Enjoy this sample previewing the opening of Dog vs. Alien, a tale set in the Montana wilderness pitting our best friend against a vile other-worldly foe.
Synopsis:
Grieving their son’s tragic death while serving overseas in a godforsaken hellhole undeserving of his heroic sacrifice, a twilight years couple say good riddance to the modern world and move to an off-the-grid cabin in the Montana wilderness. All they want is to be left alone. Their private abode is situated in an idyllic meadow lost amongst an endless sea of pines. Abandoning a lifetime’s worth of possessions, the man and woman carry only essentials and cherished mementos—plus a 4-legged tail-wagging addition named Biscuit—to the rustic and serene locale.
Recuperating from the horrible IED blast that killed his partner and best friend, Biscuit bonds with his elderly hosts, but a maleficent cloaked entity from a far-off world lurks in the forested shadows targeting the cabin and its occupants for imminent destruction.
— The following story is dedicated to noble and heroic service dogs, past, present, and future.
Grieving their son’s tragic death while serving overseas in a godforsaken hellhole undeserving of his heroic sacrifice, a twilight years couple say good riddance to the modern world and move to an off-the-grid cabin in the Montana wilderness. All they want is to be left alone. Their private abode is situated in an idyllic meadow lost amongst an endless sea of pines. Abandoning a lifetime’s worth of possessions, the man and woman carry only essentials and cherished mementos—plus a 4-legged tail-wagging addition named Biscuit—to the rustic and serene locale.
Recuperating from the horrible IED blast that killed his partner and best friend, Biscuit bonds with his elderly hosts, but a maleficent cloaked entity from a far-off world lurks in the forested shadows targeting the cabin and its occupants for imminent destruction.
Predawn moonlight casts an ethereal bluish glow onto a log cabin retreat situated in an idyllic mountain glade. Isolated within a sea of pines in northwestern Montana, the simple structure’s dearth of modern amenities proved a small price to pay for what its twilight-years occupants desired most: peace and solitude. Aside from a menagerie of local forest dwellers venturing into the clearing on routine schedules, their only human neighbor is a cranky hermit in a vintage Airstream over ten miles down the meandering forest service road leading toward Libby, the nearest civilization. Once per month, the man and woman climb into their Jeep and check in on the odd fellow on their way into town for food, household essentials, ammunition, and lately, dog treats. Since the circuitous route expends an entire day, they maintain a running list to avoid leaving necessities, like toilet paper, on the grocer’s shelf. If something went awry at their cabin, such as a broken pipe, chipped tooth, or an alien home invasion for that matter, assistance was hours away, a trade-off they accepted. However, they do have a new mouth to feed, a vigilant protector named Biscuit.
Alien
A lone figure cloaked under a camouflaging alien fabric stalks up the boulder-lined path bisecting a grove of lodgepole pines from a graveled cul-de-sac just off the forest service road. Hunching behind a tangled stand of elderberries at the clearing’s edge, its black oval eyeballs narrow onto the wood-framed human obstruction marring the otherwise ideal landing zone. Rustling leaves and branches cause its evil focus to shift onto a wide-eyed buck leading a small herd of terrified deer. The threatening figure projects an unambiguous message at the simple-minded beasts: ‘Find another pasture.’
After surveilling the premises, determining the occupants were asleep, the being exits the dense woods’ cover and moves toward porch steps fronting the abode. The being’s tentative footfall on the first of five stairs produces an audible creak, forcing a hesitant pause. Cursing its impulsiveness, it glides onto the rickety porch and treads with caution across the floorboards in its large, muddy boots. A soft breeze breaks the stillness, swaying a pair of gnarled-wood rocking chairs and clanking wind chimes hanging from the eaves. The creature’s hair-trigger reaction has its weapon poised and ready from a seven-fingered grasp. Realizing the sounds posed no threat, a staccato laugh hisses from under the hood. Holstering the gun under its flowing cape, the alien produces a pill-shaped box and positions it next to the worn welcome mat at the weather-beaten front door. Toggling a switch on the device initiates a countdown clock pinging through a series of glyphs glowing bright green in the early morning darkness. Satisfied, the invader touches a long gray finger to the cabin’s red front door, focusing anesthetizing telepathy on the individuals inside. The advanced mind control ensures the humans remain in a deep slumber from which they will never awake.
