Sky Streak of Terror: Super-heroism, Love, and Betrayal, at the Hands of a Deadly Alien

By Daniel Griffin

Sky Streak of Terror, a novel about heroism, love, and betrayal, when a young man from the small community of Spruce Hills, Alaska, has his peaceful farming life turned upside down, when he learns that he is responsible for freeing an immortal and murderous, extra-terrestrial prisoner from a fallen meteorite. The gifted young man with newly aquired enhanced abilities, is soon forced into action. He entered the conflict between the devastating alien shape-shifter and nearby military's doomed and decimated troops, in order to save mankind from imminent destruction, while also battling his personal feelings of guilt and demons of tragedy. Sky Streak of Terror is a sci-fi, alien superthriller, that will keep readers guessing with suspense through each and every page. The story is loaded with explosive action and powerful suspense and drama. And its romance, along with the many twist, turns, and unexpected plots, will leave the readers craving for a mini-series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Mar 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781594334375

Daniel Griffin

Daniel Griffin is the head of marketing for Support Revolution (an Oracle/SAP support company). He is a professional marketer with over a decade of experience working for international businesses such as Amazon, Hult International Business School and global BPO research firm NelsonHall.

Book preview

alien?

Prologue

NASA’s science operations and infrared data processing and analysis center, July 2014

California Institute of Technology in Pasadena

"V ery fascinating…very fascinating indeed," spoke NASA researcher Dr. Julie Wen aloud while studying the new spectroscopic readings, which recently came across her computer screen, and was being sent from a high-spatial resolution electron microscope.

Dr. Julie Wen, a professor of the School of Earth & Space Exploration since 1992, and with a PhD from the University of Bristol, had seen NEOs in the past through the wide-field infrared survey explorer program (WISE), but this peculiar bolide transmitted different readings than what she was accustomed to seeing in the past.

It was 2:00 a.m. and the other researchers had long since departed the research facility for the night, but Julie decided to remain behind and finish up with some previous spectroscopic studies, when she noticed the strange new readings. She took another large sip of black coffee from her twelve-ounce cup, hoping that the caffeinated beverage would clear her drowsy head and help her to verify her new findings.

What are you? You sure give off mysterious readings for a meteorite, she wondered before soon deciding that the readings gave cause for concern and was urgent enough to alert the director, even at such an early hour in the morning.

Yes…what is it? asked a sluggish-sounding male voice from the other end of the line, when finally answering Julie’s call after five dial tones.

Sir, I am so sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, but its Julie, and I… She attempted to finish answering but couldn’t when her conversation was interrupted by another voice over the phone’s background.

Who is calling us at this late hour?! asked a female’s voice in a demanding tone, which caused Julie to cringe when she heard her agitated voice through the phones earpiece.

It’s Julie Wen, calling from the lab. Now go back to sleep, honey, he answered in an irritated tone.

What does she want at this late hour?!

I don’t know. Just please go back to sleep, and I’ll ask! It was the voice of Dr. Enoch Clayton who answered, along with the voice from his wife, Victoria, who both sounded annoyed after being awoken from their deep slumber.

Dr. Clayton, PhD, California Institute of Technology since 1960, was the renowned founding director for meteorite studies and faculty emeritus, Department of Geological Sciences, Department of Chemistry and Biochemistry, and in charge of NASA’s WISE program in Pasadena.

Doctor, sir, please forgive me for calling at such a late hour, and again, I apologize, but I wouldn’t have called unless I thought it to be of an urgent nature.

What is it, Julie?

Doctor, the WISE’s sixteen-inch telescope and infrared camera sensors are sending me unusual readings from what appears to be a fast-approaching meteorite.

What kind of readings, Julie?

Well, sir, my readings aren’t typical, like with an asteroid, which reads as a giant singular object, nor does it read like other normal meteorites, which you know, sir, are hard to track, but usually read as a combination of multiple objects. These readings, however, transmit as just a small singular object, with possibly another minute object attached to it as well, but I have no definite confirmation, as the second object reads more like a shadow. We shouldn’t be able to read or track a singular object this small, but its readings are transmitting through to my screen, and it’s currently heading on a collision course with Earth.

If so…what is your estimated trajectory of the meteorite as to where it could eventually hit, and forecasted time for when this event will occur?

Sir, it’s on a direct course for the Northern Hemisphere, and in my estimation, I expect it to strike down somewhere within interior Alaska, possibly even as soon as the end of this week!

