Sinkhole (short fiction): Part Three
When Erik’s eyes finally adjusted to the bright spotlights shining into the sinkhole and at the cube, he could see that the FBI agents had drawn their weapons. He slowly raised his hands and shouted, “I have ID.”
One of the agents made a beckoning wave with her handgun and Erik slowly reached into his pocket. He withdrew the military ID and tossed it among the skeletons. “I’m with SOCOM at MacDill.”
The agent again waved her gun. The intent was clear and Erik again put up his hands while another agent moved to recover the military ID card.
At that moment, Erik sensed his body slowly sinking into the cube. His feet had already disappeared into the silver monolith. He couldn’t turn his head or move his arms or shout, but he could see that the agents and scientists in sinkhole had not noticed his change in position. Their movement was so slow as to be barely perceptible.
Now buried up to his waist in the cube, he could feel the cold sweat of panic bead up under his clothes. Still no reaction from the FBI team. Still no response from his body. Still no sound when he tried to yell.
Swallowing hard as his chin reached the top plane of the cube, Erik noticed the one agent had not yet reached his ID among the skeletons. Are we all moving in slow motion? And there was still no acknowledgement of his sinking–of his being absorbed into the monolith.
Poised to sink even further, Erik reacted instinctively–taking and holding a deep breath. The process seemed to slow even more. And with his eyes about to disappear the oxygen in his body seemed to run out. The world went black–or more accurately, silver.
It seemed like forever. It seemed instantaneous. Stretched to the horizon before him stood thousands of silver beings–human, but silver. Naked. He looked at himself–ending at his feet. Also naked, also silver. It was most definitely his body–except for the color.
Taking a slow deep breath of the dry air, he returned his eyes to his feet. His silver feet were flecked with red grit. He was standing on dusty, red ground. Looking out over the heads of the still silent silver beings he could see the red dirt stretched beneath them–and hazy red mountains in the distance.
Only one thought came to Erik’s mind–Mars.
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Kip Koelsch Author 