“I guess that sounds pretty—”
“And don’t you see? This place wouldn’t have to be a secret anymore! Your grandma wouldn’t have to waste half her time hiding everything. She would become humanity’s first ambassador to the universe.”
I smiled. Amy’s excitement was contagious. “She would be great at that job.”
Amy’s expression slowly soured. “But I don’t know if it’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
Amy grabbed the little plastic speaker. “Here, listen. That’s all they’ve been talking about during the last few meetings.”
She flipped the on switch. A burst of scratchy static settled into a persistent hiss, and then voices cut across the white noise.
“…you imagine if one of these barbarians got loose in the transporter system? It’d be like the proverbial Garggadin in the pottery shop.”
“Come now, they’re not all barbarians. Witness the peaceful creatures we have met around here. They are lovely, are they not?”
“Lovely? Have you taken the time to read this…?”
I watched the group on the lawn as one of the aliens grabbed some newspapers and held them over his head, gesticulating wildly.
“…Or this one? Or how about this? Or any of these? Lovely, indeed. The reports are war, murder, and mayhem, each and every time we visit. It never changes!”
“Oh, please. They are not the first species to endure a violent phase, nor shall they be the last. The humans have progressed much in a short time, using reason to triumph over some of their basest tribal instincts.”
“Reason? Hah! The only thing they use their reason for is to make bigger and better killing machines! You would scream until your scales fell off if a human barbarian showed up unexpectedly at your front door.”
“That is simply not true. How many times—”
The discussion devolved into a garbled shouting match that melded in with the static of the monitor. “This is pretty much how it goes every time,” Amy said. “Half of them think humans should be officially contacted and brought into the intergalactic community. They say that we’re ‘citizens of the universe’ just like everyone else.”
I gestured toward the lawn. “And the other half reads our newspapers?”
“Something like that.”
More garbled shouting. Amy turned the volume down to a buzz.
“And they think we’re the ones who have trouble getting along?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “I know. But they are right about one thing—they never get violent.”
“Why’s that, do you think?”
“Simple cost-benefit analysis, I guess. Any planet that resorts to violence to solve problems is kicked out of the Collective. The aftereffects would be equally devastating for everyone living there.”
“So they’re forced to figure out some way to get along?”
“Sounds like it. But I guess it works.”
The buzzing sound from the monitor got quieter. Out on the lawn, the aliens had all taken their seats and calmed down some. “Turn it back up,” I said.
“…perhaps if the humans could be nudged in the right direction, they could—”
“Absolutely not. You know what the studies show about the deleterious effects of nudging. It throws the whole development of the species off-kilter. And often the nudgers don’t have any idea when to stop.”
“I’m not a fool. I don’t advise handing out photon-processors to a clan of cavemen. Why must you always—”
“Gentlemen, please. Let’s cut right to the pertinent question: what will be our process for deciding whether or not the earthlings are ready to be invited into the Collective?”
“Yes!” Amy’s face lit up and she grabbed my arm. “They might actually make a decision this time!” Her voice was breathy with excitement.
“Um, okay, so when will—”
“Shhhh!”
“This would be the perfect time for a period of close monitoring. Now that we have installed one of our own, a being of higher intelligence, at this transporter establishment, couldn’t we make his time here less punitive and more scientifically valuable? Perhaps request a detailed weekly report concerning Earth?”
“Are you sure he can be trusted? Remember why we sent him here in the first pl—”
Amy’s fingers dug painfully into my skin. “They must be talking about Scratchull!” she whispered.
“I know, but they’re saying he can’t be trusted to—”
“Shhhh!”
The sound of the Collective scientists laughing burbled through the speaker.
“Oh, he wouldn’t like that a bit, would he?”
“No, but he is not on vacation here. He will do as we command. And with someone residing here full-time, we will receive a much clearer picture of the earthlings’ readiness for full inclusion than we do with our sporadic visits. Are we agreed?”
Murmurs of assent came from the group. Amy flicked off the monitor and shoved it into her pocket. “This is amazing! I knew that Scratchull had to be more than just some traveling interstellar handyman.” She let go of me and paced around the room. “He’s just so smart, and so amazingly articulate. And think about it—he will be the one who influences whether or not Earth joins the Collective!” It sounded more like she was talking to herself than to me.
I cleared my throat. “I guess so, Amy. But did you hear them say he ‘wouldn’t like it’? I’d be careful about—”
“Do you realize the position this puts us in? We actually have the chance to influence the most important decision in the history of the planet!” She stopped at the window and surveyed all of the Tourists, hands on her hips. “I’m going to make sure Scratchull hears all the best parts about Earth. That’s my new job around here, as far as I’m concerned.” She turned to look at me. “Oh, you’ll help me, won’t you, David?”
Ummmm…no. But before I could try to talk her out of it, she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me fiercely. “How will I ever be able to thank you for getting me a job here?”
Good question, but I couldn’t afford to think about that right now. I managed to disentangle myself from her arms. “Are you planning to tell Grandma about all of this? Any of this?”