That would occur around the time of the first weekend in August, if your report holds true. Thank you for the report, Julie, and you did the right thing by notifying me. I will contact the proper authorities within interior Alaska as soon as possible, as well as their local media outlets, who can inform the public in case an evacuation is necessary, although it’s highly doubtful with a singular object as small as you’ve described, but better to be safe than sorry.

Chapter 1

August 2014

BENJAMIN JONES took a deep breath of fresh Alaskan air before climbing onto the 1959 John-Deere, model 630, tractor, with its fading green-and-yellow colored paint, preparing to drive around his father’s farmland in order to check on the oat and barley crops. He exhaled, long and slow, then sat down on the tractor’s seat and began to stare at the beautiful, distant mountains with their snow-covered peaks for a moment of daydreaming and reflection.

It’s sure great to see the mountains again and not smell any smoke, he thought, as the air and visibility had finally cleared from the thick smoke that blew through the area for several weeks, caused by many simmering, early summer fires that erupted in numerous acres of dry spruce, aspen, and willow trees, for as far as fifty miles away. The fires had since been extinguished by smoke jumpers and firefighting crews from around the state, who also received welcomed relief from the weather, with a few days of heavy rain.

It was now 10:00 a.m. on the first Saturday of early August, and Ben couldn’t have wished for a better morning. He was feeling spry after having recently jogged for five miles near the farm, on this sunny and sixty-five-degree day, with a slight breeze to help keep the pesky mosquitoes away.

I’ll do my push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups later, he thought to himself, before shifting the tractor’s transmission into first gear, pushing the hand clutch ahead and driving away from the farm. Putt…putt…putt…putt…putt… the old John-Deere’s twin cylinder engine sounded like music to his ears, as he increased the throttle after shifting to a higher gear and headed toward the crop fields.

Ben was a single, twenty-eight-year-old farmer who, two years earlier, had quit his previous job of five years as a heavy-equipment operator for a gold mining operation, north of Fairbanks, in order to return to his hometown of Spruce Hills to help his aging parents manage their 300-acre farm. Spruce Hills is a rural agriculture community in interior Alaska, having a population of 1,000 citizens, with twenty percent being Ukrainian immigrants, and is located 100 miles south of Fairbanks: Alaska’s second largest city. It is a robust community that has schools, a health clinic, one supermarket, a church, two restaurants, two gas stations, and even a nearby renowned army post known as Fort Grenade.

Ben always believed in the importance of keeping himself physically fit through exercise, proper dieting, and hard work, even preferring the hard, manual labor involved in farming over that of a sedentary career and lifestyle.

At 6’1" and 225 pounds of flexible, solid, lean muscles since his eighteenth birthday, he was recruited by several big-time college coaches for their football programs after his graduation to play linebacker or safety. Considered by many scouts to be one of the top athletes in Alaska, who could bench press over 350 pounds on a good day, and run a four-point-fifty-second, forty-yard dash, he was an outstanding high school football player, as well as holding a first degree black belt in jujitsu.

But Ben would never accept their scholarship offers, for he wasn’t very enthusiastic about the idea of leaving behind the peaceful, laid back atmosphere of interior Alaska, for the high-pressure atmosphere of a big city and collegiate football lifestyle, which also included enduring the constant verbal abuse that he knew he’d hear from team coaches during practices.

He liked playing football in high school, but wasn’t committed enough to dedicate himself full time to the sport, and subject his body to the physical pounding and toll he would endure on a weekly basis, much to the disappointment of his friends, who had hoped to see him in the NFL one day.

If I suffer ligament damage to my knees or, worse yet, sustain severe concussions, which could negatively affect me for the rest of my life, how will I be able to care for my parents and their farm if need be? Ben often pondered.

He pulled the tractor’s hand clutch back and eased the John-Deere to a stop before turning the ignition off and climbing down. He had arrived to the edge of the ninety-acre oat field, one of three crop fields that his father, Jesse, owned, and just a ten-minute tractor ride from the farm. His father grew mostly oats, barley, and hay, in which the baled straw from those crops were mainly marketed to the state’s dog mushers as bedding for their sled dogs. They also grew potatoes, which they marketed to the state as well, but kept many for themselves for winter consumption.

Spruce Hills is considered by many to be a beautiful town and agricultural community, being situated in a large valley and surrounded by the snow-covered Alaska Range, with their breathtaking, purple Granite Mountains in the forefront.

