Greg McKennzie was tooling around the countryside in his '69 GTO when he saw a roadside produce stand and decided to stop. He pulled his car off the road and joined maybe seven other people in perusing the peaches and appraising the apples.

Even though there were only a few other people present, Greg eventually noticed they were staring at something behind him. He turned around and stood dumbfounded.

About three hundred yards away was a craft of some sort, gliding toward them. It was spindly, looking like a boomerang bent at a sharper angle, and with a third 'spoke' radiating out from the center, equidistant from the other two. Its diameter was about thirty feet, and it moved in total silence. With nothing in sight but bare fields and the one road, it made for a very eerie scene.

As it approached, Greg noticed the underside was not smooth, but riddled with wiring, tubes, ports...it looked industrial and very complex. Behind him, he heard a car start up and peel out, roaring down the highway; he thought that was probably a good idea and started backing up to his own vehicle. At the door he paused; an old man walked to the center of where the craft had stopped, twenty or so feet above the ground, forty feet away. The old man looked up, more curious than scared.

A pole telescoped down from the center of the craft and stopped about a foot off the ground. There was a disk of some sort on the end, which started to hum.

Greg called out, "Uh, mister, you might want step back."

The old man looked back and nodded, suddenly realizing he might be in danger.

At that moment a plane of energy flinked into existence, centered on the disk and radiating out to the edge of the main craft, about thirty feet in diameter.

From his vantage point, Greg saw the old mans' legs, from mid-shin down, topple over, neatly cauterized; at the same moment the old timer, now unsupported, sank into the plasma disk, sizzling out of existence, like a candle placed on a super-heated metal surface.

He didn't have time to scream.

Without hesitation, Greg got into his car and headed for the city, constantly checking the sky behind him.

*****

By the time he reached one of his favorite restaurants, the 501 Diner, Greg had decided to not tell anybody what he'd seen; he would just be taken for a nutcase, and didn't want to risk being arrested for causing a disturbance.

He wondered if what he'd seen was just a test of some sort; such a small-scale attack seemed inefficient.

On his way into the city, he had tried to reach some friends on his cell phone, but the service was out; even his car radio reception was sporadic at best. Now, sitting at the counter, he noticed the television in the corner was showing nothing but static.

When the waitress brought his coffee, he ventured a question.

"Hey, uh, have you guys noticed anything strange today, military on maneuvers, buncha helicopters buzzing around, stuff like that?"

"No, sugar, nothing like that. TV and phones went out 'bout an hour ago, but that's about it."

"Okay, thanks."

His phone still not working, Greg picked up his coffee and headed out the door. He had no family in Houston, but he thought he'd check on a friend of his who lived on the other side of the city.

When he stepped outside, he looked to the east, dropped his coffee, ran to his car and took off west, as fast as he could go.

Not really conscious of what was going on around him, Greg peripherally noticed that there were indeed military aircraft overhead now, and other motorists apparently had the same idea as him. Still others seemed to be speeding past him in the opposite direction; Greg knew that were going to regret their curiosity, but he couldn't help them.

Before he knew it, he was miles outside the city proper (having passed several National Guard trucks along the way), on a piece of land slightly above the city.

He got out of his car and stared as a massive alien craft, many, many times bigger than the first one, slid into position over Houston. He didn't know how big the city was, but this craft was easily big enough to cover it completely, with room to spare.

Greg waited for the inevitable.

After a time, it started. He saw the tube as it descended, apparently down into the ground this time, then heard the rumbling hum as the entire city skyline appeared to vibrate. Giant plumes of smoke and steam rose up, partially obscuring the view; then, amazingly, the whole city began to sink into the ground, like it was nothing more than a model being lowered on a platform.

Within five minutes, it was over. Ten minutes later, the smoke cleared and revealed a perfect, massive hole in the ground; the size was nearly incomprehensible, and its neat, smooth sides added to the surreal nature of the abomination. Nothing was left; roads just ended here, and reappeared there.

Greg slowly got into his car...and just sat there; he didn't know what to do.

The craft started to drift to the north...

The first time I saw the aliens the importance of it completely escaped me. It was at the shopping mall, on a busy Friday before Christmas. Two cars were heading to the same parking space, and several pedestrians including myself stopped to watch the show. Only there was not one. The driver of one car waved the second car in. That’s it. No shouting, no hand gestures, no game of chicken. The second car pulled in and the driver of the first car wished him a Merry Christmas, and meant it. A little thing to be sure, but very odd.

