now, what’s this about a matter of life and death?”

Keith shifted himself to obscure the kitchen table, taking a moment to emotionally prepare the unwitting physician. “So, remember how I mentioned a slight mishap on my way home from the diner?”

Cunningham wrinkled her forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t kill someone.”

“More like something…”

“An animal?”

“Strap yourself in, Doc. What we got in here ain’t like anything you’ve ever seen before.” Keith slowly stepped away from the door, inviting her inside with a flourish of his arm. 

Cunningham pursed her lips and shuffled past him, greeting Declan with a cursory glance. “You must be Forester number two.” Her eyes wandered into the kitchen, snapping open as they locked on the grisly mess lying across the table. “What in the world…?” She dropped her medical bag, her face twisting in revulsion.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Keith said, inching up beside her. “Whatever that thing is, it isn’t human. I know how crazy that sounds, but it’s true. My brother and I—”

“Are blithering idiots!” the doctor cried, turning with a glare. “You woke me up and dragged me all the way out here to show me a stupid Roswell mock-up? Isn’t it a little early for Halloween decorations?” Both brothers stared at her, completely dumbstruck. “I don’t care how proud you are of that hideous Etsy project. I’ve got better things to do than to offer you man-children my validation.”

“It isn’t a puppet!” Declan finally blurted out. “I swear on my dad’s grave that it’s real. It’s an alien cadaver. Just look at it. Look inside it. Tell us what you see.”

Cunningham raised an eyebrow. “An alien cadaver. You expect me to believe that? Where did you find it?”

“I hit it with my—”

Declan elbowed Keith in the ribs before he could finish. “It snuck into the cabin while I was sleeping and tried to abduct me. Luckily, Keith came home just in time and stabbed it to death with a steak knife.”

“Really? How dramatic,” Cunningham sighed.

“Go on. See for yourself,” Keith insisted.

She turned back to the kitchen, begrudgingly snatching up her bag before approaching the table. Marvin’s face was still frozen in abject horror, his bare chest spattered with blue from Keith’s earlier incision. “Wow…you boys really outdid yourselves, I’ll give you that. The detail is amazing…” Cunningham set her bag on the nearest chair and began rummaging inside, whipping out a pair of rubber surgical gloves. She snapped them on, checking for any holes or tears, then leaned over the body, carefully inspecting the open slit. “Quite the hack job you did here, Forester. Next time you should use a circular saw. That’s what they do in Hollywood. Makes a bigger mess.”

“Yeah, well, heat of the moment,” Keith chuckled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Welp, boys, I’ve come this far,” Cunningham grunted. “Might as well dive right in.” She grabbed both sides of the laceration, bones and cartilage popping as she quickly pulled them apart. The chest cavity fell open with a watery squelch, revealing a tangled heap of meaty tubes and other slime-covered organs. 

“Whooooaaa, that’s some grody stuff,” Declan said, brushing his long greasy hair behind his ear. “Hold on a sec! Lemme get my camera!” He raced to the couch and scooped up his tablet, stumbling back to the table as Cunningham dug through the corpse’s entrails.

“Holy crow…you boys really went all out,” she said, lifting a handful of guts. “These intestines almost look bovine. They certainly smell like it. I hope you didn’t slaughter any cattle just to make this creepy sideshow.” Cunningham leaned closer, knitting her brows. “Are those multi-chambered lungs you have there? And a heart that size…where did you find…” She abruptly sat up with eyes wide. “Did you just see that?”

“See what?” Declan asked.

“Something moved. Behind that second stomach.”

Declan peered over the top of his iPad, listening for even the slightest hint of activity beneath the pile of innards. The room had fallen deathly silent, the only sound coming from the drips of water leaking from the kitchen sink. After a lengthy pause, he relaxed his shoulders, putting on a condescending grin. “Sorry, Doc, but I think it’s just your imagination running w—”

Before the words could escape his lips, a bundle of pruny blue flesh exploded out of Marvin’s chest and launched into the air, sticking itself to the ceiling. Everyone craned their necks upward, watching in petrified amazement as it slowly unfurled, blossoming into the shape of what appeared to be a six-legged starfish. Roughly the size of a cat, its prickly skin lacked any visible eyes, a row of sharp hooks protruding from each appendage to anchor it against the wooden rafters.

“Keeeeeeith…what the frick is that?” Declan whispered.

“Don’t let it out of your sight,” Keith hissed in reply. “I’m gettin’ Brunhilda…” He cautiously backed away, then bolted into the darkened hall towards the master bedroom.

As for Cunningham, her stunned expression had already faded into a withering scowl. “I’ve had enough of your childish gimmicks,” she said, ripping off her surgical gloves. “I’m outta here, and I’m billing you for the full hour.”

“You think I’m doing this?!” Declan gasped.

“Of course you are. You obviously used the controls on that tablet to trigger a blast of air from inside the puppet. Not bad for a magic trick, but I don’t binge nearly enough Star Trek to be amused.”

Declan flashed her the iPad’s empty screen, absolutely livid. “Is your brain broken or something?! Look around, lady! A dead alien just popped out a mutant baby! How would I even be capable of—”

REEEEEEEERRR!

Declan and the doctor cowered at the blood-curlding screech, shifting their attention back to the ceiling. The starfish had apparently had its fill of all the human bickering, peeling itself from the rafters to show them its gruesome underbelly. At its center gaped a large circular mouth, hundreds of tiny needle-like teeth lining the inside. It let loose another deafening shriek, dropping from its lofty perch onto the kitchen table below. Cunningham sprang backwards, staring blankly as the starfish crawled over Marvin’s body on its way to Declan.

“Nooooo! It wants to eat me!” he cried, retreating into the living room.

