Calvin saw the flashing light in the distance. It rose out of the darkened hills, a lonely beacon against a desolate sky. He ran faster, ducking through the underbrush and playing hide and seek behind the trees. His legs ached and his breathing became shallow. Would he make it? The light was calling him. He paused for a moment behind the shelter of a huge oak, scrutinizing the shadowy landscape, trying to discern the proximity of his enemy. He glanced furtively behind him, hearing heavy footsteps advance. They weren't trying to be quiet. They wanted him to know they were on his trail. Calvin did just the opposite as he crept out of cover, trying to minimize the snapping of twigs and the crackling of leaves. The ground was littered with dried and decaying leaves. It was late October and the moon was but a sliver in the sky. His only source of the light was the one that led him on through the unfamiliar wooded area. But he knew a clearing was up ahead. The information registered in his brain with a series of beeps only he could hear. Internal GPS just might save the day. He quickened his steps, trying to get to the designated point where the light would beam him to the safety of his ship, the one that hovered silently in the distance, cloaked by the night sky.
He envisioned his long awaited trip home but as he approached the clearing he heard the sound of a cocking gun. The light quickly flashed three times then dimmed. As each flicker penetrated Calvin's brain, it left separate messages and before he understood what to do his body was already responding to the first and most important task. Calvin could feel the folder beneath his shirt merging with his skin. A slight tingling sensation found him as it absorbed.
Another gun cocked, this one close to his ear. "Hold it right there," a rough voice ordered. Calvin gave up all thought of escape.
