Impossible Mission

by Keith Robinson

  Speaking of which, when would the evil space villain be back? When would he next open a wormhole and kidnap Liam?

  The sooner, the better.

  Much as he feared the task at hand, he was perhaps more scared of being discovered by his parents as a half-robot boy. What would doctors say if they examined him and found robot blood pumping through his body?

  He sent a text message to Ant, then sighed and rolled onto his side to sleep. But he hardly slept a wink, instead tossing and turning as his legs tingled and his body slowly succumbed to highly advanced alien technology . . .

  ****

  Liam sat bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, his robot feet tucked under the chair.

  He’d woken a little while ago to find both legs well under nano-construction, one slightly more advanced than the other. Luckily, that was all so far; no metal hands, no laser-red eyeballs, no tinny robotic voice. Still, two clunky artificial feet were enough.

  He tensed as his half-asleep dad shuffled past, opened the front door, and stood on the doorstep with his hands on his hips, probably with his eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. Then he bent, picked up a rolled newspaper, and sauntered back into the house.

  He blinked when he saw Liam. “Whoa. Did I sleep late? Why are you up and dressed so early?”

  Liam tried to look nonchalant as he tucked his oversized feet even farther back. “I have plans.”

  “Did you think it was school today? It’s Sunday, Liam.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you have bed bugs? Are you ill? Is there some kind of nerdy sci-fi TV marathon starting early this morning? Is Madison taking you out for the day? Wait!” He pointed accusingly at Liam. “You were out partying all night and only just walked in.”

  “No, Dad, I just have plans.”

  At that moment, his mom bustled into the kitchen and immediately opened the fridge. It was only when she’d set the eggs and bacon on the counter and glanced up that she spotted Liam and froze. “Well, good morning, honey! I was just about to send your dad in to wake you.”

  “I’m up,” Liam said rather pointlessly. Certain both his parents were about to spot his alien footwear, he flopped his arms about on the table in an extravagant fashion to draw their attention upward, then stretched and yawned. “Hey, Mom, would you care if I stayed with Ant for a few days?”

  His dad pulled out a chair, sat heavily, and flipped open the newspaper. He arched an eyebrow. “A few days?”

  Liam moved his feet sideways. His dad had a habit of shifting in his chair and kicking him.

  “Yeah. All this noise . . .” Fully aware that the house was silent, he waved a hand around and said, “It’s hard to concentrate on homework with workman on the roof, and—”

  “They’re done,” his dad said. “They won’t work today because it’s Sunday, but they’re popping back tomorrow morning to check things over and square things away. We should be leak-free now, though. Aw, shoot.” One of the newspaper folds slipped free and fluttered down to the floor. He started to bend sideways with his hand outstretched.

  “But there’s more workman coming, right?” Liam almost shouted as he dove to pick up the fallen paper. He handed it to his dad, who looked a little startled.

  “Uh, thanks. And yeah, your mom’s got workman here all week, decorating the kitchen.”

  “See?” Liam pounded his fist on the table. “It’s a nightmare living with all this disruption! I think my grades are going to suffer.”

  That statement was like hitting a bullseye, an instant crowd pleaser. “Well, I don’t see a problem if you stay at Ant’s for a few days,” his mom said, cracking egg after egg into a glass jug. “As long as his parents are okay with it. Should I call them?”

  “Sure, if you want to,” Liam said easily, praying she wouldn’t. He’d sent Ant a text message just after 4 AM and received a simple “Okay” not ten minutes ago. Maybe he’d spoken with his parents by now, but he might not have.

  “Well,” Liam’s mom said, looking reassuringly unconcerned, “just make sure you keep your phone charged, and call us every day after school and before you go to bed. And no staying up too late with Netflix!”

  His dad put his paper down and frowned at Liam. “It’s going to be weird carpooling this week with you gone. It’s my turn to drive you kids to school. If you’re not here, it’ll just be Madison and Cody.” He pursed his lips, obviously perturbed by the idea of playing dad to the neighbors when his own son wasn’t present.

