We heard the rushing sound descending upon us and ran uphill as fast as we could . . . as if we could escape the intruder.
Mark, Matt, Chris and I had been at the tennis courts most of the morning and were on our way home. There were two routes home, each a mile long. One route took us by road. The other led us through the woods. On this day, we chose the cooler forested route.
Half of this hike was on an old road bed on the side of a hill. We were goofing off feeling like taking our time and so left the road bed to climb the side of the hill.
We had recently been to the theatre to watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It was 1977. Extraterrestrials were fresh in our conversations and haunted our thoughts. When the sound began, all of our senses went directly to Richard Dreyfus, mashed potatoes, and Devil’s Tower.
The sound was a subtle rush at first like a wave of cicadas in the heat of summer. But the sound was increasing and moving toward us. We looked up at the trees and there was no breeze moving the leaves. We all looked at each other with terror and ran uphill away from the approaching abduction.
The downpour and laughs came simultaneously as the summer rain cooled our heads and drenched our clothes.