Pieces of Hate Read Free

stared in awe at the object, a round section in the bottom half opened smoothly like a camera lens. She sucked in a sharp breath as she watched it, seeing nothing but blackness beyond the opening. Until she saw movement . . . the slight movement of shadowy figures in that blackness.
    This time, she held her breath, unable to inhale or exhale as movement continued in that dark circle.
    Then those shadowy figures came out of the black hole. Three of them. They floated gracefully down, feet first, as if they were being lowered on cables . . . but they weren’t.
    Their bodies were incredibly slender and very pale. Their heads were large and their eyes were even darker than the hole from which they had emerged. They had no noses and no mouths that she could see. Their stick-like arms seemed far too long for their bodies, and their large hands had long, bony fingers that moved restlessly at their sides as they approached her car.
    Suddenly, all feeling and movement came back to Margaret as she watched them float down toward the pavement of Interstate 10 and she felt a bit panicky.
    Their large, almond-shaped eyes remained black, but glistened with moisture as they looked directly into Margaret’s eyes through the windshield, coming closer, in no hurry but moving with purpose, with determination.
    “Shit!” she cried, throwing the car into reverse. “Oh God please help me, my God, please God!”
    She tried to get the car out of the ditch, but she found it hard to take her eyes off the creatures approaching her. They were three or four feet from the car when her door snapped open by itself. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator . . .
    . . . but the engine died.
    Margaret felt sick with fear, so sick that she was unable to scream as they got closer and began to reach out their long, skinny arms.
    When the first one wrapped his long fingers around her left arm, she let out a loud, high scream that echoed through the empty night, but it did no good.
    The creature pulled her out of the car with surprising strength, then placed his other hand atop her head.
    In seconds, the desert disappeared and her mind was filled with the utter blackness of the sky above it . . .
     
    2
     
    Thump — thump — thump . . . thump — thump — thump . . .
    The sound came again and again, reaching her slowly through the deep, muddy waters of sleep. It seemed so muffled that, as she began to wake, Margaret was certain it was coming from some distance.
    Before she even opened her eyes, she began to feel the stiffness in her body — in her back and shoulders and neck — and she realized she was sitting up, not lying in bed where she knew she should be if she were waking up. She winced as she leaned forward rigidly and opened her eyes.
    “Ma’am?”
    The voice made her jump and she jerked her head to the left, her eyes widening at the sight of a highway patrolman leaning down to peer at her through the window. He had hair the color of beach sand and skin darkened by the sun, in his late twenties, maybe early thirties.
    She stared at him, shocked and mute.
    “Would you mind rolling down the window, ma’ am?” he asked, voice raised to be heard through the glass.
    She stammered as she hit the button a couple times, then realized the ignition had to be on. She turned the key, pressed the button, and the window hummed down.
    “H-have I d-done something wrong. Off-Officer?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
    “I don’t really know, ma’am. I saw you on the shoulder here, your car in the ditch, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?”
    “Well, yes, I was . . . I-I was just sleeping.” It wasn’t until that moment that she realized it was just past dawn. “I was driving all night, see, and I . . .” She turned to look ahead on the interstate before continuing, suddenly feeling herself being clutched in the cold, razor-like talon of panic. It was gone. That colossal thing that had landed there in the dark of night was gone