“Crashed” Part 3
The knock came just after 10 a.m.
Ken opened the door to find a tall, clean-cut man in full uniform. His posture was stiff, expression unreadable.
“Mr. Miller?” the man asked.
Ken nodded.
“I’m Lieutenant Hayes, United States Army. I’d appreciate a moment of your time.”
Ken stepped outside. “I figure you already know everything the deputy asked me last night.”
Hayes nodded once, then looked around as if surveying the interior.
“I do,” he said. “But I need you to understand this situation is fluid and classified. You’ll be seeing more personnel on your land — particularly around your old barn. We’ll be commandeering it as a temporary command post. Everything from the barn to the ravine is now off-limits to civilians.”
Ken raised an eyebrow. “I don’t recall giving permission.”
Hayes didn’t blink. “You don’t need to. Section 21-B of the Emergency Federal Authority Act authorizes temporary use of civilian property in matters of national security. We’ll try to be unobtrusive.”
Try, Ken thought. That’s not a promise.
He nodded slowly. “And what, exactly, are you securing?”
Hayes stared at him for a moment, then replied evenly, “Wreckage. Unknown material. Possible radiation exposure zones.”
It was vague enough to be meaningless.
“Right,” Ken muttered. “Of course.”
That evening, Patty was scrolling local news blogs when she paused, eyes narrowing.
“Ken… come look at this.”
On the screen: a string of strange headlines.
“A Goat Vanishes from Conway Farm — No Blood, No Tracks”
“Cow Missing from Horry County Pasture — ‘Like it Just Disappeared’”
“Strange Prints Found at Scene — Experts Baffled”
Both of the stories had one thing in common: the disappearances were near wooded areas… natural cover.
Ken swallowed. “Coincidence.”
But he didn’t believe it.
That first night… he’d seen movement — something in the trees. He hadn’t told Patty, and now it was too late. If he told her now, it would only feed her fears.
Later that night, Ken sat on the back porch.
The moon was high, painting the land in cold silver.
He sipped his coffee, savoring the view — one that didn’t include the damned barn or the soldiers swarming his property like they owned it.
Then, something moved.
Near the shed.
He turned fast — but nothing was there. Just the stillness.
And that feeling again. The same one he’d felt the first night.
The gunshots cracked like firecrackers.
Ken jumped from his chair and rushed to the front of the house.
Soldiers swarmed toward their off-road vehicles, shouting.
Shooting at something.
But what?
Twice he’d seen movement.
Twice it had vanished.
And now—his gut was tugging at him, he knew, something was out there.