Ben double-checked the forty-four magnum handgun in the holster on his right hip to make sure it was loaded and ready for a quick retrieval in an emergency. He always carried it for self-defense in the fields, for a possible rare encounter with an aggressive grizzly bear or wolves, which had recently been spotted nearby, along with the numerous tracks they had left behind in the mud, identifying their presence in the area.

Ben was a great marksman and could drill tacks at fifty yards with his favorite large-caliber handgun, and although he hoped he’d never have to defend himself against a bear attack, he had supreme confidence in his shooting abilities, if the need were to arrive.

He then retrieved a can of mosquito repellent from the tractor’s toolbox, pointed the aerosol can toward himself, and began to spray religiously, wherever he could reach. He knew that swarms of bloodthirsty mosquitoes would viciously attack any area of the body left unprotected and exposed. He first began spraying over his blue jeans, which covered his flexibly muscular legs, and then slowly moved the can upward and sprayed over his tight, red-colored tee-shirt covering his rippling six-pack abs, muscular chest, and broad shoulders, before skimming over the tight forearms and bulging biceps of his brown-tanned arms. Lastly, he gave his thick neck a quick touch up before tightly closing his mouth and eyelids over his dark-blue pupils as he removed his cap and sprayed over his short, light-brown, slightly curved hair, and across his unblemished, smooth-complexioned face, until he was satisfied.

In a negative reaction from the bitter taste inside his mouth, he found himself spitting on the ground several times in response to a small portion of residue from the repellent, which somehow managed to sneak past his tightly sealed lips.

Ben began to wade through the knee-high oats in the green field for his weekly inspection, while glancing down at the crops. Looking good! he excitedly spoke aloud to himself. Shouldn’t be long now, and they’ll be ready for harvesting.

He took another lazy step forward with his right foot as his mind drifted off into a daydream, but then immediately flinched and came to a sudden halt, after something had startled him enough that it caused him to desperately reach for the handgun on his hip! His heart began pounding from the adrenaline rush, and he wondered if it would leap from his chest, before the guilty culprit was quickly identified seconds later, which caused him to feel embarrassed from allowing his imagination to get the better of him.

It wasn’t a bear at all, but instead, a large, ring-neck pheasant that had been camouflaged in the grassy oats just in front of him while feeding, and one he nearly stepped on by accident, before flushing it out.

The beautifully colored male bird, with its long, sweeping tail and brilliant feathers, took to flight, cackling loudly, along with its wings exploding thunderously in the air as it tried to flee to a higher elevation.

It’s shameful that I’d get this jumpy from a harmless pheasant, he thought before busting out into a silent chuckle, especially after noticing the goose bumps on his arms. If that were a grizzly bear instead of a game bird, I’d really be in a world of hurt, he also surmised. Let cooler heads prevail in bear country is what the experts say… I think.

Ben paused for a moment and his nerves finally settled down, when he quickly turned his attention toward the distant sound of numerous sandhill cranes and geese, singing and honking as they flew together in perfect harmony on the distant horizon. He listened with keen attention, while also glancing upward at the sky, in search of the melodious bird choir, and hoping they were flying toward his direction, when something unusual caught his attention instead. Interesting… What is that?

Chapter 2

Ben adjusted the baseball cap covering his head by pulling the visor down, and tweaked the sunglasses that covered his eyes, intending to block out the bright sun and enhance his vision. He stared intensively at a tiny, dark-colored spot, partially cloaked in a thick, white cloud, while also trying to discern between the unknown dot approaching from the heavens and the floaters inside his eyeballs.

Whatever the object was, it seemed to be rapidly approaching from the east direction at a sixty-degree angle, and quickly increased in size as it fell closer and moved faster, transforming from a small dot just mere seconds before, to a larger, rounded, and dim-colored object, with a short stream of smoke.

Oh hell, no! shouted Ben aloud. Is that a meteorite? He was no astronomer, but he remembered being taught about meteorites and studying the topic in science class during his senior year of high school for half the school semester. He also knew that there was something odd and peculiar about this incoming bolide’s lack of fiery brightness and smoke, for it emitted only a light glow and appeared to be smaller than expected. Meteorites travel in numbers through space at supersonic speeds, catch on fire, heat up, and glow brightly when entering the Earth’s high-friction atmosphere, sometimes burning up and fragmenting into pieces, he recollected. So what’s the deal with this bolide? There’s only one small meteorite as opposed to two or three together.

He was now becoming very concerned that the meteorite’s trajectory appeared to be on an imminent collision course with their property and might possibly crash somewhere near the farmhouse. He suddenly remembered overhearing the news report from the previous night about the possibility of a singular meteor heading toward the Northern Hemisphere while his mother watched the television in the other room, but he never gave the warning a second thought, until now.

