The Watcher [Alien Nation #1]

Chapter 5

The heavy, hot summer breeze blew Josh's hair into his face, bringing with it the smell of Vesuvio-creaky old leather and onions and candles that smelt like the sea. The little Italian restaurant was a nice enough day job, but it meant he smelt permanently like garlic.

As he made the short walk from the bus stop back to his flat, Josh looked up to the overcast sky, as he had every time he was outside since that day in Scotland, and sighed. Had it really been only six weeks since the universe as he thought he knew it had been flipped on its head? Every time he closed his eyes he saw that skeleton-the tail, the teeth, the claws, those legs-and a pile of human remains mere feet away.

The worst part was, he had no idea how to feel, or what it meant. Was the human a crew member, or a prisoner? He didn't know which was worse, and neither had any of his viewers the last time he'd peeked into the chat server.

Nevertheless, life had more or less gone on. He still lived in his tiny studio flat, he still had his job at Vesuvio, he still called his mum every day and the stars still shone, their secrets hidden from any human observer. People still watched his videos and tuned into his streams, though he now felt a twinge of guilt with every lie he told, every elaborate fantasy he spun and they lapped up. Sometimes, the eerie tomb on the shores of a windswept Scottish island felt like a dream.

A group of ravens burst from the tree they had been preparing to roost in, startling him out of his thoughts. Josh rubbed his eyes and watched the ravens whirling up to the heavens, their silhouettes stark against the solid mass of pale grey clouds. His thoughts were drifting, as they always did when he was exhausted. He steeled himself for the next two hundred metres or so to his building, ignoring how his feet ached. He couldn't wait to flop down on the sofa with a nice cup of noodles or something.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud as he walked, giving the evening a claustrophobic feel. He hoped it wouldn't thunder. Since last year's energy crisis, storms meant power cuts, and power cuts meant no wifi.

Somewhere a few streets away, a dog let loose a long, plaintive howl. Then another, and another, until the whole borough was one big, sad canine choir. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he still didn't turn around until he heard someone shriek.

There was a low thrumming at the edge of his hearing, and though he could barely perceive it, his brain suddenly felt like it would burst. He clapped his hands over his ears and moaned as the howling reached a crescendo.

The noise was coming from above and behind him. Josh turned around, and immediately wished he hadn't. Something warm and wet trickled down his leg.

There was a colossal spaceship blocking the sun.

It sounded absurd, like something out of a science fiction movie, but after discovering that skeleton and spending hours staring at the footage as he edited it, there was no doubt in his mind about what he saw. A spaceship the size of a small city hung in the sky above him.

Clouds billowed and boiled around it as it descended into the atmosphere. It was completely black, neon blue lights and glowing red-hot vents studding its wide, flat belly. Around it, a hundred smaller ships hovered and flitted about, like flies around a gigantic beast. The air around him hummed.

Josh stared at it for a moment.

Then he turned and legged it home, slamming down into his computer chair with such force he almost ended up in a heap on the floor.

He glanced at the window every other second while waiting for his laptop to boot up, taking the opportunity to change his trousers while he did so. The spaceship was crawling east, in the general direction-he guessed-of Central London. He could only guess as to what that meant.

Finally, his computer decided to cooperate. As soon as his browser was running, Josh opened every news site he could think of in as many tabs as possible without causing his computer to throw a tantrum.

Uneasiness stirred deep in his stomach. So far there had been no hostilities, but he wondered if that would last. If this was a peaceful first contact effort, that was a big ship.

He jumped when his phone buzzed. A message from Danny, the guy who worked in the camera shop he often hired equipment from and was the closest thing Josh had to a friend, lit up the screen. He fumbled to open it.

Danny's message was simple: CHECK YOUR FUCKING WEBSITE.

k, Josh replied.

When he logged into his admin account on the Interstellar Inquisitor homepage, what he saw nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

The days since he'd released the video showing alien and human remains had seen a steady stream of hits, a little higher than usual. While he had been at work, though, it had gone viral. When he'd last checked just before leaving for his shift, the hit count had stood at almost a million, not counting the viewers from the original stream.

For years, Josh had had one rule: don't read the comments. He got enough hate mail-always deleted without a second glance-he didn't need to read all the notes from people calling him crazy, insane, attention-seeking, a hoax (those people, in particular, he wanted to avoid drawing attention to), in his own comment sections. As the alien spaceships encroached into the skies of Earth, though, he made an exception.

So far, fourteen thousand people had shared their thoughts on his discovery. There were some messages of congratulations and disbelief, others demanding to know where he filmed his footage, some asking what he had done with the bodies-and then there were he ones accusing him of provoking the aliens. Of being one of them. There were more than a few death threats.

They were nothing new, of course. Josh had learned to brush them off; he took so many precautions against doxxing, there was really nothing to worry about. At least that was what he told himself-in truth, opening your inbox to find someone going into detail about how they would murder you never got easier, no matter how many proxies you hid behind.

It was especially difficult today, though. Josh stood and moved to the window, leaning against the grubby sill.

The spacecraft cast a giant, circular shadow over the borough, clouds breaking around it. The smaller ships darted in and out of the cloud banks, and he wondered if they were some sort of honour guard. If they were piloted by AI, or if real, living beings sat in their cockpits, beings with wants and desires and hopes and families they had said goodbye to that morning. He wondered if they were anything like the alien he'd found in that lonely cave-or even if they were the same species.

Now there was a thought. What if they were the same? How long had their visitors been monitoring Earth for, if at all? Had they seen how he'd disturbed and broadcast the remains of one of their own? It was a mighty show of force for one individual, but what if the deceased had been someone important?

Josh sighed in frustration. He was letting his imagination run away with him, but what else was there to do? There were so many questions, and no answers at all.

All he could do was stare out his window at their extraterrestrial visitors, and wonder.