Amy slowly exhaled. She sat on the edge of the couch, looking at the floor. “No. I don’t want to worry her unless they come to a concrete decision. It’s not like there’s anything she could really do. I mean, she’s already a shining example of the goodness of humanity, right?”
“Sure…and if you told her, it would also mean you’d have to confess about this highly illegal alien technology that you’re hiding inside her house.”
“…Yeah. There’s that.” We were quiet for several moments. “Look, David, I know it’s sneaky. Your grandma has been so nice to me, and I owe her everything. I just…” Amy shook her head slowly.
“You felt like you had to do everything you could,” I said. “For something you thought was really important. I get it.”
When she exhaled it sounded like a sigh of relief. “Thank you, David.” She looked up to meet my gaze. “There’ve been times I felt so alone this school year, not having a human I could talk to about this stuff. And when you got here I was worried maybe you’d be mad at me for spying on them.”
“As long as you don’t get caught,” I said. “Trust me, that’s not very fun.”
She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best, David.”
We looked at each other. Amy’s eyes were so happy, they glistened. I suddenly realized we were alone, for the first time since I showed up, and the door was blocked from the inside—
“Whoops, there they go!” Amy pulled away and pointed through the window at the group of scientists as they stood, apparently wrapping up their meeting. “I have to go pick up that platter of food before they knock over the flowerpot.” She shoved the recliner out of the way, pulled open the door, and took off down the hall. “Thanks again, David!” she called over h
er shoulder.
Oh, well. At least maybe there would be sandwiches left over. This was the second time today I had forgotten breakfast. If I hadn’t been so busy taking care of—
Snarffle! How long had I been down here with Amy? Could it have been an hour? More?
I ran through the halls and up the stairs to my room, hoping his nap had been a long one.
When I flung open the door to my room I found a very happy, very awake purple alien. Shredded bits of candy wrapper were stuck to his face, and a chocolate-mixed-with-space-drool slurry dripped down his cheeks. He whistled happily and twirled his little tail like crazy when he saw me.
He was sitting on top of a pile of my scattered clothes. There was a huge hole in my suitcase.
“Please tell me that you did not just eat through my suitcase to get at my candy stash.” I sighed. “Why would you do something like that?”
Snarffle tilted his head and gave me a look that seemed to say, I don’t know…maybe because I don’t have opposable thumbs?
Oh, well. It’s not like I could get that mad. I was the one who left him up here on his own, after all.
I knelt and sorted my clothes into separate piles of “wearable” and “way too slobbery.” Snarffle watched me, looking like he really hoped I wouldn’t be too angry.
“So, my man, you ever have any troubles with the female snarffles where you’re from?” Snarffle took this as his cue to creep forward and nuzzle under my arm. “You know, maybe you have no clue what they’re thinking about half the time or what you should say to them?” Snarffle snuggled closer, panting and bobbing up and down. He definitely knew where I was coming from.
When the clothes were all sorted, I picked up the suitcase to set it on the dresser…and I noticed there wasn’t any dresser. What? Could someone have taken it? I looked in the closet and even the transporter. No dresser. Man, that sucker was heavy. And big. It would have taken some serious weight lifting to get that thing out of the room.
And where was the wooden rocking chair that had been beside the bed? And the old-timey coat stand in the corner? Did they just disappear? Even for an Intergalactic Bed & Breakfast, that was pretty weird.
I cupped my chin in my hand and scanned the room, trying to remember where—
Snarffle burped.
He used that long tongue to lick the chocolate off his face. I bent down and looked closer. Was there some sawdust mixed in there?
Oops. Looks like I had some explaining to do to Grandma, not to mention some flea-market shopping.
And I was going to have to be much more careful about keeping track of Snarffle’s mealtimes. I wondered if Grandma had access to any intergalactic libraries, because I could sure use a copy of Proper-Care-and-Feeding Tips for When You’re Snarfflesitting.
Oh, well, I’d have to do the best I could. I wasn’t about to let him out of my sight again, so we hung out together for the rest of the day. We tried to play fetch, but instead of retrieving the sticks, he always ate them. We ended up either hiking around or trying to find the end of his bottomless appetite. When it got dark we finally headed back to my room. I yawned and glanced at the clock: 10:17 p.m. Time for bed.
I was in a pretty good mood as I drifted off to sleep. I had made some progress with Amy (even if I did have to worry about extraterrestrial competition), and I felt like I was better equipped to handle any potential Snarffle disasters. As long as I could find enough for him to eat, tomorrow was going to be awesome.
I was back home in Tampa, lying on the beach. The warm surf washed over my face, and I could taste the salt in the seawater. It felt so good to be able to lie there and not have to worry about the challenges that went with a houseful of aliens. I just stretched out and soaked it all up.
Slorch! Slurp!
What was that noise? Something tickled my ear. When I reached up to scratch, there was so much slimy liquid in there that my finger made a squelching sound as I dug around inside.
