Chapter 3

The first thought that registered in Ashton’s mind was that he must have been in a basement. It was cold, and smelled dank and musty. The only light came from a single naked bulb in the middle of the ceiling, casting dark shadows in the corners of the room.

“Finally decide to grace us with your consciousness, I see,” said a scratchy voice somewhere behind him.

            Ashton tried to turn around but he couldn’t move. Damn it, the old man had tied him to a chair. He had bound his writs’ with duct tape, making his zip tie cut into his skin.  “I’ve passed out twice today, that must be some kind of record,” Ashton said, hoping humor might miraculously lighten the old man’s mood. It didn’t.

            The man walked to the corner and dragged a stool behind him when he came back. Its rusted metal legs screeched across the cement floor. He cleared his throat and pulled out an old army knife. Ten inches long and sharpened to a deadly edge. “Now, the way I see it you’ve got two options. You can either talk, or I can make you talk.” He paused to see what effect his words were having.

Ashton didn’t even flinch. He kept his face calm, the way he’d been taught. “And if you can’t make me talk?” he challenged.

The old man gave him a wicked smile. “You enjoy being a boy, don’t you? Cos’ if not I can fix that real quick, free of charge.” Nothing in his tone said he was bluffing.

Ashton swallowed hard and cringed on the inside. This was not going the way he wanted it to.

“How about we do it this way, I ask you a question and every time you don’t answer, or you give me a load of B.S., you lose an appendage? Sounds nice, doesn’t it? First question, who are you?”

“Well, some of my favorite hobbies include pissing people off"”

He leapt from the stool and grabbed Ashton’s hand. “You wanna lose a finger, boy?” He held the knife under his pinky. It was barely touching his skin but already blood was welling up around the blade. “What is your name?”

“Ashton. If you had asked that question the first time"”

He backhanded Ashton across the cheek. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“May I ask your name, kind sir?” he spat.

“No,” he growled. “How did you get here?”

“Well, I believe what happens, kind sir, is that two people, a man and"”

The man’s hand cracked across his cheek again. “Damn it! How did you get to London?” he asked impatiently. “An’ if you call me ‘kind sir’ one more time I’ll cut your ear off. You can call me Baxter.” he added.

“I walked,” he said, which was the truth. The ship took him just outside of London. He had walked into town.

“Don’t give me that. The whole damn town is up at Garvey’s place talkin’ ‘bout U.F.O’s, and here you come, waltzin’ into town like ain’t nothin’ wrong when anyone within five miles of this place knows that somethin’ is most definitely wrong, and you’re gonna sit here an’ tell me you ain’t got nuttin’ to do with it?”

“U.F.O’s?”

“Yes, I said U.F.O’s. And I know you’ve somethin’ to do with it. You an’ that girl Vic done brought up from the highway"”

            “Wait, what girl?”

            “The one that was so conveniently found at the scene of the crash just a few hours before it happened. She’s just as guilty as you are.”

            Ashton was positive that she was here now. It couldn’t have been anyone else. “Where is she now?” he asked urgently.

            Baxter snorted. “Like I’ll tell you. You already got enough outta me.” He got up from his stool and turned to leave.

            “Wait!” he pleaded, but Baxter was already headed up the stairs. He flicked the light switch on his way up and Ashton was engulfed in darkness. 

 

            Garvey spit into the dirt. “Did I stutter? I said TALK! How do you know this place, right here where the path ends?”

            “This was where Vic found me,” she said softly.

            “Louder!” he shouted, tobacco spit flying from his mouth.

            “Garvey, now there ain't no sense in this. Put the gun down,” Vic said calmly.

            Garvey didn’t lower the gun. He kept his eyes trained on Carter when he spoke. “She said that you found her here. This exact spot! That ain't no coinc’dence! I want to know what she’s doin’ here and I want to know now!”

            If Carter had been anybody else she’d have been trembling but she stood strong. If she was a wreck on the inside she didn’t show it. “I lost my memory"”

            “How damn convenient! You remember, don’t give me that bull s**t! Girl, you’ve got a gun pointed at your head, I suggest you start tellin’ the truth real quick like.”

            “She is tellin’ the truth! If you’d stop jumpin’ to conclusions and pointin’ guns at people’s heads you’d know that.” Vic paused before going on. “Now how about you put the gun down and we go on up to the house an’ talk.”

            Garvey grumbled. “She goes first. An’ if she does anythin’ funny I’ll shoot.” He shoved his gun against her shoulder and they began to walk, Vic in the back. It was like walking through a mine field, one wrong step and BOOM!

            A few hundred feet away from the house they heard shouting and Vic cursed under his breath. Word had gotten out and the whole town had gathered in Garvey’s yard. All heads turned when they saw them coming. The he faces were a mixture of terror and anger. And then there was Neon, leaning against a post on the porch, a crooked grin on his face. Carter was happy to see a familiar face in the crowd, even if it was his.

            “What the hell is this?” Vic demanded.

            A short woman with wispy white hair shoved her way to the front of the crowd. She stood just over four feet tall but she commanded everyone’s attention no different than a giant. “You know what this is, Vic! It’s a town defendin’ themselves against the likes of the Devil.  

