He had lived in middle Tennessee all his life, yet it never ceased to amaze Paul that in late November they could have fifty degree nights. He had worked a late shift at the factory and had decided that since the weather was so unseasonably nice, he would take the scenic route home rather than stick to his normal routine. It wasn't that far out of his way, it gave him a chance to listen to the radio, and he'd still make it home for dinner by seven o'clock. At least that's what he had thought when he started out.

For some reason, his normally clear car stereo had been overcome with static this evening and the sky seemed to glow with an eerie pale blue light. At first he thought he had heard a strange sound from the woods, but he soon dismissed it as a hole in his muffler. When he saw the Highway Patrol Car, and he knew things weren't quite right.

He continued to survey the scene for any clue as to the officer's whereabouts, but never considered leaving his car. Somehow he sensed that tonight was not the night to be stumbling about in the dark. His mind wandered for a moment and he found himself imagining what might have happened to the officer. Perhaps he had ventured into the woods and something had gotten him. A cold chill ran up Paul's back and he quickly rolled his window up.

Without knowing what had happened, there was no way he was going to get out of the car. He decided that the best thing to do, was to head home and call for help. He turned his attention back to the road and lightly pressed on the accelerator. The car began to edge forward, and then, without warning, the engine died.

There hadn't been a stutter and none of the dash lights had come on-- the engine had just stopped as if he had turned it off. He looked at the key that dangle in the ignition, and saw that it was still in the correct position. The cold chill that had run up his spine now turned to a frigid frenzy and ran back down. He felt terribly uneasy about the strange situation, and began to reach for the key to start the engine. Nothing happened.

Paul watched in horror as his hand lay unmoving upon the steering wheel. His brain had told it to move, but it had not. It was as if he were paralyzed. Even with the slight chill in the evening air, he became aware of the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. He thought about his predicament, and realized that at least his headlights were still on and might warn someone that he was in trouble. It was at that moment that he saw just how much trouble he was in. It was at that moment that he wished his headlights had gone out too.

From out of the woods in front of the car, two men entered the light and walked toward the vehicle. The problem was, they weren't men. They weren't even human. They stood about five feet tall, had two arms and legs, and wore dark blue coveralls. They walked as if the were robots with their joints straight, and swayed in unison from side- to-side. What alarmed Paul more than their unusual stride, was the fact that neither had a face; just two huge eyes and an inch wide slit that formed a mouth.

His heart sped and his blood surged. He tried desperately to lock the door, but his left hand was as frozen to the steering wheel as his right. The 'men' walked to the side of his car, opened the door, and lifted Paul from the seat. As much as he wanted to scream, he found that he couldn't even breath heavy. His entire body was completely relaxed, and as the men carried him through the woods, he could only dangle between them.

In short order, the three entered a clearing, and moved toward a large glowing flying saucer. Normally, Paul would have been amazed; tonight, he figured it was par for the course. The ship was about seventy feet across and stood on three metal legs, one of which held a type of gangway or boarding plank. The two carried Paul into the spaceship through what seemed to be the control room, and deposited him in a small silver chamber with a table and two black chairs. They then silently disappeared behind a sliding door.

Paul still was not able to move, but felt a little relieved that the creatures had left him alone. At least if they weren't around, they couldn't hurt him. As he sat in silence, he realized they could leave him in the room and fly to another planet, where they would be free to do to him what ever they wanted. His fear began to give way to panic, and he felt the urge to cry.

When all seemed lost, and he was sure he was about to become the alien equivalent to a bedtime snack, a happy thought burst in to his mind. The State Trooper! The Highway Patrol officer was sure to be nearby, waiting for the right moment to charge to ship and rescue him. For a second he rejoiced in the knowledge that he would soon be saved by the police.

Suddenly, the sliding door opened, and two more aliens stepped in; but these were wearing green coveralls. One stepped behind him, and the second placed a box on the table, then sat in the other chair. As if someone had startled him from a deep sleep, Paul's body shook and jerked, and he realized that he could now control his arms and head.

"You have been under a form of mind control," stated a voice in the back of Paul's brain. He looked about the room for its source, as neither alien's mouth had moved, but saw no speakers or other electronic device. "We can communicate with you through what you would call telepathy. My thoughts go into your brain and seem as if they are inside your head."

