This Saturday’s book tease focuses on the first book in my sci-fi/horror trilogy, Harvest. I wrote and published Harvest sixteen years after a terrifying and fascinating personal UFO sighting in my hometown of Schertz, Texas. It was 1995 and before cell phones with cameras, which is a shame because the sighting was in broad daylight, around noon on a weekday. Clear skies. I was not alone, and there were TWO of them, side by side, hovering soundlessly over a field just a few blocks from my apartment. I detail this experience in the intro. It changed my entire perspective, and honestly, being so close to home, scared the bejeezus out of me. I can’t ever say for certain what we witnessed that day, but I feel confident in saying it wasn’t anything known to the average person. No windows, lights, markings, no visible points of entry. But it was the size of them, the lack of sound, and then the speed at which they traveled suddenly moving up and away that freaked me out the most. It’s a helluva story. And it inspired me to pen the first book in this trilogy. Hope you enjoy this introduction to Harvest.
Bright lights arrived in the night sky. By morning, everyone was gone.
Judgement has come to Farley, Oklahoma leaving its last resident Dave Forrester all alone and without a clue. A haunting memory from his past becomes a living nightmare. The people of Farley have disappeared without a trace leaving behind only blood-stained clothing and glimpses of frightening, unearthly creatures. Desperate to find his family and friends, Dave meets Maggie, a woman who has lost her will to live and is killing herself one drink at a time. Together, they find a reason to keep going while the world around them is falling apart. It's now all up to Dave and Maggie to find and save the survivors of the harvest.
"This book gave me chills..." ~ Sherelle Ellis
"Oh my, I gobbled this up! The story has everything I love: aliens/UFOs, mystery, chills down my spine, and more!" ~ Brian Lane
Inspired by a true sighting...
Chapter 1
June 2010
Traveling home alone after a night out was not unusual for Dave Forrester. It was a Saturday night like any other. He’d hung out with his buddies at the local watering hole, and after a few games of pool, and a round or two of darts interspersed with beer and shots of Wild Turkey, he had clapped his buds on their arms, shaken hands, and promised to meet up again next week. So far, the only thing out of the ordinary had been the cute redhead seated at the far end of the bar all night. He kept sneaking looks at her, but Dave never quite got up the courage to approach her. She was prettier than he was used to, and he struggled with a slight inferiority complex.
So, when last call came around, he finished off his Corona, told his best buddy, Red, he’d see him tomorrow sometime, glanced briefly at the pretty lady, (offering the customary tipping of his hat in her direction) before heading out the door to his Chevy truck. Yep, nothing was new tonight, just the same old, same old, and going home alone. Dave sighed heavily, feeling incredibly lonely. It had been a long time since he last was in a relationship; so long that he had forgotten how nice it felt to have a woman’s arms around his waist at night or how sweet the sound of feminine laughter could be. He might not remember those things, but he knew he missed them.
It had been three years since Sherry dumped him after cheating on him with a married man twice her age. He still didn’t understand how the hell that had happened, but the only thing Dave could figure out was the fellow was rich and had more to offer financially than he did. Sherry always did like gifts, and the stuffed bears, wildflowers and infrequent dinners out to the steakhouse with the All You Can Eat salad bar hadn’t satisfied her. God knows he had tried. Dave felt one lone tear begin in his left eye, and he took a deep breath, sucking it up, refusing to allow any more tears to fall for that gal. Dammit, men just don’t cry. Sherry was just plain materialistic, and love notes, hand holding, and telling her he loved her hadn’t put designer clothes on her wonderfully sculpted body, hadn’t slid onto her fingers like diamond rings, and could never fly her to Monaco first class like all the other guy’s money had done. Sherry had no heart and didn’t deserve his.
With that last thought, Dave tried to concentrate on the road ahead of him, as he headed off down the country lane that would lead to his old-fashioned farmhouse on three acres of land. The house and land had come to him through his grandparents. When his granddad died five years back, his grandma, Effie, had been all alone in the house, unable to handle the planting and harvesting of the wheat and hay. Dave’s mom, Lynda, subtly put the idea into her son’s head to move in with his grandmother and help take care of things. Grandma Effie hadn’t wanted to lose the home she’d shared with her husband, Ernest, for over thirty years. Dave knew he’d end up with no choice in the matter, not that he minded much helping grandma out. The only setback had been in giving up his bachelor pad apartment which put a crimp in his love life with Sherry. She complained a lot whenever she and Dave had to go to her place to have sex; said a grown man ought to have his own place. She never understood that sometimes a grown man also had obligations to others as well. But that was in the past. Grandma Effie declined in her health nonetheless after Ernest Hardy’s death. She just couldn’t seem to find a way to live her life without him, even with her grandson’s help. She passed on a year and a half later, leaving the house and all the land to Dave. He’d been there ever since, making a go of farming. It wasn’t much, but he found he loved the simple labor. It was hard work, but he worked for himself, and what he made off the sale of the wheat and hay paid the bills. For the most part, Dave was content.
