Texas Strange

by West, Terry M.

  Cecil pushed the enter key and stood back. The keypad flashed three times, and then the top half of the container opened slowly. A thick, cold fog seeped out, and filled the van quickly.

  A grey hand that was tipped with tendrils emerged slowly from the fog. The tendrils attached themselves to Cecil’s face. When this happened, the cab light flickered and went out. Cecil could suddenly feel his vitality slip away as the clutch on him strengthened.

  A vision erupted in Cecil’s head. He stared through eyes that were not his own. He was in a strange place. A city was in ruins. Dead bodies were strewn everywhere. Buildings burned and crumbled downward. The smoke in the heavens was so thick that the day sky was blackened and red clouds sounded off in the air.

  Something gripped Cecil’s leg. He looked down and stared into the dying face of a child. It was humanoid, but the face alien. Its skin tone was bright yellow and its big bug eyes burned with fright. It said a word in a tongue Cecil had never heard. But he understood.

  Why?

  Cecil reached down with the tendril fingertips that were feeding him this knowledge. He tenderly caressed the alien child’s face, and then he sucked out what little life was left. The child collapsed, and joined the ranks of the dead. Cecil turned and began walking toward a space craft. He stepped over ruins, pools of alien blood and corpses. Turning back to regard the quiet, dead planet once more before boarding his craft, he snickered evilly.

  He drove his craft from the planet and steered into space. He glanced into the rear view screen, and he saw what little light and life the planet held dim. It quickly became as cold and barren as a moon. Cecil looked ahead to his next destination.

  The controls of the alien ship were composed of colored radiance and they sparkled in front of Cecil’s face. His hands swiped at the projected reins that danced in front of him, and the stars blurred as the ship moved at an incredible speed. A tendril stirred another set of controls and a holographic map appeared on the view screen in front of him. The alien fingers began to enter information on what looked to be a keyboard made of light. A destination enlarged on the screen, and Cecil plotted a course.

  Suddenly, a screeching alarm sounded. The ship lurched and shook. An emergency control stick popped up from the seat that Cecil sat on. His alien fingers pulled back on the manual lever and the rush of hyperspace settled. The stars froze and the craft fell into a new galaxy. Still the alarms sang. The console of light blinked and disappeared and the cockpit grew darker. The ship’s power flickered on and off.

  Cecil spotted a blue planet in the distance and pulled the manual steering device toward it. More malfunctions chirped but the ship sped toward the planet.

  He wrestled with the failing controls as the craft entered the planet’s atmosphere and fell toward its soil.

  It was night, and very little light shone on this quiet little world. Cecil tried to level off the vehicle and scrape its belly rather than bury its nose into the surface. He shot over a small gathering of buildings and the lights on his ship illuminated a sign that read:

  Pleasant Storm General Store

  He fought with the strength of both arms against the steering lever, but still his vessel struck some large trees and flipped. The ship crashed into the earth. The vehicle caved in all around him and Cecil’s body was slammed hard by the impact. The lights of the ship died altogether, and Cecil was plunged into darkness.

  His body felt tremendous pain and he couldn’t move. He became as still as the dead, and he lay there. His flesh became cold very quickly.

  Cecil heard voices, and felt things being moved around. Hands were on him, and his body was unstrapped from his seat and pulled from the remains of his ship. He was put down on soft, moist grass, his unblinking black eyes staring up at the night sky. A column of smoke spiraled upward.

  Curious and scared pink faces crept into his eyesight. The men, three of them in all, studied him with great fascination. They wore antiquated and dirty garments. One was middle-aged and heavily bearded. One was a much younger man, school-aged still, perhaps. The last of the trio was a male much older in years who wore the attire of a holy man.

  The preacher scowled at the alien corpse on the ground. “What do you suspect it to be, Robert Hartman?” he asked the bearded man.

  “I couldn’t wager a fair guess,” the man replied, his eyes never leaving Cecil’s body. He gripped a lantern and pushed it closer to get a better look. Cecil could feel its heat on his cheeks.

  “It’s a man from space,” the youngster realized, pointing to the night sky. “It came down from the clouds.”

  “It don’t look like no man to me,” the preacher said hatefully. “It appears to be a servant of the devil. A more hideous thang I have never beheld.”

  “What are we going to do, Judge Hartman?” the young man asked the bearded one.

  The one called Hartman, who must have been the leader of these men, pondered on this. He stroked his beard as he did so.

  “We are going to bury this strange being,” Hartman finally concluded.

  “You ain’t bringing that thang into my church, Robert Hartman,” the preacher insisted.

  “No time to arrange a service, padre. We are burying him tonight.”

  “But, why?” the young man asked, peculiarly. “People should know about this. This is wondrous news.”

  “We are a small, God-fearing community, Sherman Noel,” Hartman replied, addressing the youth by his name. “How do you think our townspeople will take this? I don’t want to alarm the others. They’ll panic, if they know creatures like this exist. And I won’t see this corpse become a sideshow oddity. It could very well be one of God’s children. The beast deserves a proper burial.”