  Liam swallowed and eased back in his chair as his mom placed three filled plates on the table and sat down. The family ate noisily, thankfully without dropping any forks or napkins. One glance under the table would be enough to spot Liam’s distinctly inhuman feet.

  When his dad finally headed off to the garage to think about getting the hedge trimmer out, Liam feigned interest in the newspaper as an excuse to remain seated. His mom watched him across the table with a puzzled frown. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.

  “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Just waiting for Ant.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Want to clear the table while you’re waiting?”

  His stomach flip-flopped, then tied itself in knots. She’ll see my feet! “Uh . . . sure. But can I have some more breakfast first?”

  “Go ahead,” she said. “There’s a bit more scrambled egg in the pan.”

  This is not helping!

  “Actually,” he said with a frown, “is there any chance you could make me a fried egg?”

  Now she pursed her lips. “Well, I could. Or you could.”

  “I always break the yolk. Please, mom?”

  With a sigh, she smiled and said, “As you wish, my lord,” and wandered over to the fridge.

  The moment she opened it and started rummaging around for the eggs, Liam slid out of his chair and shuffled as quietly as possible across the kitchen, his clunky feet still managing to thump softly on the hardwood floor. As he neared the hallway, he called back over his shoulder. “You know what, Mom? I guess I’m not that hungry. And Ant will be here any second. Thanks, though!”

  He darted away before she even had time to turn around.

  Chapter 8

  Ant Carmichael had been busy. He’d woken just after eight and reached for his phone as he usually did. After unplugging it, he’d spotted the flashing red light and checked his messages. Liam had texted him at some ungodly hour of the morning. 4:08 AM to be precise.

  turning into a robot, need to get away from here, can I rattle around in your big house for a few days, get me around 9 if you can.

  Ant tutted with annoyance at Liam’s careless grammar. What was wrong with using capitals and periods in the right places? Where was the question mark after “days”? It took just a few seconds more to present a grammatically correct message. He sighed and shook his head while typing a simple but well-edited reply: Okay.

  The enormity of the situation hit him as he got dressed. His friend was turning into a robot! The very idea was crazy, ridiculous, impossible, yet so were wormholes that spilled dozens of aliens onto a lawn amid a yellow cloud. He accepted Liam’s request without question; after all, going mecha was completely legit when injected with nanorobots. He set to work preparing for his guest: first alerting his parents, then informing the maid, that sort of thing.

  An hour later, he craned his neck to look out the window of the limousine as his driver, Barton, cruised slowly down the lane to Liam’s house. He half expected to see his friend lurching from the house with a shiny-metal dome instead of a head, but there was no sign of him yet. As Barton slowed, Ant leaned forward and said, “Pull into the driveway, please. All the way up to the door.”

  Barton didn’t speak much. Barely visible behind the tinted privacy glass, he nodded and spun the wheel so that the lengthy car eased around the tight corner, scraping the untidy hedgerow that fronted the property. Madison’s driveway next door was much easier to navigate, shaped like a horseshoe that the limo could circle around withou
t any fuss. Liam’s driveway was simple and straight, leading up the side of the lawn and past the old house to a garage at the back.

  As directed, Barton stopped when the nose of the car came level with the corner of the house. Ant jumped out and headed for the front door, but just then he heard a “Psst!” and stopped to scour the bushes.

  “Up here,” the voice whispered.

  Ant looked skyward. An ancient oak stood on the other side of the driveway next to the hedgerow that separated the properties. Its limbs spread wide, some hanging over the neighboring lawn, another almost leaning on the Mackenzies’ newly repaired roof. Liam was busy clambering down the far side of the trunk.

  Returning to the limo, Ant waited as his friend hurried across the grass clutching an overnight bag in one hand and a school bag in the other. Liam’s awkward, oversized footwear stood out even from a distance. Friends from school might have frowned and commented on his weird brand of sneakers. His parents surely would have turned him upside down for a better look had he not been sneaking about the place keeping them hidden. No amount of fibs would have sufficed.

