Posted on by Mike Firesmith · 3 Comments

Halloween 2020 Part Seven: Out of the Woods

It had to be this day. It wasn’t enough to simple prevent it, the killer had to be found, and punished. But what if the date was different? The thought gripped me as I walked across the porch. I knocked on the door and wondered if it was going to make anything better. This was the only way to find out if anything was going to make sense now. I had followed the same path I had taken before, become a deputy, and now I was standing at the front door of the Kems’ residence, in uniform, wondering if I could change the future any more than I had. It had been five years, and the first engines were anchored to the rock, forcing it to change direction, albeit slowly, it was working. 

“Yes?” Mrs Kems said, smiling and I nearly wept. I had arrived on time. 

“Mrs. Kems, you don’t know me, but my name is Wanda Alexander, I’m a deputy in Thomas County, may I speak with Travis?” I said in a rush. 

“Oh my, has he done something?” Mrs. Kems said as she opened the door. 

“No, nothing like that, I assure you,” I said and watched as Travis came down the hallway and saw me. 

“I know you,” he said, “don’t I?  It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“Maybe, but I have a present for you, here,” and I gave him a thick book of drawing paper, and a pencil set. “Your teachers say you have a talent, an amazing talent for art, I need someone to do police composites,” I was lying, really lying, but it was going to be worth it. “Want to give it a try?”

“I’m not that good,” Travis said, but his face was alit with the idea someone might like his work. “But you’re the lady, from the dreams, aren’t you?”

“ Dreams are very strange things, Travis, but my plan for your art; it’s a long range plan,” I told him, “here’s the card of a woman I know in Quitman, she’s a retired art teacher, she said she’d love to help.” 

“I really like to draw,” Travis stared at the pencil set. “Thank you.”

“Is there someone with you?” Mr. Kems came to the door and looked out behind me. A strange car pulled in, and then pulled out again. 

“No, I have no idea who that was, but let me call in the car, and get an ID,” I said and I stepped back out. “Brooks Dispatch,” I said into my shoulder mic, “this is Thomas County, I need a stop of a white Toyota, 2005 driver unknown may be armed. Pauline Church Road, heading north.”

“Roger, Thomas County, we have someone close,” Deputy Sheffield was out there waiting. He had no idea why I wanted him on that road, but he agreed to it. 

“I’ll go see who it was,” I said. “Travis, keep in touch, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” and he smiled. 

By the time I got there, Sheffield had the man down, cuffed, and stood over him. 

“Damn, Wanda, look at this!” There was handcuffs in the truck of the car, a gun, and rubber gloves. And a bloody sheet wrapped around what looked like a body. “I think this one is up to no good at all,” Sheffield looked at me hard, “how’d you know?” 

“Long story,” I said. “You get the capture; it’s your county.” 

“I’ll call the state boys, they’ll want to look at this one. I think we just got a serial killer here.” The past was undone, it hurt me that it was undone for me, but for Travis and the rest of the world, it was a better place. 

Two years went by, and Travis was turning into an incredible artist. I was thinking about not running for Sheriff. Steven Morrison was famous, worked with NASA, but now that the danger was growing less by the day, had slipped into obscurity again. I stopped trying to keep up with him. It made things worse, not better. 

One of those electric cars cruised past me doing seventy in a fifty-five zone so I lit him up. The car was a rental, and when I walked up to the window the man smiled at me, “Sorry, deputy, but I’m not used to this thing yet.” 

“License, please.” I said. 

“Yes ma’am, hey I’m not going to argue with you; I was speeding. You’re right to give me a ticket.”

“Mr. Morrison, of NASA fame?” I asked, trying not to grab him. It was Steven. He was staring at me. 

“Yeah, but, hey, you look familiar, we’ve met, haven’t we?” Steve asked. 

“It’s possible,” I said. “You in Thomas County for long?” I asked. 

“I’m actually looking for a job, either in Valdosta or Thomasville, I always wanted to teach high school, engineering, I kinda fell into the NASA thing, got lucky looking in the right place at the right time, it was a miracle, actually.” Steve said. “Are you local? Maybe you could show me around?” 

