Gray

In the tiny cusp between dawn and daylight, between the horizon and atmosphere, and somewhere between conceivable and inconceivable notions lies the gray zone. The zone isn’t the color of clouds or dark skies; it is given this name because the Grays live there. Of this idea we have no proof, but some claim to have seen the craft emerge from this very spot.

They came quickly. Within seconds, our childish frolicking through six-foot-tall corn became a frenzied race against the unknown. The sounds of hands grazing against tall foliage became deadly noises, the loudness second to the heartbeat pounding in our ears.

Those who claim to know the resting place of the Grays must be liars. They are too fast and quiet to detect before they’re above your head.

“I’ve seen them zap someone up before,” Sean whispers between cornstalks. The lights from above highlight the highest fibers of his curly black hair.

He has never told me this before, so I don’t know why he says it now. He has always assured me the Grays weren’t a true threat. But now his words make my heart beat faster than I thought possible. I duck even lower before ensuring the kids are doing the same.

“Stay down,” I whisper. “We need to get to the barn.”

I grab the hands of Sydney and Drake, but Drake snatches his hand away and jolts to Sean’s side. He is just like his brother, feigning bravery even when he’s scared out of his mind.

Sydney melts into my side as we creep toward the barn that seems a mile away. Her constant desire to outperform her brothers have all but dissipated. She is shaking, maybe crying. It is too dark to tell unless I waste the precious seconds necessary to study her face.

We reach the end of the stalks, but we cannot move any further. The side of the barn is glowing. It is highlighted by the beam emanating from a dark, rounded shadow. The beam flows through the tiny holes and cracks of weathered, gray wood panels.

Small particles—hay, dirt, and grass, it seems—float around the barn as the light hovers. I fear we will have to form a new plan when a sharp hiss from Sean lifts my heart into my throat.

“Drake!”

I look to my left. Drake is running to the barn, and Sean is chasing after him. I clutch harder onto Sydney’s arm although I know she’d never leave my side.

For a split second, I try to imagine my life without Sean. I can’t. Not even when the unimaginable happens.

The roof of the barn begins to unpack itself, lifting up layer by layer. I don’t think. I only tell Sydney to stay in the corn before I rip her from my side and run to snatch Sean and Drake from the barn. I think I pushed her to the ground, and I’m sorry.

I race into the barn, and the blood drains out of my throbbing fingertips when I see them.

They are frozen. Their heads are aimed at the sky, eyes staring into the white beam. The dilapidated wood of the roofless barn crumbles so easily around their still bodies. I fear they will be crushed if the beam ever leaves.

“Sean!”

I don’t think he hears me. Stacks of hay and piles of dirt rise and swirl until it is hard to see him.

I grab at him, but a gust of wind blows me backward. I cover my head as my back hits unstable wood. I am sure there are splinters in my back.

I think of shadows and bright lights as my vision goes black. What does this mean? I don’t know, but my head feels heavy, so I press it to the itchy hay beneath my body. I stay here until I feel strong enough to lift myself up.

My head spins as I rise slowly. I can’t remember what is happening or where I am. It is daylight, but the sun hasn’t fully risen. A small body is squirming at my side—a little girl.

My hair blows in the wind as I sit erect against neatly stacked piles of gray wood. Someone will build a barn here, I think. But why am I here? And who is the girl?

I should get her to her family. I wake her, but she immediately panics. She has had a bad dream. I tell her to tell me all about it as we try to find her family. She refuses to walk through the corn, so we take the narrow, dirt road beside it.

In the distance, a strange light twinkles on the horizon.