Prey

In the dead of night, a toy was floating down, a parachute action figure. Towards the open fields and farms that stretched for miles all around. In the dead of night, it was silent, blades of grass swaying in the wind, parachute softly floating down, paper falling towards earth. The dogs started to bark, they smelt intruder. The action figure became alert, its hands moving quickly efficiently. As it landed, the dogs were pouncing to meet it, and before it had alighted, gracefully like a ballerina, it had already thrown the first of the steaks. Still barking, still suspicious of the intruder, they expected the peace offering, then another one was thrown, and then a third, and then a fourth. They were sniffing the steaks, smelled so good. And fresh. They were well fed, but it was the wee hours of the morning, and they were hungry. They tore into the flesh. The intruder walked past them, they paid him no heed, friendship dues being accepted. He did not mind the mission, he had wanted to go. Been eager for his first hunt. It had not been for him to decide. The die had been rolled. He had been chosen. His joy was unparalleled. Here he was. Carefully walking, measured steps. Not cautious. Not sauntering. Measured. He had been trained well. Here he was. The house stood a few hundred yards away. He had been told to attract the dogs, to land farther away, he did. The lights were off, a bug zapper on the porch was the only thing that was alive, or would stay that way. Its shocks were frequent. There was a tree behind the house, oak. He could have gone there straight away. They claimed it would not work. He would need to go through the house. A ba’a would have startled him, they were all supposed to be asleep, but he had studied his targets enough to know what to expect. He was expecting everything, even the unexpected. As he passed, a hiss cut through the air, and behind him, a thud as the only awake member of its flock fell dead, blood spurting from the gash in its throat. There was a shudder going through the air, it could sense what was to come. But many had tried. All had failed. He entered, the house smelt musky. The doors clicked shut behind him. The lights fluttered open. Brightly lit, the living room a stage. The wood did not creak, it felt too solid, and somehow cold. Metal painted wooden. A thud began racing through his heart. Something was off. The house was too silent. A music box began playing in the kitchen, he stealth sped towards it. The lights were far too bright here too. He heard a plane in the distance. One of his own? No, that couldn't be. There were no more expected tonight. A green face, black eyes painted on the fridge. A nose that could not be human, a smile that was alien. He turned to the window to look out, heart jumping up and down his throat, humming in his ears. The tree was gone. Uprooted. The plane roaring farther and farther away from him. He turned and looked at the wall behind him. Not a human language, somehow he knew what it meant. Goodbye. In green blood. The house exploded into flames.