by Dane Bagley
***
“Can ya help me with Mark ‘ere?”
“I’m alright Gramps, I can walk.” Sometimes Mark liked to milk the attention that he was getting from his injuries—especially when he got attention from Tess. But at other times, like now, he just wanted to feel normal. His ribs still hurt, but he was healing up pretty well.”
“Well, th’n hurry up, ‘cause it’s about to start.”
“Yeah, they say it’s about to begin,” shouted Johnny from the room with the large 3D projector TV. The Gilmores had invited Mark and Mr. Rickson for the televised attack on the alien world. The Gilmores had been looking closely after Mark ever since he had taken the beating. National Guards had been dispatched to keep an eye on him, too; but they kept a distance, and Mark was not even aware that they were hovering around.
Mark had just finished his book, and was now slowly getting up to walk toward the TV room. Weird; who would have guessed that their weakness was that they couldn’t handle our germs?—saved by our bacteria or viruses. In reality, we are going to be saved from the real aliens by our guns and technology. I guess it wasn’t a bad book, considering how long ago it was written, he thought as he slowly walked into the room.