The starfish leapt from the table, arms fully extended, narrowing missing Declan as it slapped against the cold tile floor. He whirled around beside the couch, breathing a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. With a snarl, the creature was back on its feet, scurrying up along the wall in a frightening burst of speed. Declan tried to run again, forgetting the arm of the couch behind him, the split-second of bumbling confusion giving his attacker the time it needed to go for another pounce. He looked up to see a blur of teeth and bony hooks hurtling at his face, barely managing to shield himself with his iPad. 

Onto the couch they fell, Declan’s back pressed against the cushions, holding the starfish at bay as it tightened its grip on the tablet. All six of its arms flexed inward, cracking the glass screen, plastic crumpling around Declan’s fingers. Any second now, his feeble barrier would give way, surrendering him to the slobbering maw waiting on just the other side. That’s when he heard a metallic pump and click over the top of the couch.

BLAM!

The starfish flew through the air onto the carpet in a spray of azure blood, its severed arm landing beside it. Declan winced, eardrums ringing, easing open his eyes to find his brother standing over him. Keith offered a hand to help him up, smoke rising from the barrel of his shotgun.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

“What took you so long?” Declan groaned, peering at the shards of his broken tablet strewn across the floor. “Gosh dang it. That was a Christmas present.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re right. Next time I should wait for the monster to rip your face off.”

REEEEEEEERRR!

Declan jumped behind Keith. “That thing still isn’t dead?!”

The starfish flailed around on the carpet, muscles spasming as the bleeding stump where its arm used to be started to bubble and scab. The flesh of its wound quickly regained its coloration, elongating into a point, stretching outward to create a brand new appendage. In a matter of seconds, the creature had fully regenerated, rearing back to unleash another ferocious scream.

“You want some more, Patrick?!” Keith shouted, cocking his shotgun. “Come and get it, you son of a—!”

BLAM!

His quarry dodged the blast, racing up the wall beside the fireplace. 

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Empty shells clinked to the ground, chunks of wood and insulation erupting from every peppered shot, but the alien was too fast. It zigged and zagged, pausing to growl menacingly above the mantel. Keith exhaled and took aim, gritting his teeth as he pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

“Shoot it!” Declan cried.

“Crap! I gotta reload!” Keith plunged a hand into the pocket of his overalls, pulling out a cluster of fresh cartridges. He slid open the chamber of his shotgun, struggling to push them inside, but his fingers couldn’t stop shaking, a sudden twitch fumbling the entire lot of ammo to the ground. All of it, except for one.

“Here it comes!” Declan said, ducking for cover.

The starfish lowered its crouch, preparing to leap straight at Keith’s head.

He shoved his cartridge in the chamber, pumping back the slide.

Death was already airborne, mouth open wide, arms reaching to claim its first earthly meal…

BLAM!

Muzzle flash at point-blank. The creature spiraled backward into the open fireplace, splattering against the spooty brickwork. Its body ignited over the dancing flames, letting out one last ear-splitting screech before collapsing into motionlessness. Keith watched as its slimy flesh turned black and crispy, raising his shotgun in triumph. 

“Yeah, baby! Brunhilda for the win!” 

Then came a slow clap from the other side of the room. Cunningham stood with a look of sheer boredom, her hands held high as she patted them in a steady cadence. “Bravo, boys. Bravo. That was some pro-grade animatronics on that little face-hugger. The acting was a tad stiff, but I’d say you guys are definitely ready for Vegas.” 

“For the love of Pete, you gotta be kiddin’ me,'' Keith moaned. “You still think this whole thing was staged? I almost got my head torn off by a mother frickin’ alien!”

“Stop it! Just stop it already!” the doctor snapped, folding her arms. “There’s no such thing as aliens. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. If something like this were real, wouldn’t the science community have said something by now? Your theatrics are impressive, I’ll give you that, but using live ammunition? That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? I’ve got half a mind to call the sheriff.”

Keith took a step forward, opening his mouth to argue, but Declan simply grabbed him by the arm. Their eyes met, and with a swift, unspoken exchange, both came to the same conclusion. There was no point trying to convince her. The verdict was found long before any evidence was presented.

“I guess I should be grateful to see your debut performance for free,” Cunningham said, slinging her medical bag over her shoulder. “Just do me a favor and leave me out of it next time, okay?”

With that, she trudged out the front door into the night, leaving the two brothers to their blood-soaked warzone. They glanced around at all the collateral damage, resting their gaze on the kitchen table.

“Well, Dex…you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“Yup.”

A few minutes later, the charred remains of the alien starfish were piled on top of Marvin’s body, each Forester grabbing opposite edges of the plastic tarp. They wrapped the bundle into a tight burrito and sealed it with duct tape, then hoisted it off the table and dragged it outside. Declan wiped the sweat from his brow, panting as he supported Marvin’s feet.

“I wonder if anyone will ever take the video we posted seriously,” he muttered.

“People believe what they want to believe,” Keith shrugged. “At least we know the truth. We know what’s out there and what they can do.” He removed the lid from their industrial-sized trash can, lifting the bundle of roadkill to dump it inside. It landed with a soggy clunk, the brothers dusting off their hands as they turned to look up at the sky. The stars were already fading behind a canvas of blue, the sun just beginning to peek over the mountains. 

“You think Marvin’s got any more friends or family wandering around here?” Declan asked. “What if they find out we killed him?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Keith sighed. “With any luck, their species is just as clueless and apathetic as we are. Now then, what do you say we go hit the sack? It’s been a long night.”

“Yeah…after all this craziness, I’m probably gonna move back in with Mom. It’s a lot quieter over there…”

Keith ruffled Declan's hair, following him inside, neither of them noticing the fleet of silvery saucers descending into the valley below. The objects hovered in formation over the urban sprawl, so silent and still. Not a single morning commuter bothered to look up. That is, not until the fire came raining down.

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