We never knew how the old man got his hands on this baby. The KS-23 four gauge pump action shotgun, nicknamed 'Rusky,' was banned in the United States. I can't tell you why, but the heavy shotgun made me feel safer than the more powerful hunting rifle. It held four shells in the barrel, providing me with many shots to fire. The shotgun's relatively easy and fast reload time made me comfortable using it. I wasn't a great shot, so the dispersion rate of a shotgun shell was perfect for me. In addition, I was carrying some 'barricade' slugs, which I had never fired before. These slugs were designed to penetrate obstacles, such as car engines, and stop them in their tracks. I hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but they were there for a reason.
As I exited the perimeter of the living compound on our farm, I made my way toward the dirt road that connected it with the power station. Our farm was a collective effort initiated by Papa Olaf during the early 1970s. He convinced the families of Matt, Zoey, and Joe to join in a combined farm, similar to those in Russia during the Soviet era, but with the critical difference that ours was a for-profit organization. We pooled all our resources into one large operation, resulting in a 6,000-acre farm 50 years later. Our main products consist of seasonal crops, milk, and racing horses.
We were financially stable and not worried about being taken over by giant food corporations. In our estate, we provide housing and energy for the families of our workers. Though we didn't necessarily need to farm as the heirs of the whole damn thing, it was our preferred way of earning money for our various hobbies. Even uber-feminine Maeve sometimes sat behind a tractor wheel during planting season. Our bond as a family was strong, and we all had roles to play in the farm's success.
I hit the dirt road and picked up my pace; even though my grandpa had told me to stroll, I was not looking forward to spending an hour walking to the power station, so I double-timed it. I was curious about what was happening and knew the light and boom show was not caused by a faulty electrical generator. I was determined to find out what was going on. As I neared the power station, my heart raced with anticipation and a hint of fear. The farm's silence and the night's darkness only added to the eerie feeling that something was terribly wrong.
I was getting comfortable with my pace when I realized a few things. It was a moonless night, and the farm had gone silent. I could already see the farm's power station in the distance and the forest beyond it. I had made this hike many times, so I went without lights, relying on my knowledge of the road. I was confident that the dirt road was well maintained, and there were no obstacles to my current speed. However, suddenly there was an obstacle. The road was not there anymore, and I came to a slope on the road. My heart leaped into my throat as I lost my balance and had to roll to avoid falling on my face and possibly injuring myself with the shotgun. I also ended up bending the huge emergency UV light a little bit.
After recovering from the sudden jump scare, I switched on the flashlight and observed that I was standing inside a massive trench. The trench had a downward slope and stopped abruptly 40 to 50 meters from me. Intrigued and determined to unravel this mystery, I decided to investigate this new feature on the farm.
To my surprise, I discovered another similar trench just 20 meters away from the end of the first one. It looked as if someone was playing skipping stones with giant boulders and replacing a water surface with the soil of our field.
Could this be the aftermath of a plane crash? It seemed plausible, explaining the loud noises but not the bright light. Regardless, if there was indeed a crashed plane on our farm, we needed to act swiftly in case there were any survivors and be prepared to contact the authorities. I grabbed my 2-way radio and contacted Dad, my mind racing with the possibility of a forest fire that could destroy our crops.
"Hi, Dad, it's William. I'm about 200 meters away from the power station, and I've encountered a huge groove on the ground. It could be from a crashed plane, a large drone, or something else, maybe even a small satellite. The furrows are massive, like those made by a tractor with a full plowing array in width, only deeper."
"That doesn't sound like something a small plane or any small aircraft could do, son. It must have been manned by at least a mid-size plane, like one of those G5s you see in the movies. Regardless, we need to check for possible survivors and call the authorities. But I will need confirmation, or they will write it off. Double-time it, but be careful."
"I'm already following the tracks, but something is off, Dad. There's no debris," I reported, my voice tinged with unease and urgency.
"William, your brother is on his way. I'll send him on a motorbike. Why don't you wait for him?" said Olaf.
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"Dad, I understand your concern about William and the fishy situation, but if someone needs help…" said my dad.
"No, you are right, son. William, Raulin will be on his way soon."
"Grandpa, please let him know to hurry up but that the situation will be resolved by the time he arrives."
"Will, Zoey is distraught and on the verge of tears. She thinks we should leave the farm and call the authorities as she has terrible feelings about the situation." "I'm telling you this because Zoey is forcing me to. However, the final decision is up to you."
