One round sticker had ‘Paranormal Investigator’ surrounding the edges and a white bell curve shaped to look like a spooky ghost. A bumper sticker proclaimed an ‘Alien Hybrid on Board.’ Of course, there were a variety of cryptozoological creature stickers. Chupacabra, the Jersey Devil, the Loch Ness monster, the Moth Man, and bigfoot. One bigfoot bumper sticker read: ‘Bigfoot Saw Me. No One Believed Him.’
Cole was about to close his locker, after unloading his book sack and gathering his books for first-hour, when he saw Charlotte Meadows peel off from her entourage and head to her locker.
Charlotte was in the 9th grade too. She was one of the in-crowd, though, and no one would know that she was a geeky freshman by the company she kept.
Pretending to adjust some books in his locker, Cole waited for Charlotte to come and open her locker, which was right next to his.
Charlotte, or Princess Charlotte as he would think of her sometimes because she was pretty enough to be a princess, was oblivious to his presence as she fumbled through her locker’s contents.
Cole’s heart noticeably sped in his chest, and he felt his face flush a bit. He had shared few words with her over the year, mostly just a hi or a hello, of which she usually politely returned. As far as initiating any other conversation, she had left that burden on him.
The smell of her shampoo or perfume, Cole had never got close enough for his nose to explore and locate the source, stirred some manly emotion in him that made him want to melt and go into a rage simultaneously.
Charlotte was the perfect height. If they stood face to face, he was only slightly taller, maybe by an inch as he was 5’9”. A perfect size in his mind for him to turn his head to the side and kiss her deeply on the lips. He would then slowly slide his right hand up her back, underneath the long, dark brown, straight and shiny hair, until it rested behind her head. With assurance, he would gently pull her head closer and part her mouth with his wanting tongue. She would be his, and he would be hers, forever, maybe.
Cole broke his reverie as his internal clock told him time was running out. He knew that Charlotte had recently broken up with Brennon Davis, a 10th grader and a fellow member on the junior varsity baseball team. If there ever was a time to try and make a move, it was now.
“Hi, Charlotte,” Cole said, closing his locker door just enough to look from behind it.
“Hey,” she sang in a low voice that sounded ten thousand miles away. Her gaze never left her duties.
“Have you done your science assignment for Mrs. Edwards? There’s only a week left before the end of the month,” Cole said.
“Not yet. In fact, I had kinda forgot about it.” She turned her gaze toward Cole.
Charlotte's long lashes accentuated her deep brown eyes surrounded by purplish eyeshadow. The blush shaded her cheek bones and made her look much older. Most girls her age dabbed blush on the apples of their cheeks, which made them look like clowns. Her lips looked like lavender candy that glistened like it had been freshly licked. “Well, uh, you know you have to do the assignment in pairs. Have you picked a partner?” Cole asked.
“No, not yet. I’ll just have to add it to a long list of other things I need to do and keep putting off. I’m bad that way, sometimes.”
Hearing the word bad from Charlotte’s mouth strangely made it sound like something good. “I don’t have a partner either, and I wanted to do my project tonight.”
“Something special about tonight?” Charlotte flipped her hair off her left shoulder.
“Yeah, The International Space Station will be flying over just after dusk. I’m going to have my video camera set up and my laptop outside. You can hear the astronauts speak live over the internet.”
“That does sound like an interesting project.”
“Hey, if you want,” Cole’s eyelids raised as if the thought just struck him, “you could come over to my house, and we could do the project together.”
Mr. Buddy’s mop slopped just behind Cole. The boy turned a quick gaze to the man as the janitor worked the mop back and forth on a spot on the floor. This was no time for distractions.
“Well, I don’t know…” Charlotte’s gaze turned to the side.
Cole couldn’t tell if she were actually considering the offer or if she was searching for an excuse.
