Hallucinating by Stephen Palmer

Stonehenge is alive with craft that whizz, but silently, as if buzzing them with non-sound. It is like an invasion of lotus flowers, for the craft smell of blossom and they have leaves at their edges that point upwards. On top of each rides a creature, too dark to see clearly or masked by alien technology, yet staring down with glittering eyes.
    And it is them: seen before.
    He staggers away, sure he is about to be abducted.
    "Ohmybuddah, I'm hallucinating, I'm hallucinating," he gasps. "Leave us alone!" He manages to duck as a flower craft comes close, hovers above him for a second, drops perfume, then shoots away at the speed of sound: and there is a crack, a sonic boom. There are ten, twenty of the craft now, each piloted by an alien. They can travel at immense speed but they can stop at will, as if they have anti-inertia.
    But they are difficult to spot. They only have small lamps. You feel their rumour first. They can appear out of thin air, or so it seems.
    Sperm's calling music has now ceased, and he is running out of the henge to the vidcams, three of which have been knocked over. Nulight makes to join him, but then Sperm, touching one of the devices, screams and reels backwards, clasping then shaking his hands. He has been burned. The vidcams are smoking, and then one bursts open with a shower of sparks.
    The mixer explodes. It is all going crazy.
    No sign of the lotus flowers, now.
    But, yeah, these were blue aliens with sparkling eyes— and four prominent ears. This is proof beyond doubt that the aliens exist. More than that, they have come down to the surface of the Earth before—they have been planning contact for ages.
    Rich—white-faced, eyes staring—rushes up to Nulight and shouts, "The pigs! They're on their way!"
    "What?"
    "Our e-spy caught their net trail. It's the Plains Police plc. They'll be here in minutes."
    Kappa shouts, "Chuck everything into the vans."
    The aliens have gone. Could they have tipped off the pigs?
    "Retreat!" Nulight yells at the top of his voice.
    At least they have planned for this moment. In goes the remains of the mixer, in go the smoking vidcams, now only warm, in goes all the radio gear and the satellite dish. Sperm puts the precious guitar into its case and straps it into the other van. They have to leave the Marshall stack.
    Nulight does a headcount. He, Kappa and Rich go into one van while the two band members take the other, with Calmer at the wheel. In his van Nulight leaves Rich to drive. The polydiesel engines wheeze, then scream as they race away from Stonehenge, sending mud and grass flying, and then they are bouncing across the tourist car park and screeching onto the road, jolting Nulight enough for him to crack his head on the unpadded roof. He knows that if the pigs catch them everything is over.
    "Go, go, go!" he yells at Rich.
    "I am going," Rich yells back.
    Twin lights appear atop the hill behind them. Nulight and Kappa see them. Both swear. But they have rehearsed this moment too, though they never imagined it would happen. Nulight straps himself into the roofmesh, waits until Kappa has done the same, then flings open the back door. Warm alky air rushes in at him. The pig cars are closing. Luckily the road is narrow and the verges have been built up over time. Nulight grabs a pack of expando wadding, positions the zip away from him, then pulls the cord. A glittering bundle of fibreglass blades explode out, sticking to the road like glue then expanding into a barrier that cannot be passed. The pig cars screech to a halt, but one does not make it and crashes into the barrier, its roof opened like a tin can by the hideous blades.
    Rich accelerates so that their van draws up to the one driven by Calmer. Through the window glass Nulight signals what to do next. They look for a suitable spot. After five minutes they come to a hedgebound layby, and there they stop. Nulight jumps out and looks into the sky.
    Chopper!
    They have minutes only. He and Kappa pull out