It's gone. Everything is gone.

No more tanks, no more FBI vans, no more Andrea... and no more spacecraft. They probably packed that up and hauled it straight off to Area 51. Even the scar left behind by its impact has completely disappeared without a trace--which is for the best. If word got out that the UFO landed here, this place would turn into a media frenzy.

When I walk into the store, I am surprised to find Jeremy at the counter. He's not supposed to work on school nights.

"Hey, Drak Maaan," he says, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes are a bit glassy. "You and I are on alien watch duty."

Mags leans against the office door with her arms crossed. "Don't be stupid. That was no spaceship. Some secret security idiots botched up a missile test and made a mess of things. They only came out here to cover their asses."

Still clinging to his hope of finding E.T., Jeremy turns to me for support. "But you saw him, didn't you? The alien is still out there. The only thing the Government is trying to cover up is the fact that they're still hunting for it."

"Yeah, yeah," Mags says, rolling her eyes. "Either way, I don't trust 'em. The nerve of those feds stomping in here acting like they own the place," she mutters. "Look, I've got some other matters needin' tendin' to. I'll be in my office. You boys enjoy your watch duty... and don't move my chair again." She wheels it out of the store front and retreats into her private quarter, closing the door behind her.

Brimming with excitement, Jeremy leans in close to me and tries to speak in a hushed tone. "Hey, what did it look like? Was it freaky?"

"Who told you that I saw it--er, I mean," I stumble after realizing my error. "I don't think I saw anything, Jeremy. It certainly wasn't an alien. It was a normal human being."

"Whoa, they look just like people? They walk among us, Man."

"No, no. That's not what I'm saying," I sigh, knowing that it is useless to deny it. "How the hell did you hear about this?"

"Big news travels fast in a small town, Bro."

Oh, I know that all too well. Not even the FBI could operate covertly enough to keep this under wraps.

"Everyone with a set of eyes and ears knew something happened. It woke up the whole town."

Everyone except my mother. She could sleep through a nuclear strike.

"They blocked off the road over here," Jeremy continues, "but we could see those black suits swarming around the debris. You were the only one who got up close and personal."

"When did the FBI leave?" I ask, realizing that I obviously missed a lot while I was sleeping.

"They bailed out a few hours ago. No one got a good look at anything interesting."

"Were there any other sightings since this morning?"

"Wellll," he shrugs his shoulders, "a few people say they saw Mayor Mosely's Falcon speeding down Orion Street. Is it true that the alien stole his car? What a badass."

"As I said before, he looked like a regular guy to me."

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me!" Jeremy continues on his pot-induced/science-fiction nerd high. He pauses to chew on a Martian Gummy--the regular candy kind, not his edibles. "The Sheriff barricaded himself in his office down at the station because Mayor Mosely wouldn't stop asking for a composite sketch of the guy. Apparently, the Sheriff still has the description you gave him, but all of the other evidence was confiscated by the FBI. The Mayor was absolutely pissed. I've never seen that man move as fast as he did on foot when he left the station. Alien or not, if he finds that guy first, there won't be a body left for the FBI to examine."

So, they let those two go as well. Good.

"I'm just glad that no one got hurt," I say, trying to transition him to a new topic. But of course, Jeremy won't let it rest.

"What if there are more?" he asks, looking through the window. "What if another spaceship lands here tonight?"

"I doubt it."

Speaking with a mouth full of candy, Jeremy drones on with his conspiracy theories for an hour. "They've probably got a big-ass lab where they dissect the bodies. Do you think they torture them? You think their organs are harvested?" he asks, staring at his empty pack of gummies. "What if we're the bad guys?" Slowly, Jeremy's enthusiasm starts to wane. "What if..." he trails off. "What if they're here to take revenge for all of the poor, little aliens we've slaughtered? Or, what if... they're bloodthirsty warmongers who travel around the universe preying on weaker species? We could be under attack, Dude!"

"Jeremy," I sigh, rubbing my temples. "There are no aliens. And, if there were, we don't know if they'd be hostile. They'd probably just be a lot like most of us are--misunderstood."

Stomp!

"What was that?" Jeremy asks as my body goes stiff.

Stomp... Stomp. Stomp, stomp, stomp!

While I proceed to shit myself, a gigantic creature weighing more than three football players combined approaches the gas station. His golden armor glitters under the moonlight, but despite the glamorous attire, he looks anything but stylish. A huge axe rests in his hands, and he's ready to swing.

As he moves closer, I get a better look of his face, which is streaked with war paint. His skin is green and scaly. Behind his snarling lips is a set of shark teeth. Black blood drips down from his brow, indicating that he was somehow injured. It's probably the very reason why he is so full of rage. He's been hurt, and in turn, is bound to hurt someone else.

RAAAGGGH!

He opens up his jaws to emit an ear-splitting battle cry. Knowing there's nowhere to run, I resort to the only alternative.

"Hide!" I pull Jeremy down behind the counter.