  Robot feet, Ant thought.

  “Get in,” he said, trying not to be too distracted just yet.

  “Thanks,” Liam whispered as he bent and climbed inside.

  Ant followed him in and pulled the door shut. “We can go now,” he said to Barton.

  The driver began the careful process of backing the enormous car down the driveway. As he did so, Mrs. Mackenzie emerged from the house onto the doorstep and waved like she wanted to say something. Ant rolled the window down and moved aside as Liam poked his head out and shouted, “See you in a few days, Mom!”

  “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” she called back, hurrying to catch the slow-moving limo. “How about a hug?”

  Liam leaned as far as he could out of the car and grasped his mom around her neck, planting kisses on her cheek and saying “Love you, Mom!” in what sounded to Ant like an exaggerated manner. It did the trick, though. Smiling, she touched her cheek and stepped back as the limo resumed its reversing.

  Only when Barton was heading back up the lane to the highway did Ant direct his attention to Liam’s feet. “What. Are. Those?” he demanded.

  They both stared down at Liam’s lower legs. At first glance, it was easy to assume he was wearing some funky new sneakers, pale grey in color. His pants rode up a little when he was sitting down, and then his ankles showed—and they were impossibly thin ankles, black and shiny, clearly metal. There was no way his real ankles could fit inside. They were like charred bones.

  “It’s happening fast,” Liam muttered. “I woke up in the middle of the night and found one foot had changed. Woke up for breakfast with both changed. At least now they match.”

  “But . . . but . . .” Ant couldn’t get his words out. They stuck in his throat. This was awful! Terrifying! How was his friend so calm about it? “D-does it hurt?”

  “Not a bit,” Liam said with a shrug. “Listen, we should probably wait for Maddy. She’ll kill us if we exclude her from stuff.”

  Ant immediately raised his voice. “Barton, hold up. We’re gonna wait right here for Madison.”

  Liam was already calling her. As he held the phone to his ear and spoke casually, Ant experienced a wave of envy. Not only did his friend have a strong connection with Madison and felt comfortable to call anytime he liked, he lived next door to her. Ant would do anything for a neighbor like her. Heck, he didn’t even have a neighbor! The grounds of his parents’ mansion were ridiculously huge. The closest neighbor was a quarter-mile away.

  “Get here fast,” Liam finished and hung up, grinning. “She’s on her way. I told her something was happening. She’ll be here as soon as she’s dressed.”

  “Should have ordered lunch, then,” Ant muttered. Actually, he had to admit that, for a girl, Madison was surprisingly fast at getting ready. He expected to see her showing up in five minutes or so. “So what’s the plan?” he asked.

  Liam spread his hands and slumped back on the leather seat that spread down one side of the limo. “It’s pretty simple. I turn into a robot without anyone seeing, then go into battle against a giant, upright killer beetle, and turn back into a human again.”

  Ant couldn’t imagine all this happening before the end of the day. “It’s Sunday. What about school tomorrow? And the next day? How long is this mission going to take?”

  Liam blew out his cheeks. “Can you see me going to school like this?”

  “You’re skipping?” Worry gnawed at Ant’s stomach. “I don’t know, man. You might get away with it the first day if Peterson doesn’t call home, but two days? Three? And even if you get back from saving the universe before anyone finds out, you’re still not gonna get away with—”

  “Look, I know,” Liam said, sounding annoyed. “But if you have any suggestions, I’m all ears. I can’t go to school like this.” He gestured toward his clunky feet. “And that’s just the start. I reckon by tonight I’ll have arms to match. And a head.”

  Looking toward the front of the limo, Ant noticed Barton’s head was turned slightly to one side. The driver was listening. That was okay, though. He was a pretty amazing guy, probably aware that Ant and his friends were involved in some weird stuff though he seemed reluctant to ask. It might be time to open up to him.

