Derek starts to cover the distance at a comfortable pace, time seeming to pass at a much steadier rate. During a wild air guitar solo of Eric Clapton’s, Derek suddenly finds himself bathed in bright light. Headlights, like the eyes of judgement, pull ever closer. Derek begins to wave excitedly as an old pick up truck rolls toward his position. As the truck stops, Derek jogs over to the passenger side window. The filthy window lowers as Derrick peers inside. "Excuse me sir, can you give me a lift to a petrol station? I had a breakdown a few miles back, and I am kind of far from home." "Of course son, get in." A rough voice replied as the door opened. Derek slid into the passenger seat, thanking the man. It took all of his resolve to stifle a laugh as he got a better look at the driver, who had an uncanny resemblance to his father in a straw farmer's hat and overalls.
Derek had to amuse himself as the old truck coasted slowly up the rough road. "I really do appreciate your help sir. My car is a total goner."
"You shouldn't be out wandering alone out here son, it isn’t safe." Farmer Nixon replied.
"I agree." Derek said as he glanced down at his watch. "Aw crud, my watch is busted too! It still reads just after twelve. Do you happen to have the time, mister?"
"Nope." The old man replied eyes fixed on the road. "I don't wear no watch."
"I must have busted it when I went mental at the steering wheel." Derek stated as he saw lights just behind the tree line. "Are we getting close to town?" He queried.
"Yep." The old man nodded in reply. Derek had visions of Pepsi dancing in his head, hoping that it was a convenience store. He hadn't eaten in hours, and he was famished. He could nearly feel his stomach sticking to his backbone. As they rounded a curve Derek's jaw dropped as he saw the source of the light behind the trees, and it sure wasn't a Happy Shopper.
A spaceship for lack of a proper description. Not a typical flying saucer, nor even like a craft ever seen on Star Wars or Star Trek. It appeared to be a combination of a metallic substance and some sort of living organism. Shiny unearthly alloys combined with a dark, slimy substance. Derek sat transfixed as he watched the organic parts writhing as if the craft were actually breathing. The main portion of the ship resembled the finished product of a tarantula and hedgehog ground together in a food processor. Massive spiky anomalies gave the ship an even more menacing arachnid-like appearance. The sheer size of the craft was forbidding, rivalling the diameter of Leicester Square in London. Derek managed to pull his gaze from the craft toward Farmer Nixon, who surely must have passed out from the horror floating before them. But the driver of the old truck was grinning like he was just elected prime minister!
"Hey mister, we got to turn around and get out of here!" Derek pleaded. The old man either did not hear Derek or was hypnotised by the image before them, and accelerated toward the craft. "Dude, are you nuts? That's not E.T. driving that intergalactic party bus! Let's bolt!" And still he received no reaction from the driver; Derek reached for the farmer's arm. With inhuman speed the old man's right hand shot, grasping Derek’s wrist in a vice-like grip twisting his arm agonizingly. Derek struggled beneath the man's grasp but could not get loose. Suddenly, the man let go and slammed on the brakes causing Derek, who was not wearing his seatbelt, to fly forward smashing into the front window. Blood flowed freely into Derek's eyes from the many cuts in his forehead, obscuring his vision in a crimson haze. He winced as he felt the old man grab him by the hair roughly, then all went dark as Derek's head smashed repeatedly into the dashboard.
Derek lay unconscious for what seemed like an eternity. His first signs of consciousness returned as the passenger door to the truck swung open. He found himself once again in the old man's grasp and dragged roughly from the vehicle. The light grew brighter as the man dragged him closer to the ship. Derek tried blinking away the blood that was flowing from his forehead. He noticed through blurred vision, a trio of small beings with large dark eyes and oversized heads. "What do you know they do look like the tabloid pictures.” Derek mumbled as Farmer Nixon drops him sharply to the ground. The aliens were no more than a meter tall and greeted the old man in a language that made Derrick's head spin. The old man replied using the same bizarre dialect. One of the aliens turned toward Derek and regarded him with no hint of emotion from those ebony eyes. Derek chokes down the rising bile in his throat as a strange presence trespasses in his thoughts. At first the sensation is mild, but quickly turns to pain, so excruciating it makes him scream in fear. Blood begins to trickle from his ears and nose. Derek tries to speak, to beg for release, but is unable to even whisper or draw a breath. Then, as quickly as it started the sensation ends. Gasping, he gazes blankly at Nixon. "Wh-what did y-you do to me?"
