by Unknown
A jolt cascaded down Molly’s spine.
“Percy, who you’re looking for,” Sonlin continued. “He only one with mohawk. He scared, Ms. Molly. Something’s after him.”
“This kid’s for real? You’ve talked to him?”
“Yes. He say two men on tram in bloody coats. Sickly man melt on tram. Percy get off tram and run.”
“Just how Banger had described it,” Molly whispered. “Who is after Percy?”
“More funny little men. All have orange hair and dress like Edgly Gang.”
“Edgly gang?”
“Percy’s gang. But little men don’t know Edgly Gang meeting sign, so gang know they not real thing and shoot them before they get too close.”
“They killed some?”
“Yes, then little men turn to dust, blow away. Some just get shot, get real mad, throw things.”
Molly took a long breath and reached for another bill. She felt like she had eaten live snakes that now slithered up her throat. “Where do I find Percy?”
Sonlin chuckled, declining the bill with a wave of his hand. “On Edgly Avenue. Where else?”
She stuffed the bill back into her pocket.
“Ms. Molly,” Sonlin added. “Gang scared. One shot by little man and melt into alley. Nothing left of him.”
She turned to go, swallowing hard as she faced the callous stare of Sonlin’s doorman, who opened the door for her. She scurried down the steps and onto the street toward Edgly Avenue.
A clump of orange-haired hoods on Edgly Avenue stood out like kings and queens among beggars. Seven of them, but none had a mohawk. She shivered in the rain’s aftermath and approached the Edgly Gang.
Molly returned to the precinct with good and bad news for Banger. The Edgly Gang verified the tram incident, but she didn’t find the mohawk kid, Percy. Banger was released on bail and then took the tram to the abysmal ‘drudge’ to find the kid, without whom the law would think he was insane.
The stink of decay in the drudge reminded Banger to make tight fists. Wearing a polyester warm-up suit and running shoes, his skinny ass screamed assault me to any hood seeking fun. He wished he still wore the bloodstained overcoat and black boots the precinct held for evidence. One look at him dressed like that would keep away any thug.
He kicked through wet litter, his feet burning where Farber’s guts had dribbled onto them, and the snug fit of the damp canvas shoes exacerbated the pain.
Peering between the cars that sped past, he scanned the hoods standing beneath a brown tattered awning over a diner across the street. None wore a tan jacket, or anything with an ‘E’ on it. No orange hair.
Gangs conducted most business in the alleys, so Molly had told him. After hesitating, he walked through a passageway between two shops. Something dripped from the flat roofs, spattering his face and leaving dark greasy spots on his clothes. He wiped the grime from his eyes and entered the alley when he thought he saw Percy half a block away. Banger stared hard as he approached. Lots of orange hair, not just a strip, and this kid was unusually small for a hood. He wore a huge tan jacket that looked like something was hidden beneath it. The kid leaned his head from side-to-side, blinking as if trying to bring Banger’s face into focus.
Banger stopped, a sedating chill permeating his body. The kid was a galeaper! Was the little guy after him? Couldn’t be. Banger had destroyed everything: notebooks, computer files, voice recordings, anything that might be used to reproduce his work or provide the first step needed to harness radiation emitted from a black hole. And Jekkie Lane was dead.
The galeaper took a step toward Banger, and Banger knew at once what was about to transpire.
Thankful now he wore his running shoes, Banger sprinted away. He had learned a few things hanging out with Farber: in Earth’s gravity and atmospheric conditions, not only were galeapers’ bodies as fragile as dried sea grass, they had slow reflexes and couldn’t run.
Banger darted through the alley, hurling items in the path of his pursuer. A pulsating shrill sounded from behind: melding-blast! Avoiding the fatal blast, he tumbled to the ground, rolled, scrambled to his feet, and dashed through a passageway that led back onto the street. Flattening himself against a building, he picked up a brick from the pavement and held it firmly, waiting.
