Something was wrong. This is not how The Society thought events would take place.

• Continued from Chapter 3

Three Hours Earlier

According to every account, in past episodes, the girls just created some sort of protection spell. After saving the remnants of humanity, the aliens left, thinking they succeeded, perhaps. The girls were branded witches and blamed for the destruction by the ungratefully lucky souls they saved.

The Society debated and theorized for centuries.  Was it just a shield? Was it a cloaking spell? Did the girls somehow transport the survivors to a parallel dimension for a few moments? Or was this earth an alternative dimension altogether and it took hundreds and thousands of years for the warring alien factions to find us every time?

That was different. That was an offensive weapon. That was more like an EMP (electrical magnetic pulse) that knocked everything out. 

Even more conspiracy theories were floated about why and how this cycle existed in the first place. Many of these helped The Society raise money via television programming, podcasts and internet threads. Are we products of life from another planet, another dimension? Are we slave labor for some intergalactic warlord? Are we visited by future us? Is this the Matrix? 

Whatever the exact truth, it was deduced that earth constantly became too powerful, a threat to some offworld power, or just sport.

The plan was to better survive this attack with the resources and knowledge to build back quicker, better. The next time, we’ll be more ready to fight back.

Dr. Chase stood up, a pain shot from her elbow to her spine. She expected to be safe inside a bubble of protection, not thrown against a wall. What did those girls do? How?

The door she previously bolted was barely hanging by one hinge. Dr. Chase pushed on it. It was too heavy to move completely but it was enough to see something unexpected. 

In the past, ships had come, laid the earth a barren wasteland, and left. Now, dozens of craft appeared as broken toys of some giant child, strewn across the mall and beyond. There was no sign of life.  The once terrifying UFOs joined the previously grand buildings of downtown Washington DC in one giant junk heap of wreckage. 

“Hello?” Sergeant Bob Anderson called from the other end of the corridor. 

“Those girls did this!” Struggling to sit up, Congressman Richard Beaumont pointed at the three girls kneeling. “WITCHES! DEMONS!”

“Dickie, ignorantly short sighted as always,” The Michigan Congresswoman easily recognized her least favorite from across he aisle. Of course, HE survived.

“Congresswoman Chase, are you OK? Who are these girls? What’s Beaumont mumbling about?”

“Bob, lets get these girls and Dickie down to the bunker. We need to regroup and make some plans. Have you seen anyone else? We should…”

Dr. Chase was cut off. New sounds. Outside. Strange hums, and metal on metal scraping. 

She and Officer Anderson ran back to the door. The spacecraft that had plunged into the reflecting pool was squealing. A man was out there too. What was that fool doing?

“Isabella! Sarafina! Evelyn! Where are you? Are you out here?” 

Clifford Beasley searched for his missing students. In total shock, he feared getting fired if he lost any of his students.

Margaret and Bob did not want to draw attention to their location, but whispered as loud as they could. “Hey, fool, get back inside!”

In a daze, Beasley turned in their direction. It was just then that he truly realized the level of destruction in every direction. The Capital Building was barely there with a giant hole where elected officials labeled screaming past each other, debate. Where those space ships? The nation’s capital was now a galactic junk yard from Star Wars. 

Clifford began to spin, taking in one horror after another. When he saw the burnt outlines of bodies below his feet, he couldn’t take it anywhere. He screamed. The sound curdled blood of all that heard this formerly mild mannered math teacher. 

The grating sound of the wrecked UFO stopped but the humming got louder. Something flew out the top, then another object, and another. Officer Anderson thought of the swarming mosquitos every evening that chased him off the docks at the family’s lakeside cabin. One of these objects locked in on the panicking professor. 

“No! No! Get away! NOOOOOOO!”

The object circled Beasley, with sporadic pokes. Some knocked Clifford in different directions. Some just missed, testing, like a lion or shark playing with its food. This game continued only a few moments before a number of tiny arms extended and the entire device latched onto the teacher’s face, like a giant hand lifing him off his feet. 

After a few choking gasps, the entire body went limp, hanging from the device. More thin arms and wires seemed to probe the remains from within and without. Dr. Chase recognized the post mortem analysis. She was more engrossed as a scientist, in awe of the technology, until the abdomen burst and the robotic craft dropped the carcass. 

“WHAT THE -“

“Sssssshhhh!” Anderson grabbed Beaumont, who had crept behind them,  covering his mouth.

“I think it heard him,” whispered the Congresswoman, as the drone headed their direction.

Dr. Chase and Officer Bob realized they were not safe where they stood. 

“Girls, we need to move!” 

Dr. Chase grabbed Isabella’s arm, and all three girls rose, still groggy. 

The drone started scratching at the door. It had a searchlight, its eye perhaps, peeping through the cracks. A brief silence was followed by a massive bang. Trying to bust through, the drone slammed into the door.

This terror snapped all out of their shock, back to the now. Anderson drew his weapon and shot through the cracks. The drone was chased off, for the moment.

“We need to get down below, NOW!” Anderson pushed Beaumont ahead. Everyone silently agreed and followed. Before long, the scrapes and bangs returned. The screeching hinges signaled it was only a matter of time before the door gave way to the terror.

• To be continued… Chapter 5: Two Hours Earlier