“Crashed” – Part 6
Tom stood on the porch, watching the military trucks roll in one by one. Hayes had left only fifteen minutes earlier, but not before warning him:
“We’re bringing in specialized tracking equipment. For your safety — and your wife’s — please stay inside. We’re fairly certain there was a living being in that craft. We had visual contact, however brief. But we don’t know its intentions.
It’s injured, likely frightened. It showed no sign of weaponry, or it chose not to use any when we opened fire. Still… we think we hit it.
A trail — blood, or something close — was found near where we first spotted it.
One more thing, Mr. Miller: it’s fast. Too fast. My team fired blind after we lost sight of it in the spotlight. We’re not sure how bad we hit it, but it’s still out there — and that’s why we need you to stay put.”
Hayes handed him a two-way military radio. “Use it if anything unusual happens.”
When Patty saw it, she raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not planning to actually use that thing, are you?”
Tom chuckled. “No, honey. We made a deal. We keep our intel to ourselves… until we know more.”
Patty studied him for a moment, as if reading his thoughts. Then she nodded and smiled.
“Good. Let’s stick to the deal.”
Later that evening, as they moved through the house, locking doors and drawing shades — a new nightly ritual — the weight of it all lingered in the air.
They never used to lock up like this. But something had changed.
The creature had been inside. They hadn’t seen it. But they both felt it — deep and unshakable. There was no real explanation, just… knowing.
And with military personnel wandering the property like it belonged to them, locking down felt like the only sane response.
Tom reached for the rear door — and paused.
Something stirred in his mind. Not words, but clearer than ever before. A message. A presence.
Leave it unlocked.
He turned to Patty, his voice low but steady.
“It’s her,” he said.
Not it.
Not the creature.
Her.
“She wants to talk. Face to face.”
Patty looked Tom straight in the eyes. And somehow… she knew. It was real.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm, certain.
“Then by all means… let’s meet her.”
And with that, they sat at the kitchen table — no words, no movement.
Only silence.
Waiting.
Wondering.
Hoping.
Not knowing what would happen next — or what “she” might ask of them when the meeting was over.