The galeaper had barely emerged when Banger swung SMACK! The galeaper flew backwards, with a guttural scream. Something fell from beneath the galeaper’s coat and hit the pavement: a translucent, crescent-shaped thing, with green iridescent liquid floating inside. It fizzled to nothing, just like Farber’s makeshift melding gun had done when Jekkie Lane struck him.
Banger had been running, he had never run this fast, all the way back to his home on 39th Street and placed his key into the door lock. The key turned without the normal metal grinding resistance. Funny, he was sure he had locked it.
He walked inside and stepped backwards against the door, slamming it shut.
“Doctor Dunn, I presume?”
The mohawk kid, sat on his sofa with his feet on the coffee table. His face looked beaten and raw. He held a shotgun. Its barrel was pointed at him.
Banger raised his arms and said in a near whisper, “Percy.”
Percy showed no sign of acknowledgement.
“I’ve been looking for you,” said Banger, searching for words to appease the intruder. “How’d you find me?”
“Shut up and sit down. I’ve had a rotten day.”
His hands still in the air, Banger sat on the chair opposite Percy, who studied him with dark, menacing eyes.
“I came here to kill you, Dunn, because you got me into this mess. Thought I might do you a favor before those freaks do it their way. They’ve been chasing my crew and me all over town.”
“They’re called galeapers.”
“I know what they are.”
“You do?” Banger leaned back against his seat. Percy’s galeaper contacts couldn’t have been chance encounters. The aliens were quick at popping in and out of time and place, thereby avoiding detection, so stumbling into them wasn’t possible; they wanted Percy to find them.
“I couldn’t believe what they told me.”
“You’ve talked to them?”
“The ones we hurt were easy to capture, after a while. Nasty things when they get hurt. Had to kill them, though. They turned to ashes and blew away with the breeze, like a spent log. You teach them how to talk?”
Banger shook his head. “They’ve been on this planet long enough to learn our languages. Did they tell you why they’re after you?”
Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Because I saw one on the tram. Remember? I told my gang, and now the galeapers are after all of us. They said if their identity is known it upsets their plan. If you ask me, they have a long way to go before they make Earth a paradise. They’ll have to kill every last one of us.”
Banger felt the blood rush from his face. He, too, knew of the galeapers’ existence and their plan: Farber had never told him that knowing would be a bad thing. Had the galeaper he saw in the drudge been dressed like Percy on purpose, thinking he would be gullible enough to get close? Then, WHAMMO — before he realized it he would be wiped out by melding-blast. But Banger was on to them; he knew what they looked like and that they disguised themselves to attract their victims. And thanks to Farber, Banger knew their vulnerabilities.
Percy wagged the gun at him. “So tell me, Doctor, are they friends of yours?”
“Of course not. I’m an astrophysicist. I search for black holes, and when I found one, I also found Farber, the galeaper you saw on the tram. He killed Jekkie Lane.”
“That freak? I saw the newscast. Real bloody scene. Why?”
Banger started lowering his arms, but changed his mind when Percy shook his head and aimed the barrel of his gun at his chest.
“Because Lane’s descendent will harness energy from a black hole.”
“What?”
“I invented the technology to find black holes. They emit Hawking radiatio
n, and if that radiation could be harnessed into energy, well, the possibilities are...” Banger hesitated, realizing Percy wouldn’t understand.
“Look,” Percy said, “I don’t have much education, but I’m not stupid. So what you’re saying is that Lane’s kid—”
“Great grandson.”
“Yeah, whatever. This power-hungry dude will use the energy from the black hole for his own pleasure.”
“Simply put, but the entire human race will be annihilated because of it.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
Percy bounced the handle of the gun between his palms, as if contemplating the truth to Banger’s story. “But if Farber wanted to prevent that, why didn’t he get rid of Lane’s descendent? Galeapers can move through time, can’t they?”
“Farber thought it best to stop the event at its infancy, so he journeyed through time, to the black hole, and waited for the first life form to find him, which was me.”
