I Can Barely Breathe by August Verona

Prologue
    The sun had already disappeared over the
horizon, leaving the small Colorado town of Sorrow’s Sky covered in
late evening shadows. What remained of the sunset diminished in a
slew of purples, pinks and yellows. It was the time of day any
photographer or painter would appreciate; the natural beauty of
sunlight hitting the atmosphere at just the right angle could take
anyone’s breath and make it short for a time.
    Due to the surface temperature being in the
midsixties, many folks were out enjoying the scenic view. So when
the triangular-shaped lights appeared over the south side of town,
it wasn’t long before phones started ringing.
    The lights seemed to visit the small
community a few evenings every month. They would move intelligently
and maneuver in ways that defied belief.
    The townspeople watched as the triangular
craft’s lights switched from a bright white to a beautiful dark
blue. It kept its distance, never flying over any buildings, only
the forest. It danced in the sky for thirty-five minutes. Most of
the viewers naively thought it was putting on a show for them and
saying hello. Very few, if any, entertained the notion that
something far more sinister was happening. Either way, the people
of Sorrow’s Sky had been chosen.
    The futuristic flying machine eventually
stopped in midair, sputtered a bit from side to side and then,
accompanied by the gasps from the townspeople, quickly fell to
Earth. There was no explosion, no bright flash of light, only the
sound of branches breaking as it collapsed through the trees and
then a hard thud once it hit the dirt.
    By the time the police and military arrived
at the crash site, the inhabitants of the spaceship were gone. No
traces of blood were found, only an empty shell with loads of
technological devices that were clearly not from planet Earth.
    Military scientists worked day and night to
reverse engineer not only the craft but the communication systems,
tablets, weapons, computers and tools. The US government never had
a secret agenda. Their plan was to eventually share the technology
with the entire world, making one hell of a profit and transforming
the world into a better place at the same time. Once the work was
completed, the new gear was marketed and sold to Colorado
residents, then soon nationwide.
    The beings were never found.

Chapter One
Seven Years Later
    October 12, 1962. Carver Thorton, a
twenty-seven-year-old man who spent his whole life in Sorrow’s Sky,
gripped the steering wheel of his hardtop ’57 Chevy. She was cherry
red, in used condition. The interior looked newer than the
exterior, due to the fact that she had seen her fair share of
weather. Carver had debated buying the car in the first place,
considering he didn’t have a garage to store her in, but, in the
end, he and the car seemed to be a perfect match.
    Though the highway was lonely, Carver always
felt a rush of relief after leaving the nearby big city of Cosmos,
Colorado. It was eight miles northeast of Sorrow’s Sky, just past
the large cemetery that lay between the two settlements. He checked
his reflection in the rearview mirror, looking for scratches. His
blue eyes searched his clear skin to find he was not injured. The
five o’clock shadow on his face appeared darker by the minute,
despite the fact it was three in the afternoon.
    Women always found him attractive, which, in
turn, never really worked out too well for them. Carver had a
well-defined jawline; he was tall with short brown hair under his
black fedora. Folks always said he looked good in the newest
fashion trends. He was blessed, some might say, intellectually and
physically.
    “The devil in a Sunday suit” was how he
would secretly describe himself. He knew better than anyone that
something had always been off in his mind, but he was very good at
hiding it. No one knew the real Carver Thorton but Carver Thorton
himself.
    His fingers loosened his tie and unbuttoned
the collar of his white shirt. His suit