He reached into his right pants pocket, retrieved his cell phone, and quickly punched in the numbers to his parents’ farmhouse. Come on, come on, answer the phone! he pleaded aloud and anxiously over his cell phone, as he desperately wanted to warn them.

One ring, two rings, three, four, five, six, until finally, an elderly woman answered after the eighth ring. Hello, this is the Jones residence. How may I help you?

Ben breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his mother’s voice on the other end of the line. She was such a strong individual, as well as his father, whom both had left a great impression on him for still being such hardworking parents for their age, when most other people would have long since retired.

Her name was Judy, and even at the age of sixty, she still possessed enough strength and stamina to pull weeds in their large garden for most of the day, without feeling tired. Being at 5’10" and having a lithe, 120-pound body, she was once considered by anyone who laid eyes upon her to be one of the most beautiful women seen. Her once-long golden-blond hair and roundish face, blue eyes, high cheekbones, and large lips, all combined to give her the features and characteristics of a Swedish model, before the inevitable signs of aging, including gray hair, began to appear.

His mother’s beauty was also an unfortunate grievance to Ben at times during his teen years, when often, his high school friends would plead with him to set them up with his mother for a Friday-night date.

I am the luckiest man in the world for being married to your mother! his father, Jesse, would often say. I met your mom in 1971, and married her at the Spruce Hills Community Church in 1973, about three years after I moved to Alaska from Maine, he would proudly remind him every year, on their wedding anniversary.

That was around a million years ago, wasn’t it, Dad? Ben would ask him in return, with a spirited chuckle.

Although at sixty-eight and fading, Jesse was still a muscular and rugged man, who, being at 6’0 tall and 190 pounds, could still hold his own in a playful, kitchen wrestling match against Ben. But now, his face and body displayed the signs of wear and tear from age, and with his combined years of working outdoors in the elements, he was now gray-haired and rougher in appearance than during his youth. But Jesse was also a proud man and far too stubborn to concede defeat, to Father Time’s cruel handiwork. I might become old, shrivel up, and eventually die, but I will never lose my sense of humor," he often promised, and vowed to remain young at heart, regardless of his age.

Ben often still recalled in his mind the tragic time from the past, when he was at the age of ten, and how his fourteen-year-old-brother, Mark, had died from a horrific farming accident, which left him with no siblings. It was his parents’ worst nightmare coming to fruition, but they refused to allow the tragedy to bring them to bitterness, but instead, remained strong, intending to set a good example for him, which, he always felt, had helped to mold his life and make him a better person, and one with a strong character as well. He always felt love and admiration for his parents, being very grateful and thankful for their wisdom, in how they taught and raised him during his upbringing, which, he felt, had helped to make him a man of character. He credited them fully for his own hardworking traits, and for the values instilled within him.

I need you and Dad to get out of the house now! pleaded Ben to his mother with desperation. He quickly glanced up and estimated the incoming bolide to be less then a minute away from crashing to Earth, and where possibly, everything near its collision point would be destroyed. At least I don’t have to worry about the neighbors since the closest one is miles away, he reminded himself in an attempt to fight off panic.

What’s wrong, Ben? she asked.

Ben didn’t have time to respond when the large meteorite speedily glided over, less than 100 meters above, and having a deafening, whistling sound as it continued its downward slope over the distant treetops before disappearing out of sight, leaving him to brace himself for a possible sonic boom or shock wave.

What was that? his mother asked when she heard the loud, whistling noise on the phone.

A meteorite is about to hit the house, Mom! Go outside now, or find a safe place to hide with Dad! he shouted in horror.

Oh my, she replied.

Ben suddenly heard a very loud, thunderous explosion in the distance, which echoed throughout the valley and resembled the sound of a large cannon being fired, after the meteorite’s dramatic collision. Mom! he shouted on his cell phone. Mom… Mom!

Thankfully, we’re all right, Ben, she answered.

Ben felt overcome with emotion and relief when he heard his mother’s voice again. Thank God!

I looked out the front window and just saw it as it flew over the house, and barely missed our roof by several feet!

Where did it land?

I think it crashed down somewhere behind the house, she added. I see some smoke, but I’m not sure how far away it is, and it shattered a few windows when it glided over and almost gave Jesse and me a heart attack!

I’m thankful you are both safe… Have Dad grab me the hammer, chisel, maul, and a big wedge from the barn, and I’ll be there as quickly as possible.

"What do you have in mind,