Percy squished his face. “Wouldn’t he have gotten pulverized entering the black hole?”
“Yes, but galeapers can restore their molecular network under certain conditions. But he never fully recovered. Not all his matter entered my particle reaper.” A knot formed in Banger’s stomach as he remembered what Farber had looked like when he appeared in his laboratory. Bringing him home without raising suspicions was another story.
“Farber came here to kill me,” Banger continued, “to prevent humans obtaining knowledge that might be used to harvest that energy. We became friends, and he convinced me to destroy my data about finding the hole. But some of it had already been reported so he decided to eliminate Jekkie Lane, the perpetrator’s ancestor who lived in our era, before Lane had a chance to have kids. It was Lane, or another galeaper would have come for me. Farber couldn’t have done it himself because of his health. He needed me to carry the melding gun and to help him walk. Things got out of hand and Farber killed Jekkie Lane in a rage. We ran, and that’s when you saw us on the tram. Farber injected melding-blast into his leg, and you know the rest.”
Percy gave a slight chuckle. “So, you helped Farber commit murder to save your own ass.”
Banger felt a stabbing pain in his heart. Although he had been denying his reason, Percy had judged him rightly. But the thought of doing nothing, knowing that humans could be annihilated, sickened him more than the murder itself.
Percy lowered the gun, a crooked smile forming on his face. “Don’t look so glum. You’re a hero, Doctor, because you gave humans back their future.” He stood, and with a flick of his hand, he lowered his head in a surprisingly poised manner. “I bow to you. The entire world should bow to you.”
Banger had never thought of it like that. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero. He felt shameful, desperate, and scared.
Percy sat down and continued. “But you didn’t save your ass, because now they’re after us all because we know too many of their secrets. The way I see it, they’ve declared war.”
Banger realized his arms were no longer in the air. He breathed easier sensing Percy didn’t care.
“By the way, Doctor, you dropped this outside the tram station.” He tossed Banger a small billfold that contained his identification card. “If you’re going to commit a crime, don’t leave your calling card.”
Banger looked inside of the billfold. All the money had been taken out, but he said nothing.
“A galeaper took down my buddy,” Percy said.
“Shot with melding-blast?”
Percy gave a sour expression. “What exactly is that stuff?”
“It converts organic matter into the surface it touches.”
Percy’s facial bruises turned a darker shade of purple. “So, my buddy’s part of the asphalt now.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s work together, Doctor.” Percy placed the gun on his lap. “How can we out-smart them?”
Work together? Perhaps Percy had a good idea. If the kid testified on his behalf, and by chance the court believed the story, the ‘war’ would escalate, because more people would know about the galeapers.
“We beat them one by one,” Banger began, “because they work independently. The only contact they have with other galeapers is when it’s time for them to leave, but if a galeaper fails to kill its target within a short period of time he never goes home. That’s their law and the reason Farber wanted desperately to kill Lane: he wanted to die at home. They don’t live long here, because Earth’s gravity and other factors greatly decrease their life expectancy. Disarmed galeapers are harmless after they throw a short-lived temper tantrum. Afterwards they can be captured and will tell you anything. Their reflexes are slow and their eyesight is poor. That’s why they lure their victims, so they can fire at close range. And they never work at night.”
Banger detected a spark of light in Percy’s eyes. “Doctor, do you know how to make melding-blast?”
“I do,” Banger said with pride. He pointed a finger at his head. “The recipe’s right here.”
“Then let’s whip up the stuff and kick some galeaper butt, Doc.”
“Call me Banger.”
Molly arrived at the precinct minutes after she received Allen’s call. “There’s something here you need to see,” he had said to her in an anxious voice.
It was dusk. The precinct was empty except for the attendant at the front desk. A cold silence engulfed the station as she stuck her head into Allen’s vacant room. Then a cough directed her attention down the hall, toward the observation room where Banger had been held earlier that day.
“Allen?” No response. She approached the observation window with some caution and peered through it. Allen sat on the floor, his back against the wall, a troubled stare on his face.
