He wasn’t wrong. The LARPer had a spaceship. Calmly, I gave the order to run.
We sprinted back toward the road, crashing out from the crop line screaming to the people emerging from their homes. Patton stopped like he’d hit an invisible wall and slammed hard to the gravel. I got a little further, then came down right after him, my wind knocked out.
Patton rolled back and forth, mumbling about broken ribs while I wheezed. We were then pulled back across the lot like roped calves, dragged by the thinnest of lashes around our ankles. I flailed about, struggling to free myself. Patton, meanwhile, pulled out the baggie of mushrooms and stuffed them all into his mouth, then played dead.
I wrenched forward, digging my fingers under the wire or cable that was cinched tight around my legs. My lone ab quickly gave out and I flopped backward just as I slid past the pickles. I shot my arms out like a giant squid32 and snatched them up as we disappeared beyond the crop line.
We came to a stop at the feet of the figure. He looked down at us, then nudged Patton with a foot. “I can fish too, Flyguys. Do you wish to walk under your own power or be dragged the rest of the way? It doesn’t matter to me.”
I pushed up, yanking a few crusty corn leaves from my pants. “We’ll walk.”
The figure released our bindings with a gesture, then turned away with a flourish. “Brilliant.”
We returned to the spot that we’d come to before: a flattened crop circle with a spaceship in the center of it. “Earthrbro,” I grumbled, shaking my head, and feeling like a goddamned idiot. Common sense, my reptile mind, and even Patton, had all said it would be kidnapping or murder, maybe both. A doleful chuckle escaped my lips. One down.
The ship was easily a hundred yards across. Thick in the middle and thinner out at the edges, or wings, or whatever they were; sleek and just low enough to be entirely missed from the road at night. It looked like a fat stealth bomber, crimped upward in the middle so it sat above the corn tassels. “Who are you?” I called. “And what is the Chime?” No answer. “Hey!”
A ramp lowered from the belly of the ship. Earthrbro stopped, and I briefly marveled at his intricate, almost biological armor, reminiscent of a jewel beetle.33 I tried again: “You said you know what the Chime is,” I said. “Tell me.”
“Yes, I’d like to know as well,” insisted Patton, still playing the part, even as he surely began to hallucinate.
The figure shifted his weight from one hip to the other, then shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“What?” I said, thinking I’d misheard. Then, realizing I hadn’t, “Wait – What! Motherfucker!” I yelled, jumping up and down and stomping the corn.
Voices drifted over from the gravel lot. Flashlight beams swept through the dark.
“Better come with,” said Earthrbro. “The townsfolk will be here soon. In my experience, this doesn’t end well for them if they get close.” He turned back and headed up the ramp, saying, “I only know that the Scythin want the one who knows about the Chime. That’s Flyguy – whichever one of you that is.” The articulated arm gestured to each of us accusingly, as expressive as a hand on a wrist.