I Can Barely Breathe (8 page)

“OK. I think I’m ready.”

“Then off you go. Be safe.”

Jon tapped the accelerator, and the
hovercraft moved slowly through the field. The doctor had surmised
that only a slight bit of movement was necessary for time travel,
which was a load off Jon’s mind. The young soon-to-be adventurist
placed his hands on the time device with his destination already
keyed in. He took a deep breath of air, preparing for anything. His
foot tapped a switch to power up the battery. In a heartbeat, Jon
and the hovercraft vanished from the field.

Gary looked at his watch. “One hour, Jon.
Don’t be late.”

Jon watched as the field turned to a parking
lot. He let off the accelerator, and the hovercraft came to a stop.
It was quiet. It was an odd transition; one second it was a
blue-sky afternoon, the next a darkened evening with stars filling
the heavens. The department store that belonged to the empty lot
and took the place of the once-nearby forest of trees looked empty
and closed up, though not out of business. A bright sign that lit
the area read Jackson’s Delivery.

After stashing his time machine on the
darkened side of the store, Jon had no other option but to venture
farther into town. He could see spotlights; their beams reached far
into the sky, as they scanned the atmosphere, rotating and shifting
like two swords in battle. The redwoods were gone, and small
skyscrapers huddled around the center of town. They were shiny,
constructed of pale blue metal and hundreds of reflecting
windows.

In the far distance, he saw a train on an
elevated rail that swept around the city limits; the railcars moved
at unbelievable speeds. The clock tower stood tall, as it always
had. Upon recognizing the iconic piece of history, Jon couldn’t
help but smile. It shone bright gold all the way to its peak, as if
it had been painted with the mineral. The hands were digital, meant
to mimic the analog clocks Jon was used to. The computerized hands
showed 8:27. He noted the time in his tablet.

“One number down, three to go,” he said,
stepping out of the lot and onto a nicely paved street with painted
crosswalks and glowing stop signs.

An oval darkly tinted glass craft hovered
by, making its way down the street. Jon looked up, just as three
giant ships flew silently over the town. They were like nothing
he’d ever seen before. Their smooth black metallic finish reflected
lights from the ground. A large blue-flamed propulsion system
pushed the vehicles slowly along and told Jon that the future
civilization still used liquid fuel.

As Jon walked, he came across two
odd-looking people. The closer he got to them, the faster his heart
raced. They wore tight gray rubberlike suits that reminded the
young time traveler of an exoskeleton. Their eyes were large,
almond-shaped and bright blue, almost shining. Long arms stretched
from their shoulders down to their knees, with bony fingers curled
up in their palms. The two beings stared at Jon as he rushed by,
trying to avoid eye contact.

Businesses with large storefront windows
stretched along one of a few different main roads. Coffee shops,
bars, restaurants and venues with neon signs and computer terminals
lit up with menus of touch-screen and holographic technology lined
the block. Jon saw a few humans walking around, but the odd-looking
creatures seemed to outnumber them. He jogged across the street and
jetted into one of the shops.

Inside, red and white dining booths lined
the side wall, mostly empty. A long bar with red stools held a few
customers and three of the beings, all who turned in their seats
and stared at Jon upon his entrance. He quickly decided to take a
seat at the bar to try to blend in.

“What’ll you have, kid?” the human behind
the long service counter asked.

“Just a coffee, please. Black.”

“OK, go ahead and swipe your card.”

Jon looked down at a small computer screen
built into the marble surface in front of him. The screen displayed
Welcome. Please swipe your card to begin
.

“I have cash,” Jon foolishly said, pulling a
wad of bills from his pocket.

“What? The year is 2062! Where’d you get
that? You need to swipe your monetary card to pay for the
coffee.”

A man to Jon’s left calmly laid his hand on
the counter. “I got it, Steve. Just put it on mine.”

Jon looked at the considerate stranger and
nodded. He was young but still older than Jon, around thirty,
clean-shaven and seemed very proper with good posture. His brown
hair was neatly parted, and kindness was in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Jon said.

“You’re welcome. Are you from around here?”
the man asked, returning his focus to his drink.

