Five fighter planes shot through the sky, creating a terrific racket. Sgt. MacWell piloted the first one, headphones blasting 80’s hair metal into his ears, way too loud. His dog Barney was strapped down next to him, helmet on, head bobbing around, trying unsuccessfully to smell food or other dogs. On his left side his infant son Zeus was seat-belted in to a baby seat, sucking on a camouflage pacifier. He sat back to back with his wife Marcie- she sat in the opposing seat and manned the guns. Whenever she saw anything she didn’t understand she would shoot at it and that’s why he brought her along.
The other fighter planes were flown by their four sons, Alfie, Merkus, Darwell, and Andwen, all seasoned pilots. They were all chomping at the bit for some action and hadn’t seen any in a very long time.
When they reached the location Sgt. MacWell led them in a circling pattern, waiting for the enemy to show their ugly faces. They were here in response to a report of a glowing light that hovered in the sky, then shot back and forth before changing colors- every color of the rainbow the farmer had said. They knew what that meant. They had all been out here back in ’72 responding to a similar call. They never found out what it was but Marcie shot it down before it had a chance to shoot at them, or shoot at anyone for that matter. At the very least they had prevented some accidents caused by gawkers on Old Pickman’s Highway. At best they may have prevented a worlds war- humans vs aliens.
Today the sky was clear and calm and there was no sign of any strange lights or hovering orbs. They circled and circled but still nothing. “Where are they?” asked Marcie, over the radio. “They’ll be here,” said Sgt. MacWell, turning down the metal, and they circled some more.
Finally, when it looked like they would all run out of gas they headed back to the carrier. After landing Sgt. MacWell went to unstrap Barney but there was something very odd about they way he moved his head. Even the baby regarded him with a weird stare. Once down on the tarmac MacWell didn’t feel so good. He turned to the side and threw up, a spray of squirming blue maggots coming out of his mouth. He stared at the maggots that now appeared to be burrowing into the tarmac. “Everything all right?” his wife called. He closed his mouth, wiping off blue gunk with the back of his hand. He looked over at her and nodded vigorously. But there was something weird about her too. Her eyes appeared to be getting bigger and bigger.
He looked over to where his sons were standing, further up the runway. They all looked like they had sprouted long tails. MacWell turned and ran across the deck, to alert somebody, but as he ran he sunk into the tarmac and the more he struggled the further he sank, like quicksand. His wife leaned over him, her eyes now big as dinner plates. “Come on, honey! HONEY!” She shouted. But he sank through the tarmac and dropped down through the other layers of the boat, shooting past servicemen lunching in the mess hall, until he burned a hole through the bottom of the boat and continued sinking into the ocean.
Even the ocean floor didn’t stop him and he sunk into the sand, shooting at warp speed through the earth’s crust until he had passed through the entire planet and come out the other side, in China. He surprised some Chinese farmers who watched him shoot out of the ground and into the sky. They made anxious calls on their cell phones but he was gone before anyone got there, shooting up towards the stars. On the edge of the atmosphere a glowing pod waited, and its door opened just long enough for Sgt MacWell to float inside. Once the door shut, the pod shot out into the galaxy, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely.
The rest of the MacWell family was kept under strict government quarantine for about a week until one by one they all shrunk to microscopic size and were never found again. Only the dog Barney remained, forgotten on the aircraft carrier in all the commotion. He still lurks quietly in the shadows of the carrier, waiting for something.
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