A Day in the Cornfield

by Glenn Gray

part 14

One day, Karl and Stew discover strange “turd”-like things appearing in their cornfield. The things have a strange power of mimicry, and their intentions are far from clear. Karl and Stew elicit the help of Sheriff Maynard and his daughter Roxy. Consternation ensues, and the once quiet farm becomes the epicenter of national attention.

“Think I'm gonna need to bring ’er in,” Andy Vogel said into the receiver. “Got us an Emergency.”

A concerned voice came from the console. Air Traffic Control. “We can get you down in Illinois. What's the emergency?”

“Head Pilot, Quinn,” Andy said. “Seems unstable. Think he's having some kind of breakdown. Said he saw a flying woman.”

“A what?”

“That's what I said to him. He tells me he saw a giant flying woman, flying beside the plane.”

“Holy Moly.”

“Well. Guy's been under a lot of stress lately. Gotta give him that.”

Some clicking noises, static.

“Hold on.”

Vogel looked over at Quinn who was mumbling and rubbing his hands together, eyes darting all around.

Some more scratchy sounds over the radio. The drone of the plane's engines.

Vogel said, “Anything?”

“What the...?”

“What? Whaddya see?”

“We see something on radar.” There were some scuffling sounds. Some voices in the background. “Thought it was some kind of artifact. But wait. Yeah, something.”

“What is it?”

“Dunno. We're picking something up. Below you.”

Andy leaned into the glass, jutted his neck, looked down. Clouds. “Don't see anything.”

“We're picking something up for sure. Look again.”

Vogel pressed his face to glass and froze. The clouds thinned out and he saw her. It. “Holy heck.” A whisper, then louder. “I'll be damned.”

Andy could make out some wings flapping below. A large head with gray hair, tossing about. He swore he could see a huge hand holding a huge gun.

“I see it! I see something!”

“Start your descent. Now! Veer twenty degrees.”

“What in tarnation is it?”

“Dunno! Never seen nothing like it!”

“Bird? Alien?”

“Don't know, sir. Get down!”

Static. Voices and blips.

Vogel jumped into his pilot's chair, starting flipping switches, turning dials. His heart raced and he felt himself kick into emergency mode. Emotions put on hold.

“Redirecting!” Vogel didn't mean to shout, but he did.

“Hold tight,” the voice said. “We've contacted Homeland Security.”

To be continued...

To Challenge 424...