Did Aliens Attack?

July 10th 2022, Noah:

The desert is harsh, peaceful, and beautiful. It is also the perfect place to harbor the remains of extraterrestrials that crashed on Earth in 1947. That fact is why Noah is taking advantage of his stay in Las Vegas to make this day trip to the Area 51 Alien Center and Cathouse.

Arriving at the Center, it turns out to be is just a gas station and gift shop with a diner in the back. Next to the diner is the Cathouse brothel. Feeling hunger pangs, Noah makes his way to the diner past t-shirts with sayings like “The Truth Is Out There” and “Mind if I Crash Here?” hanging on racks next to shelves of souvenir mugs. The diner is too plain to be near Area 51. Red vinyl chairs sit around faux-wood linoleum-topped tables on brown square-tiled floors that remind him of McDonald’s. There is a counter in the back with a TV hanging in the corner and a large bearded man in a trucker cap stationed behind it watching Fox News, which sends shivers up Noah’s spine. The man turns and notices him.

“Hi! Welcome in. Sit wherever you like.”

Being the only patron, he choses a table next to the window that overlooks the Cathouse. He notices his crooked glasses when he sees his reflection in the window. As he adjusts them, he sees that his bald head is a bit red. He definitely put on sunscreen this morning, a dire habit, but maybe he should have also worn a cap in the desert sun. “Too late now.” He thinks to himself, paranoid that he is inches closer to developing carcinoma.

“What can I get for you?” The man from behind the counter is now standing over Noah, tall and wide, with a scraggly ginger beard, and a trucker cap.. His skin is pink, like a permanent sunburn that has sunk a bit deeper into the epidermis.

Startled and intimidated by the large Fox News fan looming over him, Noah says, “Um… I need a few more minutes…”

“The menu is on the table here. Most folks just get the burger and fries.”

“Sounds good to me.” Noah realizes this giant’s disposition leans toward friendly but questions any connection being made between them.

Suddenly the television goes fuzzy and the lights flicker. The screen shows visual snowstorm static like an old tube TV with no reception. The sound is fast, sinister, and deep, with rhythmic beats.

“What the hell?!” the giant yells. He tries changing the channel, and nothing happens. Just the fuzz and the beat continue.

Suddenly the sky grows dark, and the wind picks up. Is this a freak storm? Noah wonders as the ruddy giant fixates on the TV.

The deep rhythm from the television has infected the ground like a wave pool, causing everything in the diner to bounce in time.

“Oh, shit, it’s happening.” The giant’s face is stricken with fear, causing Noah’s heart to race. His first thought is that he actually fears never seeing Ben again and now regrets not convincing him to come along.

The Glenn, the Giant:

Oh boy, looks like we have a big-city tourist coming in here just as Tucker was getting to his point.

Hmmm, this guy looks creative. Glenn thought from behind the counter.

“Hi! Welcome in. Sit wherever you like.” Glenn says.

I am really not in the mood. Damn, I wish this place was counter service. I could just sit here watching TV all day with little distraction. Maybe it should be the summer plan? I will talk to the boss. OK, where are the pen and pad? Fuck it, one bald Professor X-looking guy can’t want too much. He’ll probably just order a Diet Coke. I’ll let Tucker finish his point before getting over there. Okay, Democrats are communists; Russians are our saviors. Got it. He needs new material. Ugh, now to get that order.

Glenn lumbers over to the creative-looking man’s table, “What can I get for you?”

“Um … I need some more time …” the man says.

“Most folks just get the burger and fries.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Hmph, I judged him wrongly.

“What the hell?! What’s wrong with the TV?! I haven’t seen fuzz like that on a TV. And that SOUND,” Glenn yells, “SOUNDS LIKE SOME ELECTRO-PUNK CRAP. SHIT, CAN’T CHANGE THE CHANNEL. DAMN, WAS TUCKER OVER?”

After a second, he realizes it has gotten super dark in the diner, so he turns to look out the window. His heart speeds up.

“Oh shit, it’s happening.”

July 9th 2022 The Trip:

Why did I not ask for two beds when confirming the room? Will Noah get the wrong idea? He asked me about the beds; he asked me to make sure there are two beds

Ben and Noah had planned this trip a year back, but six months ago Noah got Ben a designer position with the firm he works for, and then two months ago there was restructuring so now Ben reports directly to Noah. He works for Noah and may be sleeping in the same bed as him in Vegas. They originally met online when Noah was looking for a rebound fling. It was a fun fling, but a friendship actually developed.

