18

At maybe 3:30 in the afternoon, the ground vibrated, just for an instant. I thought it might have been an earthquake. It wasn't; maybe ten minutes later, the security forces in the building rounded everyone up - kids, social workers, families - and brought everyone down to the building's basement and subbasement.

I'd forgotten what it was like to be around civilians when they believe they're in danger. They were afraid. Terrified.

"What if it's another invasion?" I heard, from behind me. Lauretta touched my shoulder, stopped me from turning.

"Don't pay any attention," she muttered.

"Hey!" called a man. "Hey! What's he doing down here? We're not made of space, you know!"

"Yeah," chimed in someone else. "We don't need a Martian taking up our air-"

"What if he's in on it?" asked another woman.

Civilians. Nervous and tense and too eager to blame their problems on someone else.

The security guard looked at me, nervously, and gestured for me to stay aside from the others. "I'll have to ask you to stay over here, s-" and he cut himself off. "Keep your hands visible."

They kept me, at gunpoint, in the corner of the shelter, for the two hours it took to sound the all-clear.

I had a police escort, back to base. The windows of the car were tinted.