Hands gripped his throat in a numbing torture, the strength of the alien greater than John had expected when first seeing their thin bodies and rubber band arms.

The rifle was useless. There was no way he could aim the weapon over his shoulder and pull the trigger.

Black spots swam in his vision, urging John on. He had to do something quickly or he would fall unconscious as a prelude to death.

Holding the gun up with the butt of the gun somewhere near the head of the alien, he guessed at the aim and pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked out of his hands, stopping midair when it hit the alien, then fell across John’s chest.

The alien’s grip went slack. Gulping air, he reached up and wrenched the alien hands from around his neck. His vision cleared quickly, and he searched for the small alien that had been watching the attack. It lay on the ground, unmoving. The bullet had hit it, but John could not see the wound. If it was not moving, he suspected the wound was good enough.

Rolling to his stomach, he gained his hands and knees and looked at the larger alien. It lay across the top of the corpse, moving weakly, a huge gash ripping flesh from its skull and its eye a ruined mess. If he had entertained any doubt that the aliens were real, the damage looked convincing. There was no way any of the Hollywood special effect people could have created this monster.

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Working to regain his footing, John noticed a marked difference besides the size between the two aliens. One’s body and features seemed so smooth that it hardly seemed more than a puppet. The taller alien had skin, wrinkles, and a mottled complexion.

The scream, John remembered. He steadied himself with a hand to the bottom of the saucer, then bent and scrounged in the mist for the rifle. There was no knowing how long it would be before another on the creatures came to investigate the gunshots.

Camouflage clothing, so John reasoned he did not know the men, therefore they were of no significance other than they had died while he was still alive.

Finding the rifle, he checked it in a glance, then slung it over his shoulder and searched the bodies for more weapons. A second man had a pistol and a sub-machine gun, a long tube protruding from the end of the automatic weapon. A few more seconds of looking revealed several clips for both weapons. This must have been one of the first men to die, his demise occurring before he could use much of the ammunition.

The alien had raised its arm to wave at John in a feeble gesture. What the action meant, John did not know, but he could remember the look on the creature’s face when it attacked him. He cocked the pistol and fired two bullets from close range into the alien’s head. Satisfied with the sudden lack of movement, he and the aliens shared a specific vulnerability.

He worked his way past the bodies and out from under the spacecraft. The ability to stand fully upright was a distinct pleasure. John pressed on and arrived at the sled, which still hovered a few feet above the ground. Tangled in the mess atop the sled, he saw colorful clothes.

Bending over the sled, he turned the body and saw Lia’s face. Guy’s wife seemed asleep, as if she had fainted when she screamed.

Wasting no more time, he pulled the woman from the sled and slung her over his shoulder, then ran back to the shelter of the woods.