Panicking, he yells, "He's not friendly! He's not friendly!"

"Shh!" I scold him.

The vibrations travel through the ground as he draws closer. This time, I am sure that this is the end with zero hope of escape... until Mags busts out of her office with a pump action shotgun. "Son of a bitch! I knew it!"

VROOOM!

Chaos follows confusion as I peek around the corner of the counter. The alien monster raises its axe, but before it takes a swing, it gets t-boned by a tractor-trailer in front of the gas pumps. The force causes him to tumble across the ground for a few yards before landing face-first in the dirt.

Abraham jumps out of the truck, and with balls of steel, he walks right up to the thing holding a crossbow in his hands.

Jeremy pokes his head out now too. "What the fuck is going on?!" he asks, not with fear but with exhilaration. He laughs while Mags aims the gun outside of the door, providing Abraham with cover.

"You boys stay down!" she commands.

Growling, the monster lifts himself back onto his feet. He sets his sights on Abraham, but the trucker doesn't flinch. Instead, he releases an arrow. It sails through the air and sticks into the alien's buff arm. He simply grabs the end of it, pulls it out, and breaks it in two.

"That's a Reptilian on fucking steroids, Dude!" Jeremy points at it.

POW!

Mags' gun drops a shell. Despite her remarkable aim, it does nothing to deter him. The shot merely ricochets off his armor. "Stay back!" she yells. For a moment, the monster turns his attention on her, but she's not the one he really wants. He lifts the axe once again, and with two hands, hovers it over Abraham's head.

In that moment, I learn for the first time that Abe is fast-incredibly fast-despite his age. He manages to dodge the hit, and while the monster struggles to pull his weapon from the ground, Abraham climbs up his back and aims the arrow straight down.

Zip!

The crossbow releases another arrow directly into his brain. The monster cries out in pain, but somehow, he is still standing. He whips himself around, trying to throw Abraham off his back.

Gracefully, Abe lands on the top of his truck. He reloads his weapon and readies it for more. With the arrow still sticking out of his head, the monster reaches up to swat at him like a cat. Mags takes another shot to distract him. It simply bounces off his armor once again, but it makes him angrier than before. He decides to leave Abraham alone and take his chances with Mags.

I may be the only guy who doesn't own a firearm in this entire town, but I've lived here long enough to know this: A shotgun only holds a few shells. There's one shot left.

"Gotcha." She holds the weapon steady, waits for it to get closer, then hits him right between the eyes. He stops dead in his tracks and slams onto the ground. While the dust settles around him, I pull myself onto my feet. "You alright, Drake?" she asks, lowering her shotgun.

My response is interrupted by a thud on the roof. I look up, not expecting a huge fist to pop out in front of the door and grab Mags by the throat. She drops the shotgun and scratches at the scaly hand, clawing for her life.

A second monster reveals itself: another big boy with an ugly face, piercing eyes, and bulging muscles. He slides down from the roof onto the ground and lifts Mags off her feet. He watches her squirm, enjoying every second she comes closer to death.

"Maggy!" Abraham calls out to her. He hits him with an arrow to the hand-a risky move with Mags' head being so close-but it works. He drops her, and she is free to gasp for air.

Filled with adrenaline, my protective instincts kick in. I look around the store as fast as I can, trying to find some sort of weapon--but to no avail. "Mags, run!" I yell, grabbing the only ammunition I can reach: an armful of soup cans.

She snatches her shotgun and crawls back into the store. The monster follows her, smashing the glass door with his broad shoulders. I wind up my arm and toss the can at him. And he laughs. He fucking laughs at me.

"Dickhead!" Jeremy appears by my side and joins me in hurling cans.

Simply staring at us with a blank expression, the monster lets one bounce off his head. He is clearly more annoyed than injured, and he lets out a frustrated roar. Meanwhile, Mags loads another magazine into her gun. Her movements are quick and precise--as if she has performed this action a thousand times.

Ignoring her, the monster studies me carefully. He cocks his head and curls his lip as if my face offends him. Now, he steps forward and grabs me by my shirt. "Lunatori filth!" he roars.

POW!

Another shell hits the ground. A stream of black alien blood simultaneously splatters onto my ugly polo. I leap backwards as he tumbles down in front of me like a defeated Goliath. His jaw's been blown off. My hope that this horror show is finally over quickly shatters onto the floor alongside his corpse.

An entire gang of these alien lizards have circled around Abraham's truck.

"Abe!" Mags cries out to him.

Stoic as ever, the man of few words reaches for something on his belt... a grenade. With an apologetic nod, he tells us that he is prepared to use this last resort. The explosion will blow this entire gas station sky high, taking all of us with it.

Wilma's face comes to mind. Though, instead of seeing memories of the past flash before my eyes, I see my future--the future that I will never get to experience with her.

If it means that she won't have to encounter these monsters, then so be it. Whatever they are and wherever they came from, they are too dangerous to let loose. Screw my life if we can save countless others. I am more concerned for Jeremy who barely had a chance to live at all. Damn, it isn't fucking fair.