Another slurping sound pulled me fully out of sleep. The purple alien pet was crouched right by my head, licking me over and over with that long tongue. “Gross!” I sat up and pushed him away, then grabbed an extra pillow to dry my face off. No matter how hard I scrubbed, there always seemed to be a slick film still left on my cheeks and forehead.
I looked at the clock: 1:17 a.m. Ugh.
The alien pressed closer, twirling his tail. I pushed him farther down on the bed. “Snarffle, get away from me.”
The round alien hopped back up. He lowered his head and nudged me in the side, over and over, like he was trying to push me out of the bed.
Again? I had taken him out to go to the bathroom right before bed. Did the creatures on his planet have microscopic bladders or something? I really hoped this wasn’t going to be a nightly ritual. Or, worse, a several-times-a-night ritual.
But I guess it was easy to understand: four meals, three snacks, my entire stash of candy, a roomful of furniture, a half acre of blackberry brambles…It was going to take some time to get all of that out of his system. “Okay, okay, I get it,” I mumbled. “Let me pull on some sweats.” I was not looking forward to standing out in the cold and waiting for this little guy to do his business in the woods.
I kicked off the blankets and shuffled to the door, motioning for him to follow. But instead he jumped off the opposite side of the bed and looked at the window.
“No, we have to go out this way,” I said. Snarffle just stared at me. “Come on, I really don’t want this to take all night.” But he stayed where he was, still staring at me.
I made a show of opening the door and stepping out into the hall, watching the little alien the whole time. He remained by the window, eyes fixed on me. He nestled right up against the wall, then hunkered down on all six of his little legs until his round belly rested on the floor.
Suddenly his legs uncoiled and he shot straight up. At the peak of his jump, about six feet in the air, he threw himself sideways and bumped into the closed blinds. He landed for a split-second and then bounced back up, nudging the blinds again with his beach ball body.
What was he doing? I finally walked over to pick him up. When I got close he stopped bouncing and glanced at me, then up at the window, then back to me again, making a series of little whimpering whistles.
“The window? You want to look out the window?”
His little tail twirled like a propeller. I sighed and twiddled the handle that opened the blinds. “See? Nothing to look at out there. It’s dark. And if you want to go outside, then we need to walk downstairs and use the—”
Then I heard it, too. A muffled thump and some scratching. I turned off my lamp and eased the window open as quietly as I could and stuck my head out.
I quickly found what Snarffle had heard. Scratchull was sitting on the edge of the roof, three stories up, his legs dangling over the gutter. It would have been nearly impossible to see him with those dark coveralls blending in with the night, but his head and hands picked up the moonlight and gave off an eerie glow.
I ducked down below the windowsill, out of sight. Had he been looking at me? Watching my window in the middle of the night? That was beyond creepy.
Snarffle nuzzled up next to me and let out a few growly whistles. I patted him on the head. “I know how you feel, fella.”
Slowly, I took a deep breath and eased my head out the window again. I squinted, trying to make out what he was doing up there.
Scratchull’s chalky hands disappeared into something sitting on the roof by his side. A toolbox. He pulled out a device the size of a screwdriver, with a long silver handle and little green lights flashing along the side.
The skull-faced alien got up on his knees. He reached out for something attached to the roof and grabbed at the…little TV satellite dish? I can’t believe Grandma got one of those. It was definitely not here last summer.
Scratchull fiddled around for a few minutes. When he finally closed up his toolbox, the little mechanism with the flashing lights was attached to
the top of the satellite dish. Then he stood up and walked along the roof, in the direction of my room.
I dropped my head below the windowsill again. The sound of his footsteps above grew very faint, and then disappeared altogether. I held my breath. Next to me, Snarffle was shivering slightly but totally silent.
I finally convinced myself that Scratchull wasn’t going to come crashing through the window with an alien war whoop to punish me for spying on him. But I still closed the blinds and checked the lock on my door. Twice.
Every time I came close to falling asleep, I would half-dream/half-remember something disturbing about Scratchull. The way he was crawling around on the roof in the dead of the night. The pinpricks of fiery red light that sprouted in the middle of his black eyes when he got mad. The eerie glow of his chalky face.
So when I saw that face again, jammed right up in front of my nose, my groggy brain must have figured I was still dreaming. But then I felt bony fingers dig painfully into my shoulders. I noticed the sunlight shining through the blinds. And then he started shaking me, my head flopping back and forth before it smacked into the headboard and snapped me mostly awake.
“Aaaaaghh! Wha—whazzat?” I tried to sit up, but Scratchull pinned me to the bed. Adrenaline-fueled panic flooded my brain. Was he trying to kill me? My fists acted on reflex and battered against Scratchull’s arms, but it had no effect on the white alien. It felt like I was smashing against a pair of two-by-fours.
Scratchull’s so-purple-they-were-almost-black lips peeled back from his teeth, and he leaned in, grimacing. Was he going to eat me? I should have done something cool and heroic then, head-butted him right in the nose like a tied-up action-movie hero. But I’m ashamed to say that I slammed my eyes closed tight and drew my head back into my scrunched-up shoulders. My whole body cringed as I waited for the horrible end.
Alien on a Rampage Page 7