            Vic groaned. “Carol, this is a mob you’ve gathered! What are you afraid of? Her?”--he pointed at Carter--“She’s a fifteen year old girl an’ you’ve got everyone terrified of her! You’ve done some crazy things before but this is crossing a line.”

            “Do you hear him? Lies!” she hissed. “He’s trying to turn you against me! That girl is the Devil and she’s bringin’ her demons down on our town!” The crowd roared in agreement. “She’s an alien an’ Vic brought her here!”

            “Now, stop this! This is madness! You can’t go around accusin’ people of bein’ aliens and the Devil!” The vein in the side if Vic’s neck throbbed.

            “There ain’t nothin’ you can say to convince me that she ain’t the cause of this.”

            “Is this how you show southern hospitality? Someone new comes along and you start a mob, accusin’ people of being an Alien?”

            “This is more that someone new comin’ to town, Vic an’ you know it.”

            “Have all of you lost your mind? She’s just a girl! Does she look like an alien to you?”

            No one had an answer to that. They grew quiet until Carol spoke up. The fury in Carol’s eyes could melt metal. “You’ve betrayed your own town. You, who are supposed to be protecting it, betrayed it to this--this thing!” She had started out with a deadly calm to her voice, but it rose to a shout at the end.

            “Look at yourselves! Do you hear what you’re saying? Everybody just calm down and think for a second! She is not the enemy here. I don’t know who is, but I’m damn sure it isn’t her.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. Thankfully people seemed to be listening.

            Carol was seething. She’d lost her control over the crowd and they were starting to see sense. “This is not over. Somethin’ was started here today that you can’t stop, Vic. When all is said an’ done people will see. They will see how I was right and you were wrong.” She stormed away and slammed the door to her car. A second later the engine started and she floored it, kicking up gravel as she sped down the driveway.

            The crowd departed, each one getting into their cars and leaving. The only person who stayed behind was Neon. “Nothing like a good riot to get your blood pumping.” Nobody laughed.

            “You mind lowering your gun now, Garvey?” Vic asked.

            He grumbled and said something under his breath, but he did lower the gun. “You’re not welcome here. Now get before I shoot ya fer tresspassin’.” He stomped up the steps and slammed his screen door.

           

            Baxter came down twice more that night. Once to bring him food--a piece of cheese on stale bread--and once to let him use the bathroom. He refused to talk when Ashton asked him any questions, his only reply was the occasional smack across the face. Ashton’s face was beginning to look like he’d been trampled by a horse.

            He had to get out of here. Every second that he spent in this basement was more time that Carter was up there alone. He no longer thought that this town wasn’t a threat. He had the bruises to prove it.

            The only way out was up the stairs and through the house, and he had no doubt that Baxter stood guard at the top of the stairs. He could hear him snoring when he fell asleep. But even if Baxter wasn’t guarding the stairs it would take forever to get out of his restraints. Luckily he’d been trained in that too.

            His hands were tied and duct taped behind his back and his legs had been bound to the chair legs. Rope wound tightly around his torso. He waited for Baxter to fall asleep before he started in case he made enough noise to alert him.

He flexed all of his muscles and worked on pulling his feet away from the chair, and his hands apart. He stopped for a second to catch his breath and then did it again. He took a huge gulps of air and forced them out, expanding his chest. The ropes got just slightly looser around him, but it was enough. He used the chair legs to kick off his shoes and the movement loosened the bonds on his feet enough to slide them out. With his feet free he was able to scoot the chair back to the wall.

The legs scraped lightly against the floor, nothing like the stool, but still. His heart was pounding so loud he thought Baxter must have heard it. There was a deafening roar in his hears and he was almost scared that he wouldn’t be able to hear if Baxter stopped snoring.

He used the wall to help scrape the duct tape off his hands and loosen the ropes. His wrists were being rubbed raw but he kept going. If Baxter came down now there was no way he could hide the evidence of his attempted escape. Finally the ropes were just loose enough for him to squeeze his hands out. The zip tie got caught on the ropes but a sharp tug pulled it free.

He gave a sigh of relief and quickly slid out from under the ropes binding his chest. Freedom! He wanted to shout with glee but he knew that if he did Baxter would wake up. He couldn’t risk being caught now.

Instead he looked around the room for something heavy. It was hard to see because Baxter had the lights off but finally his hands met something cold. He slid his hands up and down it until he figured out what it was. A fire extinguisher. He smiled and lifted it in one hand. He slowly walked to the wall created by the stairs and flattened himself against it.

“Hey, BAXTER!” He shouted.

Baxter gave a startled snort and started down the stairs.

“What now?”

Wait for it. Wait, wait, NOW!

Baxter reached the bottom of the steps and flicked on the lights just as Ashton swung the fire extinguisher at his head. The extinguisher connected with a hollow dink and Baxter dropped to the floor. Ashton dropped the fire extinguisher and bolted up the stairs. He didn’t have time to think as he ran through the house; he just blindly turned the corners and hoped he was going the right way. The house went by in a blur and suddenly he was throwing the door open and tearing down the street. He took in gasping breaths of air, glad that they didn’t smell like mildew. He was free. Finally, he was free and he could find her.