Nathan Hystad: The Event

The ships came at dawn. The radio announcer made it sound like War of the Worlds , and in my half-sleeping state, I dismissed it as a prank. When I flicked my television on to see what the news station was saying about it, my stomach dropped to my knees. This was no hoax.

The screen showed scenes from the world’s metropolises, and one thing remained constant: there were ships over each of them. Big Ben’s clock kept ticking while the people on the streets panicked. Lady Liberty pushed her torch into the dark sky, among the plethora of sleek gray vessels; above them were huge black boxes. They floated above the cities like massive monoliths. I tried to stay calm, but my hands had already begun to shake and my breathing sped up.

The sun was just beginning to peek through my living room window, and I turned my blinds wide open. Relief washed over me when I couldn’t see any ships in the sky above me. That feeling quickly subsided when I noticed a reflection off something to the north. One of the ships was nearby.

Not worried about walking outside in my boxers and t-shirt, I headed down my driveway. There were at least six of the vessels within sight of my house. I lived in a small community, a hundred miles northwest of New York City, and when I turned toward the big city, I could see the black cube even from here. I couldn’t even begin to calculate how large it must have been.

My neighbor Susan and her cocker spaniel trotted down their driveway and planted their feet, both looking up at the ships. It was surprising how some people could look so much like their dogs. Carey barked up to the heavens, and I wasn’t sure if he was saying hi to the intruders or warning them off.

“What do you think they are, Dean?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the dawn sky.

I had only the slightest inkling of what they were, but I couldn’t tell her without sounding like a raving lunatic, so I kept it simple. “I have no idea, Susan. The news is telling everyone to stay calm. Maybe we should just go back inside.”

By this time, the street was filling up with people, and I could almost taste the fear in the air. Carey saw a bird and chased after it; wings beat fast and the bird rose into the sky. My gaze lingered on it, and I saw the gray, shining ship in the distance, reminding me why we were all out here. The neighbors were all gathering around Jacob’s house down the street, hands waving frantically in the air, voices calling out over each other.

I left them to it, giving Carey a pet before heading back into the house. They had been in our atmosphere for under an hour, and I was very curious to see what the news had to say about the situation now. My initial panic had all but passed, and my stomach growled angrily as I crossed my kitchen to the living room. I turned the volume up and listened to the anchor say that there had been no movement by any of the invaders, anywhere.

Within moments, I went to my usual routine of making breakfast: burner on, frying pan heating up, and bread stuck into the toaster. I was a man of routine, and doing something normal at a time like this calmed me. My doctor had told me to cut back on fried eggs, but under the current circumstances, I figured that was the least of my concerns. Soon I had the comforting smell of coffee and eggs filling my kitchen, and the anchor said the president was about to address the nation. With plate in hand, I settled down on my couch and waited, seeing shot after shot from around the world of people’s reaction to the ships. Some were frantically trying to escape the large cities; some were bowing to the ground on their knees, praying to their gods, or maybe to the invaders. I had no idea.

By the time the president appeared on the television, I’d cleaned my plate off and filled my cup a second time. Through my window, I saw a few neighbors driving away, cars full of personal belongings. I didn’t know where someone would try to escape to, but I wished them the best. No one knew what was going to happen, and even though part of me had been waiting for this day, I really didn’t know what they were going to do.

Janine’s brown eyes knowingly watched me from the picture frame hanging on the wall. My heart ached as the president told the world they were trying to communicate with the ships. I couldn’t break my wife’s frozen gaze as the world was told to not panic, that this was our first contact with an obviously intelligent race. First contact.

My phone rang, and I picked it up to see my mother’s name flash on the screen. I felt ashamed that I hadn’t thought to call her. Surely she would be in a full-on panic attack by this point.

“Hello,” I said.

“Dean, are you up?” Her voice was frantic.

“Mom, calm down. Yes, I’m up. We don’t know why they’re here, but maybe it’s not bad.”

“Of course it’s bad! If they were here to make friends, don’t you think they would have used a little more tact than hovering thousands of ships over the Earth?”

My mother had always been a sharp woman, and her argument did make a lot of sense.

“We can’t presume to think we know what an alien race would know about tact. For all we know, this is a friendly gesture.” Even as I said the words, I knew they sounded wrong.

“What should I do?” she asked.

The truth was I had no idea, but she was all alone in her townhouse across the country from me. “Mom, just stay inside and don’t panic. Lock the doors too. You know how crazy people can get when something strange happens.”

She paused and I could hear her breathing ease up a bit. “Okay. You stay safe. I’m just going to see how Mabel’s doing next door, and then lock myself in. Stay in touch, though, honey.”

I said I would and hung up. The president’s speech was over, with no real substance behind it. The recap was scrolling across the screen on a black banner: Stay indoors. Don’t panic . My gaze wandered back to my wife’s picture just as the TV began showing people in the Middle East firing semi-automatics at the ships from the ground. Military forces in other countries were ramping up. Footage from Russia showed lines of tanks and fighter jets, ready to mobilize. This gave me a sinking feeling in my gut, and in a flash, my memory snapped into place and I felt like I’d been slapped.

I had to get the necklace.

Seven Years Earlier

J anine was running late, so I had dinner covered and in the oven to keep it warm. It was her favorite: butter chicken and rice. The wedding plans were scattered across our kitchen table. In this pile of magazines, cake pictures, and honeymoon pamphlets sat our unfinished wedding invitations, and we were finalizing those tonight. I poured a glass of wine and sat down, grabbing her invite list. We each had a limit of thirty people, not including the mutual friends we’d already worked out.

Her list had all of the regulars I knew: her adopted parents, brother, sister, aunts, and family friends. There were four names I’d never heard before. It made me think of how much we still didn’t know about each other; mainly, how much I didn’t know about her still.

The door opened and she called at me while I guiltily dropped her list to the table.

“Hey, babe. I just poured a glass of wine. Care to join me?” I asked.

“Well, I smell butter chicken.” She smiled widely. “So that means I owe you big, and I may need a glass of wine to make your touch bearable,” she teased.