Chapter Text
August 1, 2018
(on the radio)
Reporter:
A small pod reportedly landed in a relatively uninhabited part of the Arizonian desert at about 0200 hours last night. According to passerby, Marcus Smith, who also happens to be a self-proclaimed extraterrestrial expert, the pod, "just fell right outta the sky, like in 'em science-fiction movies." Smith further elaborated on his claim when I questioned him.
"Listen," he said to me, "Now the government doesn't want you to know this, but I believe, that as an American Citizen, it is my duty to this nation, this Great Nation, to reveal the truth." He paused here, seemingly for dramatic effect, before continuing. "Listen, the truth is-" another pause as he looked back and forth suspiciously at nothing in particular before beckoning me in closer with a hurried gesture, whispering, " the truth is, that pod, it ain't no ordinary pod." I'd like to note, listeners, that I didn't ask him what an ordinary pod was...
"That pod," he said, "is an incubator for alien life."
"Alien life?" I said, making my skeptical nature known through my tone and admonished expression.
"Yes," he responded. "Alien life. And whatever you do, don't, under ANY circumstances, Open. That. Pod."
Smith proceeded to stare at me for a full thirty seconds after that, his beady black eyes appeared to be trying to unlock the secrets of my soul, to discover the true nature of my creation and purpose on this Earth, to reveal-"
"Will you turn that shit off, Denny?"
"Bro, this is some heavy stuff right here," Denny said, turning up the volume as his friend Nick continued driving down the desolate desert highway.
"I'm trying to concentrate on the road, and it's difficult with that nonsense blasting out of the speakers," Nick responded, trying in vain to switch the radio station without taking his eyes off the road.
"Hey, cut it out! We specifically agreed that if I let you use my car then I get to decide what we listen to."
"Uh, I'm questioning my mental state at the time of that agreement," Nick grumbled, admitting defeat as his hand shifted back to the steering wheel.
"Besides," Denny continued, "the segment's over now anyways. You made me miss the end." He pouted as the radio show went to commercial break. The drive continued on in relative silence with Denny frequently filtering through the stations, much to Nick's annoyance. The blue Arizona sky slowly morphed into a deep purple, the sun's dying rays casting dark shadows over the blanket of sand outside the car.
Nick grunted as he turned on the brights and white light suddenly bathed the road ahead of them, illuminating the mix of gravel and tar that was the neglected Arizona highway. The sun had set quickly, the mix of violet hues that had painted the twilight sky had dissolved into pitch black, the brights creating a muted gray around the edges of their reach.
Nick drove on. The motel which they had booked, which Denny assured him had wifi and free breakfast, was only supposed to be a few more miles down. Suddenly, the radio station that Denny had finally settled on (Hans Zimmer's best hits) crackled out into a resounding static sound. Nick flinched, the involuntary movement accidentally steering the car out of the lane and awakening the dozing Denny with a startle.
"What the fuck man-" Denny began to demand, but the words quickly died on his lips, leaving his mouth hanging open and his eyes bulging. Nick had stopped the car, having driven them into the sand, but his hands remained clenched tight on the wheel, eyes transfixed in the same direction as Denny.
The black sky had been taken over, a dark red hue was quickly spreading across the night, ribbons of color entwining with the night, twisting into ominous shapes before converging into a single shape: a red light, and it was blinking.
Nick tried to put the car in reverse, but the gas pedal was stuck. The static grew louder, the haunting noise playing a roaring symphony with the revving of the engine. Nick thought he heard Denny scream. He looked out the passenger side window to see nothing but a blinding white light. A being entirely made of pure energy reached inside the jeep.
The car was found the next day, the gas tank completely dry. Two bodies were inside, both entirely void of blood, resembling nothing more than husks of human men. A recording was stuck on replay within the vehicle, the words spoken were barely audible over the static interference: "don't, under ANY circumstances, Open. That. Pod," played softly into the vacant desert.