We scrambled out of the fort, the rusted ladder creaking beneath us as we made our way up to the trapdoor. The thick forest above felt like a sanctuary compared to the damp, musty air of the underground. My chest still burned with each breath, the wheeze fading only slightly as I sucked in the fresh air. Tony, still sniffling, held my hand tightly, his small fingers trembling.
Bobby was the first out—fittingly, as he was the oldest, perhaps even the bravest (other than Dan, who wasn’t here). The beam of his flashlight cut through the evening gloom. The woods felt unnaturally still, the usual hum of insects and rustling leaves absent, replaced by the unsettling hum of the craft in the distance. We couldn’t see it, but we could hear it, faint and low, like the growl of some distant predator circling, searching for something—or someone.
“We need to move, now,” Bobby whispered urgently, his voice tight with fear.
I turned to look at the others. "You think it's still looking for us?"
“Of course it is," David muttered. "It saw us run, didn’t it?"
"Then what do we do?" Bobby asked, his eyes wide, face pale.
I didn’t have an answer. I wanted to say something to calm them, to convince myself that we’d be okay, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the woods seemed like the safest place to be right now, and we needed to get as far away from the fort—and that plane—as possible.
But there was another problem. The figure that had been chasing us earlier. I kept looking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see it lurking in the shadows. Had it gone back to the craft? Or was it still out there, moving quietly through the trees, waiting for the right moment to strike? We didn’t know, and that was almost worse than the plane itself.
Then there was Dan. I couldn’t stop wondering if he and Andy had seen this plane—or something like it. Would they believe us? Or had they experienced something weird themselves? We didn’t know where they were, but I could only hope they were safe, far away from whatever had come down on us.
“Let’s head for Andy’s house,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Maybe the aliens won’t know we’d go there—hopefully.”
The others nodded, though none of us seemed to believe the words I said. Tony clung to me, his thumb back in his mouth as we slipped between the trees, keeping our heads down and moving as quietly as possible.
But as we made our way through the dense woods, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone. The air around us seemed to hum, almost vibrating with a strange energy, and I could swear I saw shadows flickering at the edges of my vision. The craft above us was still out there, its low hum still present, but we couldn’t see it. And in the distance, there was something else—voices? Soft, indistinguishable murmurs drifting through the trees. It sounded like more of them. More of whatever had been chasing us.
It wasn’t just hunting us—it was hunting for something. And we had no idea what we were about to get caught up in.
We walked through the woods toward Andy’s house, every step feeling like an eternity. The hum of the hovercraft—or whatever it was—hung in the air, an eerie sound that made my skin crawl. At times, it sounded closer, and we’d freeze, ducking behind trees or crouching low to the ground, trying to calm our panic as the sound seemed to move toward us. Then, just as suddenly, it would fade into the distance, and we’d keep moving, heartbeats pounding in our ears.
The deeper we went, the more unsettling it became. I couldn’t stop thinking about the voices we’d heard earlier. Had they been other people, or something else? Were we being watched from the shadows, waiting for us to make a mistake?
Finally, we reached the edge of the woods, where the tree line broke open into a row of houses along Merky Road. The houses here were smaller, simpler, with overgrown lawns and aging fences. Andy’s house stood at the end, a two-story frame with peeling white paint and a front porch that sagged slightly to one side. It looked normal enough—nothing special, but in that moment, it felt like a sanctuary. We rushed to the front door, my hand shaking as I knocked.
Andy opened it after a moment, his eyes scanning us quickly before his expression turned serious.
"Whoa," he said, stepping back. "You guys okay?"
Andy was the same age as Dan, both of them about four years younger than me. He had blonde, curly hair and was wearing a dark blue T-shirt that fit snugly against his frame, a contrast to the usual loose clothes he favored. His serious expression made it clear that whatever was happening, it wasn’t a joke. Andy was sharp, not one to crack jokes in a tense situation. He stepped aside to let us in.
"We—we need to talk," I said, my voice hoarse.
"Are your parents home?" I asked, glancing inside.
