Control Station 17
The quiet whine of the small aerial drone buzzed off into the sky taking in the sight of the range filled with large, white satellite dishes, old radio telescopes that had been retrofitted into broadcasting towers, sending signals out into the world. The drone flew by and in between them, scoping out what could be seen, which was not very much at all. Nothing but empty dirt roads and old shipping containers filled the area.
“What a waste of time…” Diesel muttered to herself while she watched the footage from inside of the truck. Even though her long, brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, sweat poured from everywhere and soaked her shirt and pants, and the filth from not having had a shower in a couple days made her skin stick to everything she leaned against. She even grimaced at the smell emanating from her body, a smell that can only be made by dead skin cells, sweat, and car grease on a hot summer’s day.
Beads of sweat ran down her long bangs and dripped onto the screen of the drone footage where a red square appeared as it tracked a thick cloud of dust traveling along the outskirts of the range, Diesel thought it to be just a strong gust of wind but, when the cloud made a ninety-degree turn down one of the dirt roads, she had second thoughts, and she sat up to pay attention. She brought the drone in for a closer look and, just as quickly, there was a flash of electricity as the screen scrambled and went blank. Something had short it out. Diesel dropped the handheld controller and scrambled to get from the back of the truck and into the driver seat. She cranked the keys over and gave the pedal a press to give the engine some gas but nothing happened, the truck did not start up. She tried again and again but all she heard was the sound of the engine whirring down like the battery was dying. She barely had enough time to look out her window to see the blur of distorted air, and a set of tire tracks being pressed into the dirt. It was coming right at her.
“Aw crap!” she yelled and, then, it hit her.
A large harpoon sank its way into one of the quarter-panels and, because the harpoon was tethered, it yanked her truck violently to the side. Metal crumpled and shrieked as the truck started to tumble and, then, for Diesel everything went black. For just an instant, she felt like she was waking up somewhere else, a place where the air was cool, but it was a fleeting moment. The next thing she knew she was laying on the ground with dust floating all around, and a car covered in thick black tar sat in front of her.
Staring her in the face was a set of red glowing and mechanical eyes that sat fixed to the driver-side door, and they shifted around as they looked her over. It spoke to her, the machine of eyes, its voice sounded like two voices at one time, a human but, also, a demonic whisper type of quality behind it. It spoke only two words, “Stay…out…” That’s all it said before revving its powerful engine, slowly backing up and turning around to vanish into thin air, leaving only a cloud of dusty tire tracks in its place.
She woke up to the sounds of early birds, crows cawing and croaking as they skipped along the sheet-metal roofing, their talons clicking along as they went. The cold morning air nipped at her toes as they peeked out from under the covers, and she curled up to bring them back under the warmth of the blanket. This was the third time this week that she had dreamed the same dream, vivid and full of life almost like it was a memory but, as far as she knew, she had never been in such a position. With a deep breath and an equally deep stretch she pulled the blanket off most of her body, and she shook the last remnants of the dream away while she rolled out of the couch that she called her bed.