A moment of deductive reasoning told Paul that because the creature behind him was fiddling with a tool box, and the creature in front of him was simply sitting and staring, that he must be the one speaking. He faced forward, and stared inquisitively at the alien. "Good," stated the voice after Paul had stopped searching for the source, "Now that you are settled down, we can get down to business."

"Business?" inquired Paul with a small cough, as he made his first attempt to speak.

"Yes," stated the alien, as he repositioned the box. "My name is Mexlor, and I am from a planet that you most likely don't even know exists. We have been sent to Earth to collect information about your people, so that we can launch a successful invasion and take over your world. Now, I need you to answer a few questions."

Paul's mouth fell open in utter amazement. This creature had just told him that they planned to invade Earth, and he expected him to cooperate with them. He actually expected Paul to help him defeat his own people. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to tell you a damn thing!" he yelled defiantly.

"It would be so much easier for both of us if you would just answer the questions," said Mexlor. "When we are through we will put you back in your car and let you go on your way."

Paul let out a loud and boisterous laugh. "Ha! You expect me to believe that you would let me go now that I know you are going to invade Earth."

"Of course," answered the alien. "We have nothing to fear from you."

"I might warn my government, and the military would be able to stop your invasion," Paul retorted proudly, as he glanced out the still open door to see if the police officer had managed to sneak into the saucer, yet.

"The invasion is imminent. There is nothing your puny Earth government can do to stop us. Besides, if you did try to warn them, they would believe you were crazy. Your story would be dismissed as some type of hallucination or dream, and you would be considered a lunatic."

Paul was once again overcome by an uneasy feeling, as he realized that Mexlor was correct. In the back of his mind he still hoped the police officer would rescue him before it was too late, but he thought that the man was more than likely waiting for more police or the National Guard before attacking the ship. He realized that it might take several hours before they were on the scene and in position, and he knew he couldn't wait much longer. He had to do something.

"I won't answer any questions. You can torture me if you want, but I won't talk!"

"We wouldn't torture you. We are much more advanced than that. If you refuse to cooperate, my colleague, Veazak will simply remove your brain and hook it up to our computer." A dreadful whine, that resembled the sound of a dentist's drill makes just before it strikes an exposed nerve, started behind Paul. He turned, and saw Veazak holding a small power tool in his hand. For a moment Paul watched the shiny blade spin and noticed small drops of blood sling off its razor edge.

As the sound died, and the tool spun to a stop, Paul turned to look at Mexlor. "When you're done, can you put my brain back?"

Mexlor leaned forward and his eyes seemed to squint slightly. "We've never tried. Besides, after about a minute out of your skull the brain dies. That's why we rather you just answer the questions."

Paul swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. If he didn't answer their questions, he'd die. If he did answer their questions, he would betray his planet and the entire Human race. As hard as it was for him, he knew that it was his duty to die. Just as he was about to say something crude about their mothers and farm animals, another thought occurred to him. If he let them kill him, they would simply draw the information from his brain, and then kidnap someone else. Furthermore, there was a chance, if only a small one, that someone would listen to his story and try to defend Earth.

"Okay," Paul said reluctantly, "I'll answer your questions, but only if you promise to let me go when you're done." Mexlor agreed, and Veazak put his power tool away.

"I have some things here that we are not sure how to use." Mexlor reached into his box and handed a cylindrical object to Paul. "What is this device?"

"This is a flashlight. It produces light so we can see in the dark," stated Paul as he pressed the button and shined the beam on the wall. He pressed the button again and handed it to Veazak. Veazak looked into the flashlight and pressed the button. The beam shined directly into his eyes, he staggered backward, and nearly fell out the door. After regaining his balance, he shook his head a few times, then handed the light back to Mexlor.

"I see. We have no use for such a device as we can see in complete darkness," stated Mexlor as he searched his box for the next object. He withdrew another palm sized item and handed it to Paul. When he looked at it, his heart stopped and all his hopes of rescue instantly faded into nothingness. It was a Tennessee Highway Patrol badge.

