An Afternoon with the Silver Queen

by 5thBeastieBoy

And all them mothafuckers said I was crazy, Travis Braynard thought to himself with a half chuckle – a spittle of beer escaped his lips. He wiped his mouth with the arm of his red flannel shirt before taking another swig from his can of Natural Ice, kept cool by the lining of a koozie with a NRA logo peeling off.

Crazy was indeed how many residents in the small Florida town of Palm Oaks thought of Travis when he told them he was building a bug out shelter deep in the woods on the outskirts of town. It wasn't that the town's folk didn't agree with the necessity of such a shelter, the majority all prescribed to the same ideologies after all, they simply didn't believe Travis would be the kind of guy who could pull off such an endeavor.

Well, y'all can jus' go fuck off and die while I sit safe'n sound!

That was Travis' traditional riposte to those who would snicker at his project. He would never be known as a modest man when it came to words with the denizens he lived around.

Travis could only imagine the shock of those who doubted him when the time came for his shelter to be a necessity.

They best not try'n come here. No sir, they asses will have to git on to somewhere's else!

Whether or not Travis' shelter was truly functional was debatable. The Grand Armageddon of America had only commenced a mere five days ago. But Travis didn't think that way. He was pleased with his creation, assured that it was what had kept him safe thus far. Never mind the fact that his small rural town was probably the least of The Supers' worries in their vengeful campaign.

Travis leaned back in his folding beach chair and felt the hinges creak underneath him. It served as his only chair, and he hoped it would hold up. A small TV and game console sat across from him on their respective milk crates. In the corner to his left was a twin-sized cot, dirty sheets and pillows tossed about. Across from that was a small fridge with a microwave sitting on top. To the side, a large cooler full of beer and soda. Wires and extension cords extending out from his "kitchen" and "entertainment center" were duct taped up the wall, merging together at a hole drilled out to lead them to the generator running outside. Travis was apparently not too worried about keeping his whereabouts a secret.

The structure was a 10-by-10 foot space, or close to it. The floor was made up of plywood panels set down on top of a plastic tarp. Travis was prone to tripping on the edges of the plywood when he wasn't watching his step. The walls began as cinderblocks, yet the stacking lasted only about three feet high. The rest of walls consisted of rib steel roofing panels that were also used for the roof, procured from his uncle's construction company – leftovers from job sites. The only "window" in the room consisted of a small square cut in the back wall and covered by a piece of Plexiglas. The door was another panel hastily hinged together and secured by a padlock.

Say what one would about Travis' intellect, or lack thereof, but he made up for it with his ingenuity. It was a small wonder the structure still remained standing. It was as if Travis' own sheer will made sure that it did.

In the space behind his chair sat a footlocker full of various guns and ammo: two rifles, a shotgun, two AR-15s, a .357 revolver and two more handguns. Another, a Glock .45, lay on his lap as he played his video game.

The only décor in the shelter could be found first on the wall above his footlocker: a Rebel flag; and on the adjacent wall, above the TV, hung a Gadsden flag with its "Don't Tread on Me" motto.

Travis reached down to the floor and grabbed his pack of Ecrivain's Specials only to find it empty. "Dammit!" he shouted aloud as he crumpled up the cigarette pack into a wad and flung it at his TV – missing his target badly.

"Fuck it. Ima take a shit." He announced to absolutely no one.

Outside, Travis squatted on an old paint bucket, carefully balanced as he passed gas into the wind. A breeze whistled through the saw palmettos while he thumbed through the pages of his comic book, Fray #7. He loved comics, abashedly, and like many was devastated when his comics' real life counterparts, The Supers, turned against humanity. Now, all he would dream about was the chance to hunt down one of the aliens, just as Fray hunted vampires in his comic.

