To John, the sight of an alien carrying a wounded comrade seemed like a scene out of a bizarre war movie. He lay confused by the emotion that came from the sight. He could not fire on a creature performing a task so human.

Holding his breath as the alien walked slowly past the sight of his rifle, then stopped at the foot of the ramp. All night, it seemed he had been killing the aliens without a second thought about the consequences of his actions. Looking at the back of the alien bowed by the weight of its friend, he wondered who the true culprit was in this action.

Lia hit his leg with a bunched fist, using pain to voice her opinion.

He had to kill the alien. If he did not, it would continue the attack on the house. That much was certain in his mind, but he could not fire on a creature with its back to him. As soon as the thought entered his mind, John knew it was a lie. He knew it was a foolish attempt to find a plausible reason to avoid killing a creature he had suddenly come to see as human.

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The alien moved slowly up the ramp with its burden.

That man was on the ship. John aimed at the center of the alien’s back, closing one eye, and bringing the sight to bear. The rifle butt nestled easily against his shoulder as it had all night. His movements were automatic, as his mind frantically sought an answer to the dilemma.

The man had walked into the ship. He could be an alien dupe or someone who was also fighting to protect the people in the house. Either way, an alien was walking up on an unaware human.

The alien reached the top of the ramp and stopped as movement came from within the ship.

John’s finger had tightened on the trigger as he watched. The report of the gun startled him and he lost sight of the alien.

Frantically, he looked over the barrel of the rifle and searched for the alien.