Tom managed to get the boy's old dirt bike started, but the real task was keeping it running. As the gas quickly evaporated, Tom decided there was no way he could successfully rescue his bride. Not without help, so he steered away from the town; headed for the main interstate instead.
Making pretty good time, Tom managed to make it almost seven miles. Down the old state roads, until the stark barren interstate highway came into view. But just then the old motorbike sputtered to a stop, luckily as Tom looked up ahead. He saw a sign, food, gas and lodging one mile it read. As quickly as he was able he made his way to the run down truck stop and hotel. Spotting a pay phone, Tom quickly rifled through Donny's jean pockets finding some change and the youths wallet. Stepping into the dirty old phone booth he quickly dialed the number of the only person he through might believe his story. The phone ring once twice, then a familiar voice answered.
"Hello."
"Fox.." Tom grunted softly into the phone.
"Yes..who is this." The voice on the other end asked.
"It..it's me Tom."
"Tom...what are you doing calling...I thought you were on your honeymoon."
"I..We were but..but..Oh Fox!" Quickly Tom told his tale as his old friend listen silently. "Aliens Fox its Aliens I tell ya..."
"Now...now take it easy Tom...I'll catch the red eye out and be there in a few hours... in the meanwhile rent yourself a room in that hotel and get some sleep...ok."
"Yeah...yeah ok Fox...thanx." Tom grunted as he heard his old buddy hang up.