“You like Jazz?” I asked my heart pounding. “There’s a great little place in Valdosta that has live Jazz music on Thursdays. Good food. Good wine.” 

“You, uh, married or anything?” Steve asked, just like he did the first time we had met. 

“No, I’m single,” I said, “I’m Wanda, Wanda Alexander. Here, I’ll give you my number,” and my hands were shaking hard. 

“I love Jazz,” Steve said. “Are you sure we haven’t met? Never mind, I’m positive I would remember you” 

“Some people,” I said, trying not to lose my composure, “are just meant to meet one another, don’t you think so, Steve?” 

“Yeah, hey, it’s Thursday, let’s go to listen to Jazz tonight, is that too soon?” Steve said, and he gave me his best and most charming smile. Oh my god he still had it. 

“Sure, why not,” I laughed. “Seven sounds good, okay?” 

“I know a great little Italian place, they’ll even overcook your garlic bread if you like it that way,” I walked away, knowing Steve was watching me, and it had begun, again. 

End

Epilogue: 

“So you are telling me that we were married before, you were Sheriff before, and we saved the world from an alien invasion with the help of your friend Travis?” Steve took a hit off the joint and held it. A moment passed and he released a cloud of smoke then said, “Travis does grow some really great pot, doesn’t he?” 

“It’s legal now, so why not?” I sighed. I knew we would have this conversation one day. I knew he would believe me, but he didn’t not quite yet. 

“And how come you and Travis remember this? He doesn’t remember the things you do, does he?” Steve put his hand on my thigh and I hoped I could convince him before he totally distracted us both. 

“I’m not sure, but he went back from an adult to a kid, that might be it, and he got his folks back, too. They likely influenced him to think it was a dream, if I was him I would have run with it.” I said. 

“So he’s teaching art in New York now? Or is he still in Canada?” Steve asked. 

“Canada, his job in the city start next month,” I stood up with great reluctance, “here, I have you show you something, Travis drew this,” and I got the drawing out. 

“What the hell?” Steve wasn’t amused. “This is us having sex on a sofa? I mean it’s good, wait, how old is this?”

“Travis drew it for me right after he and I reconnected, before you and I met again, Steve,” I said and smiled. “The date is at the bottom.”

“It is real, this did happen,” Steve whispered. 

“You and I are remarried, sweetie,” I laughed at the look on his face. “I’m both your first and second wife!”

“How long were we married the first time?”

“Four years, about half the time we’ve been married so far,” I replied. 

“Where do you think they are, these Peacekeepers?” Steve asked. 

“Somewhere out there, looking out for us,” I laughed. “But don’t we have better things to do now?”

“Yes”

End. 

Posted on by Mike Firesmith

Halloween 2020 Part Six: Lost Souls

Steve and I went over to Kems’ place and found it totally dark. Travis had inherited the house from his folks after they were murdered, and a lot of people thought he might have killed them.  He claimed a stranger had come in and just killed them both. I never believed he did it. The man had a drug problem, not a violence problem. Travis was a soft spoken and shy young man, barely twenty-one, but he had a lot of issues related to the death of his family, and more demons than most. I had picked him up twice for possession, drugs not demons, but rehab hadn’t helped him at all. He lived alone in a massive two story house that had been built one hundred years ago, when building houses was an art. 

We knocked but there was no answer. Then the door swung open just a bit, and we heard a voice. 

“Come on in,” Travis said, “I’ve been expecting you.” 

Travis lit a candle and it revealed his face, unshaven, gaunt, and yet oddly clean. 

“How could you know we were coming?” I asked but Travis said nothing, and instead lit more candles. 

“Jesus,” Steve whispered. Covering the walls, from one side of the hallway to the other, extending past where we could see in the light, pencil drawings, life sized pencil drawings of the Peacekeeepers, covered every inch. 

“Travis, what did they tell you?” I asked. 

“They told me you could choose,” Travis said, “but I don’t think it means what you think it means. I think we’re getting a weak signal, someone or something is trying to tell you, me, us, something, but it has nothing to do with what we think we’re seeing.” 

“Tavis, they showed you something, what was it?” I asked. 

“The two of you having sex on the sofa, and wine, red wine, and that led you here,” Travis said. He pointed to a drawing of our living room. The detail was disturbing. 