Jon’s coffee was pushed toward him, and he
took a sip. “No, I just got into town.”

A metal saltshaker lifted from the tabletop
and into the air. The shock and awe was clearly visible in Jon’s
expression; he quickly tried to erase the astonished look from his
face, but it was too late. The stranger had already noticed his
reaction. They both watched the condiment hover down the length of
the bar, until long bony fingers reached out and plucked it from
the air. It was then sprinkled on the patron’s food.

“They can move objects with their minds,”
the stranger whispered. “But if you’re from planet Earth, you
should already know that.”

Jon looked at him. “Well, I’m definitely
from planet Earth. Just a little out of sorts today, I guess.”

“Understandable. Traveling can do that to a
man. Where are you from?” the stranger probed.

“Denver. I thought I’d cut through to Cosmos
City.”

The man sat down his drink and frowned.
“Denver, huh? What part? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Aurora. I’m here on business,” Jon
lied.

“I’m just going to stop you here,” the man
said. “The first thing you need to know is that Denver was
destroyed about ninety years ago. Cosmos City was renamed about
forty years ago, and no one has used cash for over seventy-five
years. So if you don’t mind, could you cut the crap?”

Jonathan took in a deep breath. “I guess I’m
not very good at this,” he admitted.

“How about we start over?”

“That’d be fine,” Jon said. “My name is
Jay.” He held out his hand.

They shook. The stranger had a firm grip,
and, when he smiled, Jon noticed his white teeth.

“My name is Kattic. It’s good to meet you,
Jay. Now, let’s start by you telling me exactly
when
in the
hell you’re from.”

There was a silence in the coffee shop, the
kind of silence you normally only hear in a graveyard or after a
terrible accident or that lull in conversation when someone has
said the wrong thing. Kattic looked into Jon’s eyes, waiting for an
answer.

“I’m from 1962. I’m a time traveler.”

Kattic sipped from his glass. “Where did you
get the technology? I assume you didn’t build it yourself.”

“No. An alien ship crashed just outside of
Sorrow’s Sky. We recovered it and have been experimenting with it
ever since.”

“This may surprise you a bit, but I know
exactly what you’re talking about,” Kattic said.

“How?”

“History books. That crash is what started
all this.” Kattic looked around, finally resting his gaze on one of
the beings.

“What do you mean?”

“Jay, that crash wasn’t an accident. It was
planned. That was the beginning of their infiltration of planet
Earth. The whole thing started that day, in the year 1955, in
Sorrow’s Sky. Those were soldiers. Ruthless from what the books
say. Their mission was to disappear into the forest and reproduce
as much as possible, increasing their numbers as fast as they
could, paving the way for the rest of their civilization to land
here and take over. With them, conception to birth only takes two
months. Seven years after the crash, those soldiers, and believe me
when I say there were a lot of them, left the forest and entered
the town.”

“Seven years? That’s ’62.” Jon scanned the
room. “These beings look humanlike.”

“They are, kind of. Once the soldiers left
the trees, they immediately began raping and impregnating human
women. When the motherships arrived shortly afterward, the rape
continued on a global scale. The hybrids you see now are the result
of that.”

“So they’re part human, part alien?”

“Born from a crime. Exactly,” Kattic
confirmed.

“All over the world?” Jon asked.

“Yes, there are approximately three hybrids
to every one human. They wanted us humans to find their crashed
craft and back engineer their technology, so by the time they
arrived to take over, humans would be used to a new wave of tech.
They allowed us to keep the gadgets we built from their ship and
encouraged us to always keep inventing new products.” Kattic
finished his drink and slid the cup toward the bartender.

“No one even knows it’s coming,” Jon said.
“I need to return and warn someone. Before I go, what day and month
is it?

Kattic was a bit surprised by Jon’s
impulsive decision, but understood nonetheless. “It’s August
3.”

Jon jotted down the rest of his mission
information in his tablet, then stood to leave.

“Be careful, Jay, and good luck out
there.”

“Thanks, Kattic. You too.”

