Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet

by Matthew Kadish

  By

  Matthew Kadish

  Text copyright © 2013 by Matthew Kadish

  All Rights Reserved

  Earthman Jack and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Matthew Kadish.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  First American edition, May 2013

  To Ron & Cindy Kadish,

  The Greatest Parents In The Universe,

  Without Whom None Of This

  Would Have Been Possible...

  Introduction

  In the entire history of the universe, there are many tales worth telling.

  Some are tales of great heroes and leaders. Others are tales of terrible villains and their dastardly deeds. Sometimes these stories intermingle; sometimes they do not. But they all play a role in shaping the universe in which we find ourselves.

  In fact, if one were to travel to the grand repository of the Hive Mind of Valghana VII, where the Central Galactic University houses all of its meticulously recorded historical records, one would find approximately 2,789,998,376,882,945,671,567,002 entries – and those are just the completed works – recording the various goings-on of people of interest from around this vast universe we call our home.

  In these tales, we usually find many of the same things, just told in different ways. The best tales typically are the ones that revolve around love. And with love, there’s usually a healthy dose of its counterpart, hate. Sometimes, there are lessons to be learned and morals to be taught. Other times, there are just senseless acts of violence and cruelty. Many of the most popular accounts contain the obligatory elements of excitement, action, and, of course, adventure. Mix in a healthy dose of comedy, as well as a bit of tragedy, and one has a tale that generations of sentient beings will want to hear over and over again, until the end of time or the universe, whichever happens first.

  But if someone were to go to Valghana VII and ask the Guardians of Knowledge which tale is the most popular of all two septillion entries, he might be surprised to find that they, in fact, have an answer for him.

  Even more surprising, would be that the tale is about a hero who comes from a relatively obscure species, from an unknown planet in the backwoods of the galaxy, in a region of space long dismissed as being utterly devoid of life (or anything else interesting for that matter) and thus largely ignored by most civilized space-faring races.

  This rather insignificant planet, called “Earth” by those who lived on it, was the home of a species so unremarkable in pretty much every aspect by which we judge intelligent life, that the fact that one of the Galaxy’s greatest heroes came from it is enough to boggle even an Egoi’s extremely large mind.

  And to make this tale even more bizarre, it starts with a fleet of the most dreaded and feared military armada the universe has ever known going out of its way to utterly annihilate this little blue-green planet and every last one of the relatively undeveloped life-forms who lived there.

  The first inkling the race of “Earthmen,” as they have come to be called, might be in serious trouble started with an astrological observation made by a group of amateur astronomers in a rural part of a place called New Mexico, which existed in a governmental region known to those who lived on the planet as the United States of America.

  By the time these astronomers had called in the finding of a strange cluster of light not far from the eastern side of an orbiting planet they had dubbed “Jupiter,” and this finding had been checked and verified by better astronomers with even bigger telescopes, the Earthmen couldn’t help but notice this suspicious astrological anomaly seemed to be headed directly toward their planet.

  As this rather startling information made its way to the government officials to whom the Earthmen entrusted their affairs, their primitive satellites were able to snap a few pictures to give their leaders an idea of what was heading toward them – namely a lot of massive unidentifiable objects which seemed not only to be able to change direction at will, but also capable of slowing down as they approached the planet – two characteristics which immediately ruled out any possibility that what was coming their way was anything but intelligent life, and lots of it to boot.

  The Earthmen’s calculations led them to conclude that the incoming Unidentified Flying Objects would arrive at their planet in a matter of hours, giving them little to no time to warn any of the populace of their planet what was headed their way.

  Hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst, the leader of the United States of America immediately began contacting other leaders from around his planet to warn them of what was coming, and also issued an order for his government’s military to be ready to defend their planet should these visitors from outer space end up being hostile (which they most certainly were).

  Considering this government’s military was widely regarded as one of the best and most advanced on the planet, it would be natural to assume that the hero of our story would be a part of it.

  Such as Colonel Harry Jackson Stryker, United States Marine Corps, for instance.

  Colonel Stryker was a veteran of many wars. He was a fearless man, who knew how to fight and who took his job as a soldier more seriously than any other man who had ever worn the uniform of a Marine. What made Stryker a good soldier was the fact that he’d do anything to accomplish his mission – no matter what the cost to his own person. In fact, it could even be said that Colonel Stryker was one of the most selfless and courageous men on Earth, willing to lay down his life to save the country, and the planet, that he loved so much.

  With a chiseled jaw, sandy blonde hair, and an astonishing gift for leading men into battle, Colonel Stryker was the natural choice to guide humanity through its darkest hour and defeat the oncoming alien menace.

  It’s a shame he died, along with all the rest of the planet’s inhabitants, only hours after being alerted to the alien threat. I’m sure his story would have been a good one – he was an interesting fellow.

  But, alas, this is not his story.