Finished, he pulled his jeans up from his work boots and tucked in his black undershirt. As he headed back to his shelter, he couldn't help but fight the craving for another cigarette. For a prepper with a two-pack-a-day habit, Travis was failing. He stood among the foliage of the Florida forest and pondered his options. Could he go days, maybe weeks, fighting his nicotine addiction? Or... Or, should he risk a drive into town? Check out the scene and, of course, grab a carton of his favorite smokes?

He peered over to a small indenture in the tree line near his shelter where his old pickup truck sat under a camouflage tarp.

Ah...fuck it.

She didn't see it coming.

Anger welled up inside. Anger at herself for being so careless, so foolish. How did she not see the ballistic missile before it was too late? She had grown too confident over the past couple days.

And now that overconfidence had cost her.

She tumbled out of the sky from the impact. Her mind frantically went through the paces of trying to regain control, but nothing was responding. Her powers had been drained and the impending impact with the ground was going to hurt more than it should. She tucked her body into a ball and tried to adjust her angle as best as possible.

She slammed into the asphalt at just the right trajectory and continued to bounce and roll down the street until her momentum was jarringly halted by a parked truck.

Dazed, she stood up from the crunched vehicle. Her pale skin now splashed with color from bruises, cuts and road rash.

No broken bones. I must have some power surging through me.

The torn fabric of her uniform began repairing itself immediately, though she knew her body would take longer to do the same in her current state.

She shook the debris out of the long silver-tinted locks of her hair. She adjusted her silver cloak over her shoulders and checked the remainder of her silver-shaded suit. A dark-hued leotard, high cut at the hips, was worn over brighter-tinged leggings that led into silver-colored, mid-calf leather boots. A silver fabric stretched around her hips as a belt, clasped over her navel by thick metal clips.

Her name in the native language of her home planet, Rathperion, was Cha'dekLa'seumsa. For obvious reasons, she was known on Earth as the Silver Queen.

The Silver Queen was one of the most popular and famous of the 16-member collective known as The Supers. Her stunning beauty had a lot to do with her fame, but her panache for aiding humanitarian projects, especially work to assist children in need, bolstered her popularity.

Now, she was being shot down out of the sky by a ballistic missile and stranded on the main street of some small, apparently abandoned, town in the middle of nowhere.

She watched as the open wounds on her body healed, knowing the bruising would take longer. She also knew all the attention her body gave to healing itself would mean it would be even longer until her powers were re-energized and fully restored.

For now, she was vulnerable. Not a situation she was used to. Nor a situation she was comfortable being in, especially since she was unaware of her location. Her instincts told her to hide. She moved swiftly around the truck to find shelter.

Just as swiftly, she came to a halt. Before her stood a man, his rifle pointed at her head. She noticed a nervous tension in his body. The barrel was unsteady, his voice quivered in both anger and fright as he spoke:

"Don'cha. Fuckin'. Move!"

Travis felt his arms shake as he aimed his AR-15 at her. He did all he could to control the trembling, but to no avail. He had spent plenty of time on the internet bragging on social sites about how he wanted to "bag a fucking alien." Now the opportunity presented itself, and Travis soon realized he was scared as shit.

Cha'dekLa'seumsa stood stoically in the face of her enemy as he tried his best to keep his weapon level with her head. While outwardly she displayed calm, internally she trembled with fear. She could feel her body not fully powered and recognized that she did not yet possess the ability to deflect a bullet. She was confounded by the thought that her demise could come at the hands of such a simple man. I must bluff this fool until my power returns, she thought.

"Please, put down your gun, human," she spoke calmly. She looked over Travis and wondered if she should have addressed him in another manner. His greasy, unkempt black hair spilled out from under his baseball cap. His face was covered in patches of scraggly facial hair. Cretin would have been more apropos.

"No!" was all he could think of to shout.

"You know your bullets can't hurt me. Why bother? You'll just anger me. Please don't do that. I have killed enough of your people today. How about I spare you if you're willing to end this silly charade?"

