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Fifteen seconds—In this heat that’s what stood between life and death. Hunger drove him from the shadows. That and a dull spec protruding from volcanic sand ten yards away. He was starving for the same reason the world withered—unparalleled drought.

Everything came down to calories. In the shade he could conserve energy. If the glinting object was a harvestable sprout, he’d survive for days, perhaps until rain.

It was a toss-up. In a blur, he brushed past his mate and bolted into the oven of the earth. One eye searched the searing sky for any sign of death that might descend from above. The other eye was on the object. Sixty sprints, but erratic so as to make a poor target, and he was there.

Ten fingers dug with blinding speed. Scorching soil immediately blistered his palms. The object was unearthed. Not trusting his eyes, his long nose sniffed to make an identification. The alien smell shocked his senses and he darted back to the hole and his mate.

Could he read, he’d have read Marlboro on the object’s burnt end. Had he language, he would have told his mate, “We are not alone!”

by Jay Archer David



Jay Archer David lives in the greater southwest with his wife. He explores, experiences, and creates stories in this land of enchantment where ancient Anasazi pueblos are layered with the children of Hispanic settlers, the old-West, and modern America.

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