“But you know about the Peacekeepers, all these drawings, when did it all start?” Steve asked. 

“Right after my parents died, I started smoking a lot of pot, doing mushrooms, and having nightmares, they came to me, and told me they were trying to help, but it kept being horrible, they did things to people, but none of it was real. As long as I was drawing, they stayed away.” Travis lit a joint and passed it to Steve. Steve looked at me and I nodded. 

“Imagine if you will, Wanda,” Travis began, “someone one hundred meters away, on a windy day, trying to tell you something, or trying to get you to do something, but they only have ten or fifteen minutes a day to try. If the two of you don’t speak the same language, then maybe that person draws pictures and sends them on paper airplanes. I think that’s what’s happening here. The violence and the gore is so you’ll remember it more clearly; trauma causes focus.” 

“But they do speak English,” I insisted. “I’ve spoken to them.” 

“I think the vision of them speaks to you so you can interpret the message they are trying to send.” Travis said and he picked up his pencil. “I think they are actually trying to help us.”

“That’s why we need a really smart person,” Steve said. 

“What?” Both Travis and I said at the same time. 

“According to your original vision, Wanda, all of this started with them telling us an asteroid was going to hit Earth in a year. Now that we know some of the things they’ve shown you is true, we need someone with a telescope and some brain power to try to spot the object they said is heading our way. I was an astronomy major before I went into engineering.”

“That’s part of it, Steve,” Travis said, “but I think at the end of the day, we have to think it’s too late to stop it. Even if we told NASA what was going on, and then they believed us, and the whole world decided to join forces to solve the problem, it would very likely take a hell of a lot longer than a year. By then, the world isn’t going to be wiped out, but if it’s the size they’ve told me it is, there’s going to be a city sized hole somewhere on Earth, maybe bigger. It’s going to mess up the climate for a while, kill a lot of people, but we’ll survive it. What we have to do is have time to prevent it. I think they’re offering us that.” 

“That’s not possible,” I said. “How can we get more time?” 

“By choosing loss,” Travis said. 

I fell backwards. A void opened up and swallowed me. 

“Good,” the Peacekeeper said. “You choose now, you can see.”

“Why me?” I asked. “You have to tell me that.” 

“I show you already. Your world ruined. Peacekeepers step in to save some, you choose some, but you choose time, we can help. But you lose.” The Peacekeeper said. 

“Lose what?” I asked, and I knew I would hate the answer. 

“Peacekeeper does not know, just know loss. Now, you know you choose. Many others choose, too. Your loss or lose all. I,” it stopped speaking. “I have no time now. You have less. Permission from you or not. It is now time to choose. Ask Peacekeeper to help. I ache for you, Wanda Louise Alexander Morrison, I wish some other choice. But now, only now.” 

“Please help us,” I whispered, and a roaring sound took the world away.

I woke up and was in the most familiar place I could have been, but it was as alien as the Peacekeeper’s world. Everything, to the very smallest detail was the same, as I remembered it, had lived it, but it was ten years ago. I was back home in my parents’ home. 

“Hey Lazy,” Karen walked into my room, “you smelled like beer last night when you came in.” 

“Karen,” I whispered. She was fifteen, still just a kid, and wearing that cast when she fell and broke her wrist. 

“You got to see this,” Karen said as she picked the remote up and turned the television on. “The world is ending, or is going to.” 

It was a surreal scene on the television. NASA was having a press conference, and the President was there. They had just discovered a large meteorite, a small asteroid, and it was heading for Earth. We had nine point seven three years to find a way to stop it.

“And this has been confirmed by several other countries, but as you know by now, the original sighting was made by a senior at Georgia Tech,” the announcer was saying. 

“Steven Morrison,” I breathed. “Oh Steve.”

“Steven Morrison, who used a telescope, he was logged onto remotely of course, in the ISS to see around the planet Jupiter,” the announcer continued. 

“We know Steven Morrison?” Karen asked. 

“Facebook,” I said, and I knew what I had lost. How many other people’s lives had been changed by this shift in time? How many others had made the same deal? Did Steven remember me? Did he remember us? No, I was betting only those the Peacekeepers spoke to were in on it, and I had just lost my husband. The man I married, loved, planned to have children with, wanted to grow old with, and have my ashes scattered in the same place in the mountains, was gone. 