"Ok, fine..." he stumbled with his words. "My bullets can't kill you? Sure, fine. I know that..." His eyes wandered as he slowly stepped around toward his wrecked pickup truck. "Fuck this, I'm getting the bazooka! Wha'd ya think of that, huh? Can you stop a bazooka?"

She smiled at the absurdity of his declaration. "You don't have a bazooka in the truck. Besides, do you really think I'd let you grab it?" Her eyes arched in a questioning manner.

Travis licked his lips nervously. "Ok, right...ya got me there. I ain't got one. But I can't let'cha go. You've killed people! 'Mericans!"

"Yes, I've killed many Americans this week."

"Why dammit? Why can't you damn aliens jus' git on and leave our planet?"

"You know why. We came to this planet with a directive. One that would establish peace and prosperity throughout the world." She took a step toward Travis and watched him waver. Foolish of me. I shouldn't make sudden moves that may cause him to pull the trigger. "You Americans in your own selfish brashness ignored our warnings. You stood upon the precipice of world peace and foolishly threw it away by your own conceded actions. We were willing to work through it, but you took action in an attempt to destroy us. Now you all are reaping your ignorance. We will rid this planet of your disease so that we may continue to pursue and preserve our directive!" She felt anger rising inside and stopped herself from continuing on.

Travis lowered his rifle. "So, I can't kill you... Why don'cha jus' go on and kill me?"

Such a simpleton. Giving up so easily. "I told you already that I have killed plenty today. I am willing to spare you."

"But why? Why spare me?"

"Because, I think you could be of some use to me. My team will be looking for me soon. And so will your military. Unless you want this pitiful little town of yours obliterated, I suggest you help me find some shelter."

Travis pondered over the situation. A thought struck him: "Wait, why can't you jus' fly off?"

Careful. Don't show your hand. Feed him another lie. "That's not how our powers of flight work. We require certain wind conditions in order for flight to be optimal. No such conditions exist right now."

He contemplated her answer for a moment. "That's why ya fell from the sky, ain't it?"

"Of course." The fool. Yet he still holds the upper hand as long as he possess that rifle. Thankfully, he does not know that. "About that shelter, do you know of a good place?"

A smile crept across Travis' face. "I sure do. Got me my own little shelter back in the woods. We gotta walk it, though. You done smashed the shit outta my truck." His smile faded as he looked at his wrecked vehicle.

"Very well, human. And what may I call you by?"

"Me? My name is Travis."

"Thank you, Travis. Do you know who I am?"

"Hell lady, I sure do! You go by Silver Queen. Of course, everyone calls you Silver Dream." He blushed suddenly. "Sorry 'bout that."

A smile formed on her lips before she realized it. "Travis, my true name is Cha'dekLa'seumsa. But you may refer to me simply as Cha'."

"Well then, shall we?" Travis swept his hand across his body to show her the direction to walk. "Oh! If ya don't mind, I was here to grab me a pack a cigarettes. Mind if I run in the store right quick?"

"Of course you cannot get a pack of cigarettes, Travis. Those will kill you."

Travis led the way through the woods by a narrow gap of trampled grass that served as a path through the thick underbrush. He walked behind Cha', his rifle slung across his torso, keeping back a few paces.

Abruptly, the duo stopped and listened as helicopters roamed across the sky above the town. They had yet to travel even a hundred yards into the woods. Cha' worried her escort may call out or signal her pursuers.

"Tell me again why I ain't turnin' you in to them?" he questioned in a hushed tone.

"Because Travis, you don't want me to kill you before they find me." Without waiting for his reply, she continued her walk. Damn these powers of mine! How much longer must I play this rouse? As long as this damn fool has his gun pointed at my back, he holds the upper hand. I must continue to make sure he never realizes that.

"You like killin'?" Travis asked after a moment of silence once their walk resumed.

"Killing in the name of a just cause does not affect me."

"I mean, how'd ya do it? Killin' so many and not feeling nothin' for it?"

