Now, time to grab my dinner and some Snarffle snacks from the fridge, and then I would try to get a little sleep. I made my way down the dim hallway to the kitchen and heard someone thumping around in there. For a second I feared it was Scratchull, but then the heaviness of the footsteps registered somewhere in my brain, and I figured it was Tate, scrounging around for a midnight snack.
I definitely did not feel like having to talk to him, but before I could hide anywhere, the door swung open and Tate lumbered out into the hallway. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth hung open. He looked right over my head, no recognition on his face. Was he sleepwalking? Then he shuffled into a patch of moonlight, which made him look ghoulish and also illuminated the little crumbs stuck to his cheeks. Ugh—was he sleepeating? What a nasty habit.
The big man trudged straight toward me. When he got close I expected him to stop, or at least angle sideways to get past, but he looked determined to plow right into me. I held up a hand to stop him, but his slippered feet pounded the floorboards, and he hit me belly-first, driving me backward.
“Whoa. Stop it.”
Tate immediately halted, body and limbs frozen in place. His eyes were still glassy, but his head shifted, and they were at least aimed in the general direction of my face. “UNNNHHHH,” he said. His mouth remained gaping even after he was done making noise.
“Wow, you’re really out of it,” I said. I waved a hand in front of his face, and he didn’t flinch. I don’t even think he blinked. “UNNNAGGHHGHNN,” he added.
It gave me the shivers. He looked like a lost extra from a zombie movie. I suddenly became a little worried about the potential tastiness of my brain.
I stepped aside and pressed myself against the wall, giving him plenty of room to maneuver by me. He didn’t take the cue—just stood there. “Why don’t you go back to bed?” I said.
Tate immediately lurched into action and staggered past me and up the stairs. But he had something to share with me in parting: “AAARRRGHGHNNGH.”
“Thank you, I’ll remember that,” I said to the darkness. I desperately tried to see the humor in the situation—a sleepwalking zombie-Tate should have been pretty funny, after all—but I just ended up feeling severely creeped out. I grabbed an armload of food and rushed back up to my room.
Snarffle was staring longingly at my pile of laundry, a trickle of slobber trailing from the corner of his mouth, when I stepped through the door. “Sorry it took me so long, fella. Thanks for sticking to your no-clothes diet.”
Snarffle vacuumed up all of the food and then sniffed at my hands for more. “All out, guy. But don’t worry, Amy will bring you more food tomorrow.” I patted his head and he nuzzled up next to me. “She’ll be a sucker for that hungry puppy look of yours. Just give her that big-eyed gaze and twirl your tail a little bit, and she’ll give you anything you want.”
He whistled in agreement and nestled in closer. Soon he was asleep, and there was no one left to confide in. I closed my eyes and tried to join him, but for a long time all I could hear was the unnerving sound of Tate’s tortured air-gargling as it echoed through my mind.
When I woke up the next morning, Snarffle was still whistle-snoring heavily, a warm bundle on my lap. I eased myself out from underneath and laid his beach ball body on the ground as gently as possible. He stirred restlessly until I gave him a final scratch and he settled back into sleep. Good. I hate sad good-byes.
I checked the time. Under an hour until my taxi was supposed to pick me up. I showered, threw my clothes into a battered suitcase from Grandma’s basement, and went downstairs.
The house was empty. The contrast between this silence and the frenzied getting-ready activities of the last few days was eerie. My footsteps sounded too loud as I walked along the deserted hallways.
I thought maybe I was going to slip away completely undetected when I saw Grandma on the couch in the sitting room by the front door. She looked so tiny, sitting all alone in that big empty room with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“Busy morning,” I said.
“I think the Tourists must have just gone home early so they wouldn’t have to listen to Tate hounding them to stay out of sight.” She tried to give me a smile, but it was a small, sad one. “He doesn’t know quite what to do with himself. This is the first Pioneer Day Festival when he hasn’t been the sheriff, you know. Used to be one of his busiest days of the year, directing traffic all day and helping kidlets who had been separated from their parents.” She sighed and looked out the window. “I think he misses it sometimes.”
“Where is he now?”
A batch of worry lines bunched up around Grandma’s eyes. “Well, he slept in past six a.m. today, which is very unlike him. Didn’t get up until almost eight. And he was pretty groggy for a spell.”
I thought of him lurching around in the dark, sleepwalking up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. No wonder he was so tired this morning.
“I was a bit worried, but two cups of my special coffee perked him right up and then he went into town. Probably to direct traffic and help the lost kidlets.” She smiled again and it looked a little more genuine this time. “I do hope you can forgive him his gruffness over the last few days. He’s been pretty fidgety with all of the activity around here.”
I nodded. “Amy?”
“I haven’t seen her at all this morning. She probably went into town to make sure everything with our little booth is just so. You know how she is, that little overachiever. A real sweetie, but very determined.” The look on my face must have shown what I was feeling, because Grandma added, “Don’t be too hard on her, David. Having you leave like this is tearing her up inside. She probably didn’t want to get all upset right before she had to face the hungry masses of Forest Grove.”
“It’s no problem,” I lied. “We said good-bye last night. Sort of.”