"Understood, Matt. However, I have a strong feeling that I need to go now. It's as if there is a calling that I must answer. I will update you all once I have a visual of the situation. Additionally, I will set up the large UV light to make it easier for Raulin and the authorities to locate us."
"Be careful, Will. I'm liking this less and less by the minute," said Joe.
"Don't worry, your pretty little head, Joe, it'll be fine; we'll be playing Smash Bros in no time, you'll see."
"I'll hold you to that, Will," she replied. And with that, the conversation was over.
If I had known back then what was about to go down just 10 minutes from that last click of the radio, I would have told them how much they all meant to me, how much I cared, and how much I would miss them. I would have assured them that it was nobody's fault and that sometimes, fate has things in store for us that we cannot comprehend. However, I would have still gone through with everything just as it was about to happen. I could not let them down or let any harm come to them.
I pressed down on the head of my flashlight to put it in my hunting coat's chest pocket. Then, I started running along the furrow toward what I believed was the final destination of whatever object had made them. After about five minutes, I entered the forest and noticed some trees were uprooted while others were chopped off at different heights. The trail was easy to follow, and soon, I saw a light in the distance. I also heard a sound, like the fizzling of water or something hot cooling off.
I turned off my light and started circling the light source I had just seen in the distance; why was I taking a more reserved approach than the dead run I had had until that point? After a crash like those furrows on the ground pointed to, there was no chance for anyone to be able to turn a light and start assessing the situation; I was expecting a crash site with a lot of debris. I should have seen at least parts of wings or helicopter rotors, but nothing of the sort was on my path.
So I did what anyone would logically do: I turned off my light and entered sneaky mode to try and catch what was going on; I even turned off my radio to avoid being detected if someone wanted to contact me. I took a few steps back and circled the light to determine the best approach. After completing a full circle, I identified my path and moved toward the light source.
Walking towards the light, I heard voices speaking in an unfamiliar language. It was challenging to identify whether they spoke Russian, Chinese, or German, as their speech sounded guttural and commanding. I carried my shotgun with me. I continued walking until I saw two towering figures standing before me, even larger than Raulin. They were over seven feet tall and wore unfamiliar pilot suits. But that wasn't the most incredible thing; the craft that made the grooves on our farm was beyond belief. It looked like a giant dark green avocado with lights all over it, similar to a "shuttle" from a sci-fi show. I was frozen in place, my mouth open in disbelief and my hands shaking with fear.
I suddenly realized I might be in a classic 'UFO encounter of the third kind' situation. The object I saw looked very much like one from those stories. As I became more aware of my situation and the potential danger, a beam of light, similar to the ones used in DJ shows and concerts, shot straight at me from the open hatch on the side of the object. The beam went from the top of my head to my feet and back up again before shutting down.
But that wasn't the most alarming thing; the terrifying thing happened when both goliaths looked back at me; of course, being as brave as I am, I was delivering my very best impersonation of a deer caught in headlights, with shaky hands and wobbly legs and all, I am very committed like that. The smallest one, or should I say the less big instead? went for something that looked like a sidearm on his thigh and immediately yelled something at me and shot a somewhat slow-ass greenish light ball at me.
The other one said something and then returned to using a tablet-like device, ignoring my presence entirely. I dodged the slow-moving green ball and hid behind a nearby tree. My mind was racing as I came to several conclusions: first, that what had just happened was not a plane crash and those people were not Russians (or at least I hoped they weren't) because they were massive; second, I had to take action or I was done for; third, Raulin was on his way and he would mistake their light for our UV emergency light still attached to my utility belt; and lastly, I had to act now before everyone on the farm was at risk. I gave those guys a fifty-fifty chance of staying put until rescue arrived rather than venturing to our farm to look for anything they could use.
As I stood there, a green ball suddenly hit a nearby tree, making me turn around to locate the source of the attack. I noticed that the shooter had not moved from his position, and his sidearm seemed to have a cooldown period. Meanwhile, the other person/mammoth was removing a large avocado seed from the avocado shuttle and began configuring something on it from a side panel. He seemed to be calling for help.
If he succeeded, we were doomed, or so my adrenaline-addled brain thought. I pumped my shotgun, and after another green ball hit the tree I was behind, I turned to face my assailant and started shooting.