“Huh. It was dead.”
“Told you. What do we do with it now?”
“Bring it to a scientist? That’s what you’re supposed to do with aliens, right?”
“Do you know any scientists? Any that survived, I mean.”
“Good point. Let’s just burn it, I guess.”
The invaders saw the smoke.
It was the dead of night. Silence reigned over the misty hills. A cricket chirped, then fell still as a malicious whisper overtook him. The moon highlighted the twisting shadows of the fog, as gradually the shadows took form. Ethereal shapes churned into being.
They were the dead of night.