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Close Encounter

Allan Onik

    Briggs hit the pavement and began sprinting. His sirens were blaring and his lights were flashing red and blue. It was a dark night, and the suspect had parked his car and ran into the nearby cornfield. Briggs shined his flashlight as he ran and spoke into his radio: “Got a runner, no dispatch needed. Out.”
    The plants reached above his head and the glow created from his flashlight reached only inches until the next stalk. After only a few minutes in pursuit, he stopped, breathing heavily. It occurred to him that he was getting a bit older, that his belly was a bit flabbier than it’d been in his 20’s and 30’s, and that maybe he’d be better off watching Monday Night Football than chasing junkies through the heartland after sundown.
    “Pig.”
    The voice came from behind him and he felt himself being tackled. When Briggs landed he got soil in his mouth and was pinned and turned onto his back. A switchblade was opened and put to his neck. Briggs couldn’t see the man’s face—only shadows.
    “I thought I’d fry me some bacon today, but I think I’ll let you live. Where I come from, once you’re spared you’re owned. No soul of your own anymore, porky. Your ass is mine. Always. Maybe not physically, but you’ll remember tonight—and that’s all that matters.” Briggs felt a slice being made in his shoulder, and the perp was gone.

    Briggs sat on his porch. He eyed the cut on his shoulder marked as an “x.” He downed some scotch. “What’s this sad world coming to?” He spoke in the dark. He turned on his radio and a preacher was giving a sermon. He watched the fireflies light themselves while the sun set.
    God wants us to be free. The preachers voice echoed through the airwaves. Because God loves us. We all have a destiny, and a plan, but it is up to us to make the most of every day, to use God’s gifts allotted to us—and to avoid devilish temptations...
    Suddenly the words were replaced by static. Briggs’s jaw dropped involuntarily, and his drink slipped from his hand. Glass shattered on the wood floor. Above him was a hovering saucer with multicolored flashing lights, similar to but not exactly like the ones he’d seen in movies. The vessel seemed to bend the light around it, but made no sound. Before he knew it, he passed out.

    (Bright warm light in all directions)
    Briggs: Where am I?
    Entity: You are in a space-time flux, communicating through electromagnetic pulse, not tongue—hence thought
    Briggs: What do you want?
    Entity: The better question would be, what do you want, sir? It seems you have lost faith in other creatures of your evolutionary makeup
    Briggs: Why should I communicate with a stranger?
    Entity: A stranger!!! How absurd!! WE are one and same. I simply come from a different continuum. I am your consciousness reflected back to you after a bit of a, lets say, crunch
    Briggs: I never thought I’d go off the deep end like this. I’m probably drooling in padded room right now
    Entity: Save your self-reflections for your muddied drinking sessions. I am your savior!!!
    Briggs: Then help me. Make me believe in my brothers. In...anything!!!
    Entity: All you have to remember that you are free, and that we are all bound by Love. Someday soon you will understand

    When Briggs woke he was comfortably tucked in his bed. Coming in and out of his slumber, he barely noticed his missing scar tissue.

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