Story: 'Night Trials', XI

As my first serial, 'Night Trials' has been prey to planning problems and narrative blocks. On this occasion there was only one recourse, the ultimate recourse: Doodling on paper. If you're ever in trouble when writing, just doodle and summarise, and write down random things and you will eventually get through!

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'Night Trials', Part XI
(Part X, XII)

Lincoln Poon had been a landholder of little ambition but great luck and opportunism. While Stanford Colms was slowly developing the ranching hub and market at Wandering Yip, Poon was swiftly expanding Poon Hill on silver money. Lincoln Poon was long gone now but the lingering, faded opulence of the saloon still lingered on as Sheriff Bob stared intently out of the window at the aliens walking around the planned settlement. Poon had had a short-lived with Vienna so the town was build in circles.

Bob had stared for an hour and it seemed as if the aliens weren't coming for him. They hadn't seen him or were playing it calm. Maybe he was too small a problem to bother with? No, he was sure they hadn't seen him. The plan was set, even if it wasn't a particularly honourable plan. Striding out of the saloon he approached the nearest alien and roundly smashed it to the ground with a roundhouse punch to the head. The alien stayed down on the ground, while five - five! - others came zooming in slowly to take him down.  He ran to a house, which he'd selected very carefully as an uninhabited one, and watched again. The alien was lifted up and they looked toward his hideout.

Bob waited.

The aliens slowly approached the house. Now he was no longer in awe so much of the beings he realised that they seemed extraordinarily cautious. Thinking back, he realised that only one alien had actually made any kind of offensive act against him, and the people of this town had been terrorised en masse by the deaths of their strongest people. The six aliens approaching were going very slowly and holding devices of some kind which they waved about. By the time they decided to open fire on the building Bob was long gone. Back doors were such useful things, especially when they were so close to the saloon.

'How do you deal with a bunch of extremely cautious aliens invaders?', pondered Bob, 'And how do you do it before they build up the courage and nerve?'. Those questions and the worry that there might be a firebrand amongst the outsiders jostled around in Bob's head. Looking around the saloon he realised they were in danger because of him, and could even be used as leverage. He had to go. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of soda he made a break out of a side door in the owner's suite and ducked into the first empty building he found. The sun was still above the horizon, but he was distracted by a huge boom and the collapse of the house he'd been in into burnt rubble.

The aliens approached his new dwelling, clearly being guided somehow. Bob could face them or run until night time, seeing house after house collapsed behind him. What to do?

To be concluded...