  No, the hero of our story was actually the most unlikely candidate for the job. He wasn’t the smartest Earthman there was, nor the strongest, nor the best leader the planet had to offer. Some of his critics would call him the luckiest of his species, though (which is not entirely unfounded considering some of the situations he was able to survive). However, in this narrator’s humble opinion, in addition to a good amount of luck, this Earthman persevered against all odds due to his amazing resourcefulness in harrowing situations, boundless courage in the face of danger, and undying loyalty to those he would call his friends – even if they did not regard him in the same way.

  And though he would arguably become one of the greatest heroes this universe has ever known, he did not start out that way.

  In fact, his story really starts the morning of the invasion of the alien menace, in a very modest trailer home, in a small town known as River Heights, in a place known as Ohio (again, in the United States of America) when he was only 15 years old.

  This is the story of Earthman Jack.

  Chapter 1

  Once upon a time, in a quaint stretch of land overlooking one of the many cornfields of the neighboring town of Red Mills, was a place known as the Eagle Hill Trailer Community. But the locals simply called it “The Hill.”

  Located not far from the main road of Detroit Street, which connected River Heights with its neighbor to the east, The Hill was a haven for many of the less fortunate members of the local community who could not
afford one of the modest homes the rest of the town’s inhabitants tended to reside in. Instead, the people who lived on The Hill made due with long, rectangular shaped dwellings often referred to as “trailer homes.” It was in one of these structures that Earthman Jack Finnegan lived.

  For 10 of his 15 years, Jack regarded the trailer on Eagle Hill’s lot number 7 as his home. An army of frequently neglected potted plants were stationed out front among the weeds and crabgrass in an attempt to beautify the shabby lot on which the trailer was located. Despite its yellowing, discolored exterior, and its rickety, homemade, wooden carport, which was perpetually leaning ever so slightly to the left, one could say that the trailer was, without a doubt, the best kept dwelling in Eagle Hill.

  By Earth standards, the trailer on lot #7 was looked down upon as being rather “low class.” After all, only the poorest and least fortunate of River Heights’ residents would live in such a place. But even if the trailer did not afford its inhabitants a life of luxury, the dwelling was big enough to house both Jack and his mother, store all their earthly possessions, and protect them from the elements of nature. Though it performed all three of those tasks rather poorly, it still did them, and that at least was good enough for Jack.

  And if an outside passer-by were to look upon the trailer in lot #7 and regard it as a sad, modest dwelling, then the room in which Jack slept every night was even more cause for pity.

  No bigger than most people’s bathrooms, Jack’s room was able to house a single bed and a tiny closet overflowing with unwashed and worn-out clothes. The rest of it was littered with posters featuring professional wrestlers, kung fu movies, and the occasional “hot babe.”

  It was here that Jack sprawled out, tangled in a mess of faded blankets with starships and superheroes stitched onto them, snoring loudly, with just a hint of drool staining his pillow.

  Light from the morning sun shone through the single, small window located in Jack’s room, hitting him squarely in the face. As the light lingered on Jack, his snoring suddenly subsided, and he opened one of his eyes, only to be blinded by the sun. Instinctively, he rolled his face back into his pillow and was about to enjoy more of his much valued slumber when a thought suddenly leapt into his head, and that thought went something like this…

  Oh, crap.

  Jack shot up in bed, his light brown hair sticking up at odd angles, his green eyes puffy and half-closed from sleep. He turned his head toward the window. From ten years of sleeping in the same bed, next to the same window, Jack instantly knew that if light were coming in, he had, in fact, overslept.

  Jack groggily turned to the digital clock duct-taped to his wall. The big red numbers on it read 8:26. Sure enough – he was late. This time, Jack’s previous thought became so urgent, he was forced to verbalize it.

  “Oh, CRAP!”

  At that, Jack leapt out of bed, stubbing his big toe in the process. Trying to ignore the pain, and not bothering to change out of the black boxer shorts he had slept in (the ones with pink dollar signs stitched on them), he kicked up the nearest pair of jeans he could find and yanked them on. He frantically rummaged through a pile of shirts on the floor (taking care to choose the one which was the least smelly), and slipped one on. He then quickly grabbed a pair of socks and stuffed them into a raggedy old ink-stained bookbag, along with a textbook and a notebook or two.

  Wasting no time, Jack rushed out of his bedroom, grabbing his shoes on the way out the front door. He was in such a rush, he didn’t even notice the sweet note his mother had taped there, reminding him that his lunch was packed in the refrigerator and not to be late for school (again!).

  Jack emerged from the chain-linked enclosure of Eagle Hill onto Detroit Street, hopping and skipping as fast as he could as he tried in vain to slip on his worn sneakers while still keeping forward momentum.

  Having just missed it a minute or two earlier, Jack could see the bright orange-yellow school bus in the distance as it rumbled down the road.

  “Stop!” Jack yelled as he continued to run and put on his shoes at the same time. “Stop the bus! Please don’t make me run after – ah, crap…”

  Once it became clear that the bus had, in fact, not heard his plea, Jack had no choice but to take off after the vehicle as fast as he could. The next stop was only a few blocks away; if he could run fast enough, he’d be able to catch it.