End Part Six. 

Posted on by Mike Firesmith

Halloween 2020 Part Five Connections

Steven and I had been married for four years. He was against me running for Sheriff, and I regretted it deeply as soon as I put the uniform on. Brooks County was a small, lightly populated, very closed little county. But the people liked me, I liked them, and the retiring Sheriff supported me. I thought the fact I knew the job better than anyone else, I had been a deputy in Thomas County for five years, would mean something. I thought they would accept someone who worked hard and was honest, even a woman. 

            Was I losing my mind because of the position? Was the job stress killing me? It certainly wasn’t helping my marriage. Now this, me coming and going in some alternative world where aliens were attacking Earth, yes, in fact, I was losing my mind, I had to admit it. 

            “Steve, I need help, I’m hallucinating, passing out, seeing things, hearing things, and I’m going to have to resign from the county to take better care of myself,” I blurted this out over spaghetti and red wine. 

            “I have to admit the episodes are a little strange,” Steve said more nonchalantly than I could have under similar conditions. “But don’t bail on your job until a doctor tells you there’s a reason. Or not a reason. But what have you been seeing and hearing?” 

            “Okay, remember you asked,” I replied, drained my wine glass, refilled it, drank half of it, and told Steve everything. I didn’t leave out a single detail, but the man didn’t interrupt me or flinch. 

            “Let’s do this,” Steve began, “okay, this sounds insane, but at the same time you have no history of anything like this. Let’s try a simple experiment.”

            “Okay, what?” I wondered if he meant an MRI or some sort of scan.

            “If none of this is real then there shouldn’t be any connection between the other world and this one. If there is a connection that means you aren’t crazy, which I think might actually be worse.” Steve poured more wine and smiled at me. I felt better. 

            “What do we do?” I asked. 

            “Call Harlow, tell him to meet you at the office first thing tomorrow morning. And then do your job given the evidence of a crime, Sheriff.” Steve had a way with words. I picked up my cell and called Harlow. 

            The next morning, I felt strange and surreal. What I was about to do was going to alter my reality, one way or the other, and neither felt good. Harlow had Ronnie Rogers in the conference room when I arrived. I sat down and hit the record button on the video without so much as a good morning. 

“Deputy Rogers, this interview is being recorded, you’ve been read your rights, and at this time, would you like to have a lawyer present?” I asked. Rogers was sitting across from me with Harlow beside him. 

“I don’t need no lawyer,” Ronnie snarled, “I ain’t done nothing.” 

“Okay, you have waived your right to have a lawyer present. Both Deputies Spells and Clarey have filed complaints about you. They charge you drugged my water bottle in an attempt to discredit my office. At this point you are going to be charged with two felonies, assault upon a peace officer, and possession of an illegal substance with the intent to harm, other charges will follow, I am sure. Do you have anything to say?” I asked and leaned back in the chair. 

“It was a joke, that’s all, listen, I didn’t mean to hurt nobody, I like you, I think it’s great you got the job, I was just playing a trick on you, I swear it,” Ronnie was sweating. 

“You’ve been protecting some of the pot farmers, and they paid you to come after me, didn’t they?” I asked.

“I ain’t done that!” Ronnie was scared now, and it showed. 

“You know what’s going to happen to you in prison, Ronnie?” Harlow asked. “You got a purty mouth, boy.” 

“I ain’t, I ain’t done nothing with no pot farmers, listen, I done wrong by you, I admit that, but I’ll make you a deal; I’ll quit, I’ll quit right now.” Ronnie stood up then sat down again. “I’ll turn in my certification.” 

“I want the names of the people who were backing you, Ronnie, and if you don’t give them to me, then you are going prison. But one question, what did you spike my water with?” I tapped my foot on the floor and it seemed very loud. 

“That angel dust stuff, just a little, I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ronnie began sobbing. 

“You are under arrest, Mr. Rogers, stand up, put your hands behind your back, please,” Harlow said and he reached over and took Ronnie’s gun and handcuffed Ronnie. 