“I know you live in a neighborhood and closer to the city. The space station will be harder to see with all those man-made lights. Where I live is pretty rural. Get your mom to drive you over. I’ve seen the space station pass overhead before. It travels across the sky in just a few minutes. I’ll video tape it and get the live audio. We can show it in class for our credit.”
“Hmm, can I think about it?” she asked.
Not a no, but not a yes. Was she just sparing his feelings? Cole felt his heart sink to his stomach, right before something slammed into his right shoulder. His body jerked forward, and his face implanted on the ‘I Want to Believe’ poster. Did Mr. Buddy just crash into him?
“ ’scuse me. I didn’t see you there.” It was Brennon Davis; the janitor had moved on to clean another area. A wide smirk etched above the athletic boy’s square jaw. His curly blonde hair combed back from his forehead and hung nearly to the collar of his jacket. Brennon was a good four inches taller than Cole but acted like it was four feet.
“Brennon! That was unnecessary,” Charlotte scolded.
Brennon’s smirk morphed into innocence. He raised an open palm on his right hand and reached for the ceiling. “I said excuse me.” He turned his gaze to Cole. “You heard me say excuse me, right?” Brennon’s apologetic tone ended after the excuse me. When he said right, it was a command to be obeyed.
“I’m okay,” Cole said, feeling a small knot start to swell on the ridge above his left eyebrow.
“See, he’s okay,” Brennon said and crossed his arms.
“What do you want? I told you to leave me alone,” Charlotte said, narrowing her gaze.
“Aw, don’t be that way. I told you I was sorry about the other night. You’ve got to lighten up a little. Give me another chance,” Brennon said.
“I’ve given you more chances than ten times at bat. You’ve struck out for the last time with me,” Charlotte said.
“Com’on. Let me pick you up after practice, and we’ll hit The Chimes. We can dig into some of that spinach and artichoke dip you like. Get some frozen yogurt later, just like old times,” Brennon said.
“I’ve got a date tonight.”
“A date? With who?” Brennon’s face contorted like someone had just told him his dog had died.
“With Cole.”
“A date? But—” Cole said before Charlotte followed up.
“I’m with Cole tonight. There are no more old times. There’re only new times. And the new times don’t include you.”
Red splotches appeared on Brennon’s face. His mouth quivered like a volcano threatening to erupt.
“Go to class, Brennon. If you’re late the coach will make you run extra laps,” Charlotte said.
Brennon hesitated, then shot his wild gaze upon Cole. “Your ass is mine. See you at practice.”
Bits of spittle from the hard p of practice showered Cole’s face as Brennon stomped off. He looked over at Charlotte, and said, “A date?”
“Sure, why not?” She acted as if this was the first time she had considered thinking of him as dateable material, and, the thought had some appeal.
“Well, okay then. Can you come around seven p.m.? The sun sets a little before eight,” Cole said.
“I will see you then.” Charlotte closed her locker, turned, and walked briskly away, turning once to give Cole a last glance before rounding the corner.
“A date?” Cole said in wonderment, only dreaming of this day but never believing it would come true.
The bump above his eyebrow throbbed. Every silver cloud had a dark lining. Now he had to hope he would still have most of his teeth after baseball practice.
Chapter 4
The Future
The maroon transmetal armor opened at the head, arms, chest, and legs creating a cavity waiting to receive Tarik in its cold embrace. He stepped up to it and turned around, reaching the hold with his right hand to pull himself up. His right foot lifted and slid onto the foot frame until his heel secured in place. Nestling his back and arms in position, he brought his left leg in its spot until his body fit in snuggly.
In one swift action, the armor snapped together with the finality of a closing vault. Tarik had trained enough in the armor for it to feel like a second skin. Hopefully, all of the modifications to it would allow him to move stealthily among the Skinks. If not, the armor would become a transmetal sarcophagus.
The shell hummed with power energizing the circuits and mechanical joints. The Heads Up Display quickly detected and measured everything in the room and showed tactical information in front of his face. Open door three point four meters to the left. Hudson’s body registered as dead. The HUD identified the monitoring equipment as non-threatening electronics. The treads on the soles of the mechanical feet dampened his steps as he left the room.