  For that reason, Ant carried on speaking in a normal voice, even raising his volume out of courtesy for his eavesdropping but completely dependable driver. “We have to tell someone, Liam. Skipping school because you’re turning into a robot? That’s some serious stuff.”

  Barton’s head turned just a fraction more.

  Ant realized the reason he was allowing his driver to listen in was because this situation was liable to get Liam in terrible trouble. Assuming he wasn’t killed in battle or horribly maimed by the stream of nanobots in his system, the very least Liam could expect was a grounding for skipping school, possibly social services showing up at his house, fines imposed on his parents . . .

  He shook himself. Liam wasn’t a troublesome student by nature, and teachers might not be overly concerned about his absence as long as they were kept informed. One simple email should do it, addressed from Mrs. Mackenzie, which Ant could fake. But two days? Three? That might be more of a concern, and a sick note might be needed . . .

  “What’s wrong with you?” Liam demanded. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  “I’m just worried,” Ant admitted. “Aliens dropping out of the sky is one thing. Skipping school to traipse halfway across the universe and then lying to your parents is something else.”

  Madison arrived suddenly, out of breath as she yanked the door open and climbed in, for a second all legs and arms as she turned about and got situated. Once again she wore a black skirt and black stockings, but just for a change she wore a grey t-shirt with the words Black Is My Happy Color emblazoned on the front in large black lettering.

  She flumped down near Liam and tossed her hair back. “So?” she said, looking from one to the other. “What gives?”

  Ant pointed at Liam’s feet.

  She looked. “Okay, so you’re wearing—” Then she froze. “Oh. Those are your feet.”

  “Hey, Barton?” Ant called. “Take us home, please.”

  Without a word, the driver started the limo and headed off up the lane—but not without a concerned frown clearly visible in the rearview mirror.

  Chapter 9

  Ant watched Madison’s reaction as the limo turned into the driveway and passed under the giant stone archway. He rarely brought anyone new home.

  “So I’m finally getting to see your mansion,” she said to him, her eyes wide with interest as she twisted to see out of the windows.

  The gates closed after them as they started up the long driveway. Unlike Liam’s and Madison’s, this one was paved, smooth and wide, lined with neatly trimmed shrubs spaced ten feet apart. Acres of manicured lawn stretched to the left and right of the road,
and up ahead, on the brow of the hill, a vast mansion stood.

  Madison narrowed her eyes. “Wait. That’s your house?”

  Ant sighed. “Obscene, isn’t it?” He launched into a monotone. “Thirty-five thousand square feet spread over three floors with a guest wing, separate pool house, and sixty acres of land.”

  Liam was grinning at Madison’s dumbfounded expression. Ant, on the other hand, squirmed uneasily. The house embarrassed him. Nobody needed all this space, this much luxury. And the cost of the place wasn’t insignificant even to his wealthy parents. What was wrong with something smaller? Something more manageable for their simple, three-person family? Something less extravagant?

  “It’s . . .” Madison said, her nose pressed to the glass. “It’s . . .”

  Liam’s grin broadened. “She’s speechless. You rendered her speechless, Ant. You did what I’ve failed to do so far: shut her up.”

  She shook her head and sat back. “You’re right, it’s obscene,” she said to Ant. “How can you stand to live in such squalor?”

  Ant shrugged. “Maybe now you’ll understand when I keep showing up at your dumpy houses to hang out.”

  The truth was, he only felt normal when he was with them. He envied their simpler lifestyle, their normal everyday houses. He envied Liam for being Madison’s neighbor, too. She’d only lived in the area for a couple of weeks, but the three of them had already seen incredible things together.

  The limousine swept around the massive fountain in the center of the circle outside the grand entrance, but when Liam sat up straight and looked alarmed, Ant said loudly, “Barton, around to the back, please. The guest wing.”

  The three of them watched in silence as endless grey-stone walls and bright-green ivy and shrubs passed by the limo’s windows. Ant dropped his head at one point, wishing Barton would speed around faster and get the journey over with. Madison was leaning forward again, her mouth hanging open.

  “The place just goes on and on,” she muttered.