  On the bus, in the typical social order carved out in every high school on the planet Earth, only the so-called “coolest” and most important upperclassmen sat in the back, furthest from the bus driver’s gaze. In this case, that honor belonged to one J.C. Rowdey and his friends Kev, Jimbo, and Moose – four guys who seemed to pride themselves on how big their muscles were, how perfect their hair looked, and how much grief they could inflict on others not deemed as “cool” as they were.

  At the back window, Kev turned his pug-like face and saw Jack in the distance running after the bus and waving his arms in the vain hope of catching the driver’s attention.

  He snorted in amusement and ribbed J.C. with his elbow.

  “Yo, dude,” said Kev. “Check it out. It’s Finnegan.”

  J.C. turned his attention from the wet-willy he was currently giving the poor junior with the skin problem in the seat in front of him and, along with Jimbo and Moose who were in the process of sniffing magic markers in the seat directly across the isle, looked out the back window.

  “Looks like Loser McLose-a-lot overslept again,” chuckled J.C.

  “Daaaaaang,” droned Moose. “That dude is haulin’. Lookit him go!”

  “You got that right,” interjected Jimbo, lifting his fatty upper body toward the window to get a better look. “Who knew the little booger could run so fast?”

  “Maybe he mistook the bus for his home and thinks we’re driving away with it,” said J.C., causing his crew to chortle and guffaw.

  “Looks like he’s catching up,” said Kev. Sure enough, Jack was running his heart out and gaining on the slow moving vehicle. “Ten bucks says he makes it.”

  J.C. smiled at Kev mischievously. “You’re on, dumb-nuts,” he said, punching Kev in the shoulder not very softly. “Yo, Moose…”

  “Huh?” Moose lit up, as if the sound of his name was barely enough to register with his meager brain.

  “Go up to the driver and keep her distracted,” ordered J.C.

  “Okay,” said Moose, moving to get to his feet before stopping, a confused look crawling across his face. “Uh… how?”

  “Tell her your butt hurts from the kicking I’m about to give it if you don’t get up there right now,” snapped J.C. “Make something up; I don’t care!”

  Moose lumbered to his feet and began walking toward the front of the bus to talk to the driver.

  “No fair, dude,” said Kev. “You can’t have help…”

  “Shut up,” responded J.C. He then proceeded to flick the junior’s ear in the seat in front of him. “Hey – hey, loser…”

  “Stop it!” whined the junior. “Just leave me alone!”

  “Give me your shoe, and I’ll leave you alone the rest of the way to school.”

  “My shoe? What? No!”

  “Look,” J.C. sneered. “Either give me your shoe, or I’ll take it from you.”

  Outside, Jack’s lungs were burning from the chilled morning air. The bus had made its next stop, picking up the kids from the Johnson farm, giving him the chance he needed to close the distance. As he was about to reach the lumbering vehicle, the upper body of a young man with rippling blonde hair and a red-and-gold letterman’s jacket suddenly emerged from one of the rear side windows. Just before Jack’s brain could register the face of J.C. Rowdey, the boy cocked his arm back and chucked an orthopedically enhanced sneaker right at him, catching him dead in the forehead.

  Jack stumbled and fell, holding his throbbing head as he hit the ground. In the distance, he could hear J.C.’s mocking laughter as the bus groaned and rolled away, continuing its journey down Detroit Street.

/>   Jack lay on the side of the road, breathing deeply of the crisp, cold morning air, and rubbing his noggin where the shoe had tagged him. There was no doubt about it now; he was going to be late. And if experience had taught him anything, it was that his dreaded homeroom teacher, Mr. Shepherd, was going to smack him with yet another detention for his tardiness.

  Before getting up and continuing the long walk to school, Jack took a moment to relax and let his legs recover from the workout they had just gotten. As he stared up at the cloudless blue sky, he thought to himself:

  Today is totally going to suck.

  If only Jack had known what the future had in store for him, he’d no doubt have realized how much of an understatement that was. Because though his morning started out bad, things were going to get much, much worse…

  Chapter 2

  River Heights High School was a fairly large, yet unremarkable building bordered mostly by farmland and a few quaint shops that catered to high school age clientele, providing the necessary fast food, caffeinated drinks, and places to dilly-dally after school that most teenagers on Earth had come to depend upon.

  After reasoning he’d be in more trouble if he skipped school entirely than if he just showed up late, Jack had begun the long walk down Detroit Street that eventually led to River Heights High. Jack spotted the large dirty-granite colored building in the distance, its school flags hanging limply at its central flagpole. First period would no doubt be wrapping up by now. (Not that he cared, since he had Social Studies first period and was always bored to tears there.) But there was no way he’d be able to make it to homeroom in time.

  All students were required to check in at their homeroom class after first period so attendance could be taken and announcements read. Normally, this wasn’t that big of a problem. Freshman year, Jack had Ms. Deitz for homeroom, and for some reason she was always more than willing to believe Jack’s excuses and let him get away with practically anything.