Ben has been reading into every little detail with every guy we're around. He fantasizes that everyone is in love with him. It is so annoying.

Noah is driving the car up the strip to the budget casino hotel, NIQL (pronounced nickel), where he's about to find one queen-sized bed in his room to share with his direct report.

"Hey Noah. Uh, I think the room has only one queen bed. Just checked the reservations."

"Huh, hold on? Didn't I ask you to check on that weeks ago? Hopefully, we can get a rollaway bed.”

Noah had that thought. Yeah, even after all this time, Ben is still into me and trying to get me into bed.

Ben could see that thought on Noah’s face and couldn't disagree more.

"I checked. They didn't follow up ... and I forgot to follow up again. We have been so busy. You know." They just finished a huge ad campaign that never stopped until it did.

"Yeah. Don’t you think it's weird? We have a co-worker joining us at the casino, and we talked about having drinks in the room before the Cirque du Soleil show. She can’t see our room. Or do we say that it is my room and you are next door?" Anxiety laces Noah’s voice.

"Noah, don't make a big deal out of it. We’ve slept in the same bed before. Melissa won't care. And if we get the roll-away, we'll look kosher.”

“Ben, I am your boss now. It is against company policy for us to be in this position. And for her to think that I am sleeping on, or that I am making you sleep on a rollaway bed, is embarrassing.”

"Pretty sure no one sees two guys as a threat. A funny thing about being guys. Those rules don't really apply.” Ben gently retorted, popping his beautiful, toothy grin, knowing how that usually makes Noah smile.

"We are just friends? You aren't trying to pull anything, are you?" Noah knows fully that these days Ben, a very handsome younger man, may no longer be in his league.

Ben is getting irritated with this path of the conversation. They are hitting two topics that are best avoided with Noah: how things may appear to others and intentions, romantic or otherwise. His vanity is trying. Noah is sweet and sincere, but achingly insecure.

“So, Noah. Are you going to Area 51 tomorrow without me?” Ben asks.

“That’s the plan. You said you weren’t interested.”

Ben pauses for a second, hoping to pull on some emotional strings. He wants Noah to want him. “Yeah, I wanted some pool time, and I am supposed to have a call for my grandparents’ wedding anniversary in the late afternoon. It actually works out better for me being in Vegas since they are in California. It would have been at 9pm in New York.”

“That’s sweet.” Noah’s lackluster response sounds cheeky. He’s trying not to fall into the I wish you could come trap. Ben has enough people pining for his attention, and Noah knows Ben is not the sci-fi nerd that he is. Even if he did tag along, Noah wouldn’t feel as comfortable indulging in the experience.

Back to the Diner:

“What’s happening?!” yells Noah over the deafening sound. Sand is slamming into the windows, blocking the view of the outside.

“They say they was gonna come back.”

“OK, dude, what in the hell are you talking about??” Noah sounds panicked.

“Extraterrestrials!” Glenn, the giant, exclaimed.

Noah quiets to process the insanity of that statement. Yet it is a rational enough explanation, considering how insane the situation is. Yellow sand is beating against the windows in time with the noise. The earth beneath his feet shifts in rhythm. He takes in the scene, trying to separate the beating noise from the beating of his heart. Listening closely, he realizes that the chaos is quickly getting louder.

Glenn has graduated to frantically poking at a smartphone. “Dude, no signal! We gotta go!”

“Go where?” Noah yells back.

“There’s a bomb shelter under the Cathouse!” The giant is barely audible over all the noise.

“Do you see the sand? We can’t see out there and it will rip the skin from our bones!” Noah responded.

“We can wear the plastic tablecloths for protection. Let’s hit the gift shop. They’ve got them glasses that wrap around.” Glenn has the solution for everything now, it seems.

Noah can hardly make out the giant’s words over the chaos, but he understands collecting the red checkered tablecloths from a few tables while following the giant into the eerily abandoned gift shop. The giant runs over to the counter and grabs two pairs of desert glasses. Mirrored lenses with leather protection flaps on each side and hooked arms. With no hesitation, Noah takes a pair and puts them on, struggling to get the rubber arms around his ears. He looks up to see the giant hilariously wrapped in tablecloths, held on with packing tape, and wearing the giant desert glasses.