Zax and three others of the team of twelve waited down the hall. Each wore rebel made battle armor that had never been field tested. The scientists who started the rebel nest thirty years before had focused on recreating humans, not building a war machine. With the disappointments of their failures, they were forced to shift their efforts toward creating a strike team with offensive and defensive mechanisms capable of competing with the Skink forces.
“There’s only one scout ship on the perimeter. Not more than six or eight on board. I don’t think they know what we’ve been doing. Probably found our parasite connection on the energy system and are coming to investigate,” Zax said as Tarik approached.
The only time Tarik didn’t feel inferior around the Nu-Mans was when he wore the armor. They commonly towered two feet in height over him and outweighed him by four hundred pounds. “The others?” Tarik asked.
“All the scientists and the rest of the support team are evacuating to safe-houses. We’re going to have to stay and hold this place as long as we can to give them time,” Zax said.
“No, we have to beat these stinky lizards and take their scout ship,” Tarik said.
“That’s easier said than done,” Bref, one of the older members of the team, said. “That armor’s tough.”
Tarik felt a twinge of guilt. His comrades weren’t nearly as protected as he. Their arms and legs presented vulnerable targets to the kinetic slugs slung by Skink guns. “We’re going to have the element of surprise. It’s been years since those slimies met any resistance.”
“Yeah, now that we all have a death sentence, almost everyone no longer cares about tomorrow. It’s all about living it up for today,” Bref said.
“Maybe that’s why I’m not scared,” Willet said. The Nu-Man’s blondish hair singled him out from the others. “Why delay the inevitable?”
“Don’t do anything stupid and get us all killed,” Garrad said, the Nu-Man had a habit of treating everyone like he was their mother.
“Oh, I’m going to get all stupid on those Skinkers.” Willet closed his eyes and curled his fingers into a massive fist. “I wish I could rip each and every one of them apart with my bare hands for what they’ve done to us.”
“Scout ship has landed,” came over the Nu-Mans’ helmet tel-coms and inside Tarik’s armor.
“Time to move,” Zax said and chambered a round in his blaster. “Put up a fight but don’t get yourself killed. If we want to see the mission to the end, we need numbers.”
“I’m with Tarik. Hit ’em hard and fast. Kill them all.” Willet turned and led the group down the hallway leading to the main entrance.
Boots hitting floor echoed off the walls. The fifty-or-so civilian personnel who pioneered and solidified the project scurried to evac vehicles. They would be leaving for the final time. Their years of sacrifice and dedication to the cause transferred to the shoulders of the strike team.
“Scout team’s on the ground. I count five of them,” came over the radio. “Can’t get a frequency to hear what they’re saying, but their scanners have one of them pointing toward the concealed entrance.”
That didn’t take long, Tarik thought. Located in the Ozark Plateau, the rebel nest’s access was camouflaged to be undetected from drone or satellite surveillance. Hand probing the area would discover it in no time.
“Forward unit, stay clear of the door,” Zax said, the whole team’s tel-com system connected.
*
Bix commanded the outside unit of four. Hidden in the terrain, he edged out of his cover to sight in his shoulder mounted compact railgun on the scout ship’s chin. The ship’s pilot sat in the cockpit, his hands busily at the controls. The railgun was good for one use. He wouldn’t get a second chance.
The laser sights chirped when it focused on its target. Bix launched the missile.
The projectile flew with blinding speed and hit the ship, creating an artificial clap of thunder. Burning metal streaked like fireworks in all directions. Bix only took a half second to gloat, knowing knocking out the ship’s communications was only the first step to winning this battle.
A Skink warrior reacted quickly to the attack, turning from the others and running toward Bix, who dropped out of sight once again.
A high pitched whistle cut through the air announcing a counter attack. The Skink’s grenade detonated close enough that the percussion from the blast felt like someone had hit him in the head with a brick.
