The Invitation

Macie Clark had fallen asleep at the kitchen table. When morning sunlight illumined the apartment, her head bobbed up suddenly and swayed. Her yellow hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her eyes bloodshot.

She had forgotten something. She gazed around the apartment for a clue as to what she had forgotten. Trash and unwashed dishes lay on the counter; the table she had slept on was cluttered with unopened mail; clothes, children's toys, and half-eaten snacks cluttered the sofa and the floor. Still, she knew she had overlooked something . . .

She pawed through the mail. Something, something . . . and she found it. She read the piece of notepaper again: "Meet me in the woods behind your apartment at 9:00 am. Don't bring anyone. I have what you need." She turned the paper over but there was nothing on it. It had been slipped under the door, unaddressed.

"What is that?"

Macie jumped, her eyes wide for the first time that morning. Her husband was standing in front of the table in a white shirt and boxer shorts, but his brown hair was combed. He was getting ready for work, but he took the time to snatch the note from her and read it. Macie trembled.

Donny Clark threw the note on the table, his green eyes glaring at her. Then he smacked her across the face, throwing her to the floor. She made no sound, and she heard his footsteps coming around the table.

"I need to go," she whimpered.

She cried out in pain when he grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. His face was inches from hers.

"You're the worst wife and the worst mother I have ever met with," he growled. "Drugs, huh? You're going to the woods behind the apartment to pick up some drugs? You were waiting for me to leave for work, and then you were gonna leave the kids in the apartment by themselves so you could shoot up." He shook her violently. "Is that it?"

"Baby, I need it, I haven't had any in days," she begged. "Let me go and I'll be back - "

He flung the front door open. "Get out. I'm not going to be here for you anymore. You were never here for me or the children. Get out."

"You can't raise the kids without me," she gasped. "They need me."

Donny wrenched the collar of her shirt and threw her into the hallway. "Stay away."

The door slammed. Macie stood up, staggering under the weight of her withdrawal.

She screamed at the door: "I don't need you! I'll tell the police that you beat me and they'll give me custody of the kids!"

The door did not open. She left the apartment building, almost falling down the stairs. She breathed deeply in the open air, and she crossed the grass over to the woods. She found a tree to sit under, and she promptly fell asleep.

She only woke up when she felt something touch her head. Looking up, she saw a handsome, white-skinned man smiling at her, his hand resting gently on her head. He was dressed in a blue sweater and black pants.

"You are Macie Clark?" he asked, and his voice was the kindest voice she had heard in a long time.

"Yes," she said, and she climbed to her feet.

Was his hair completely white? But his face was so young. Were his eyes bright red? But they were so kind. Perhaps she could not see colors correctly because of her withdrawal, though she had never heard of anyone suffering such a symptom. But he had what she wanted most, and she didn't want to scare him off with questions.

"Come with me," he said.

She followed him further into the forest. There was a narrow path that ran through it, and it led from Elderberry Street, where she lived - or used to live - to Elm Avenue. She wondered if he had his business on Elm, but then he struck away from the path, and she did the same.

"I have a place nearby," he called over his shoulder.

"That makes sense," she responded, glad that she would not be anywhere out in the open. She was not too sure her husband might not call the cops and tell him where she was getting drugs.

They arrived at a fenced-off area with a single hazard sign warning people away. Her companion, however, opened the gate, which was apparently unlocked. Beyond the fence was a large shack without a roof.

"This is nice and secluded," she observed approvingly.

"Exactly." He paused at the door of the shack. "Don't be alarmed but the inside of this place is a little different from its outside."

She shrugged. "I've been in worst places, believe me."

He smiled and nodded. "Come on in, then."

Macie stepped through the doorway, but after a couple of steps, she stopped, overawed. A teal metal ceiling curved above her head, and beneath her feet was a gray metal floor. Three large, comfortable armchairs lined the wall in front of her. To her left, the wall curved, and within that curve was a metal desk with two chairs; to her right were random pieces of equipment that she had never seen before. She was so distracted that she didn't hear a metal door sliding shut behind her.

"How do you like it?" asked her companion.

"It's amazing," she said. "This is where you make the drugs?"

"It is. By the way, my name is Hysik, and this is my friend, Verin," continued her companion, gesturing at the man standing beside him.

Although his friend was short and round, he had the same white hair and red eyes.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "You make the drugs?"

Verin smiled. "I certainly do."

"Have a seat," said Hysik, waving a hand at one of the armchairs.

She sat down. "This is one of the best chairs I've ever sat in," she exclaimed. "I could stay here forever."

"Excellent. Now, we have the product ready, and one of our services is that we administer the first dose so it is the correct dose."

"Uh . . ." She twisted her fingers nervously. "I don't have money on me right now - "

"Don't worry about that now." Verin now held a syringe in his hand. "Put your arms on the arms of the chair and relax."

She obeyed him, but she did not see the slits in the arms of the chair. The syringe came close, and though she had been a drug addict for years, she had not always gotten used to needles. He leaned in to her right arm, which twitched, and that's when she noticed that slim bands of metal had slid out of the slits and clamped her wrists to the chair.

"Hey," she cried, squirming. "Hey, get these things off of me."

"Please stop moving, or I won't be able to give you the drug," said Verin soothingly.

She tried to lean back, which the metal bands prevented her from doing. "No," she whispered, crying, as the syringe came closer.

"You may as well know," said Hysik calmly, "that we are not from Earth but another planet. We're aliens, and yes, as Earth lore has suggested, we study human anatomy. In order to do so effectively, we must kill humans, but we do not randomly select people for that purpose. We use our technology to observe humans closely, and we choose to experiment on humans who do the most harm to others. For example, we have observed you throwing objects at your husband and children, and you do not even feed your children before your feed yourself. Sometimes, you eat all the food by yourself so no one else has anything to eat."

Macie wept, but not out of remorse. She didn't care that she had done everything that Hysik had accused her of - she only cared that she was dying.

"I promise not to hurt anyone," she sniffed, even as the needle entered her arm. "Please, I won't do drugs anymore, and I'll feed my children . . ."

Her empty promises drifted as her voice drifted.

"Let's cut her up," said Hysik, when they had verified she was dead. "Once we're done, we can leave her body on the forest path, and her autopsy will confirm that she died from overdose."