Ryker enjoyed Darcy’s lovely little smile as he entered her from behind, his finger on her trigger, her eyes closed, and her hands gripping the saddle. He kept the horse at a slow, steady pace up the hill on a moonlit cloudless Montana night in ranchland. 

Quiet moans kept beat as each front hoof hit the ground, as Darcy pressed Ryker’s hand rhythmically against the horn on the saddle. Sweat from their naked bodies slid down the leather. Ryker stopped the horse at the top of the hill, stood up in the stirrups, and took over the undulating motion himself. His finger made little circles and crushed against the horn, harder and harder.

The sky erupted in chaotic light. Ryker’s eyes became horse eyes, and fear squirted a little coffee out his ass. An enormous flying saucer had landed in the valley below without a sound. The friggin thing had to be a mile wide with the perimeter spanning the distance between county road fifty and fifty-one.

For God’s sake, he for sure didn’t want Darcy to know he had shit himself. He clamped up best he could and rummaged for a towel, anything. Panicked, he pulled her cowboy hat down and turned the horse around until he could figure out what the hell to do.

He wasn’t just scared; he was pissed. Horse action was Darcy’s favorite. She’d already arrived three times, her passionate screams echoing across the valley. But this saucer thing sure took a horse shit on his turn at reaching the finish line.

Ryker hopped off both mares and struggled to retrieve his pants from the saddlebags. Darcy came to, stared at him confused, saw the blinking lights reflected in his eyes, and jerked back to see the mammoth metal monster.

“Holy fucking shit!” She swiveled back to Ryker with a, ‘What the hell’s going on?’ look.

“Stay calm, baby; let’s get our fucking clothes on and get moving.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, it’s the fucking end times. It’s happening.”

“Relax, relax, it’s probably just the damn military doing some testing shit,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. He shoved on pants and boots.

Hundreds of massive doors and ramps on the space disc descended simultaneously. Thousands of pale alien tourists bobbled out as though naked people on horseback in the dark weren’t watching. That’s when the smell hit.

Ozone from purple corona discharge spastically dancing around the metal menace whooshed up the hill and hit them, intermingled with some God-awful women’s perfume and a pinch of Ryker’s sour coffee. Darcy balanced in the saddle and frantically put her pants on. Ryker threw a coffee-soiled rag onto the prairie, hopped back on the horse, and searched for the stirrups.

A house-size craft winged out of the big dish, whipped up the hill in a blue streak, and landed in front of them singing and whirring. “Now, of all the times,” Ryker thought, “why the hell don’t I have my damn gun?”

Windows whisked open, and a middle-aged Billy Graham look-a-like peered out. Twelve younger, skinnier replicas joined him. Billy took one look at Darcy’s beautiful, moonlit breasts and exclaimed, “Hallelujah, it’s good to be on Earth! I think I’m going to like it here!”

Darcy slumped to the side, and Ryker caught her legs just before her head hit the ground, her long hair sweeping the prairie. A garage door opened on the Billy Brigade space house. The craft zinged forward, swallowed beast, boots, and breast in one gulp, and sped back down the valley to mama.

#

Ryker woke up behind Darcy, lights blinding him. Billy and his Mrs. Graham look-a-like wife pulled away with empty, dripping hypodermic needles, wearing smiles only a believer could muster. Darcy turned to Ryker, scared, grabbed his hand, and he looked down. They were sitting on a fancy snake-leather saddle on the horse, wearing chaps, star-studded shirts, and glittered cowboy hats. The horse stood front and center on a gigantic stage in the largest church in the universe.

A crowd of aliens as big as a city cheered and clapped, and cheap perfume and cologne wafted up on stage. Ryker put a hand to his brow. Endless rows of white teeth smiled, every alien man nearly indistinguishable from the lead Billy, except for different shirts or pants. All the women were the sinless clone of Billy’s wife; only the ages varied, but the hair coiffed the same, and maybe the dresses were brighter or more colorful.

On both sides of the stage, cumulous-cloud-sized holographic projections of the couple mimicked their every move. An army-sized robed choir behind them broke into song.

“Hallelujah and Amen, praise the Lord and the alien.”

Billy grabbed a microphone, “Praise the Lord! Aren’t these two alien specimens from Montanoz remarkable? Dear brethren, we have come a long way across the galaxy to preach the holy word, and behold, our first seekers of the light, on a night pilgrimage in search of the word, seeking redemption, and most importantly, ready to donate to our cause.”

Darcy started shaking, broke out in tears, and peed herself. Soaking up her warm ooze, it took a few seconds for Ryker to put it all together. He spilled the remainder of his caffeinated intestines. The projectionist zoomed in for a closeup. Fear dripped off the stirrups, and the elated crowd broke into a standing ovation.

What horror does lie in the night for those who would break the Lord’s laws?