The women were crossing the backyard, fleeting forms in the weird lighting of the UFO and flames. They seemed to run to a billowing cloud of red smoke.

Casey leaned against the door, holding it open with the weight of his body as he watched to ensure the women made the distance to the ravine.

He ignored the UFO overhead, instead bending his attention to his hearing, almost telling which direction the helicopters were coming from. He heard the missiles instead.

“Get down,” he shouted at the women the dove for cover under the table.

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He saw the women dropping to the ground as the door closed, then a flash and gust of air that slammed the door against the jams hard enough to crack wood and break glass.

Shards bounced off the tabletop and tinkled to the floor.

A rumble shook the house as Casey crawled from under the table, the noise turning to a destruction of timbers and shingles. Air grew heavy, and he knew what was happening. The trigger finger happy helicopters had shot the UFO down as it flew over the house.

Clatter of objects falling to the floor in the house matched the sounds of the crash, then the ship was gone and the house intact.

He opened the door and checked on the women. They were up and walking to the ravine.

Now he had to get rid of Turner. Limping swiftly into the dining room, he saw the man lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs.

“Are you dead?” Casey asked.