The old man steps forward and leans close to Derek’s ear. "I'm not a crook." He whispers softly then bursts into crazed laughter. "I'm not a crook!" He cackles loudly as he stalks away, fingers rose in the air in a ‘V’ for victory symbol. Silently, the central alien of the trio glides forward, hovering just above the ground towards Derek stopping about a foot away from him. Inhuman eyes lock onto Derek as if the alien were about to speak. Then without warning, the alien begins to jerk; its skin begins to bubble as if something underneath were trying to break free. Its frail limbs begin to twist in impossible directions, as the alien's frail torso begins to swell like an over inflated balloon. It continues to expand until suddenly with a disgusting, nauseating sound the creature implodes into a mass of multi-coloured goo resembling oatmeal that had been left simmering in a pot for a month.
Overwhelmed by nausea, Derek begins to heave as he watches the mass churn. The remaining aliens appear to show no concern for their fellow alien’s plight as it continues to writhe violently for several minutes forming into a sphere of organics. Abruptly, the ball splits and something terrifying emerges. Standing before Derek is a heavily muscled, four armed, crimson-scaled reptilian beast. The creature stands on two massive legs the size of Derek’s waist. The creature's dense torso covered in heavy armour-like scales, writhed powerfully as it draws its first breath. The long snout parted ominously revealing jagged razor sharp teeth, as the powerful tail that adorned its backside swayed back and forth slowly, rhythmically. The beast then rose to its full height, which was just short of three meters, and growled menacingly like a score of crocodiles. It then glared at Derek hungrily, muscles rippling beneath the crimson scales regarding Derek as if he were no more a threat than a mere housefly. Such an intense stark contrast from the frail little alien that stood before him a moment ago. The two remaining aliens turn to Derek then glance back to the imposing beast. Again Derek feels himself being mentally violated as his ears register the disgusting churning sound he heard as the first alien metamorphosed. Squeezing his eyes shut, Derek is then released from the mental torture. He lay quivering on the ground, and after several long moments slowly raises his gaze fully expecting to see another of the blood red reptiles, Derek is stunned to see another human standing before them. For a moment, Derrick locks eyes with the newcomer. The soulless, flat gaze of the man makes Derek’s blood nearly freeze. But the detail that nearly stopped Derek’s heart is that the man standing before him was his exact twin.
Unable to find the words to speak, and feeling his sanity fading, Derek spins and bolts for the truck sprinting with every ounce of effort in his battered body, his heart pounding so loudly he failed to hear the thundering footfalls just behind him. Derek’s vision explodes as Farmer Nixon's hammering fist slams into the back of his head. The vice-like hand finds his throat as he finds himself being dragged back to his captors as the bizarre farmer curses him in that sick inhuman language. Farmer Nixon shoves him roughly onto the ground beneath the ship. Silently the area brightens and Derek finds himself smothered in a blinding, emerald light as he feels his feet leave the Earth for the final time. Moments later he finds himself in a tiny cell with an opening that overlooks a massive white chamber with a crimson floor. Peering more intently through the opening Derek notices similar openings overlooking the main chamber as well. Some had human occupants, some held strange looking creatures, and yet others were empty. He slumped to the floor of his cell despair overwhelming him. "All I wanted was to get home." He began to sob. After an intermittent time Derek heard a strange hydraulic hiss and raced back to the small window. He saw three humans being forced into the large room by a squad of a dozen of the crimson reptiles. The three captives looked about frantically as half of the alien squad began to stalk them. Three of the remaining six aliens began to metamorphosise, and soon were clones of the hunted humans. Once the transformation was complete, the hunting party ripped into their prey like a pack of ravenous crocodiles. Chunks of flesh fly across the chamber as blood flows like a crimson river.
"We're food to them..." Derek rasped, falling backwards unable to watch the carnage. "They've been hunting us for Heaven knows how long." When the sounds of the feeding frenzy had faded, Derek lay still on the floor and surrendered to his exhaustion in a fitful sleep. An unknown amount of time passed before he could muster the strength to rise to his feet after the witnessing the grim spectacle. He peered through the opening and glanced again down at the blood soaked arena, when suddenly the door to his cell hissed open. Three of the reptiles stood at the entrance. One of them stalked in and savagely whipped its massive tail striking Derek in the midsection, dropping him instantly. Derek was awash in a sea of agony when a stabbing pain lanced through his body. Whom these shape shifters who have been infiltrating Earth’s population, watching, waiting, had already replaced. How many people in places of power? Maybe one of them is the president, which sure would explain a lot. Maybe the tabloids may have been right all along, but Derek will never know. Nobody knows yet, but maybe someone will find out and stop them. And how would the people of Earth battle such a powerful threat? But now as their aliens razor sharp teeth inch towards him, the stench of death wafting into his nostrils, only one thing is certain in Derek’s mind.
"I hope that shape changing twin of me doesn't hit the damn lottery. I hope that alien is stuck in that stinking minimum wage job for a long, long time..." Derek screams as the beasts tear mercilessly into his flesh.