"A live body and a dead body contain the same number of particles. Structurally, there's no discernible difference. Life and death are unquantifiable abstracts. Why should I be concerned?" She glanced back to see his reaction: His eyes drawn to the ground. "If it takes the deaths of your people to right the wrong they have committed, then I deem it to be justifiable."

"But what..." he stumbled on a root and caught himself.

Excellent. My life is in the hands of a stumbling fool. "Travis, please refrain from pointing that rifle of yours at my back if you plan to stumble your way through this path."

"Sorry," he made a note to hold his AR-15 across his body. "I was gonna say: What makes y'all in charge of us? In charge of the United States of America? We didn't vote for ya. We voted for President Halleck. And now y'all out here killin' us for that. Don't sit well with me, ya know?"

Cha' took a deep breath. She had grown tired of having to explain their actions. Were these humans, these Americans, so daft that they could not understand? "Travis, you are aware of our directive, correct?" She noticed him nod his head. "Then you know that we, The Supers as you call us, are here to protect humanity from itself. We supported countries and lent help to those who understood, including the U.S. But when your people were on the brink of electing such a xenophobic, nationalist monster in Mr. Halleck, we warned you. We stated that it would be a mistake to drive your country back from all we had accomplished so far. His hate would permeate through this once-great country. But you all did not listen. And what has happened? He used fear to grab power. And, in turn, used that power to attack us." She stopped and faced Travis. "Now? We are simply fighting back."

She noticed the tremble in Travis, even if he was not aware of it. He was frightened.

"But y'all go against what this great country was built on," he stated. "Free will, dammit! We vote 'cause we've got the power. Not you aliens." He tried to stay calm, but could feel the anger welling up inside.

"To dismiss us simply as 'aliens' was your first mistake. To incite fear and use it against us was the second mistake. We came here to save humanity from destroying itself. That is our directive and purpose for living. Driving people toward hate and fear, as your president has done, negates all we have come here to accomplish. Ending his rule, by any means, allows us to fix the damage he's done."

Travis stood there, unsure how to react. How dare this alien bitch talk 'bout my president that way! He shewed her forward with the barrel of his rifle to continue the walk without saying a word.

The two strode on a few hundred yards until Cha' broke the silence: "Travis, do I make you uncomfortable?"

Travis tilted his head in a curious glance as she looked back at him. "Uncomfortable? Naw; uncomfortable is walkin' in on your parents while they be buck naked on they bed feedin' each other grapes. You don't make me uncomfortable, you just my enemy, that's all."

Cha' found herself trying to hold back a giggle at the scene Travis depicted. "Why do we have to be enemies, Travis?"

"Because, we just is. You killin' my people, we tryin' to kill your people."

"But what if it didn't have to be that way? What if I told you I could give you intellectual enlightenment? Show you the true way life should be lived?"

"Honey, I'm already enlightened. Got me the Internets for that." He smiled at himself.

Cha' could only shake her head: "Travis, it's the lack of intellectual capacity that is driving your nation into the ground. How else can one explain your choosing a man of such ill repute as Halleck to serve as your leader? He has poisoned your minds with false realities that just do not exist. We have zero intention to rule, only to guide you to a more prosperous life. Have we not shown that to be the case in our time on Earth?"

Travis stopped in his tracks as Cha' followed suit. "Yur tellin' me you ain't tryin' to take my country over? All's y'all do is tell us how we gotta live our lives. We gotta do this...we gotta do that...we can't do this. Y'all can't be tellin' 'Mericans how to live! We're the gaw'damn land of the free!" He takes a moment to collect himself. "Listen darlin', I only got a couple'a things I care 'bout: my country, my guns and my comic books. And y'all aliens are tryin' to fuck with that."

Gods...how much longer must I endure this insipid simpleton?