There were no lights out this far along the roadside, and one had to really pay attention to what was coming in order not to hit any wild animals running across the road. It was dark, quiet, and mighty peaceful with the warm July wind whipping through the rolled down, driver’s side window. Dave drifted off into thought as he cruised along the thirty miles per hour stretch. Another mile and he’d be home, alone with his television and empty bed.
Behind him, a light streaked across the starless sky like a small comet. Dave noticed the flash in his rearview mirror. It grew larger and seemed like it was headed right at the back of his truck. The light continued to grow until it blinded Dave. He tried to look in the mirror to see what the hell was going on. For a split second, he thought a carload of kids had driven up behind him and had their high beams on. But another split second later, the Chevy truck was fully enclosed in a blinding white light, and Dave barely got the chance to mutter “What the...,” before a shuddering explosion of sound--or was it an implosion--like millions of conversations at once robbed him of consciousness.
The truck slowed and rolled to a stop in a small ditch off the side of the lane, just a few hundred yards from Dave’s front lawn. The light dimmed, and then faded completely. Wisps of frost radiated off the truck and melted into the warm summer night. All sound ceased into an eerie silence. The air was still, and Dave, unaware and unconscious, fell sideways in his seat belt, hanging suspended above the bench seat. The car radio sputtered to life, softly playing Hank Williams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Die” ….
Chapter 2
Sharp cold stung his fingertips and his cheeks. Struggling to the surface of consciousness, fighting a lethargy that was weighing him down, Dave forced his brain to cooperate, and managed to open one eyelid. It felt like his lashes were stuck together, but finally, he got the other eye opened and focused on a rubber mat that read CHEVROLET. He recognized it as the floor mat in his car, the one on the passenger side that was still completely legible, and not half rubbed away by dirty work boots. His chest hurt, like when you had bronchitis, and coughed too hard for too long. He realized he was hanging forward in the seat belt and slowly leaned back into the seat. The pressure on his chest lessened and breathing became easier.
Looking around, Dave searched for signs of a car accident. He didn’t see any. He gingerly turned his head to the right, and then the left before looking into the rearview mirror for any tell-tale evidence of another car. Darkness greeted him. He looked straight ahead into the grass of the ditch he was settled in, searching the small area illuminated by the headlights of his truck. Nothing, nothing but grass. No dead animals, no other car, absolutely nothing greeted his visual investigation. He sat there trying to figure out what happened. The last thing he remembered was a really bright light coming from behind.
He reached for the door handle and pulled it. The truck door didn’t budge. He tried again, and this time put his shoulder into it. With a snap and a crack, the door swung out. It sounded like ice breaking. That’s strange, he thought. Dave released his seat belt and cautiously stepped out. The grass crunched like snow under his boots, and the road next to the ditch looked shiny on the surface. If it weren’t the middle of July, he would have sworn it was a patch of black ice, but that was just crazy. It had to be some liquid, maybe from his truck, catching a reflection from the moon or the headlights.
He stood there, looking around into the quiet night. The quiet was so damn quiet it was frightening. Dave didn’t hear any crickets chirping. He didn’t hear any wind blowing. It was calm and still like the kind of quiet you notice right before a storm. He looked at the truck for any damage. It seemed sound and unharmed. Rubbing his chin in consternation, Dave turned to climb back inside. He was only a few hundred yards from home anyway. Sliding in and closing the door, he cranked the ignition. The radio station was blaring static, so he turned it off, aimed the wheels to the left, and pressed the gas pedal. The truck maneuvered back onto the road and he was home in less than five minutes. He felt winded and sore. It had been one strange night, and Dave couldn’t wait to fall into bed and forget about it.
The night air refused to stir. It was stifling and thick. Clouds gathered as the barometer rose. A strong breeze suddenly whipped through the trees and in the distance, thunder rumbled, and lightning streaked the sky. A storm was brewing and heading right for Dave’s farmhouse. Inside, he lay passed out across the bed with one leg outside of the sheet thrown half-hazard over his nakedness. The wind-up alarm clock on the nightstand ticked away. A clap of thunder boomed nearby followed by a bright blast of lightning. The bedroom lit up briefly, and once again dimmed. The clock on the nightstand ceased ticking. Outside, hail began to fall, striking the ground and bouncing off the roof before emitting steam, and melting away into the hot night. No other sound interrupted the fury of the passing storm. Dave slept on, unaware of all that faded away into the night…
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