Two of the Nu-Mans gave away their positions as they relentlessly fired at the Skink. Slugs pelted his armor with one in five hits showing any signs of effectiveness.
By this time, another Skink had joined the fray, peppering the terrain with slugs, and launching more grenades.
The scout ship’s heavy gun swung around and pointed at the entrance.
“Inside unit, entrance hot! Entrance hot!” Bix yelped over the tel-com.
The ship’s gun hummed to life and spat out an ordinance that practically disintegrated the entrance door.
The earth vibrated underneath Bix. Anything in the direct line of fire was sure to be destroyed. He could only hope that none of his teammates had met an untimely fate.
The heavy gun swung toward the rebels’ outside position. Gunfire from the Skinks had Bix hunkered down and considering taking the tunnel leading to the evac vehicles.
The fourth member of the outside unit sprang in abandon from his hiding hole. In full view of the Skinks, he quickly aimed and fired his compact railgun.
No sooner had the missile left the tube than Skinks’ slugs pounded into his body. Jem, the youngest of the team, fell backward in the barrage. A grenade exploded within arm’s reach above his head, shredding flesh, and burning hair.
Jem’s death wasn’t in vain. The railgun slammed its discharge into the ship’s heavy gun. The missile hit with such impact that both Skink warriors firing into the hillside suddenly found themselves smashed to the ground. The pilot’s blood streaked across the ship’s windshield.
Bix and the two others shook off the impact enough to take advantage of Jem’s sacrifice. The Nu-Mans fired on the two warriors before they had a chance to try and get up.
Only one moved, and one remained down. Bix saw a breach in the Skink’s armor at the torso; a hole big enough for even his hand to fit in. “Skink pilot and warrior down.” Four more alien menaces to go.
Another of the Skink warriors left the entrance and joined in a scorched earth assault on the outside rebels.
The Nu-Mans were severely outgunned. To resist any further would be suicide. Bix knew he was destined to die in the near future but didn’t want to make this his day. “Outside unit, hit the tunnels and evacuate. Zax, it’s up to your team now.”
“See you at the rendezvous point,” Zax called back.
“You damn well better! All of you!” Bix crawled back into the tunnel. The reverberations of battle faded as h
e fled to safety.
*
When Bix sounded the alarm warning of the imminent breach, the rebels peeled to either side of the hallway and braced themselves for the worst. The zero-energy propelled missile pulverized the entrance door and streaked down the hallway until it crashed into the limestone wall hiding the base. The whole sanctuary shook. Dust billowed back down the hallway creating a fog thick enough to where Tarik couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. No matter, his HUD and his companions’ tel-com helmets had sensors painting what was blocked from sight. Problem was, so did the Skinks.
Kinetic slugs proceeded before the Skink warriors. The Nu-Man team took defensive positions and let their blasters respond. The slugs flew so thick that the entrance leading to the outside looked like it was swarming with angry insects. The Skinks’ armor had incredible firepower. Tarik’s armor did too, but Skink slugs were designed to be ineffective to Skink designed armor. That way the aliens had no chance of getting taken out by friendly fire. Nu-Man scientists specially made Tarik’s slugs, but it took several slugs even to begin to chip away at the alien armor. The thing Tarik had to fear the most were the Skinks’ grenades. A direct impact was sure to do major damage, if not totally disabling him, and bringing death.
One of the rebels hugging the wall collapsed face first. It was Trant, poor guy. The Nu-Man had a wife and family.
The quarters were too tight for the vulnerable Nu-Mans to hold out for very long. None of them had been in an actual firefight before either. Training took place in the confines of the rebel base. Tarik’s confidence induced by rage ebbed quickly.
He thought about storming the entrance but realized that would be the worst thing he could do. The Nu-Mans would have to stop returning fire, and the Skink warriors would outnumber him. Their slugs would bounce off his armor, but if he ate a grenade, it would all be over.
Bigfoot Abomination Page 3
