Prologue

Present time (2023)
Maryland, United States

At five o’clock sharp, Abby Blevins removed her headset and stowed it away safely. After clocking out, she bade goodnight to her co-workers – none of whom she’d ever taken the time to get to know well – and made a beeline for her car. She couldn’t wait to get out on the road. She hated her job. Working in a call center, Monday through Thursday, twelve-hour shifts – this wasn’t what she had in mind for a career. Oh, well. At least she had a three-day weekend to look forward to.

She slipped into her car, a well-traveled 2011 Ford Focus. She fired up the ignition; the engine turned over with fits and starts, and she began the long trek home from the outskirts of Baltimore. I need to move closer to my job, Abby mused, recycling a thought that had popped into her head endlessly over the past several days. With Steve out of my life, that might just be a possibility.

Her commute took her over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge onto Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Forty-five minutes after leaving work, she pulled up in front of what passed for home. She lived in a decidedly lower-income trailer park. Upon entering her humble abode, the silence emanating from within was both uncharacteristic and unsettling. She shook her head in mild disgust, casting aside any negative thoughts about the recent developments in her personal life. Moving on from Steve was a good thing, she reminded herself, reinforcing the notion.

Abby reflected back upon the night before she’d broken things off with Steve for good, just two short weeks ago. It had been a numbingly typical evening. She’d gotten home from work and peeked into the bedroom to find Steve sprawled out on the bed, game controller in hand. Despite their modest level of income (provided exclusively by Abby, save for Steve’s unemployment check), Steve had seen to it that they had a state-of-the-art TV. It was an eighty-six-inch monster, with all the bells and whistles, which towered over everything else in their tiny bedroom. And, of course, a PlayStation game system with a wide variety of accessories was hooked up to it. It was the game system which held Steve’s interest, as it had so often in the recent past.

“Hiya, babe,” Steve had shouted over a cascade of zaps and blasts as he waged some kind of a war with a virtual enemy.

“Hi yourself,” Abby replied tiredly. “How’s the job search coming?”

“What’s that?” came Steve’s half-hearted reply. “I didn’t hear you.”

Abby grabbed the remote and adjusted the volume down to a much more reasonable level. “I said,” she repeated, a little more pointedly, “how’s the job search coming?”

“I’m not too worried about that. I’ll still be getting unemployment checks for five more months, right? I figure I’ll get serious about it two months from now, maybe three. So, what’s for dinner?”

That ended up being the figurative straw that broke the camel’s back. She’d quietly gone and fixed dinner. At the same time, she came to a decision: That’s enough. The following day, she’d given him the speech about how things weren’t working out, and it would be best if they both went their separate ways, et cetera. He’d whined as expected and made numerous promises to change. But Abby stuck to her vow, and within a week, he’d moved out completely. Apparently, Steve had seen it coming too on some level – it had actually been startling to Abby at how easily he’d let go. His mild protestations on that final day turned out to be nothing more than token gestures. He had very little in the way of personal possessions to take with him, save from that enormous television and the game system. Such was Steve’s lack of ambition in all ways of life.

As for Abby, she was twenty-five years old. She’d been through more trials and tribulations in her life than many people twice her age. She was an only child. Her father, a Baptist minister, died suddenly of a heart attack at forty-three years of age. At the time, Abby was six. Her mother re-married a few years later. Abby despised her stepfather; she often heard him arguing with her mother, and suspected him of being physically abusive, although Abby’s mom never said so. In her teen years, Abby began to develop her characteristic independent streak, and a mind of her own. This caused her to frequently be at odds with her mom, who was still a practicing Baptist. Sadly, Abby’s mother developed breast cancer when Abby was nineteen and passed away when she was twenty. As a result, Abby had no immediate family to speak of.

But still, she had her dreams. She had tried college for a while, on a part-time basis, while working full-time to pay for it. She’d gotten about halfway to a bachelor’s degree in business administration before dropping out. It certainly wasn’t that she lacked the intelligence. Nor was money a problem that couldn’t have been overcome; financial aid and student loans were quite feasible options to pursue. Rather, the issue was time. She was essentially self-supporting, working full-time was an absolute necessity, and she just didn’t have time to give academics their due. Now, perhaps that might change.

On top of that, Abby now realized she’d chosen the wrong field of study. She longed to be a nurse. Now that I’m on my own, she thought, maybe I can go to school at night. Maybe look into getting an online degree.

Momentarily cheered by that thought, Abby wandered out into the kitchen to see what was in the cupboard for dinner. She found a box of spaghetti and a jar of Ragu sauce. Inside the freezer was – lo and behold – a box of frozen precooked meatballs. You wouldn’t call this ambrosia, she thought, but it’s the best I can do tonight. She sauteed up some onions and garlic and set a pot of water to boil on the stove. Into the microwave went the meatballs. She dropped the pasta into the now-boiling water

She dipped a fork into the pot and plucked out one strand of spaghetti. She blew gently across the noodle to cool it and then gave it a taste. “Done,” she voiced out loud. She drained the mass of pasta through a colander and then returned it to the pot. In went the now-heated meatballs, and the onions and garlic, followed by a deluge of the red sludge from Ragu. A little salt and pepper, a quick stir, and she deemed it ready to eat. She’d whipped up a quick salad from various vegetable scraps in the fridge. “Bon appetit,” she declared wryly.