Jon rushed out of the café and ran back to
the vacant parking lot. He set the dials on the machine for October
24, 1962, 5:00 p.m.

Tom awoke naked, his alarm clock blaring. He
hit the switch, threw off the covers and sat up. A sharp pain ran
up his leg. The same pain he had felt for months after the
shooting.

“Good morning,” a short, petite brunette
with a pretty smile and wide eyes said from the doorway. Her
nightgown covered her body, as she sipped from a coffee mug.

“You’re up early,” Tom said, as he smiled to
her. He always found her sexiest in the mornings. “Come here.”

She walked to him, set her mug on the
nightstand, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed
his head against her stomach. His fingers unbuttoned her gown, and
she slipped it off, while his hands explored her bare breasts. In
Tom’s eyes, she was perfect; his subtle touch let her know. She put
her knees on the bed so her thighs spread around his crotch and
then kissed his shoulders. His dick rubbed against her bush, as his
fingers felt the stretch marks on her stomach. Her hands held his
strong shoulders, as her pelvis maneuvered him inside her, a neat
trick she’d picked up from two years’ worth of fucking. She moaned
when his manhood spread her open.

They both knew sex after having a baby was a
luxury and fully intended to take advantage of their son’s deep
sleep.

Tom’s lips sucked his wife’s nipple, and he
immediately felt her milk rush into his mouth. He drank from her
body, taking small mouthfuls, then switched to her other breast and
drank more. She rocked on his penis, while he swallowed, and, as
his hands squeezed her ass cheeks, his cum squirted into her. Her
tongue went in his mouth, and she most assuredly tasted her milk.
Tom absolutely loved the taste; it was sweet, like coconut water,
and he found it unbelievably erotic.

Using his shoulders as supports, she pulled
off of him, and his load of semen slipped from her cunt and dripped
all over the tip of his dick, then ran down the shaft. Obediently
the young wife got down on her knees and sucked the hot liquid from
his cock and balls. She didn’t stop sucking until her husband blew
another load in her mouth, which she happily swallowed as well.

He kissed her lips, then stood carefully and
limped his way to the bathroom. As Tom stood in front of the
mirror, he examined himself, finding the scar from the bullet wound
was back above his right knee. He hobbled into the shower and
soaked in the hot water.

***

It was a relief when Tom looked out the
front door and found that the redwood trees that had appeared in
his yard a few days earlier were gone. He then understood that,
whatever comes back to haunt the town, didn’t stay for long, though
the aftereffects did. That was apparent from the giant
tree-trunk-shaped hole in his neighbor’s house across the
street.

Steam rose from his coffee cup, as he made
his way to his Buick. Tom opened his trunk and grabbed the shotgun,
checked to make sure it was loaded and then opened his passenger
side door. The Buick was customized for the job; it had to be. Tom
needed things to be set up a certain way. He snapped the gun barrel
into a dashboard locking mechanism that held the weapon in place,
the aim focused on the roof of the car. Before he closed the door,
he checked the safety one more time.

On his way to the station he saw children in
the park, older couples on their porches doing the morning
crossword and a few people out mowing their lawns. It was a
beautiful Friday. Road crews were out filling in the giant holes
left from the mysterious trees. The town felt still, peaceful even.
It was as if nothing could ruin such a sunny day.

Tom pulled into the station’s parking lot
and found an empty slot next to another detective’s car. He tried
at all costs to avoid parking where the cruisers parked. He thought
himself too important to blend in with everyone else.

“Hey, Tom,” Chevez said, on his way out the
station doors. “Your leg acting up again?”

“Yes. I probably slept wrong. Stay safe out
there.”

Tom walked the halls of the old building.
The stiffness in his leg was stronger than usual, and his pain
level felt like a five rather than the usual three. He walked past
his framed picture on the wall with three other detectives. Above
them, a larger picture of his father, the chief, hung alone. Tom
ducked into his office and clicked on the metal-framed desk fan to
counter the heat the department always had pumping through the
halls this time of year. He sat down in the comfortable swivel
chair and organized the loose papers scattered on his desktop, then
put them in a drawer.