Western Oz Words: The Invaders
His race had lived on the planet since time began with nothing to fear apart from natural predators whom they had learnt to avoid. Then had come the Oppressors.... What is his race? And who are the Oppressors? Read Margaret Dunn's splendidly crafted short story, and find out.
It was bright in the morning sunshine. In the shadows close by the wall, he stood watching and listening. The space ahead of him lay empty. Nothing moved; there was no sound. And yet he kept to the ritual he had always followed when leaving home. When he felt it was safe he moved off, still close to the wall, in the constant search for food.
Mostly, he found fruit or vegetables, but sometimes there was meat that would add substance to the usual diet of the family group. Today he must find something, even if it meant the risk of travelling further than usual. They had been hungry for the past week, with little food to be found and the Oppressors being so active.
His race had lived on the planet since time began with nothing to fear apart from natural predators whom they had learnt to avoid.
Then had come the Oppressors. It was not known when or from where they came but it had been in the long distant past. The immense size of the alien beings and their destruction of many of the life systems had changed the whole balance of nature in this world.
But his kind had survived by going into hiding and becoming experts in foraging. Some of them lived in small groups rather than mass concentrations, so that even though the groups were wiped out from time to time, the race still kept going.
The weapons of the Oppressors were formidable. Crushing and battering instruments might be escaped: their terrible din could be heard a long way off, allowing time to find hiding places. But the deadly poison gas attacked swiftly and silently. Extreme caution was essential.
Senses sharpened by hunger, he could detect odours of food nearby. The Oppressors were sometimes careless in moving supplies. He crept along the wall, past tall wooden structures - making sure there were small spaces he could squeeze through at the least sign of danger.
As he drew near, he realised the food was out in the open. He could go back and bring the others, but decided to get closer and see how much there was and satisfy his own hunger.
He fed on the over-ripe fruit and vegetables, and did not sense the cold air current drifting towards him until he started back across the open space. Then the gigantic figure was looming over him - harsh noise and movement.
He froze on the spot - should he run back to the small shelter of the food pile, or make for the far wall to find a hiding place. The indecision was his demise. A fine spray of poison gas enveloped him and immediately he felt the power leave his legs as his senses fled.
In the last seconds of his life he heard the might roar from above - "Another bloody cockroach.”
James Kildare ripped off a piece of kitchen roll, scraped the soft brown body from the tiled floor and dropped it in the pedal bin. Then he cleaned up the small mound of squashed fruit and vegetable peelings that had been spilt earlier. It was always the same - just when he thought he had cleared out the last of them, another furtive cockroach would appear; a silent, menacing invader in his bright modern kitchen. After a quick look around to make sure there were no more of them, he picked up his brief case from the hall and set off cheerfully for work.
Back in the dark place underneath the sink, the others waited in the silence.
