Triptych Read Online Free Page B

turned to face it. A man this time, but he was dressed the same as the woman: all dark and durable with no loose hardware. Just tough pants, thick boots, a vest with too many pockets and straps, a blank black ball cap. No badges. No emblems. No indication of rank. Only empty Velcro fuzz where they might have sat on the top of each arm. Wind- (explosion-) blown and militaristic. Guns in hand, big and boxy. Official-looking, but without any insignia that she knew; it reminded Evvie of the Navy Seals.
    Something so (covert) dangerous they had no need to advertise.
    Their clothing freaked her out. Evvie decided to freak out as quietly as possible.
    Dry and dusty horror swept down her. She felt her cheeks get cold, the heat and adrenaline of anger and fear sliding away. Her joints seized and the bottoms of her feet itched; Evvie wanted to run, wanted to yell, wanted to cry and all she could do was stand and shake, and shake, and shake.
    Evvie tightened her grip on Gwennie and the baby didn’t seem to notice.
    The man started to lift one arm, winced, and switched to the other. He pointed at the plane-ship. “Did you see where it came from?”
    “N-no,” Evvie admitted, because she hadn’t; because she had been looking at the tired old baskets, and the thorns and the fat raspberries, now smashed and pulpy; red and black innards sprayed all over the lawn. Grotesque.
    And what the hell was it ? As if real life was a movie, but nothing she had ever seen before. It was like in the commercials for that new Spielberg film with the bicycles.
    A sudden whistling sound rent the air, high and long. Silver, tinnish, dying. It hurt Evvie’s ears. They were wincing, the man and woman in black, but seemed otherwise unaffected; more concerned with catching their breath and arguing with one another than the shrill cry of the machine.
    The sound made Gwennie wave her fists and howl .
    Not happy, Mom, her squished face and watery blue eyes said. Seriously not happy.
    The air reeked in turns of burnt plastic, churned turf, and the faint, sickening tang of blood and raw meat as the wind shifted, blowing the smoke first towards and then away from the pack of too-still people. A long, thin line of blood arched over Gwennie’s smooth forehead, down her little neck. Evvie pulled her close, hiding her face, covering her ears.
    Maybe Evvie should have been more concerned about the ship, the twenty foot divot on the lawn, the noise . She wasn’t.
    Big blue baby eyes and a squall —  Seriously, Mom, not happy.
    Evvie jogged her once and thought, Hush, sweetie. Let Mommy cope. We’ve nearly been killed by aliens.
    Aliens .
    There was a flying saucer in the strawberries.
    The word crashed around between her ears, echoing and squealing like icy mice .
    Aliens.
    Gwennie went silent and white, her little chest jerking with terrified gasps; something, maybe, in the tenseness of Evvie’s body as her mother clutched her close, an instinct not to fuss, not to bring attention to herself in a time of danger. But the two strangers were both staring at her anyway. The small gash on her forehead bled freely.
    The man pulled a square of gauze from the miniature first aid kit in his over-packed vest pocket. He handed it to Evvie. The kindness of the action jolted her out of her paralyzed terror, out of the vacant numbness of shock and sound.
    Evvie took the gauze. Pressed it down. Her daughter whined.
    “Oh my God,” the woman breathed, looking down at Gwennie, and why, why was Evvie suddenly struck with the thought that this woman looked familiar? The stiff soldierish facade cracked and the woman showed a real emotion for the first time, a sort of confused horror, her eyes still zeroed in on the baby.
    “I don’t get it,” the man said, without acknowledging that she had spoken. He was on a rant, too absorbed in an argument with himself to listen. It didn’t look like that surprised her. “Why?”
    Smile , Evvie thought, resisting the urge to just stare