Perception - Softcover

Alaric Albertsson

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1782792619 ISBN 13: 9781782792611

Publisher: Cosmic Egg Books, 2013

Synopsis

For years Dena Anderson had all but ignored her twin brother Dalton, but that was before the aliens arrived. The extra-terrestrial spacecraft neutralized satellite communications, power plants and even the military throughout the United States within hours, leaving Dena and the other residents of Hugo Drive helpless. Now, with her husband at her side, Dena Anderson must struggle to exist in a world without order while contending with local racism, hostile survivalists and the prejudice that has estranged her from her twin. Surrounded by danger, what Dena fears most is her next-door neighbor, a mysterious, surly man known only as Beaker.

About this title

About the Author

Alaric Albertsson lives in western Pennsylvania where he writes speculative fiction as well as non-fiction books on Paganism and magic.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Perception

By Alaric Albertsson

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2013 Alaric Albertsson
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78279-261-1

CHAPTER 1

It was an afternoon like any other on Hugo Drive, and that wasas it should be. After all, nobody was expecting humankind totopple from the apex of creation later that evening.

Dena Anderson set out two plates and two sets of silverwareon the dining room table. She knew Michael would want to eat inthe family room where he could watch television, but that wasnot going to happen. It had been a point of contention throughouttheir six years of marriage, leading to nightly arguments that hadbecome an almost comfortable ritual. Dena would usually get herway, Michael would pout and all would be forgiven by the timethey finished their salads. On rare occasions, when Dena wasfeeling magnanimous, she would let Michael win the argumentand they would have their dinner on folding trays in front of theirlarge, flat screen television. However, this evening was not goingto be one of those occasions.

As she arranged Michael's silverware, Dena could hear himturn the television on – it sounded like a newscast. Michael likedto catch the news when he first came home from work.

The newscast was drowned out for a moment by the soundsof aircraft overhead. Dena glanced out the dining room window,but did not see any planes on that side of the house. Hugo Driveended in a cul de sac and connected at the opposite end to anundeveloped stretch of Route 228 that ran east of Caldonia,Pennsylvania. Twenty years earlier a contractor by the name ofBenjamin Hugo had built thirteen homes on a tract of land thathe hoped would grow more valuable as Caldonia expandedeastward. But the town had not expanded eastward; all of itssubsequent growth had been to the north and west. Other thanthe commuters on Route 228, there was very little traffic nearHugo Drive. The neighborhood was a combination of suburbanambience and rural quietude. Dena and Michael had moved intotheir home three years earlier, and Dena was sure she had neverheard any planes or jets in all that time.

She went to the kitchen and took a head of lettuce from therefrigerator. Then Michael called out from the family room,"Have you seen this?"

"Seen what?"

"Come in here, Dena."

The ivory landline phone on the kitchen wall began to ring. Ithad to be either Dena's mother or Izzy Franklin from across thestreet. Dena started to reach for the receiver, but thought better ofit. If Izzy was calling, it was undoubtedly about the new familythat had just moved into the house between the Bouchards andthe Inghams. Izzy Franklin was the president of the Hugo DriveNeighborhood Association. She was devoted to preserving theirsmall enclave's heritage, which, to Izzy, meant keeping the neighborhoodwhite and Protestant. When the Lewinbergs moved intoNumber Two Hugo Drive, not long after Dena and Michael hadbought their own house on the cul de sac, Izzy Franklin hadwanted to start a petition and was genuinely surprised to learnthat the Hugo Drive Neighborhood Association had no authorityto expel a Jewish family, no matter how many signatures shecould muster.

The newest family on Hugo Drive was Indian. The movingvan arrived yesterday, so Dena knew the Naras were still livingout of boxes. She had met the husband, Rajinder Nara, earlierthat day and he seemed very nice; but he was also very dark. Heand his wife had a little boy. Other than that, she did not knowmuch about them.

Dena decided that she did not want to risk the chance of beingsubjected to one of Izzy's racist rants. She really did not like IzzyFranklin very much, although Izzy's husband Jerry was all right.Ignoring the phone, Dena put the head of lettuce down on thegranite kitchen counter and went to the family room.

She immediately took in the image on the television, but whatshe did not understand was why Michael was watching sciencefiction. Michael Anderson had very little imagination, and speculativefiction usually was not his cup of tea.

Dena asked, "What are you watching?" Whatever the plot, thesetting was supposed to be St. Louis, Missouri. The widetelevision screen displayed the St. Louis Arch with an expanse ofthe Mississippi River behind it.

"It's a live broadcast, Dena."

She looked to her husband to see if he was joking, but fromthe expression on his face it was clear that he was not. "This hasto be a hoax," she said.

Michael shook his head. "I don't think so."

Just behind the Arch and above the river was an enormoustear-shaped object. The tapered end pointed towards the Arch.Dena could not tell how large it was, but she thought it must belonger than a football field. The thing hung motionless in the air,or at least that is how it looked on the television screen.

Dena asked, "That's a UFO?"

"They don't know," said Michael. He ran his fingers throughhis thinning, blond hair. "I mean, of course it's unidentified, andit's obviously a flying object of some kind, but they don't seem toknow what it is."

