When she woke, Carol knew who she was and what she had been doing right before the loss of time. There was no brief period of confusion. No one was missing, all the children seated on chairs or the couch before the television, which was loudly burring to the loss of broadcast signal.

The looks of confusion that claimed the children’s faces when they awoke spoke not of a loss of memory but an inability to understand how they came to be seated in the living room when they had been in the dining room only moments before.

As if of their own accord, hands reached for clothing, the faces of the actors relaxing when they discovered nothing amiss.

Carol rubbed her eyes to relieve an itch she assumed was from staring for too long. Her hand brushed against her nose and drew a small spasm of pain like the reaction of her nose to bitterly cold air on a winter’s day.

The man seated beside her on the couch stood and walked to the fireplace, kneeled, looking into the hearth. His back seemed to bow under a heavy weight as he remained looking at the hearth. To Carol, he looked like a man who had seen his hopes dashed against a wall, who knew all thoughts of defeating the odds were mere speculation.

Turner faced Carol, his face grave, one hand bracing against the stone of the fireplace, and shook his head. “They destroyed the guns.”

The actors crowded around the fireplace and looked at the melted weapons that littered the hearth.

“I don’t know how they did it,” Turner explained to Carol while pointing out the anomaly. “The guns are slag, but the shells are intact and unfired. That much heat should have lit off the powder in the shells.”

“Magic,” Marie whispered, then forced her camera close to the weapons. “In the absence of understanding, advanced technology will look like magic,” she added while she concentrated on the picture quality.

“Where did you hear that?” Turner asked, with an appreciation of the idea.

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“Science fiction,” Marie replied distractedly, as she suddenly stood straight and faced the front of the house.

Carol noticed a trickle of blood at the base of Sally’s nose as she followed Marie’s example. Another alien ship had landed before they had fallen asleep, or whatever happened when they lost track of time. She fished a tissue from a pocket and handed it to Sally. surprised to see Jim handing her a tissue.

Reaching to her nose, Carol touched her upper lip and looked at her finger; a small smear of blood was the reward.

Turner was on his feet and walking to the front windows while the family looked at each other with amazement and fear. Only Marie was free of blood leaking out of her nose, her attention riveted on the front of the house and oblivious to the discovery.

“This is a whole new ball game,” Turner reached the window, shadowed by the intense light coming from the front yard. “They took away our ability to defend ourselves and left me my memory, as bad as it is.”

“Is your nose bleeding?” Carol asked as she joined Turner at the window and looked at the size of the addition to the front yard. The UFO seemed to tower over the house, the light coming from its skin in a pulsing glow; a dominating presence she knew was real.

“Yes.”

“Implants?” She had seen enough alien encounter movies to guess what had happened.

“Tracking devices paced in our nasal cavities, probably,” Turner confirmed. “If we run, they will follow us and take each of us at leisure. If we stay, they have us. I can’t think of a way out of this mess.”

The children gathered at the windows, emboldened by the behavior of Carol and Turner. She had to save them; they were complete strangers, her children. Carol knew they would come to remember who they were in the future, yet for now they were her children and she had to protect them.

A soft touch of silk in her hand gave Carol an idea. Slowly, with misgivings, she brought the tissue to her nose, then blew as hard as she could.

The pain made her eyes water and Carol involuntarily cried out as blood gushed from her nose, but she held the tissue in place and tried to catch everything that fell from her nose.

Through watery eyes she could see Turner looking at her with a stunned incredulity, as if it was an idea he would never have considered.

The bleeding subsided as she accepted another tissue.

Turner claimed the bloody tissue and walked to the dining room table where he spread the bloody cloth and examined it. Amid the detritus was a small black piece of metal. Shaking his head, Turner laughed. “I cannot believe it. You did it. The probes must take time to fix in place.”

“Blow you noses,” Carol said to the rest of the actors. “Blow hard or we may not get out of here.”