White Space Season 1

finger slipped in front of the trigger as he raised the rifle.
    He watched as the car slowly rolled toward his end of the block. The windows were jet black, so he couldn’t see who was inside, but as the car drew closer, Houser grew certain it was the men looking for him.
    Houser was parked far enough into a deep driveway, under a thicket of shadows from the surrounding trees. He figured they might not notice him if he stayed perfectly still. He had considered ducking, but wanted to keep his eyes on the sedan, in case he had to fire.
    The car was three houses away, closing in.
    Houser’s heart pounded. He could taste metal on his tongue as his nerves worked triple time.
    He adjusted his grip on the AR-15, ready to use it, but hoping he wouldn’t have to.
    The car was now one house away, cruising just faster than a crawl. It rolled silently by him, its black windows looking like black robot eyes scanning for life.
    The car passed him and though he couldn’t see it past the trees to his left, he imagined it would soon start its turn at the end of the cul de sac and head back up the street on its way toward Houser. This time, the passenger side occupant would have a much better view of Houser.
    If shit’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen now.
    The car, still out of Houser’s line of sight, seemed to be taking forever to crawl back up the street.
    Had it stopped?
    Had the driver noticed something worth investigating at another house?
    Did the car simply belong to someone who lived in one of the houses at the end of the street?
    Houser waited for the car to appear again, holding his breath the entire time.
    The car finally came into view, now just one house away. Houser raised the rifle, bringing it level with the dashboard. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again, then held his breath.
    Come on, you fuckers. Keep driving.
    The car pulled even with the house and Houser glared into its black windows, wondering if the person on the other side could see him. He watched as the car slowed even more, as he stared into the abyss of those black windows. Houser waited for the red of break lights. The second he saw them, he would launch into action.
    Come on, come on, come on.
    The brake lights stayed dim and the car kept crawling.
    Houser exhaled a sigh of relief.
    Houser stared at the car as it went back up the street, and counted the seconds until it turned back onto the arterial road.
    Once the car was out of sight, Houser keyed the ignition. As he did, he heard something just above the sound of night. Something out of place.
    Something mechanical.
    Then he saw it in his rearview. A bird. But not a bird.
    The thing was shaped like a bird, but was obviously robotic. It had no wings. It just hovered in place, breathing with the slightest of mechanical hums, as though spying on him.
    Houser started to reach for his pistol when blue sparks shot from the robo-bird and sent Houser into a painful seizure.
    He screamed. Or tried to, but nothing came from his mouth as his entire body was seized by the robotic thing and its electric leash which burst from its chest and shot its electricity into Houser’s skull.
    Though the world was little more than a painful, violent blur, Houser was still aware enough to see the robo-bird zip to the right and then back into view, before slowly floating toward him.
    Houser stared helplessly as it made its way toward his face, looking even more like a bird, if nature had a workshop where it added black sensors to dead eyes. The electric arc shut off, but the pain, and immobility remained. Houser watched as the robo-bird hovered inches from his face as if inspecting him.
    Houser’s eyes caught movement in the rearview — one of the men in black coming around to his side of the car.
    Oh, fuck me.
    Houser felt movement returning to his limbs. Not slow, but all at once. He reached up, grabbed the robotic bird, hot in his hands, and threw it back and through where the rear window had shattered, and outside toward the man behind him.
    Houser’s right hand found the gear shift, threw the car into drive, as he slammed his foot down all the way on the gas, then lurched forward, peeling out onto the street.
    Gunshots erupted behind him, a few slapping into the metal on his car. The others missed him entirely.
    The car quickly accelerated, roaring forward faster than Houser had ever driven on a residential road, and nearly lost control as he turned onto the main road, his heart hammering in his chest.
    What