Beneath an Alien Storm
Mason Silva stood at the edge of the wooden docks, the sun setting on the ocean’s horizon in a vivid blaze of orange and pink. His thoughts were accompanied by a gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the boats ahead. He took a deep breath, drawing in the salty air and feeling the familiar sense of nostalgic peace that the Bayview Marina always brought him.
The forty year old wasn’t a big guy, more tall and lanky, coming in at just under six feet tall. His attire was appropriate for the day: white surf shorts with big blue hibiscus flowers printed all over them, a yellow tank top with a local craft brewery’s logo, and a Hawaiian shirt half buttoned draped over that. His bucket hat was perfectly perched upon his nest of shoulder-length loose strawberry blonde curls sported a blue band that matched the print on his shorts. His deep, expressive green eyes always gave the impression that one never had to ask how he was feeling. He always seemed like he had it all together.
Ava arrived next, carrying a small duffel bag re-purposed from an old army c-bag and her ever-present book tucked under her arm, a praying mantis adorning its cover.
“Lord of the Flies, I see, Walker!” Mason called out to her, taking her duffel bag from her as she boarded the boat. He made a point to read the classics, as it gave him and Ava something to talk about, since they were spending so much time together, lately.
She nodded and grinned, her pith-dark brown eyes seeming to embrace his soul. “It’s such a good book.” Her eyes were so dark that they gave a perfect reflection the sunset in front of her. She, in khaki shorts and a light green polo shirt, stood around 5’3”, with a sturdy physique that reflected her time in the gym, participating in self defense classes, and competing in mixed martial arts. “The boat’s here,” she observed vocally, “but where’s Jack?”
His reply was drowned out by the muffler’s rumble on Jack’s faded yellow 1978 Chevrolet K-10 flare side pick up as it rolled into a parking space at the ramp. Jack revved it again just to annoy Ava, then he jumped out and jogged toward the dock, carrying only a backpack and a go bag. The guy was built like his profession, that of an mercenary in an international for-hire group, though they were more focused on diplomatic endeavors in recent years. He wore all black – cargo pants, tactical boots, and a black polo shirt with his last name, LAROSE, screenprinted on the left side of the chest. His aviator-style sunglasses and two-day stubble rounded out his ruggedly handsome appearance.
“We’re here to relax, and he looks like he’s ready to infiltrate a trap house.”
“Or a golf course,” Ava rolled her eyes while maintaining an air of respect, as she didn’t want to be rude. Jack was her friend, and a good one, after all.
“Boat ready?” Jack was shorter than Mason by a couple of inches, but was much stronger.
“You betcha, bawss,” Mason twanged as he handed his friend the keys.
WIthout losing eye contact, Jack wrapped Mason’s fingers around the floating fob. “Wanna take the helm?”
“Oh hell yeah!”
The trio walked to the boat, taking in the rustic vessel, its drab grey and faded blue paint in desperate need of a wash and new gelcoat. The word SEAMAIDEN was painted on the front, just after the boat’s registration. The floorboards were worn, the stain faded in places, but the boat was in great condition overall. Jack spent a lot of time fitting it with all the bells and whistles, making sure it could weather any storm they might encounter. If worse came to it, the lower decks had four beds as well as a cooking device and a refrigerated cooler, both of which operated on batteries, and he had plenty of those, too.
“She’s not much to look at, but she’s reliable,” Jack said with a grin.
“I think she’s kinda cute,” Ava admitted.
“Get your gear on board and let’s get this trip started.”
Ava ran her hand along the chromed railing, finding a sense of belonging to the boat’s history and the journey ahead. “She’s perfect, Jack.”
“I feel like we’re headed into a Jaws film,” Mason quipped with a smirk.
“Oh hush,” Jack scoffed playfully. “We’re actually headed for a shark hurricane.”