The advance scout for an impending invasion force spent a month surveying the area and came to the cold-hearted conclusion that this remote clearing made for an optimal landing zone, with only the human-made obstruction blocking the way. Satisfied with the obliteration instrument’s placement, the being moves toward the stairs, eager to install a second device behind the cabin to ensure complete disintegration to a sub-atomic level. In its haste to complete the assignment, the gangly figure knocks its weapon loose from the holster with an inadvertent swipe of its massive hand. Frozen in place with its slit for a mouth widening into a weird grimace, it watches the gun bounce off the planks, producing a series of loud thuds. The clumsy accident elicits frustrated hisses while recovering the unstable sidearm, yet it concludes the doomed individuals inside could not hear its blunder. Undeterred, the extraterrestrial vaults off the porch and proceeds into the dark shadows around back to complete its cruel mission.
Biscuit
Behind the chipped and weathered red front door, the right half of the cabin’s cozy great room is dominated by comfortable brown leather recliners situated before a stone fireplace bookended with DIY shelving laden with well-read books, misshapen candles, and thriving house plants. Reading lamps and a coffee table laden with National Geographic magazines, coffee mugs, and a chewed tennis ball complete the living space. On the left half of the mountain retreat, a well-appointed kitchen forms a U-shape around a butcher block island below a pot rack hung from thick wood beams where birds take refuge during pop-up storms. An old fridge ticks and whirs feet from the front door jamb opposite a propane stove with a well-used copper tea kettle resting on its wrought-iron grates. A lifetime of ephemera lines the Formica countertop on both sides to a farmhouse sink backed by bay windows swinging open onto a gorgeous vista. Deer beg for carrots and apples at the window, like a Bambi-style drive-thru, before darting into the grassy meadow. An ornate formal dining table crowds the middle of the room, a holdover from the married couple’s complicated previous life. A short hallway lined with framed family photos hanging askew on thin wood paneling leads to a cramped full bath and a small study on the right, and a master bedroom on the left behind the six-piece cherry wood set.
In the wee small hours of the morning, well past midnight, but still hours from the break of dawn, the man and woman lay snug on their high four-poster bed in the tranquil space. The man snores like a runaway freight train while his wife curls sideways in a tangle of covers. Thanks to a prescribed regimen of sleeping pills, she dreams of her angel and bygone times that will never come again.
Meanwhile, at the foot of the bed, the couple’s new pet dog snuggles between their legs. Far removed from his service days sniffing out roadside bombs in dusty faraway places, he knows the man and woman love him as much as his old friend, Jake. However, in a coincidence defying his canine comprehension, their hallway is lined with his beloved handler’s pictures. Even without the daily visual reminders, Biscuit will never forget his former life spent side-by-side with his camouflaged brother from another mother. Though danger lurked behind doors and under rocks throughout his overseas tours, Biscuit never feared as long with Jake by his side.
After a horrific explosion marked the last time his dark-brown eyes locked onto his brother’s firm and compassionate commands, Biscuit’s life changed in an instant. His life turned upside down; everyone and everything morphed into frightening threats. Small noises sent him into a raw panic. Exacerbating his heartbreaking situation, Biscuit was all alone. After his painful recovery from a metal plate surgically implanted on his skull, Jake’s absence was almost too much for the medium-sized German Shepherd to bear. It took his two slumbering bedmates, appearing out of the blue with open arms, to turn the tide. Post a quick transition to these strange but friendly, treat-bearing folks, Biscuit’s life is happy and peaceful, albeit boring, amongst the pines. Days spent exploring the meadow and woods, he chases butterflies fluttering above the tall grasses in the crisp mountain air. Fully acclimated to the sights, smells, sounds, and creatures visiting the bright-green oasis in the dense forest, he wishes he could tell them about his old friend.
On this chilly night, his wet nose tucked between his legs, an older, wiser, and more contented Biscuit rests in light sleep, ignoring familiar sounds: clinking chimes, creaking chairs, rattling windowpanes, rustling branches, and hooting owls. Shifting against the man’s outstretched leg, Biscuit sighs in his sleep.
A resounding series of thuds from somewhere outside break the quietude, prompting Biscuit’s sculpted head to pop up at immediate attention. [end of sample]
With the sneak peek preamble still rattling in your frontal lobe, now is the perfect time to click on your e-reader link and download Dog vs. Alien to your Apple device, Amazon Kindle, or Kobo Clara. Want more short stories? Click here.