Later that evening, she was lying in bed, alone. Her mind once again wandered back to the recent past. Night after night, Steve had lain there beside her, engrossed in whatever video adventure held his attention on that particular evening. Abby had conditioned herself to pay him no mind while he was thus engaged, and her full attention was typically directed to the one luxury item that she considered a necessity – her Kindle e-reader. Abby loved to read. Fiction, non-fiction, news accounts, editorials, current events, you name it.

On those occasions, Abby knew that she was just passing the time. She knew that, eventually, Steve would put down the game controller. He would stand up and strip himself naked. She would do the same, almost by force of habit; she would lie back on the bed and compliantly spread her legs. He would rut in and out of her until he was finished. Then, he would roll over on his side and, within minutes, start snoring away, with perhaps only a grunt or a fart to pass as “Goodnight, babe.”

In all fairness to Steve, he hadn’t always been like that. They’d been an item, on and off, for four years, and living together for nearly two. They’d met in college; Steve, with financial help from his parents, had managed to get the degree in business administration that had eluded Abby. He’d landed a decent job right out of school. His number one personal flaw, however, was his utter reliance on his parents; they’d basically driven him to get that degree. Unlike Abby, independence was one concept he simply couldn’t seem to grasp. For a while, Abby had tried to mother him, but that soon got old. It just took too much out of her. Then came the fateful day when Steve received the bad news: his employer was cutting back, and he was being laid off. At that point, Steve’s inherent laziness, and along with it his inability to take any action without a swift kick in the ass, really began to rear its ugly head.

Reflecting upon this, Abby had another brief moment of weakness. Poor Steve. He’s not such a bad guy in many ways. But what about me? I deserve better, don’t I? Then again, who do I have to lean on if everything falls apart?

She chased those toxic thoughts from her mind, again not wanting to fall into the pit of post-relationship melancholy. Finally, she drifted off into dreamland.

Several hours later, having slept like a baby, she awoke with a start. The angle of the morning sun shining around the curtains told her that she’d overslept a little. Still, it was Friday, day number one of her three-day weekend. She got up out of bed, stretched, and began the day by promising herself not to think about Steve. She quickly identified a productive distraction from negative emotions. “Think I’ll go out for a run before breakfast,” she said out loud. She stripped naked there in the room and walked in the direction of the closet. She passed in front of a large, four-foot mirror attached to the back of the closet door and paused briefly to view herself. Vanity was not generally a weakness of hers, but this time, she allowed herself a moment.

Abby was fairly tall, somewhere between five-eight and five-nine. She had piercing blue eyes and wavy hair that was slightly more than shoulder length. That hair – a deep red-orange color – was perhaps her defining physical characteristic. Her soft facial features contrasted somewhat with her athletic yet quite well-proportioned body. She confined her hair in a ponytail, then went into the closet and slipped into a pair of spandex shorts and a training bra. On the way out the door, her smart phone, attached to a wall charger in the kitchen, suddenly began playing a contemporary tune. Abby didn’t have very many ring tones programmed into her phone; she knew at once who this caller was.

Reversing course, Abby dashed to the phone and answered it. “Hayley!” she squealed. “I haven’t talked to you in a couple of days. What’s up?”

“Work,” came the high-pitched voice on the other end. “How ‘bout you, girlie? You’ve been awful quiet lately, too.”

“Work,” laughed Abby. “You know how it is. These twelve-hour days suck hard.” They got to talking, and as things usually did when Hayley really got going, she was soon monopolizing the conversation.

Abby didn’t have too many friends these days, but Hayley Harkness was near the top of her current list. Hayley lived about a half mile away – in another mobile home, which she shared with a female roommate. Right now, Hayley was (as she put it) “between relationships,” having recently broken up with a boyfriend. This gave her and Abby a commonality. She was a loyal friend, although a little ditzy and talkative to a fault. As Hayley droned on and on about this and that, Abby’s mind began to wander. She caught herself, and to be polite, forced herself to focus on what Hayley was saying. Despite Hayley’s quirks, Abby did like her a lot.

“So, last night,” Hayley chirped, “I was watching...”

And with that, Abby’s attention once again began to drift, as Hayley regaled her with the details about some god-forsaken reality show about a family whose last name starts with the letter K. Nothing held less interest for Abby than a program about famous people who’d become famous by doing nothing. She realized how much she craved intelligent, meaningful conversation, and how absent it was in her life at present. Eventually, Abby found herself unable to resist a sudden subject change.