She entered the observation room and followed Allen’s gaze to a tan jacket, the type worn by the Edgly Gang, lying on top of what looked like ashes. Molly’s gut slammed against her spine. Unable to untangle the knot that impeded her speech, she turned sharply toward Allen.
“You’re too late,” Allen said in a quiet voice. He reached out a hand, gesturing toward the jacket. “It shut its eyes and seemed to fall apart. Then whatever it was, it turned into ashes.”
All doubts about Banger’s story vanished, replaced by a reality-jarring incubus that terrorized her insides.
“Got a call from a coffee dealer in the ‘drudge’ who said some hood was going nuts behind his shop. When I got there, the hood was passive. Stood up, let me cuff him, and then I took him to the precinct. I knew he wasn’t right. I don’t think he could see well. Had these weird eyes and a white, peanut-shaped face. He answered every question I asked. He claimed to be one of those galeapers Dunn talked about. Said he had been sent here to eliminate people who knew about them and their plan to make Earth an Eden.”
Molly experienced another internal body-slam.
“He told me the kids with orange hair destroyed his melding gun before he could use it. What the heck’s a melding gun?”
Molly didn’t answer.
Allen’s stare changed into a look of desperation. “These galeapers are killing innocent people, Molly. You need to leave town as fast as you can.”
“They can’t be after me. I didn’t do anything.”
“They will be after you, because you know about them.”
“I don’t get it. This Dunn character killed a man and now some strange little aliens are—”
“Banger didn’t kill anyone. Farber did.”
“Who the heck’s Farber?”
There was no sense explaining anything to Allen. It would take too long. One thing was clear: She must warn Banger about the galeaper threat, if he didn’t already know. She knelt and held Allen’s arm. He was shaking.
“Funny thing though,” he said, “I confused it when I took off my coat, and when I put on that yellow wig someone left behind at the precinct’s Halloween party, it didn’t recognize me, like our clothes and the color of our h
air is how they identify us.”
Molly released her grip on Allen and rose to her feet. Her head throbbed, and for a moment she was sure she was about to throw up. As she stood there, her eyes lingering on the jacket, she realized things were different now. She had come to work that morning expecting to get a classic, gutter-nurtured client, but instead — Banger. And now weird aliens with a warped sense of humanity were hunting her down. Oddly, she felt a slight thrill.
“I better go,” she said. “What about Jekkie Lane’s murder?”
“Don’t worry,” Allen replied. “I’ll make it look like he was framed.”
It didn’t take long for Banger to make melding-blast and fill syringes and laboratory flasks with the green iridescent liquid. Weapons. The syringe — Farber’s idea. Using flasks — his. The mixing of the liquid with human blood catalyzed the cell-changing reaction. Ejected from a melding gun, the liquid would penetrate clothes and pierce the skin. But making a melding gun was time consuming, and the things were too bulky. For now, his weapons would only work at very close range.
Banger placed the weapons into an insulated lunch bag then removed his rubber gloves, which he tossed into the microwave along with the other items he had been using. He set the power on high and zapped any traces of melding-blast.
He glanced at his watch. He had better hurry to meet Molly and the others. She had called earlier. Then Percy left to assemble his gang and any others who knew of the galeapers’ existence.
Banger wanted to stay in Graveton and fight the galeapers there. But Molly and Percy had convinced him they should all leave town and formulate a good plan.
With the lunch bag’s strap draped across his chest and a backpack around his shoulders, Banger arrived at the tram station ten minutes ahead of schedule. Through the dim lights, he studied shadowy faces near him. Humans, all of them. But he had nothing to worry about, because galeapers didn’t work at night.
A cold sense of loss spiked through him as visions of Farber invaded his thoughts. In all the years he had been studying black holes; never had he thought his quest would lead to the little guy. Finding Farber had been a great scientific achievement, one he must conceal forever, and because of it, he might spend the rest of his life running.