The phone in the kitchen stopped ringing. For a momentDena wondered with a touch of guilt if the caller had been hermother. Or maybe her brother Dalton, although she had nottalked to him in months. No, Dalton would have called her cellphone.

An announcer's voice came on, but there was no real informationin his patter. The White House had not yet responded topress inquiries. The announcer speculated that the vessel – for itwas surely a vessel of some kind – might belong to the military.Most of the announcer's talk was nothing more than an ongoingdescription of what Dena and Michael could see on their screen:the hovering UFO, the Arch, the river and an ever-growingcrowd of onlookers. If the vessel belonged to the military, theyobviously did not want anybody near the thing. A long line ofsoldiers in camouflage fatigues kept the crowd back from theArch and its underground visitors' center. In addition to this, aunit of the Coast Guard was turning back all of the people whotried to approach the UFO by boat. Most of these were sightseerscoming upriver in private speedboats and pontoons; from whatDena could see, none put up any argument or resistance.

Dena sat next to Michael on the striped loveseat. She saw howhis hair was disappearing at the crown of his head, and thoughtto herself how odd it was to notice something like that just then.Michael had very light hair, with the reddish tinge that peopleoften described as strawberry blond. His eyes did not leave thetelevision screen as Dena sat down, but he reached out and tookher hand in his.

Dena said, "It can't be anything really dangerous or thosesoldiers would have more than rifles, don't you think?" WhenMichael glanced at her, she added, "You know, like tanks orbazookas."

As if in response to her question, the announcer took a breakfrom describing the riverside crowd to say that the Pentagon hadissued a brief announcement. The Army and Air Force were bothmobilized and standing ready, but keeping a distance to avoidcreating a hostile situation. Dena thought this new developmenteffectively obliterated the theory that the hovering vesselbelonged to any branch of the United States military. The ideathat a foreign power could penetrate the heartland of the nationwas unsettling.

The announcer resumed giving another verbal sketch of thevessel and the crowd staring at it. Other than the vessel itself, themost amazing thing was the casual atmosphere that had comeover the people gathered near the Arch. The initial surprise hadworn off, and a festive ambience had settled through the crowd.Parents held their children on their shoulders to give them a viewof the 'spaceship'. Some people had their dogs with them. A fewplacards had been hastily drawn up by people welcoming the'aliens', if the vessel was indeed piloted by aliens, which Denathought unlikely but not beyond the realm of possibility.

There was an insistent knocking at the front door. Denalooked to Michael, but his attention was glued to the televisionscreen. With a sigh, Dena went to the living room to see who wasknocking. She glanced back several times behind her at thescreen as she walked, nearly tripping over the smallChippendale table next to the entrance of the family room.

She was not surprised to see Izzy and Jerry Franklin. Izzy wasblond, but there was nothing natural about her hair color. Shehad an angular body with a thin, bony appearance thatsuggested borderline anorexia. Jerry Franklin, on the other hand,obviously had no difficulty eating. Dena thought he wasprobably medically obese. She sometimes wished that Jerrywould stand up to his wife more often. The Franklins werenearly ten years older than Dena and Michael, and had twochildren who were both away in college. They often braggedabout their son, J.J., but rarely spoke of their daughter.

It was Izzy who asked, "Have you seen the spaceship?"

Dena nodded. "Michael and I are watching it on televisionright now." The Franklins were looking at her expectantly, so sheadded, "Would you like to come in?"

Izzy Franklin pushed past Dena, with Jerry following along inher wake. Dena went with them into the family room, whereMichael barely glanced up to say, "Hey Jerry ... Izzy."

Jerry immediately sat down next to Michael, leaving Dena nochoice but to share the adjacent couch with Izzy. Nothing hadchanged during Dena's brief absence. The tear-shaped vessel stillhovered over the Mississippi River, and soldiers continued tohold the crowd back. The announcer's voice continued to droneon without telling them anything new.

Dena asked, "Do either of you know anyone in St. Louis?"

The Franklins both shook their heads. Jerry said, "I've met afew people from there, but I don't know anyone well enough tocall."

Michael said, "I'm sure it's extraterrestrial. I didn't think so atfirst, but there's no other explanation."

"Why do you say that?" asked Jerry. "Just because they don'tknow where it came from doesn't mean there are Martians insidethat thing."

"Not Martians, no," said Michael. "But they said the militaryis keeping its distance, except for the soldiers keeping that crowdunder control."

Izzy said, "That's so the Army won't provoke a hostilesituation."

Michael stared at her as if she had sprouted alien antennaeherself. "When has our military ever worried about provoking ahostile situation? There should be tanks all around that thing,and somebody with a bullhorn ordering the ship to surrender."He let his attention return to the television. "Our government isafraid of these guys, wherever they're from."

They all watched the motionless vessel on the television,listening as the announcer gave the current temperature andhumidity in downtown St. Louis. As if anyone cared.

