HIDDEN IN THE HILLS somewhere deep in Colorado a fractal-like antennae sparked to life. Its metallic arms twisted and contorted in shrinking self-similar shapes only a few feet above the obscured entrance to a long-forgotten missile silo. A low mechanical hum rose from a maze of unseen tunnels and shafts and the air grew crisp and tight. It was a cool cloudless night.
Purplish-blue light fell from the fractal and lit up the tree-covered scene with a glow. Tiny sparks shot back from each tree as their leaves and branches vibrated in the gentle wind. The reflected light danced all around. It looked a little like Christmas in a 1950’s town. It was fifteen minutes to midnight.
The hum wobbled as if synchronized with the flickering lights. Then, without pause, the sounds quickly ratchetted to a high-pitched squeal. Static electricity rippled through the air and the antennae discharged in a flash with an ear-shattering snap.
Sleeping birds shot up, tree branches cracked. Dust lifted off the dry ground and briefly traced two paths, one due East and one due West. Something left. Two rays of light.
A single silhouette appeared from nowhere and looked to the sky. It was woman, slender and tall. She scanned her surroundings then brought an instrument to her eyes and rescanned the scene. Shaking her head, she withdrew the object from her face then disappeared back into the hillside.
Moments later, about 300 miles west of Shelter Cove, California, a pool of fog started to form just above the Pacific Ocean. At the very same moment, over a thousand miles away, a smallish meteor appeared out of nowhere and streaked across the sky. It crashed into the ground near Chillicothe, Ohio.