The Last Night Chapter 10 Good Morning

By rayjones

Wed, 04 Dec 2024

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Chapter 10

Good Morning

Macon’s black Escalade pulled up behind Martha’s late model Honda, just before he, a tall sturdy middle-aged man with a thick mop of grey streaked brown hair, dressed in jeans loafers and white polo shirt, got out and rushed to her. She was still standing behind Wyatt’s truck.

“Nice ride,” she said through a sneer, when he approached.

Macon sighed and rolled his eyes, “Come on maybe we can find some clue inside.”

She followed close behind.

Moments later they were examining the upstairs bedroom and bath.

“Someone’s taken a shower. It’s still steamy in here” She said just before she discovered Forrest’s’ damp sand caked boxers laying on the commode. She picked them up, shivered, ignored the odd sensation, then quickly dropped them on the floor. “They’re his.”

“Well, that’s something, clear evidence he was here.” Macon said, his tone soft and sympathetic.

“I told you he was.”

“But how did he get here?”

“Macon you know how. They did it?”

“Yeah. But what can we do about it? And what does it mean?”

She shrugged each knowing they were equally helpless…

After carefully inspecting the bedroom and finding nothing out of place or strange they headed back downstairs. About halfway down Martha grew dizzy, stumbled and caught herself, just before her knees buckled. Macon grabbed her right arm just as she started to tumble down the steps.

Their bodies clenched as if they had touched an electrified fence, passed out, drooped to the plush carpeted steps slid a few more feet, then tumbled together against each other on the soft cushioning steps and came to a merciful stop just before hitting the hardwood floor.

Limp but not lifelessly so, they spent the day tangled together, an unlikely wad of sleeping, shifting humanity, that was never quite human after all.

Long shadows lay across the couch and coffee table like empty overcoats. Silence, a soothing fog and patient comforter waited for life to return to the gray empty house.

The sun, drowning in the ocean, would soon give up its light and release the sky to the stars. The moon, still pie faced stared down at them through the houses’ movie screen like windows. It didn’t disturb them, only revealed their shocked expressions when Macon and Martha awoke in each other’s arms.

They pushed away from each other and groaned. Blushing Macon spoke, “We fell and must have hit every step on the way down. You alright? Anything broken?”

Martha smiled. Macon blinked. She looked different. Pleasant. Peaceful.

“You sure you’re okay.”

She reared back rising from the steps massaging her right hip as she stood, reached out to him with her right hand. “Come.”

The word melted and ran down his heart like warm butter. “You’re smiling. Never seen your smile.”

“Am I? Smiling? I am merely waking up. Lifetimes have passed. Over thirty years it took them to make this day possible, but they finally achieved it.”

Macon, standing, sore all over, but erect and steady, clutched her hand. “The internet.” He too was beginning to wake up.

“Global instantaneous communication.” She mused aloud.

“We had forgotten. We lost each other.”

“Was that not the plan?”

“Yes, but it took such a long time. Generations, thousands of years. Now children have our children. We must get them back!”

“They were the perfect psychic ripple we have been awaiting.” Martha looked away, obviously embarrassed. “And I feared their union, hated it even.”

“In your amnesia, your, our, genetic malaise. We forgot.” Macon’s words were soothing, reassuring. “The threat. Their union, their nearness whispered the truth, triggered horrific memories.”

“The wave is coming. Our enemies still exist. Their White fire.”

“The children, the tall ones have no notion of what they have done, of the danger they have taken to their breast.”

“Ariel, Wyatt and Forrest sense us. Know us. Know themselves and are become a beacon.”

“The Tall Ones must flee. We must warn them.”