4 Fox Creek

   The rickety old station wagon pulled into Fox Creek on a wing and prayer. The gas light began to blink erratically. Warren felt like someone pulled the rug out from under his sense of hope because Fox Creek looked like a warzone. Overturned cars with crushed windshields and crimson trails ended at the tree line. 

   The atmosphere in the vehicle wasn’t much better. Warren tried to keep his mind off the dead body in the trunk area. “Mom, I don’t want to stop here. Whatever happened in Edmonton is happening all over. You always knew what to do. I don’t.”

    The car sputtered and coughed, just as he pulled into the gas station, and great tufts of smoke billowed from under the hood. Warren surmised the old station wagon refused to live on without his mom. Dim lights watched over the pump area, shards of glass littered the ground and a lone eyeball stared at him from the cold cement.

     Warren now faced two problems, One was moving his mother's body to another car, but he needed to find another car first. “I’ll be back soon, mom, I promise.” He moved toward the smashed glass door with caution. The primal instinct re-entered his mind, and his senses seemed to sharpen to the razor’s edge.

   Inside, the fluorescent lights temporarily blinded Warren, he took a moment to regain his bearings before he surveyed the small store. Pools of blood dotted the floor but nobodies. He looked around and saw a smartphone with the video player still on. A quick examination revealed the battery hung on the edge of death.

     Warren pressed stop and then played the video from the beginning. A happy and bright voice waved to some middle-aged people. “We are here in the middle of Podunk Alberta in search of snacks on the arduous journey home. The local life forms here welcomed us with open arms.”

Warren shook his head, he knew their lives would never be the same. 

    Warrens continued to watch and as a spade-shaped cowl entered the store. His mind homed in on it. Bright colors and markings set off warning bells, and the coal red eyes did not help matters. Bone-thin arms raised in the air and shouted in an unfamiliar language. Light expelled from the creepy digits, and everyone in the store dropped. A clink of keys in the background gripped Warren’s attention. 

   He replayed the moment several times to isolate the source, with any luck the keys were under a shelf, or out in the open. Under normal circumstances, Warren would never steal the car, but necessity is the mother of invention. He gave himself a pass. The owners weren’t coming back, and wouldn’t need it anymore.

    It took the better part of fifteen minutes to locate the keys. Warren exhaled with excitement, he was saved. Once more, the choice to leave his mother behind presented itself. A wave of sorrow washed over his athletic build. He prayed to the heavens the keys belonged to a truck and stepped out into the cool night air. His finger pressed against the rubber command start button.

   Lights pierced the darkness at the other end of the parking lot, exhaust drifted from the pipe of a panel van. Warren streaked across the icy cement and almost fell on the way to his new transport. He examined the inside, no dead bodies in the back or the front seat. “Small favors,” Warren said to himself. He managed to pull the van up close to the old beater of memories and hauled Melanie’s stiff corpse into the back of the van.

   He covered her with the emergency blanket and drove up to the entrance of the small gas store. Warren grabbed a few bags of chips and some hot rods from the front counter. He took a few moments to steel himself against the sadness desperate to overtake him before he jumped back behind the wheel.

   The dead body in the back bothered him. He couldn’t ignore the pallid vision of death. “I’m sorry about all of this, mom. If it wasn’t for my stupid tournament, you might still be alive. I loved you so much. I don’t think I…” The emotional damn came dangerously close to collapse.

  “Sorry, mom. The wound is too fresh. How about some music,” He played with the radio dial and found nothing but static. He checked his mother's phone and his, no internet, or cell reception. He pressed play on the cd console. Bizarre Latin dance filled the van. Warren groaned and dubbed the offensive noise: it was better than nothing.

   Answers, Warren wanted answers and explanations. Did the world get attacked by aliens while he skated his way to a provincial hockey championship? The thought seemed wholly ridiculous, but given the evidence, a real possibility. The argument fell apart because the creatures used primitive tools and crude weapons.

    “I don’t get it, mom. If these beings existed on earth all this time where were they? Why didn’t we notice them before now? It’s not like those weird three-eyed dwarves appeared out of thin air. I don’t buy it.” The sadness turned to comfort as he spoke to his mother's corpse the whole way back to Grande Prairie.

   He reached the tiny town of Bezanson and drove right on through. All he wanted was a hot meal and bed to cry on. Another two kilometers and Warren tried the Radio again, grateful to have the salsa music off. Static on all stations except for CBC radio.

  “We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. Scientists are baffled by the pulse of light that rippled across North America. Mass reports of people collapsing in the streets and orbs of light are coming in from all provinces and states. Scientists are frantic to find the source of the disturbance that brought the world to a grinding halt.”

   Warren turned off the radio in time to hear his mother's phone go off. A trembling hand picked up the bubblegum pink phone. The display said, Nerea. Warren pressed the accept button. 

  Nerea’s Latin accent brought relief. Warren did not feel so alone, “Melanie, I am sorry for calling you so many times, after the pulse, I grew worried…”

  “Nerea, mom is...mom is…” Warren choked on the words like bile and swallowed them back down. If he said it out loud, Melanie’s death would be real and permanent.

   “Warren where are you?” Nereas worry came through the phone with crystal clarity.

  

  “I just passed through Bezanson. I should be in Grand Prairie in the next five minutes. Are you coming to get me? Mom is in the back of the van.”

  “Where did you get a van?”

 “The car broke down in Fox Creek. The people who owned it...I had to.” The sadness railed against the emotional dam desperate for freedom. Warren did his best to hold himself together. “Where do you want to meet?”

   “We will meet in the mall parking lot, once you are there lock the doors and wait. Do not talk to anybody,” Nerea said. He could hear the door open and close in the background. 

   “Are you mad at me? I couldn’t save her. I tried so hard…”

  “Listen to me, Warren, no one is mad. I am happy to hear you are alive. We will sort everything out once we meet in person, Okay?” 

   “Okay,” Warren replied in a numbed tone. 

   “Do you want me to hang up or stay on the line?”

  “Please stay on the line.” Warren flicked the blinker on and turned into the parking lot and waited. The awful day was at an end, and he could not wait for it to be over.