Doc said nothing, simply stared out the window as they closed the distance to the farm, trying to remain distant from the driver. He did not want to talk. They did what they had to do to survive and if alien technology came at the price of a few humans, then so be it.

But for a simple reason, unable to take his mind off the people at that farm. If he had waited any longer, he was certain he would never have left the place. What were the aliens doing with the people they abducted?

He considered himself an intelligent man, subject to an active imagination. Doc could dream up several reasons the aliens might want captives and none of them were good.

Any way he looked at it. He was a pimp; he was selling humanity to the aliens. Of course, he was not deciding fate, but he was high in the pecking order.

He did not want to return to the house.

Who could know the sphere of influence the aliens had during their stay? For all Doc knew, the aliens could be affecting everything within a mile radius of the house. They could drive a little too far and end up with no memories and worse.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Something white in the ditch flashed by the truck. “What the hell was that?” Doc demanded.

The driver was already braking the truck and pulling to the side of the road.

Doc opened his door as the truck slowed to a crawl.

“Hold on,” the driver warned, then turned the truck until it was heading in the direction that they had come.

They could see the white amorphous shape moving in the ditch as they drove slowly west, resolving into a woman stumbling in the thick weeds between the trees and the road.

The truck stopped, angled on the road with the lights aimed at the woman.

Her dress was familiar to Doc. She was from the house.

As he climbed out of the truck and walked towards the woman, he could feel the threads work binding the project unraveling. If this was the woman, he suspected, then something had gone wrong at the house and the civilians were on the loose.

The woman stumbled, then righted herself, half facing the truck.

“Aw shit,” Doc beckoned to the driver for help.

The white dress was clearly stained with blood from her knees to the hem and arms.

She faced the men with her arms outstretched and hands spread wide. Her mouth worked, but no sounds emerged. Her eyes were wide and blank.

“Help me get her into the truck,” he said, then placed an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Come on, Bobbi, let’s get someplace safe.”