Grandma patted the couch cushion next to her and then opened up her arms. I dropped the suitcase and went to her. I let her hug me for sort of a long time.
When I finally trusted myself to talk without, you know, getting all emotional or whatever, I said, “Shouldn’t you be down there with them? The festival starts pretty soon, doesn’t it?”
“In a few minutes, yes. But I had to stay and say good-bye properly.” She squeezed me around the shoulders again. “I feel just awful about all of this, David. I haven’t slept in three nights for mulling it over, and I still don’t know if we’re doing the right thing.”
“It’s okay,” I said. It was another lie, of course, but I knew she was only doing what she thought was best. It’s not like she was trying to be mean or anything. I don’t think she was even capable of having a negative thought…but then again, that was probably the root of the problem when it came to seeing Scratchull for what he really was. “You’ve been running this business and keeping it a secret for a long time. I get that you’re trying to protect all of that. I really do.”
“Oh, David. Why must you be so understanding and good-natured? It only makes it harder to say good-bye.” She took off her big pink glasses and dabbed at her eyes. “I remember your father getting on an airplane to go off to college in Florida. Seemed like he wasn’t much older than you are right now.” She sighed shakily. “I didn’t see him again for ten years. I don’t want that to happen to us, David.”
“It won’t.” I genuinely hoped I wasn’t lying this time. I had to cling to the belief that Commander Rezzlurr would get here before Scratchull had time to cause any more trouble. If the white alien was taken out of the picture, and if Grandma could ever forgive me for tipping off the police, then maybe I could come back. Now that I was about to walk out the door, I realized how desperate I was to return someday.
Grandma hugged me again. And I hugged her back. Finally I pulled away and said, “You should probably get into town for your first customers, huh? You might not be eligible for that big blue ribbon if you’re not actually at your booth.” My taxi was going to be here soon, anyway.
Besides, it was just going to be torture for both of us to drag out this good-bye any longer.
“I suppose so.” Grandma used a hankie to blow her nose, then readjusted her eyeglasses and smoothed down her hair. “But first, here’s a little something for the road.” From the coffee table she picked up a paper plate piled high with baked treats, and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said. “How’d they turn out?”
“Honestly? I don’t even know. Scratchull helped me with the baking on one condition: he said that nobody could sample the goods until the day of the festival. Promised it would be the baking masterpiece of my lifetime, and he wanted everybody—including me—to be surprised. I know he’s not your favorite alien, but you must admit he has a flair for the dramatic.”
There were so many things I could say to that, but I swallowed them all. “Well, it’s the day of the festival. You can try one now.”
Her small, sad smile came back. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.” I could relate. “But you could probably ask Tate about how they taste.” Grandma rolled her eyes. “If I know him, I’m sure he has snuck a few here and there.”
An image of the sleepwalking security man with crumbs all over his cheeks came to me. At first I almost laughed out loud, but then that sense of unsettling creepiness came flooding back, and I just wanted to get out of there.
“Thanks,” I said again, trying to figure out how I was going to carry the plate and my luggage at the same time.
“You’re most welcome, David. And I do hope I see you soon.” We walked out the front door together. “All of this will blow over sooner rather than later, you’ll see,” Grandma said as we descended the porch steps. “In fact, maybe you could come back during your Christmas vacation. And your parents could come with you. Oh, that would be wonderful.”
“Sure, Grandma.” But I knew she was just playing the eternal optimist. I doubted I would be able to come back so soon, and I doubted even more that my parents would come with me. Especially Mom. Someone who scheduled her life in five-minute increments in a daily planner and watched C-SPAN for entertainment was probably not ready to believe in aliens, much less kick off her shoes and hang out with a group of them on vacation.
Grandma took one long, last look at me, then kissed my forehead before she hurried down the road toward town.
I just stood there, all alone. Was there actually a time when I had daydreamed about moving out here after I graduated high school and making this my career instead of just a summer job?
I turned away from the Intergalactic Bed & Breakfast and stared down the empty road. Time for a new life plan. Now that I was outside and about to leave, I could feel it: I was never going to see this place again.
Half an hour later, I watched Grandma’s place fade into the distance through the back window of the taxi. I tried to recall the shock of seeing it for the first time last summer, but it was impossible. The memories of the good times I had spent within those walls, and the great friends I had made there, smoothed out the wackiness of the exterior. It just looked like a normal house to me now. Like a home.
But that thought hurt too much. I pushed it out of my mind and turned back around to face the windshield.
“Nice day for the festival they got going on in town,” the taxi driver said. He was built like a fire hydrant, short and squat, with a bushy black beard.
“Yeah, it is,” I mumbled. I hadn’t really noticed the blue sky and warm temperature until he mentioned it.
“Guess you’re missing out, though, huh?”
“Time to get out of town.”
“Got that right. You and me both, kid.”
The taxi was rolling through the residential streets that led into Forest Grove’s downtown section when I saw something strange. “Hey, pull over for a second, okay?”
The driver shrugged. “It’s your dime.”
We pulled up to the curb and I rolled down my window. Greg, Eddie, and Brian—these three high school guys I had met last summer—were down on all fours in the middle of a vacant lot. They crawled all over the grass like they were playing some bizarre teenage version of I’m a Little Horsey.
