Swarm

The sound of hundreds of footsteps falling on dry dirt echoed across the field, as the door of a weathered barn slammed shut. The long piece of wood slid into the locking slots of the barn door with a “thunk”. The inside of the barn seemed to groan with exhaustion at the arrival of the three galactic refugees.

Outside, the mob ascended the sloping fields towards the rickety bar; some wielding torches, some weapons of different levels of lethality, and varying stages of deterioration. The stars above burned brightly, beckoning to the freedom of endless nothingness. The vastness of space was contrasted greatly inside the musty confines of the aged barn.

“Why are they angry?” The youngling’s voice was tremulous.

“They want us to leave. We don’t belong here.”

“We take up too much space? Sam doesn’t mind us being here. How come they do?”

“Mr. Mason is different.”

“He doesn’t look different. He looks just like them.”

“He’s different inside.”

The three humanoids moved to the back of the barn and huddled together, interlocking the four fingers on each hand and forming a small circle with their elongated arms.

--

Sam Mason approached the mob waving his hands in the air.

“Stop! They’re harmless. They just want to fix their ship and go home.” Sam rested his hands at his side as the mob approached.

“Die, traitor!” Someone deep in the mob hollered.

A pitchfork jutted out from the crowd and two of the tines pierced the neck of the farmer, spraying blood onto the soil beneath his feet. The farmer fell to his feet clutching at his neck as blood poured through his fingers. His shocked face slackened as he collapsed to the ground, spraying dust into the air. Sam’s eyes closed as the mob continuing surging forward, stepping over his body and the pool of blood growing beneath his neck. The mob approached the barn door and stopped.

There was only the sound of the crackling torches now.

“Please, we mean you no harm!” One of the humanoids pleaded through the barn door.

The torches continued to hiss into the stillness of the night air.

The pleading humanoid adjusted a small round device on its neck.

“I think my translator is faulty.”

“I believe they just do not wish to hear anything we have to say.”

A few people from the mob stepped forward and shoved some hay into the small crevice beneath the barn door. A few more members of the mob stepped forward with their torches and set the hay ablaze. The flames grew rapidly and started climbing up the barn door, making their way to the roof. In no time, the barn was engulfed in flames. The flames burned bright casting a reflection upon the sea of vacant eyes as the mob chanted: “Burn! Burn!”

Smoke poured into the barn.

The humanoids huddled closer together hugging one another. The temperature was rising rapidly inside, as the flames danced about the outside of the barn.

“I want to go home.” The youngling whimpered softly.

One of the humanoids noticed a loose board at the back of the barn and approached it. With a few kicks the board crashed to the ground. The humanoid continued to kick. Two more boards came loose, leaving enough room for an egress. The flames were creeping their way down the back of the barn. The flames were still several feet from reaching the hole, leaving plenty of room to escape.

“Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn!” The mob intoned.

Would the stars cry if they weren’t just long extinguished balls of gas?

“Burn! Burn!”

The humanoids ran as fast as they could.

“Burn! Burn!”

As flames consumed the barn, the Earth continued on an apathetic orbit of a dying star.