The three of them had this planned for a month, after Ava lost her mother to cancer. She won a statewide MMA championship two weeks before, and her mother got to see it. She was tired and full of grief, and knew the trip would do her good. She originally enrolled in a marine biology program after high school, but her mother’s condition worsened after she attained the first four years of school. After spending two decades with her mom and working as a paid intern at a local water park, her boyfriend turned her on to self defense and martial arts. It was much more satisfying and took less time than spending another four years in school, though she did love the ocean and wildlife below the surface. She missed her mother dearly, but was grateful that things happened how they did, as she’d have never learned that mixed martial arts was something she’d even be interested in, had her mother been in good health.
Mason’s wasn’t such a sad story. He graduated with a dual master’s degree in electronics and automotive engineering, and a dispute over a job resulted in him making quite a posh living as a snake of a salesman, breaking into high-end cars and then making money off of their owners by selling them top of the line security systems. He reasoned that what he did was proof that they needed what he sold. He never got caught in the fifteen years of providing this service to the denizens of Los Angeles.
When he turned 40, it occurred to him that maybe it was time to straighten up, to start living more honestly. After two years of slowly progressing into a related job with more integrity, he agreed to the trip as a full stop — a form of severance — from his old life.
The reason Jack wanted to go was simply because he wanted to go. His mercenary unit decided it was time for a three month break, as they did every year to be with friends and family. Jack didn’t know how to relax, however. Despite switching to the diplomacy wing of the company he represented, he couldn’t sleep without a gun under his pillow and a knife strapped on his ankle. He wasn’t exactly well-received in some places, because of his history. He always felt like danger was a lion hiding just around the corner, just out of sight, ready and waiting to pounce on him. He wanted to make a point to leave the lion on the docks for this trip, but dressed appropriately for the opposite, just in case.
Loading and boarding the boat, their ghosts seemed like almost tangible fragments of their past waving at them as they left.
They rode for about an hour, stopping and anchroing near the well-lit beaches of a small series of islets about fifteen miles from mainland. They grilled hot dogs by the dim light and ate and talked about everything as a very large full moon made its way into view from the east-northeast.
After snoozing on and off between conversations, the three decided it would be best to find a private area on the beaches and shore up for the night. As they cruised the beaches for a quiet spot, the sky grew dark. Mason checked the radar — no sign of inclement weather. He and Ava both looked up at the sky, and nary a star, nor the plate-sized moon were visible.
“Anyone see anything?” Jack asked, perplexed at the situation.
“Nothing,” Ava responded, scanning the shores and squinting to see if she could make out anything that would cause such a sudden overcast.
“Uh, guys?” Mason pointed overhead at the greenish static that was permeating through the clouds, which, according to the flashes, were indeed black as coal.
“What the fu–“ Jack couldn’t finish the word before a massive green lightning bolt plowed into one of his boat antennas, causing the vessel to shudder and deafening pa-THOOM.
“Oh shit!”
Jack prepared his glock as Mason and Ava prepared for the worst. He felt his instincts kicking in. “Everyone okay?” he shouted over the howling wind. Mason gave a thumbs-up, while Ava was already on her feet, again with her eyes on the horizon.
“What the hell is that?” Ava murmured, but her question was quickly answered.
They looked above them, astonished to see an ominous presence. A ship, about fifty yards above and away, in the shape of a disheveled mass of dark metallic cubes and green neon, was descending upon their boat. It hummed loudly with an otherworldly energy. Alien symbols glowed along its hull as it descended, eerily silent but for the electric crackling that now filled the air. The sky around the ship began to pulse with an eerie, greenish glow.
Before they could fully grasp the magnitude of what they were witnessing, beams of light shot from the alien ship, striking the Seamaiden and enveloping it in a shimmering field. Mason’s eyes widened with the realization that “it’s some kind of tractor beam — they’re trying to pull us in!”
Jack didn’t hesitate. “Cut the engines!!” Mason jumped to the cockpit as Jack scrambled towards the ship’s small arsenal — a cabinet of flares and emergency tools — while Ava watched the ship.