“READY?” yells Glenn.

“NO! WHERE’S THE PACKING TAPE?!” The driving sound is like an amplified locomotive now. The giant runs over and starts taping tablecloths onto Noah.

“OK, REMEMBER THE CATHOUSE? GO OUT THE FRONT DOOR AND HOLD ON TO ME! IF YOU LOSE …” Now the sound is unbearable, with sirens now becoming audible. The windows and floors cracked. Noah’s knees feel wobbly from the trembling earth.

The giant leans in close to Noah’s ear, “WHEN WE GO OUT THE DOOR FOLLOW THE SIDE OF THE SHOP UNTIL WE HIT THE HOUSE. THEN WE WILL GO THROUGH THE FRONT OF THE HOUSE. ONCE INSIDE WE WILL GO ALL THEY WAY TO THE BACK TO THE KITCHEN. THE SHELTER IS UNDER THE KITCHEN FLOOR!”

“WHERE IS THE SHELTER?” yells Noah.

“UNDER THE KITCHEN FLOOR!” Glenn shouts, then takes Noah’s hand, spins around, and guides Noah’s fingers to his back belt loop. The gift shop windows crack and shatter. The ground feels like it will split open at any second. Glenn looks back at Noah as he throws open the door with a rush of sand, and they run into the storm.

This Fox News-watching giant just may be my savior. Noah thinks between moments of his bursting heartbeats, realizing that an alien invasion may not be the most surprising event of the day. Ben would have been of no help.

Bursting through the door, they rush into the brothel, securing the door behind them against the push of the sandstorm. No one in sight. The beating sound pounds through the parlor, shaking everything. Broken cocktail glasses and liquor bottles littered the ground. An earthquake would be gentler.

“This way.” Glenn pulls ahead with Noah’s fingers still hooked into his belt loop. “By the way, you can let go now.” Noah, slightly embarrassed, acquiesced.

“The shelter door is in the kitchen floor, in the back of the house.” Glenn navigates them through a mess of furniture in disarray and fallen home accessories in what registers to Noah’s eyes as red-walled rooms, but it is just too dark to make out the actual color. When Noah reaches a wall and holds out a hand to steady himself, he realizes that dark red velvet wallpaper covers the walls. Amongst the mess, he can faintly see the stuffed cats and feather cat toys, as though a colossal kitten indulged too heavily in catnip. The Cathouse Brothel truly lives up to its name.

Upon reaching the tiny kitchen, they discovered a rug pushed aside, exposing the shelter door. Glenn bangs on the door and yells. “ANYONE DOWN THERE?!”

Silence.

“Do you think they tried to make a run for it?” Noah asks.

“Someone moved the rug to get to the shelter. They’re in there and likely scared we are the aliens coming for them.” Glenn responds.

“Oh! That sucks.”

Just then, the pounding noise stopped abruptly. The kitchen lights come on, and bright light pours in from the cracked window.

“Is it over?” Noah cautiously inquires, worried his words might summon it again. His heart is still racing.

Glenn looks at him intensely. “I do not know.”

Where is Ben?

The room is clean and modern. Noah waits on a white faux-leather sofa facing the television. Not a single news report concerning the sky growing dark and the pounding noise. He’s scoured the internet only to find no reporting on the event. Were aliens responsible? Or perhaps the US military? Was it just a natural occurrence that had never occurred when he was around? Noah never saw a spacecraft. He took Glenn at his word. But was he right? Noah is struggling to comprehend what happened today and feels an intense desire to find Ben, who is nowhere to be found. Two hours have passed since Noah’s initial message, and it’s growing late. His phone vibrates.

Ben texted: Hey, I just got all of your messages. Are you ok?

Noah: Yes. But it was a scary day.

Ben: At Area 51?

Noah: Yeah. Are you coming back soon?

Ben: I am with Melissa having drinks at Badlands. It’s a blast. Come join?

Noah: I am in for the evening. I had a rough day.

Ben: Tell me what happened?

Noah: Did you see the sky get dark for 30min at lunchtime?

Ben: No. I was at the pool and it was fine all day. So was Melissa. Let me ask her.

Noah doesn’t respond fast enough to let Ben know he doesn’t need to ask Melissa.

Ben: She said no, that didn’t happen. We would have noticed.

Noah: I miss you.

Long pause…

Ben: Are you ok???

The end.