"Nah, they’re at work," Andy said, shutting the door behind us. "They won’t be back for a while."
Behind him, Dan stepped into view. He was tall and lanky, wearing a faded tank top that barely fit right, and his usual goofy grin was nowhere to be found. Dan always had this carefree, almost goofy vibe—like nothing in the world could throw him off. His long arms were covered in the sort of scars you got from roughhousing with friends or falling off bikes. But now, his eyes were serious, scanning each of us for clues.
"You guys look like you just saw a ghost," Dan said, his usual smirk gone. He looked over at Andy, who gave him a look before turning back to us.
"We saw something... in the woods. A craft. And someone—or something—was chasing us," I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
Andy frowned, his face falling into a serious expression. "A craft? What do you mean, like an airplane or something?"
"Not exactly," Bobby said, stepping forward, his voice shaky. "It didn’t look like any plane I’ve ever seen. There was only one wing, and it spun in the sky like it was searching for something."
Dan raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Andy. "What are you talking about? Like, UFO stuff?"
I nodded, but before anyone could respond, Andy cut in. "Wait, wait—hold on. Did you hear about that businessman who went missing? They said his plane crashed into Lake Michigan—near here, actually. It was on the front page of the Manistee News Advocate a few weeks ago. They think it went down somewhere between here and Ludington."
"What?" I asked, confused. "You think that has something to do with... this?"
"We’re not sure," Andy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it’s weird, right? The plane disappeared without a trace. No wreckage. And no one seems to know where it went. Some people think it went down in the lake. Others think it was something else."
I glanced at Bobby, my stomach twisting. Could the businessman’s missing plane and whatever we’d seen in the sky be connected? It seemed too much of a coincidence. And if it was, what did it all mean?
"But Mom said they 'suspected' the plane crashed into the lake," I added, my voice quieter now. "Or at least, I think that’s what she said. It’s like even they don’t know for sure."
Andy nodded slowly. "Exactly. That’s what makes it so strange. I mean, that’s what we saw on TV. But, you know, it’s weird. The lake’s huge. Could be anywhere."
Dan and Andy had already been filled in on the details of what happened to us today—our encounter with the strange craft and the voices in the woods. They listened intently, but I could see the doubt in their eyes. The idea of something otherworldly seemed far-fetched to them, but I could tell they were trying to make sense of it.
The idea of a missing plane was almost too much to take in. Could it really be the same thing that we’d just seen? Could the strange craft above us be part of something bigger? I didn’t know, but it felt like everything was starting to connect in ways I didn’t fully understand.
"We saw the craft again on the way here," I said, my voice trembling. "It’s out there. And there’s something else—people, or... something else, chasing us. We have to figure this out before they find us."
Dan and Andy exchanged worried looks, but they didn’t have any answers. All we could do was wait and hope we were safe—at least for now.
Then, without warning, it happened. A loud, very, very loud noise, like something massive crashing into the earth. The reverberations rattled the windows of Andy's house even worse than they had done at our house earlier. The entire house seemed to shudder with the impact, and my heart skipped a beat. The sound was so intense that for a moment, I couldn’t move—couldn’t think.
Bobby, Tony, and David stood frozen, their faces drained of color. Even Dan and Andy looked visibly shaken, their eyes wide as they stared at the windows, waiting for something else to happen.
"What the hell was that?" Bobby finally managed to whisper, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
"I don't know," I said, my voice barely a breath. "But it’s too close."
Outside, the night felt even heavier, the air thick with tension. I glanced at the others, trying to gauge their reactions, but no one seemed to have an answer. What was out there? What had just happened?
Andy was the first to break the silence, his voice low and urgent. "We need to get out of here. Now."
The rest of us nodded in agreement, the fear and uncertainty settling in as we hurried to gather what little we had. I didn’t know where we were going or what we were running from anymore. But I knew one thing—whatever was happening, it was bigger than us. And it wasn’t done yet.