"Travis, you say you want to be in control of your country, but you're too blinded by your hate to see that you really are not. It is your current government, Halleck's administration, which is using you and your ilk to gain power and control over you! My collective and I only want you to see the truth! You and your people deserve better, deserve more. The prosperity this country promises should be beholden to you. Yet, you buy into these lies, fabricated by a man who only seeks power to rule you. Do you not see that, Travis?"

"I dunno," Travis replied almost bashfully as he paused in thought. "But I do know I don't wanna talk no more. It's 'bout to get dark. Gotta get movin' if we wanna make it back to my shelter before the sun goes down."

With that, he motioned with his rifle for Cha' to start walking again.

The small, cramped room of the shelter stunk of old body odor and filth. The smell permeated Cha'dekLa'seumsa's olfactory system. She thought: Good, my senses have powered back up. I won't have to wait much longer before my powers are fully restored and I can leave this wretched hive.

She sat cross-legged at the center of the floor. Travis relaxed upon his chair just before her, his AR-15 resting on his lap.

"Wanna beer?" he asked.

"No Travis, I do not want a beer."

"Suit yerself." He rose from his chair, crossed to the cooler and cracked open a can of brew. He retrieved a bottle of water and dropped it at her side before sitting back down. "I don't know if y'all even need to drink. But if so, there's a water for ya."

She nodded and smiled at his courtesy. "Thank you, Travis." Although she had no need to quench a thirst, she took a sip from the bottle. "Travis, tell me: what would your ideal world be like?"

A ponderous look formed in the creases of his face. "I want to live in a world where my princess is Leia," he stated with a smile.

"Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan? Yes, we learned much about her in history classes back on my planet. She was a true hero for our galaxy. I believe her deeds were portrayed quite well in your films here on Earth."

Confusion spread across Travis as he tilted his head, unsure what to say. "You mean, she..."

Laughter erupted from Cha' and filled the confined space. "No Travis, I was just making a joke with you."

That is when Travis saw it, the beauty in her laughter. She, the Silver Queen, was always beautiful to him. But it was not until that moment of laughter that he finally saw it for himself, in person. He had been so wrapped up in his emotions of fear and anger towards her that her beauty concealed itself from him. Until now.

Maybe she's right? Maybe I got this all wrong? Could I of been played a fool this whole time? These Supers, maybe they jus' are here to help us out.

The laughter quieted down. "I am sorry Travis if I offended you."

"Naw, you didn't." He searched for the right words to say. "Listen...you'd mentioned earlier somethin' 'bout enlightenment?"

Cha' composed herself, noticing now that she had piqued his curiosity. "Yes, intellectual enlightenment. What about it, Travis?"

"You's said you could give me that?"

"I could. I have the power to provide you with such a gift...if I so choose to. Why?"

Travis fiddled about in his chair for a moment. "I was jus' thinkin'....would it make me smarter?"

A sly smile formed in her lips before she spoke: "Intellectual enlightenment would do more than simply make you smarter, Travis. You would be able to see, think and feel the world around you beyond any human capabilities. Your mind will be opened up to the truth in this world. You'll see the truth I have spoken to you about."

The possibilities abounded in Travis' mind. I could get outta this damn town! Make a real life for myself. "How...how could I get it?"

"Do you seek this enlightenment, Travis, or is it something you want?"

"I dunno, somethin' I seek?" he stumbled.

"Why do you seek it?"

"I dunno...I'm not dumb."

"I know, Travis."

"I'm jus'...um..."

"Uneducated?"

"That's it! Yeah, and that ain't all my fault, ya know? I mean, it ain't like I don't like knowin' stuff. There's jus' been a lot you've been tellin' me that's startin' to make sense."

"Are you beginning to see our ways are not a true threat to your people? That our methods are pure in their intent?"

"I am, Cha'," he stated as he stared into her eyes, mesmerized by her beauty. "I'm thinkin' maybe I ain't got it all straight in my head with this stuff; that your enlightenment might be the thing that can help me figure out that truth innit all."

This poor soul never really had a chance in this world, did he? I pity the fool, really. "Travis, I could give you this gift if you truly seek it. But once I do, there is no going back. You understand this, correct?"