It's difficult not to feel at least a little sorry for myself. I close my eyes, trying to imagine a happier sound than the deafening boom that's about to end my life. I imagine the sound of laughter I will never hear from children I will never have.

But before Abe pulls the pin, I hear a new sound:

The engine of a 1965 Ford Falcon.

https://youtu.be/8FMdaDEmcDg

It flies down the road and drifts with a wide swoop until it pulls up right next to the truck. The driver exits the vehicle, and I recognize him immediately. Still wearing his crimson armor, he lifts up his gun and completely obliterates one of the lizards. He takes another one down, then another.

Jeremy loses his mind. "Oh, my God!" he says, jumping up and down. He pulls on his beanie, stretching it over his ears. "The badass alien is on our side!"

That isn't certain. But I sure hope so.

My slushy-loving friend moves with incredible speed and easily out-maneuvers the bumbling beasts. In one shot, his ray gun sends them into oblivion, completely burning them to ash. But with one too many monsters, he runs out of ammo. The blast becomes a pitiful pew, pew.

"Shit." Our ally drops the gun and looks up at the last lizard standing. "Now, listen... let's be gentlemen. I am sure we can work something--"

Bam!

The dark-haired man flies backwards into Abraham's truck, creating a huge dent in the side. "A little help!" he calls.

Abraham runs across the top of his truck, climbs down the back, and opens up the container. A moment later, he returns with two Desert Eagle pistols. "Bet you missed these!" he says, tossing them to the mysterious man.

He catches the guns with ease. Judging by the way he looks at them so affectionately, he must have. "My babies," he says, caressing each in his hands. After jumping away from the truck, he lands on his feet and aims both weapons at the lizard. "Surrender, or die."

"I will never surrender to the likes of you! Lunatori filth!"

POW! POW!

The lizard falls dead. Peace replaces the chaos.

Mags runs out of the store and joins the other two. She and Abraham look at the dark-haired man in total shock. "I can't believe it's you," Mags says in awe. Then, with a harsher tone, she asks, "Where the hell have you been?!"

Abraham gives him a right hook, which startles both him and me.

"I suppose I deserved that," the man says, still holding the guns while rubbing a wrist over his jaw.

"You left us for dead. You're just showing up now to help?"

"Oh, come on. The Helsing I once knew could handle a few little lizards."

Mags hits him with the butt of her shotgun.

The man drops his own weapons and falls onto his knees. "I didn't quite deserve that," he mutters, cradling his arm. Considering that he is wearing heavy armor, she must have struck him pretty hard.

"Yes you did! You didn't just skip town, Ignoramus. You left Quinnie!" Mags barks angrily.

Quinnie? Like my mother Quinnie?

The man retrieves his guns and presses the barrels down onto the ground to give himself a boost up. "Did you think I wanted to?" he questions, returning to his feet. "I didn't have a choice!"

"What are you talking about, Mort?" It sounds like Abraham is at least trying to hear him out. "This isn't the first time these lizards showed up. In fact, they appeared right here, same place, on the same night that you disappeared."

"I know," the man answers. "The minute those barbarians attacked, my happy hunting days were over. I was forced to answer to a higher calling. The Lunatori came for me. I did my best to lure the Repkonians away, and when I did, I became a Captain of an entire solar system's armed forces. I've been fighting in a galactic war for over twenty years."

"You mean, we're lucky that you left us behind?" Mags quickly answers her own question. "If we hadn't killed off those stragglers, the lizards would've slaughtered this whole town."

"Probably so... but I'm afraid that little band of Repkonians who crawled into Penumbra years ago was only a scouting party--not their Men of War. Can you imagine a battalion of these giants running loose?" He kicks the corpse in front of him. "The Repkonian Army already captured Lunatori. Our Queen was dethroned. I lost an entire crew trying to stop them, but I failed. I carry that weight on my shoulders. And now, all I can do is try to save Earth from meeting a similar fate."

Abraham squeezes his fist. "You mean to tell me that more of these bastards are coming?"

"Yes, and I need your help to stop them."

"Well, shit," Abe says, removing his hat. He shakes his head and looks over at Mags. "Get in the truck, Maggy. We're going to the base."

"So, you'll help me?"

"We don't have a choice, do we? If they think they're gonna take our planet, then they got another thing comin'."

"Excuse me," I say, trying to raise my voice without it cracking under all of this stress.

"Can someone, please, please, explain to me what the hell is going on?! What are these things? Where did they come from? Where did you come from?" I ask, pointing to the dark-haired man. "And how do you know my mother?!"

My last question doesn't seem nearly as important as the others at the moment, but I still would like to know the answer.

Abe looks at him, then turns to face me. He delivers a bombshell that I am grossly unprepared for:

"He's your father, Drake."

Music Credit: "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" version sung by Santa Esmeralda, originally by The Animals