“I’m going out for a jog,” Abby cut in, perhaps a little too abruptly. “Aren’t you off today, too? Wanna come with me?”

Somewhat startled by the interruption, Hayley nonetheless brought her prattling to a halt. She appeared to consider the offer for a moment and then demurred. “Some other time, okay? I suppose I could stand to get in a little better shape. Maybe I’ll start running with you tomorrow, or the next day.”

Abby sighed inwardly and said goodbye to her friend. She hoped she hadn’t been too short with her. Before heading out, she decided to make a quick trip to the supermarket after her run. She’d taken note of how low her food stock was; there was almost nothing left for breakfast. She strapped on a fanny pack, into which she placed her debit card, her driver’s license, her glasses, and the car keys. The battery on her phone was still fairly low, so she elected to leave it attached to its charger. She wouldn’t be long.

The late morning sun was bright and hot as Abby made her way out to the jogging trail, but thankfully, the path was fully in shade. She picked it up not far from the entrance to the trailer park. The trail wound its way deep into a wooded area. Occasionally, Abby passed – and was passed by – other runners. Abby paid them no mind, for she was preoccupied with her own matters. What comes next for me, she wondered as she jogged further and further into the woods. Right now, my life is in flux.

It seemed to happen in a flash. The green of the trees, the blue sky above her, the bright yellow sun, and the dark brown of the trail appeared to inexplicably blend into a dull gray. She had a sense of falling, while at the same time being rendered breathless by unyielding pressure that was tighter than an anaconda’s grip. The sweet yet pungent odor of ether began to eclipse all sensation. From there, everything faded to the blackest black imaginable.

The First Incident
Just after dusk, February 21, 2049
Palomar Observatory
California, United States

“It’s growing, Louise,” said Rick Geraghty, awe evident in his voice. “Actually growing before our eyes. That’s not something you usually say about an object viewed through a telescope at night.” He directed his colleague to have a look.

“Hmm,” muttered Louise Greenbaum, equally entranced. “I want to tell you you’re crazy, but there it is. There it is. Looks to be about forty arcseconds across, about the size of Jupiter as viewed from Earth.”

As Louise and Rick continued to observe in stupefied amazement, the object continued to grow larger and larger. Round in shape and dark as coal – even darker than the night sky under observatory conditions – it expanded inexorably, hiding from view the stars in the background. Before too long, it occupied the telescope’s entire field of view.

Rick’s phone began to vibrate. He picked up right away. “Hi, Carlos. What’s up?” He listened for a moment as Carlos chattered animatedly. “We’re heading outside now. Keep me posted,” he finally said as he ended the call.

Louise merely looked a question at Rick.

“That was my friend Carlos in Puerto Rico,” explained Rick. “They’re seeing the same thing we are down there at Arecibo. At least it proves we’re not losing our minds.” Grabbing a pair of binoculars, he reached for his coat. Louise did the same, and out they went.

“You can put the binoculars away,” commented Louise upon gazing upward into the eastern part of the sky. “That thing is easily visible to the naked eye.”

Their curiosity – which began to contain an element of terror – continued to increase as colleagues from within the astronomical community, the general public and even the media checked in constantly. Word was spreading like wildfire that something unprecedented was happening in the heavens. A few hours later, the mysterious black blob had grown to cover half of the visible sky, blocking out everything behind it. It was perfectly round, as black as an eight ball, with a razor-sharp edge. It continued to grow, and it did so at an increasing rate. Then, it appeared to surge suddenly, taking over the entire sky in one quick pounce. At that instant, a thick, ghostly fog appeared in their midst, enveloping everything, taking the visibility down to less than a hundred feet.

“Huh?” grunted a stupefied Rick.

“I don’t -” uttered Louise, too terrified to finish the thought.

For about a minute, the two world-class astronomers stood there in a state of paralyzed fright amid a soup of unearthly vapor. Then, inexplicably, the fog lifted almost instantaneously, and the visibility returned to normal. It wasn’t ten seconds later when Rick’s phone went off again. It was Carlos from Puerto Rico.

“It’s still dark there, isn’t it?” he said breathlessly.

“About two hours until sunrise,” Rick got out. “Did you see what we saw?”

“It’s well after sunup here. This weird, light orange haze just appeared, very thick and heavy, and then vanished as quickly as it came. We’re getting reports from Europe and Africa that the same thing happened.”

“Well, since it’s still dark here, we missed out on the pretty orange color,” cracked Rick, somehow managing a lighthearted remark, which belied his still-racing pulse. He happened to glance up at the sky – and took in the view of the same mysterious round black entity, which was now rapidly contracting instead of expanding.

“Hey, Carlos?” intoned Rick in a plaintive voice.

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking up at the dark night sky right now. Whatever that was? It’s going back to where it came from.”

Rick got off the phone, then headed back into the observatory with Louise. They made right for her office, and held a brief one-on-one discussion, coming to a consensus.