I watched them for a minute. All three were so focused on their task that they didn’t even notice the taxi. “Got another one!” Eddie shouted. He stood, raced over to a plastic container, and dropped something into it. Then he got back down on all fours and crawled around again.
“What are you guys doing?” I called. All three heads snapped up. Eddie and Brian looked confused at first, then sort of glared at me, and finally went back to their lawn-scrounging, but Greg stood and walked over.
“Hey. Scrub, right?”
“Yeah. Or David, actually. Whatever. And you’re Greg?”
“Right. I didn’t even know you were back in town. We haven’t seen you at the park or anywhere.”
“Yeah. Been pretty busy at Grandma’s place. But I’m on my way to the airport right now. Just a short trip this time.”
“Look us up next time you’re around, okay? We still need to have a hoops rematch.” Greg jerked his thumb at the lawn. “I think Eddie’s had enough time to cool down after the last one.”
“Sounds good.” I thought of what Mr. Harnox, one of Grandma’s guests, had done to the guys in that ball game, and half smiled at the memory. I had been so worried about it then, but after the events of the last week, it seemed pretty tame.
“Well, I should probably get back to work,” Greg said.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, I thought maybe you knew. It kind of has to do with your grandma’s place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You know that new guy who works there? The albino-looking dude?”
I nodded. I hoped my face still looked calm, because inside I was suddenly all twisted up and jittery again.
“He said he’d give us ten dollars for every slug we found. Isn’t that crazy?”
“That is crazy.” Especially if you knew what he was planning on doing with them.
“I know. We just have to bring them in alive, and make sure to deliver them by ten o’clock. He wants us in town in time for the judging of the baking contest. We’re supposed to vote for your grandma.” Greg checked his watch. “Anyway, that only gives us fifteen more minutes.” He turned back to the lawn.
“Wait a minute. How long have you guys been doing this for him?”
“Just today. He said it was a onetime thing. But ten bucks! For each slug! I mean, can you believe that?”
I exhaled and the anxiety drained away. It wasn’t world domination this time, only Scratchull’s warped taste buds.
“A ten-spot each, huh? You could probably make some serious money around here.”
“Totally. We started early and we’re up to four hundred bucks. Apiece. Now maybe my mom will stop nagging me about finding a job this summer.”
“Look at this one!” Brian called. “Biggest catch of the day.” He held up a fat green slug, its slimy body glistening in the sunlight.
“Nice. Might be a twenty-dollar special,” Eddie said.
“You think?”
I waved at Greg. “All right. Well, good luck.”
He gave me a thumbs-up and returned to crouching over the grass. The taxi pulled away. When I remembered Scratchull biting into those slimy things, my stomach clenched up and I had to fight the gag reflex. It looked like he was going to have a big new batch, probably for a celebratory meal, now that he had gotten rid of me.
The taxi slowed as it approached downtown. The main road was blocked off for the festival, and the driver had to take a detour down narrow side streets that were choked with parked cars and a steady stream of pedestrians. I got glimpses of downtown through the cracks between the buildings, though.
There was a big banner stretched across Main Street proclaiming this to be the Super-Centennial version of Pioneer Day. The people working the carnival-style game booths and the food stands were dressed in Nor
thwest pioneer outfits; the men in flannel-and-denim lumberjack garb or rugged “mountain man” pelt coats with coonskin caps, the women in plain cotton dresses and bonnets.
The taxi stopped when the town’s only stoplight glowed red, and suddenly I had a clear view of Grandma’s booth. Banquet-style tables had been set up in front and were piled high with baked treats. They were the same as those on the paper plate beside me: sugar-dusted scones dotted with purple Kerntaberries, with a yellow jelly center made out of the alien fruit that Greenie had brought in those crates. Mooglah fruit, I think he called them.
Grandma’s head just barely poked up above the mountain of baked goodies. Scratchull stood out front like a circus barker, waving people over and shouting. A big crowd had formed around the booth, with more folks funneling over as I watched.
I scanned the mob for Amy but couldn’t find her. Then the light turned green and we rolled out of town.
The ride down the mountain and back to civilization is usually great for looking out the window. Every break in the trees offered panoramic views of the snowcapped mountain peaks of the Cascade Range, while the sunlight made the white water of the river sparkle. Sometimes the side of the road abruptly gave way to a plunging cliff, and it felt like being in a flying car.
But I didn’t notice any of that this time. I don’t really know how to describe it, but I just didn’t feel right. I mean, I knew I wouldn’t exactly be feeling good today. I expected the anger at Scratchull, of course, and obviously sadness about having to leave the B&B. But underneath that was something else. I figured I would feel at least a little relieved to be moving on from a situation that had gotten pretty bad, but there was none of that.
I closed my eyes and tried to let the twists and turns of the mountain road lull me to sleep. It wasn’t working. I had an itch somewhere in my brain that I just couldn’t scratch, kind of like when you have something right on the tip of your tongue but can’t quite remember it. Only I had no idea what I was trying to remember in the first place.
Alien on a Rampage Page 19