The second incident was at my house. I was getting ready to address my congregation for Sunday Services when two of what I later recognized as ‘them’ knocked on my door.

“May we tell you of the new church of the creator?” one asked.

“I am sorry, I am very busy”, I replied.

“Well, if you ever have the time, just ask us.” the other said, and they left.

That was it. No pamphlet, no asking when they should be back, no asking if I were ‘saved’, nor anything else. I stood there in my doorway dumbfounded Eventually I closed my door, and finished my preparations for church.

The time passed soon enough, and I found myself addressing the congregation. Since it was the Christmas season, the sermon was about treatment of one’s fellow man. A very few of the congregation would take it to heart, for a day or so anyway. Some would be doing unto others within 5 minutes of leaving here, others were already working on what they were going to do to somebody to get even as I spoke of forgiveness. I did have a group that actually believed what I was saying, but that was like preaching to the choir. By chance I looked among them, and saw one of the ‘others’. It was listening intently.

When services were over, I went to the back to greet everybody as they left. The ‘other’ did not pass. It left without my seeing it.

Things kept happening though, and the local paper started picking up on it. Unusual number of acts of human kindness. The headline read “Is the Christmas spirit really upon us this time?”. Interesting thing though. Our town is small, around ten thousand souls. While the people being helped were always identified, the ones doing the helping never were. I concluded it was because nobody knew them.

I decided to pen a letter with my suspicions and leave it in a safe place; then go looking for them. The were harder to find than I thought. They were always around when you needed them, but seemed to disappear when you didn’t. Finally I came across two of their ‘missionaries’, and started following them door to door. Most of the time they had the door slammed shut in their faces, once they had a bucket of water thrown at them, and still another a woman shoed them off with a broom. Every once in a while they were let in, and when they left, the person who they were talking to was left smiling.

I finally walked up to them. “I have time to talk about the new church of the creator” I said. “Do you have the time to talk to me?”

“We always have time to talk to a believer. Come, meet our elders.”

I followed them to a large meeting hall on the edge of town I did not know existed. I doubt anybody else did either. I was led inside, and sat among them.

“You have questions for us?” one who was the obvious leader asked.

“Why are you here?”

“To remind your species of the way. You have been told of it before. You yourself teach it. Some listen, some ignore, some rebel. Time is running short for that. Your tools have become too powerful to allow for it; you will destroy yourselves if you keep the way you are going.”

“What is your true form?”

“All forms are true to the creator”, he said, then smiled at me. “To be less fuzzy about it, our species started out as a turtle-like animal. Our science is such we can breed a generation of whatever we need to mingle among another species. The individual of myself is exactly how I appear to you. I am not wearing any ‘disguise’.”

“How long are you staying here?”

“As long as we are doing good, although we will leave if you self-destruct even if we are doing good. It just means we were too slow doing it.”

After the questioning I left. Nobody tried to stop me. And I was still uncertain what to do. Report to the authorities? Say nothing and watch? Or join them?

-The Apostle Thomas

Day... night... doesn't exist in this cell. In the dark I can hardly write.
I've lost all sense of hunger and thirst. It's been so long... Now I'm just waiting to die.
I don't think Ms Shefield is going to last much longer. She lost consciousness yesterday and I don't think she's going to wake up. She's barely breathing. The aliens keep ignoring her. Guess they aren't big on saving people huh?
Do you think that when she goes, our own 'needs' will overcome us? That we will... do the unthinkable?
Does it really matter anymore?
There's only 31 of us now. 30 if you count Ms. Shefield. Everyone else... is gone. I don't know why they kept us, but one by one we're been taken away, and no one's come back. Why they are bothering with our little group I don't know. They annihilated everyone else.
So who's going to be next?
I'm starting to hope it's me. I can barely hold this pen in my hand much less anything else. The lack of food and water has left me so tired. I drift in and out of sleep most of the time. I can barely concentrate long enough to continue this diary. Just my luck that I've had a moment of clarity, long enough to write.
I've given up hope of rescue. I saw everything destroyed myself. Before I was shoved in this... wherever it is...
This place....
No one really speaks any more. I think we are all just waiting to die. Silently huddled together, waiting for the sounds of movement at the door when the aliens come to take another one of us away. Waiting to find out what fate has in store for us. Waiting to see if maybe we too will fall asleep and not wake up, Like Ms. Shefield. Just waiting.
I know. We are all waiting for death to come.
Let it come quickly for us all.