Then the picture changed and they were looking at anastronomer, a Dr. Stephen Walsh, who admitted what everybodyalready knew on some level; the tear-shaped vessel was verylikely from another planet. Dena listened attentively for a fewminutes, but it soon became obvious that Dr. Walsh knew nomore than anyone else. He was being interviewed by somebodyoffstage, reciting theoretical statistics concerning the likelihoodof contact with intelligent extraterrestrial races.

Considering the fact that they were staring at the image of aUFO hovering next to the St. Louis Arch, Dena thought thechance of extraterrestrial contact was probably somewherearound one hundred percent.

Izzy Franklin said, "This is so exciting. Jerry and I were justgetting ready to go out to eat when the newscast came on."

Michael glanced at her and Jerry. "Why don't you guys join usfor dinner? Dena doesn't mind, do you, honey?"

Dena kept what she hoped was a smile on her face. There wasno gracious way to say, yes, she really did mind. Instead she dida quick mental inventory of what she had in the kitchen thatcould possibly be stretched into dinner for four. It was Dena'shabit to get all of her weekly grocery shopping done in one tripevery Wednesday morning, and this was Tuesday. Her optionswere limited.

Izzy stood, saying, "Let me help you. It's the least I can do."

"Yes," said Dena. It really is the least you can do. She pushed herirritation with Izzy aside and followed her into the kitchen. Itwas Michael with whom she was really angry. Dena hated whenhe phrased something in such a way that she could not disagreewithout appearing mean or unreasonable.

In the kitchen Izzy looked around and asked, "What do youwant me to do?" She spied the head of lettuce. "Can I make thesalad?"

"Sure," said Dena. She opened a cabinet and surveyed hersparse collection of canned goods.

Izzy took a knife out of one of the kitchen drawers and foundthe cutting board that Dena kept in the cabinet under the sink."This whole spaceship thing was beginning to bore me anyway,"she said. "I wish the aliens would do something interesting."

Dena nodded absently as she chose a can of green beans, andanother of new potatoes. She would mix them together, shethought, and add a little salt and tarragon. But she still needed tothink of something for the main dish. The two chicken thighs shehad planned to broil for Michael and herself would not stretchfor four people.

Cutting up the head of lettuce, Izzy said, "I suppose you'veheard we've had our own alien invasion here on Hugo Drive."

"What do you mean?" asked Dena. She knew exactly whatIzzy meant, but she was not going to play along.

"I mean the new family that moved into Number Fifteen.Have you met them?"

"I've met him, Rajinder. I haven't met his wife yet."

Izzy's eyebrows, much darker than her platinum hair, liftedever so slightly. "And that doesn't bother you?"

"What? That I haven't met his wife?"

"They're black."

Dena opened the can of corn. "They're Indian." Like it madeany difference.

Izzy put the chopped lettuce into a large wooden bowl. "I toldeveryone this was going to happen back when the Lewinbergsmoved in. It's happening all over the country. First the Jews come,and then you get your colored. You mark my words, the nextthing we'll see are the gays trying to buy a house here."

Feeling the flare of anger ignite in her stomach, Dena droppedthe can opener on the counter and hurried from the kitchen. Shepassed the doorway to the family room, went quickly through theliving room and stepped out through the front door. Onceoutside, after closing the door quietly behind her, she felt hottears pooling in the corners of her eyes. At times like this shehated Izzy Franklin. Even worse, she hated herself.

The neighborhood was curiously quiet. Dena's home was oneof five houses encircling the cul de sac. Evening shadows werebeginning to reach across the lawns and gardens as nightapproached. Each of the five homes had a front lawn that taperedslightly as it came up to the pavement, and each had a mailboxstanding at the end of its driveway. She saw that the door to themailbox at Number Twenty Seven was hanging open. Either themail carrier was getting sloppy, or Beaker was. Probably thelatter, she thought. The side of the box was painted with thehouse number and the name R. K. Beaker in white, stenciledletters. Dena still did not know what the R. K. stood for. She andMichael had introduced themselves to the large, unkempt manwhen he moved in the year before, but all he gave them was hissurname. They rarely saw Beaker. His large pickup truck wassitting out in his driveway as usual, so she knew he was home.Izzy had told Dena that the man was widowed.

Directly across the street was the Grahams' home. Like theFranklins, Dave and Lisa Graham were about ten years olderthan Dena and had grown children. Lisa had hinted to Denamore than once that she should think about a child of her own,tossing in the cliché about biological clocks, as if everyone'slifelong dream was to bear progeny. It was true that Dena hadnever tried to prevent a pregnancy after marrying Michael – shedid not even use birth control – but it had never happened, anddeep down in her heart Dena did not think she was missing outon very much. She did not mind other people's children, but shecould not imagine taking on that much responsibility around theclock. On the other hand, she had always known that Michaeldreamed of someday becoming a father, so she had left thematter up to God. At the age of thirty-two and still childless,Dena had come to the conclusion that God did not think sheshould be burdened with the responsibility of parenthood either.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Perception by Alaric Albertsson. Copyright © 2013 Alaric Albertsson. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
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Edition details

• Publisher: Cosmic Egg Books
• Publication date: 2013
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1782792619
• ISBN 13: 9781782792611
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 232