“Harlow, let’s bring Spells and Clarey in, I want to know how deeply involved they were in this,” I said.

“Wait!” Ronnie said, “you mean, they ain’t told you nothing?”

“No, we knew you’d fold up so there was no need,” I said sweetly. “You really ought to study the handbook on interrogation more often.” 

Later that day, I was with David, drinking wine, yeah again, to celebrate. Arresting a deputy meant the Georgia Bureau of Investigation would come visit us, but I felt like the case was strong enough I didn’t have to worry. 

“There’s a problem,” I said to Steve. “Now that we know.”

“No, there’s only a solution,” Steve replied. We were both naked on the sofa, having not made it to the bedroom. 

“If all of this is a drug induced hallucination, then how did I know about the plot?” I asked. 

“It’s not just a drug induced hallucination, Baby, it’s all too real,” Steve said. “I thought that from the beginning.”

“What? Why?” I asked. 

“Because you were in uniform when we found you on the floor the other day, you had left for work, were gone for a couple of hours, then you were back here. If you hadn’t gone to work then the note I left on your windshield would still be there. I checked. It was gone.” Steve slipped beside me and poured more wine. “Somehow, you went to work, but then you were back home before you left. That’s something that is deeply strange and has to involve something out of this world.” 

“You believe there’s aliens who call themselves Peacekeepers and they’re out to destroy the earth, and all you’re doing is pouring me more wine?” I sat up. “Now you’re the crazy one.” 

“Wanda, let’s look at what’s happened so far,” Steve said. “You were given a pretty strong drug, one of your prisoners has committed suicide, and you’ve had serious interactions with some sort of force that messes with time and place. Yet given all this, nothing and no one has really been hurt, except for Dernmond hanging himself, that was real. But the school bus incident didn’t happen.” 

“I called Mental Health services to go talk to Travis when I realized it wasn’t real,” I said getting up and pacing. 

“I think I have an idea that will end this,” Steve said, “but we’re going to have to find someone with some real smarts. But first we’re going to see Travis Kems. He’s a serious drug addict. I’m betting if we get to him quick, we can save the world next.  

End part Five. 

Posted on by Mike Firesmith

Halloween 2020 Part Four What is Real?

The next morning, I got up, ate breakfast with Steve, and then stepped out of the door and fell a million miles. I landed in a very strange place. 

“You left, District Manager Wanda Louise Alexander Morrison, without choosing, and now you see what has happened?” The Peacekeeper asked. I was standing alone on the island in the table, surrounded by the aliens, or whatever they were. They all looked the same, but some of them were slightly larger, some had different shaped heads, and one of them, instead of the flat black coloring of the face, was slightly brownish. They all made odd hooting noises, as if they were laughing at me. 

“I’m not sure you are real,” I replied. “I think I’m dreaming, or going insane.” 

“You live in a world where you lock people up, there they die and call this insane?” The peacekeeper nodded vigorously. “Yes, we are both here and not here, both real and not real, both dream and not dream, but you still must choose.”

“What this time?” I asked. 

“Here, I show you something we see,” the peacekeeper waved a paw in the air and a screen appeared. 

It was the breakroom at the office. Three of my deputies, Ronnie Rogers, David Spells, and Ben Clarey were there. 

“I’m telling you, the Cunt has lost her mind, passed right out from what Harlow said, hit the floor, then started talking nonsense, it’s time we ended this,” Ronnie said.

“Ronnie, you don’t even know if she’s going to run again, it’s just two more years, and then we can run you and it will be a breeze,” David spoke as he got up for more coffee. 

“Putting that dope in her water bottle was a bad idea, Ron, and you know it,” Ben shook his head. “I never agreed to be a part of anything like that.” 

“I ain’t done it,” Ronnie snapped. “I just said I might and I ain’t.”

“Well, you let this play out and I’ll help, but I ain’t putting up with you hurting nobody just so you can get to be Sheriff. Just be cool. Nobody likes her being behind the desk, and the commissioners ain’t gonna back her.” Ben said. 

“She done busted too many pot farms and that’s gonna get somebody hurt,” Ronnie growled. 

“We need to shut up about this while we’re here,” David warned. “Just shut up, Ronnie.”

The screen disappeared. 