He fondled the silver shield for a moment and considered the terrible turn of events. This seemed to be undeniable evidence that the cop was dead; undoubtedly at the hands of Veazak and his trusty brain remover. "This is an emblem that distinguishes the wearer as a Police officer."

"What is the purpose of a police officer?"

"They sit in coffee shops and annoy customers with noisy radios," Paul answered sheepishly. He handed the badge to the creature and hung his head in despair. Mexlor shuffled the contents of his box once again and extended his hand with another artifact. Paul was in no mood to help, but forced himself to lift his eyes, hoping that the alien would keep his word and let him go.

When his eyes fell on the third object, they instantly sprung open as wide as they could and his head naturally recoiled in amazement. With trembling hands, he slowly reached out and took the thing from his capture. He held it in his hands, and a warm glow began to cover his body. How could they have been so dumb? How could they have made such a huge mistake?

Paul searched Mexlor's featureless face to detect any change of expression, but noticed nothing. He rotated the object he held and noticed the familiar logo of the Smith & Wesson company. He pressed the release button on the side of the 357 Magnum revolver and flipped open the cylinder. Inside, he saw six unfired cartridges and smiled at how fate had twisted once again-- this time in his favor.

He knew he should have used the gun immediately and escaped, but somehow he couldn't resist the urge to have a little fun before he left. "Yes, this, uh, device... is used in cosmetic surgery."

"Cosmetic surgery? What is that?" inquired Mexlor.

"A human can use this to rearrange someone's face."

"Please demonstrate."

It was all Paul could do to suppress a laugh as he raised the pistol and pointed it at the alien's head. His thumb pulled the hammer into the fire position. His finger rested on the trigger. A morbid sense of victory filled his heart, and he squeezed the trigger.

A thunderous roar echoed in the confines of the small room, and Mexlor's head exploded into a shower of Silly- Putty and oatmeal. Veazak was so impress with how well the device worked that he leaned closer to get a better look. Paul obliged him with a first hand demonstration at point- blank range.

The second blast from the pistol sent Veazak stumbling out the door into the control room, where he fell on the floor. With the two aliens dead, the paralysis that held Paul in the chair wore off and he ran for the door. His knees wobbled slightly as he burst into the control room and found the first two creatures standing, between him and the boarding hatch.

He fired off his last rounds and charged the startled aliens. The rest of the ship's crew instinctively dove under consoles and tables for cover from the ricocheting bullets as Paul made his dash to freedom. One of the bullets dropped the alien on the left, and Paul rammed the other with his shoulder sending him flying through the air like a sacked quarterback.

Paul hit the ramp just as it began to close and half fell, half jumped to the ground below. He rolled and immediately ran for the woods. When he reached his car he collapsed across the hood and looked up in time to see the flying saucer zoom off into space. For a moment he rested against the car and laughed to himself at the aliens stupidity and carelessness. He returned to the driver's seat, and turned the key-- the engine came to life with the purr of a friendly kitten.

About twenty minutes later, he pulled into his driveway and bolted into the house. He threw open the door so hard, and burst into the living room so excitedly, his family dropped what they were doing and turned to look at him. "Home at last," his mother stated in an irritated tone. "You should have been home fifteen minutes ago, and you didn't have the manners to call and say you'd be late."

"Y'all aren't going to believe what happened to my tonight. It was absolutely incredible!" Paul yelled as he pulled off his coat. Everyone stared at him with the look of a family that was more upset about their meal being delayed, than about him being late. He looked at them, and in the back of his head, he remembered something Mexlor had said: "The invasion is imminent... If you did try to warn them, they would believe you crazy. Your story would be dismissed as some type of hallucination, and you would be considered a lunatic."

"My car broke down," explained Paul in a low voice.

All eyes remained on him for a second, and he began to feel very stupid. "Doesn't sound too incredible to me," said his little brother as he took his place at the kitchen table.

Paul sat in his chair and watched as his family prepared their plates as if nothing were wrong. He realized the aliens weren't stupid; they simply didn't understand Earth technology. He wasn't sure how long it would be before the aliens invaded. He wasn't sure if the world would believe him if he tried to warn them. He was sure his family wouldn't. The way he saw it, all he could do was wait-- and plan. After all, he'd already defeated them once.