Travis nodded.

"Then join me," Cha' said and she rose to her knees. Travis came down from his chair and knelt in front of her.

"Is this gonna hurt?" he asked.

"No, dear Travis. The process won't hurt, but you will feel...something." Cha' cupped his head in her hands. "Now, close your eyes and don't move."

"Ok."

Cha' leaned forward and engulfed his lips with hers in a full, passionate kiss. Travis found that he could not move, his body frozen to any interaction as she continued. What surely lasted moments in Travis' mind was over in mere seconds as Cha' pulled her lips away, still cupping his head.

"Travis?" she asked as he opened his eyes. "How do you feel?"

A smile spread across his face as he felt an energy pulse through his body, up and down his spine. He could see a glow, an aura, emanating around Cha' like a golden halo. He could hear the insects outside clearly as if they were speaking to him. He could smell...Oh God, what is that smell?

"It stinks in here," he stated with a laugh. "I am so sorry about that."

Cha' smiled with him as she released her hold. "Yes, there is a down side to heightened senses."

Travis felt his mind erupting as she spoke. Synapsis firing on all cylinders. His brain power amplified. His mind elevated: So this is what it was like to be truly enlightened...

"I can think...of so many things! My mind feels like a computer. Knowledge...I can feel it!"

"Yes, Travis. You have reached intellectual enlightenment. Amazing, no?"

"I can't thank you enough, Cha'dekLa'seumsa! I feel that with all this knowledge there is..."

"Power? Yes."

He stared at her once again. He remembered the kiss completely. His mind played it over and over again in his head with a complete sense of reality although it was now only a memory. He smiled as that memory replayed once again. Then, suddenly, he noticed something in her. Within her. His brain calculated what he was discovering...

"You..." his smile faded to a dour expression. "You've been lying to me this whole time, haven't you? Your powers were gone?"

She looked at him sternly, "Ah Travis, already using your gift to discover things your mind may not want you to know."

"You're a liar! This whole time you played me for a fool!"

"To be fair, until a moment ago you were a fool."

"Stop it! I could have killed you earlier. I should have killed you earlier!"

"Is that what you believe, Travis? Killing me would not have led you to your enlightenment."

"This is true." A devilish look came across his face. "Of course, I can right my wrong and come out on top as a winner. It seems you're the fool now, you alien bitch! I've got the power of enlightenment from you and now...I can kill you!"

He turned to reach for his rifle in the chair, but she caught him by his shoulder and wheeled him around to face her. The force of her action caught him off guard. Again, she took his head in her hands and held his face gently close to her.

"Sorry, Silver Queen. As much as I may lust for you, your charm will not fool me again."

Anger shot from her eyes as she spoke harshly: "Travis, dear old Travis. We had some fun, didn't we? It's too bad you have allowed your mischievous thoughts to cloud your new-found judgement." He stared back quizzically. "You may have noticed my powers were diminished for a time. But you have failed to recognize that they have returned!"

Her hands, still cupped around his head, squeezed inwardly. Travis flailed about in her grip, unable to free himself from her strength. He swung an arm toward his chair where his gun lay, but only achieved knocking it to the ground and out of his grasp.

Spit flung from his lips, splattering on her face, as he began to wheeze through his gritted teeth.

She pressed harder, standing to her feet for more leverage. Suddenly a crack echoed in the room as his skull gave way to her strength. His eyes popped, blood and brain matter spilled out.

Cha' tossed his ruptured head to the side as his body thudded on the ground. She ripped the Confederate flag down from the wall and wiped her hands and face clean with it before discarding the rag upon his carcass.

It is truly a shame, Travis. You would have been useful to our cause.

She crouched down in a squat then sprang upward, flying through the shelter's raggedy roof into the atmosphere above. With one last glance down at Travis' final resting place, she darted away – leaving a sonic boom in her wake.