“You see, I show you what happens in back of you,” the peacekeeper said, “and you can choose.” The other peacekeepers hooted loudly. 

“That’s no reason to have them killed,” I replied. “I could fire them, or not fire them, but spiking my water and protecting dope dealers isn’t an execution offense.” I stared at the black space in the air, willing the screen to reappear. I knew the men hated me, but had it gotten that bad? 

“But it makes choice easy for you?” the peacekeeper asked. 

“Why bother making me choose?” I replied. “Why go through all of this at all? We can’t stop you from doing whatever you want. Why the dog and pony show? Why not just take what you want, kill who you want, and not put me through this? Do you get some sort of entertainment value out of watching us suffer?” I knew better than to mouth off at them, but I was angry, and I was hurt. 

“We watch you suffer without us, yes?” the peacekeeper said and he nodded, “And without us you suffer and you choose. Now we come and we tell you to choose and that makes you suffer more? I am asking. I already know, but you do not.”

“Okay, it makes it worse when you make us choose, even if we have already fucked things up for ourselves, is that what you wanted to hear?” I was trying not to cry but I felt myself losing control. What was happening to me? Was this a nightmare, some drug induced hallucination, or was I truly going insane? 

            “Here, I show you,” the peacekeeper said. 

There was smoke everywhere, thick, acrid, and black. The office was on fire and the emergency lights weren’t working. 

“Sheriff!” I could hear Harlow screaming so I tried to move towards the sound. The hallway was filled with debris and I stepped on a body. I grabbed an arm and pulled the body with me as I headed towards the front door. 

“Fuck!” said the man I was dragging said and I realized it was Ben. 

“Sheriff!” Harlow said as he met me in the hallway, “we gotta get out of the building.”

“What’s happening?” I asked. “Get Ben out of here.”

“They’re attacking,” Harlow’s face was covered in soot. “They’re taking out all the city and county buildings. They’re hitting the squad cars with some sort of projectiles. We’re trying to fight back but bullets aren’t helping. I got reports they’re herding people into some sort of black hole that’s on Washington Street. Whadda we do?”

“Use tear gas, push them away from people or push the people away from them, either way it works.” I saw a flash of light in the sky that looked like some sort of plane, or aircraft. “If bullets aren’t working then stop shooting at them. Try to block them with trucks if you can find any. But we have to get people away from them as fast as we can, then try to fight them if we can. Go.” 

“Yes ma’am!” and Harlow was gone. 

“You know, Sis, you’re under a hell of a lot of stress,” Karen said as she came out of the building. 

“Karen?” I couldn’t believe she was there. 

“What’s for dinner?” Karen asked. “Do you smell smoke?”

“Shit!” I had turned the oven on too high. Steve liked his garlic bread dark and I had left it on too long. 

There was a thin line of smoke rising from the oven. But the house was the same as it had always been. 

“You drive through downtown?” I asked. I was wearing my uniform which was neat and clean. 

“Yeah, why?” Karen asked. “Are you okay?” 

“I think I need a brain scan, or an MRI,” I replied. “I might be losing my mind.” 

End part Four. 

Posted on by Mike Firesmith

Halloween 2020: Part Three: To Dream

“You okay?” the voice was vaguely familiar but slurred as if an old friend had called me on a three day bender. 

“Yeah,” I replied and my own voice sounded like that of an old-fashioned telephone, deep in a well, far away and faint. 

“Let’s get you up,” and I realized Steve was helping me off the floor. I looked at my hands and realized there was no blood, there was no blood on my body, and for that, I was thankful, but I wasn’t sure to who. 

I was still in my uniform, still at home, and I felt curiously light, dizzy, as if I wasn’t quite back yet. 

“What happened?” it was a woman’s voice, my sister, Karen, and I almost cried. They knew about her, knew my family, but for anyone I loved to be in the same area code meant they would use that person against me if they could, and they could. 

“What do you remember?” asked Steve

“I was here, I had just gotten dressed,” the memory was perfectly clear now, and I told them about it, “then I was gone. I was awake, conscious at least, then I landed somewhere, not anywhere around here, you can bet that. There was a circular table, and I was standing with other people in the middle on an island in the middle. There were dozens, maybe a hundred of the creatures, all bulky and dressed in that black shimmering stuff, I don’t think it’s their real skin, but they were all talking, speaking some alien language but I could tell what they were saying. It was food, all about food, not food because they were hungry, but food because it tasted good, like when you eat junk food, or go out for pizza.”