As they fought the beam’s pull, the aliens made their move. From their hovering vessel, four sleek humanoid figures clad in metallic gel-like suits that matched the ship floated effortlessly down to the Seamaiden’s deck. Their eyes glowed with the same green light that had split the sky, and their intentions were unmistakably hostile.
“Jack, they’re aboard! Starboard!!” Ava shouted, her voice barely audible over the wind and the crackling energy.
Jack spun around, a flare gun in hand. “Mason, GO GO GO!!! And keep us upright! Ava, with me!”
Mason restarted the Seamaiden and began to push full throttle away from the beaches while keeping the boat steady. The ship stayed close behind.
Ava’s heart was pounding, and her eyes were wide as saucers, but she was calm on the outside. She put her mid-length black hair in a ponytail with a band she kept on her wrist.
Jack fired the flare into the group of aliens, the bright light momentarily blinding the nearest intruder and sending it reeling back. The flare’s light reflected off the water, casting eerie shadows on the aliens’ shiny skin.
Ava grabbed a boat hook, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Swinging it with a strength born of adrenaline and fear, she struck the nearest alien to her. The hooked creature stumbled, its gel-like skin unnervingly separating from and reuniting with its wearer as the alien tried to regain its balance. She could feel the vibration of the impact traveling up the handle, her hands reeling from the sudden reflex. She ignored the pain and swung the stick, knocking the alien off the boat. The skin seperated immediately and floated back up to the ship, its wearer sinking quickly below the surface.
Meanwhile, Mason was at the controls of the ship, his eyes darting between the remaining intruders and the navigation instruments. It was imperative that he keep the boat steady so that Jack and Ava would have a fighting chance. With every jolt and sway of the vessel, he tightened his grip on the wheel, maintaining as much stability as possible. “Holy SHIT!!!” He shouted as he fought the weight changes and the wind.
Jack, reloading another flare, yelled, “There’s more coming!! Keep them off the boat — we can’t let them swarm us!” His voice was unwavering, but one could slice through his tension.
Ava nodded, her eyes locked on the last two aliens. She swung the boat hook again, this time hooking an alien’s leg and yanking it overboard. The skin separated as soon as it hit the water, and its host sunk like a kettlebell into the depths.
Jack fired another flare, sending the alien to its knees, though it seemed the alien was reacting to the sound it made, rather than the impact of the projectile. It ran off the boat and jumped into the air, floating back to the ship.
The alien ship, taken by surprise, did not pursue immediately. For a precious few moments, the Seamaiden raced through the night and the alien craft slowly shrunk in to the distance behind them. They felt a collective sense of relief, but they knew it was only temporary.
“Mason, get us to that storm cloud!” Jack pointed to a distant bank of thunderheads. “We need to make damned sure we lose them in the weather!”
“Aye, Jack.” Mason steered the Seamaiden into the churning storm. Rain and lightning, this time natural, provided cover for the boat and more nervous tension, but Mason stayed the course. The alien ship hesitated at the storm’s edge, then disappeared back into its own pitch black cloud, leaving the Seamaiden’s crew to navigate the turbulent tempest alone.
As dawn broke, the storm cleared, revealing calmer waters and a jovial white-gold rising sun. The three friends were exhausted and still soaked, but miraculously alive. They managed to fend off something that hopefully nobody else had ever seen. They were no longer simple boaters on an R&R trip, they were now holders of knowledge that could save the world, if things went that way.
“We gotta get to mainland. Guys. No time for coffee, we’ll get some at the Gas’n’Grub by the docks.”
“Aww, you’re no fun, Jack,” Ava sarcastically whined, changing into a dry shirt.
“It’s not me, it’s the aliens!” Jack complained in defense.
“It’s all good, guys,” Mason’s reassured them coolly. “Coffee at the Grub and we head to Oakville.
—