-------------------
The sky darkened unexpectedly, as if a massive storm cloud had rolled in, but the sound that accompanied it was unlike any thunder. It started as a faint hum, growing into a deafening roar that made the ground vibrate beneath our feet. Everyone froze, heads snapping upward in unison.
Planes—dozens of them—flooded the sky, blotting out the stars and casting eerie shadows over the house. At first, I wanted to believe they were just planes, some kind of military exercise gone wrong. But the way they moved, so precise and unnatural, made it impossible to hold on to that hope.
We could no longer deny it. These weren’t planes—they were UFOs. Some looked like the aircraft we had seen earlier, with a single wing that spun and hovered unnervingly. They moved with an uncanny precision, as if alive. Each one adjusted its angle to peer into our house, the alien inside seemingly fixated on us. No matter where we went, no matter how we tried to hide—behind furniture, crouched below the windows—they could always find us. Even when Tony and I pressed ourselves into the shadows below the window, they tilted their crafts to keep us in view.
There was no escape.
The other crafts were different. They defied explanation, their shapes shifting and morphing as though the air itself bent around them. Some glowed faintly, like molten metal cooling, while others seemed to absorb the light around them, casting deep, unsettling darkness.
No matter the shape or size, they all shared one thing: an oppressive presence, as though they weren’t just watching us but reaching into us, probing for something we couldn’t understand.
The sun disappeared behind their massive forms, plunging the neighborhood into an eerie twilight. A sharp wind blew in their wake, stirring up leaves and sending shivers down our spines.
“What… what is this?” Dan’s voice cracked as he backed toward me.
Before anyone could respond, the planes began to hover in place, a low mechanical whine filling the air. Then, beams of light shot down from several of them, illuminating Andy and Dan. The beams shimmered, almost like liquid, and began to pull them upward.
“No! Andy!” I screamed, lunging forward, but the force of the light knocked me back as if an invisible wall had slammed into me. Andy flailed, his face a mix of terror and disbelief as he rose toward the nearest plane.
In that moment, a memory surfaced, sharp and clear—a flash of his laugh from just the other day when I was babysitting him. He had that mischievous grin, the one that lit up his whole face, as he said, “Put your hand on your tongue and say, ‘I love apples.’”
I had naively done it, pressing my hand to my tongue and saying the words as instructed. Only, what came out wasn’t “I love apples,” but something garbled and ridiculous. He had burst out laughing, doubling over as I realized what I had just said aloud sounded a lot more like, “I wuv aholes.”
I could still hear his laughter now, that pure, uninhibited joy.
But now, that laugh was gone, replaced by the sound of his terrified screams as the beam of light pulled him higher and higher.
Dan’s attempts to fight the pull were equally useless, his shouts drowned out by the relentless drone of the engines.
People around us screamed, scattering in panic. The planes weren’t just taking Andy and Dan. They were making a statement. With a sudden, gut-wrenching sound, one of the planes unleashed a burst of energy. It struck the house across the street, reducing it to rubble in an instant. A wave of heat and dust rolled over us, and the ground beneath our feet trembled.
“They’re serious,” someone muttered, their voice trembling with fear.
“No kidding,” I snapped, heart pounding as I tried to think. We had to do something, but what could we possibly do against this?
Another plane fired, this time hitting a parked car. The explosion sent fragments flying, the shockwave nearly knocking me off my feet. The message was clear: don’t interfere.
Andy and Dan were almost out of sight now, their figures disappearing into the bellies of the planes. My chest tightened as helplessness washed over me. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not to us.
“We have to go,” Bobby shouted, tugging at my arm. But I couldn’t move. My eyes stayed fixed on the planes as they began to rise higher, their engines roaring louder, like a triumph in the air. I closed my eyes and prayed, hoping with everything I had that they would just go away.
Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, they were gone. The sky cleared, sunlight returning as though nothing had happened. But the devastation they left behind was all too real. Homes smoldered, debris littered the streets, and a heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by distant sobbing.
Andy and Dan were gone.
I dropped to my knees, staring up at the now-empty sky. My hands clenched into fists, and a single thought consumed me: we had to get them back, no matter what it took.