“But pizza is real food,” Steve protested. 

“Hush!” Karen told him. 

“And they seemed happy, delighted to see me and the other people in the island. I recognized Peters from Lowndes, Berry from Cook County, and Jimmy Stiles from Thomas, a a few others, but there were people there I didn’t know. We were all terrified.” I felt the world spinning but had to keep going. 

“One of the creatures came through the table, floated through it as if the table wasn’t real, it wasn’t either and stood over us, leering and drool started coming out of its mouth.”

“You, Sheriff Wanda Louise Alexander Morrison,” it said, “you choose one of these, or they choose five from their districts. Go!” And with that it waved it’s hand in the air and screens appeared. 

            “Wanda?” Steve asked. “What in the hell are you talking about?” 

            “Sis, are you okay?” Karen put her hand on my forehead. 

            “Yeah, they didn’t hurt me,” I replied, “but it’s going to get a lot worse from this point on.”

            “Baby, what was the last thing you remembered?” Steve repeated.

            “They somehow got me out of there, and then I woke up on their ship,” I said, and something wasn’t right.

            “Who?” Karen asked. “What ship?”

            “The Peacekeepers, they took me . . .” I tried to stand and couldn’t. 

            “Peacekeepers?” Steve asked. 

            “Sis, I’m calling Doctor Smith, I think you might have had a stroke or something.” Karen raced out of the room before I could stop her. The room spun and I blacked out.

            “Wanda?” It was Steve. The room was a hospital room. There was a flat screen on the wall that showed a photo of the president talking about the latest fire in California. 

            “Steve, what happened? Do you know?” I asked. The news switched over to the World Series, where a game had been cancelled because of the fire.

            “We found you on the floor,” Steve said. “Then when you came to you were babbling about a dream you had.”

            “It wasn’t a dream,” I said, but Harlow was there, looking at his cell, and he looked up and smiled. 

            “You okay, Sheriff?” he asked. “We’re talking about baking a cake for you but no one at the office can cook worth a damn.” 

            “Give me the remote, please,” I asked and Steve handed it to me. 

            “You know, you have that thing on the rail you can use now,” Harlow offered. “Don’t have to raise your head, hey!”

            I got out of the bed, trailing the IV tube behind me and scrolled through the channels. There was a fishing show, a movie, another news channel with a video of a storm in the Midwest, and the weather show that was saying it was going to be the hottest year on record. But nothing, not one mention of the Peacekeepers, or what they were doing.

            “Wanda?” Steve asked. 

            “Hey, go back to the fishing show!” Harlow said. 

            “Take me to the office, I have to go there right now,” I remanded, and ripped the tube out of my arm. 

            It was a surreal scene back at the office. The door was in its rightful place, the walls were undamaged, and everyone was happy and smiling, I mean, as much as they always might have been. 

            “What’s the status of Dernmond?” I asked Harlow, who treated me as if I might fall to the floor without warning. 

            “Uh, didn’t want to upset you but he committed suicide yesterday, I was headed to your place to tell you when I saw the ambulance. Hung himself with a sheet.” Harlow said and he turned red. 

            “Suicide watch means you make sure they don’t not make sure they do, Harlow,” I snapped at him. 

            “You know damn well we’re better off with him dead, Wanda,” Harlow replied, and I couldn’t help but stare at the wall. It was whole and in one piece. How could this be? Why was there no blood on the ceiling and wall? There was no way it could have been cleaned up, much less repaired in that sort of time. 

            My cell went off.  A call about a shooter in a school bus with a gun. We rushed out, Harlow with me, riding shotgun, and when we got to the bus it was Travis Kems. He had taken the whole bus hostage. I walked in to see rows of terrified children with the driver dead in his seat. That was old man Sears, who had driven a bus forever. 

            “Peacekeepers sent me Wanda,” Travis said, “they say you left the party early.” Then Travis put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and blew the top of his head off. 

End Part Three