Message Delivered?

Tucker’s phone rang. Fake Brenda was standing further down the nature trail, facing him.


“’Honey, what happened?” Brenda asked. “What is my ‘double’ saying to you?”

“She’s still here,” Tucker replied. “She’s saying something about how they are a species from another galaxy coming here to destroy us.”

“What?!” Brenda asked incredulously. “Ask her what the name of her species is at least, maybe I can look them up on Google.”

Tucker rolled his eyes, not thoroughly convinced his wife believed him. “Honey, I have to go, I will be home soon.”

“Are you sure you can drive, Tucker?” Brenda asked as Tucker closed his phone.

“Your wife thinks you’re an alcoholic.” Fake Brenda said in a flat voice.

Tucker picked up a fallen branch and approached Fake Brenda. The alien watched impassively as the thick branch arced over his head. No attempt was made on Fake Brenda’s part to avoid the blow(s).

Soon Tucker was staring at Fake Brenda’s body and the tiny metallic bugs escaping from her mouth.

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