  The preacher scoffed. He pulled a flask from his jacket and warmed himself with a drink.

  “Gather some men. Ones we can trust to keep the silence firm on this,” Hartman instructed Sherman. “Bury the pieces of that flying craft in the woods. If any of it can be given new purpose, deposit it behind my barn.”

  “What about the… visitor?” Sherman asked, motioning toward the body.

  “The preacher and I shall commit it to the earth,” Hartman replied.

  The preacher shook his head and held up his scrawny arms. “What assistance can I be, Robert Hartman? I have too much age on me to dig a hole.”

  “And too much spirits in you as well, as one can gauge by your breath. I’ll dig the grave, old man. You put your scripture on the proceedings,” Hartman said. “It will have a Christian burial.”

  “Fine, but put it nowhere near the cemetery, you hear me? I won’t have it foul that sacred dirt.”

  “Where you gonna bury it?” Sherman asked, as Hartman took off his jacket.

  “No offense, son, but the fewer that know the location, the better,” Hartman said, covering Cecil’s face with the smelly coat.

  Cecil felt himself hoisted once again and carried. He was put down, in less comfortable soil. He lay there, willing his limbs to move. But he was helpless and still. Finally, the jacket was taken off of him.

  Hartman’s face, sweaty and dirtier than before, poked toward Cecil’s and the judge scooped him up once last time. The alien was dropped into a hole, the judge shrinking from Cecil’s vision as the alien’s cold form fell. Cecil’s eyes stared at the mouth of the hole. The preacher stepped into the light of the lantern; its handle hugging a tree limb. The old man read from his good book as the judge shoveled in the earth.

  “The souls of the just are in the hand of God and no torment shall touch them,” the preacher’s voice, which had more strength in it than his frail old body, shook the darkness. “They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace…”

  In little time, the grave was filled, and the voice of the preacher could barely be heard. And then everything was quiet and dark and the creature quaked inside, though its cold flesh gave no movem
ent or indication of the rage and fear that burned. What little malevolent energy it still had slipped from its pores and contaminated the earth that held it. And then it slept, and it was a dreamless sleep that seemed to last forever.

  Light finally came and the creature was tortured by it with eyes that could not close. The light moved away and a hand rubbed mud from Cecil’s face. Two men looked down. It was a moonlit night, and the shadowed faces came into focus. The FBI agents who had brought in the van stared down at the creature.

  Bennetts smiled and moved the flashlight around, studying the alien body. Hanson stared silently. Behind the men, a pair of shovels stabbed the earth and their jackets rested on the handles.

  “Shit, I didn’t think it was real,” Hanson confessed. “And I figured we’d be digging up a skeleton, if it was. This thing looks like it was buried yesterday. There isn’t any decay on it. How can it still have skin on the bones?”

  Bennetts shoved a piece of gum into his mouth, rolled the wrapper into a silver ball and flicked it away into the darkness. “Maybe it doesn’t rot at the same rate that we do. I got to tell you, though; the condition of this thing more than doubles the value. Do you know how much money we’re going to make on this caper? Millions. I got a buyer in the Middle East who will throw half of his harem in on the deal.”

  Hanson suddenly looked a little concerned. “We’re not going to get caught, right? I mean, you have been doing this a long time. I’m just starting my career. I’m still fresh out of the academy.”

  “And you’ll retire as a rookie. I pulled a lot of strings to get us partnered up. Trust me, kid; the pension at the end of this rainbow is shit. You’re going to risk life and limb and you’ll still end up taking a mediocre consultation gig in your golden years to pad the retirement. If you don’t get killed in the line of duty, that is. I’m doing you a favor,” Bennetts guaranteed the young man.

  Hanson still looked unsure. “This is just so weird and new to me. Six months ago, I didn’t even believe stuff like this existed. And now I’m profiting off of it.”

  Bennetts’ tough face smiled and frowned at the same time. “Kid, I have been peddling paranormal weirdness like this for twenty years. It’s my specialty. I have a fat offshore retirement account that is chump change compared to what this haul will net. I’ve been tracking this one for a long time. This is the Holy Grail. Quit worrying. Once we get paid, we’ll have enough to set up anywhere we want. Pussy, cars, mansions. We’ll have it all. You could spend your whole life chasing a lotto ticket like this one.”

  Hanson took it in, and then he found yet another concern. “How in the hell are we going to get it on a plane?”

  “I’ve got friends with the TSA. Expensive friends. Don’t worry. Nobody is going to mess this up. Things will go without a hitch, if we all stay cool on this.”

  Hanson nodded, a little more confident and he stared back at the alien. He reached toward its eyes and drew back a slimy hand.

  “Shit,” he cried.

  Bennetts laughed softly and brought out a handkerchief. “What happened?” he asked, handing his young partner the cloth.

  “It doesn’t have any lids. I poked him in the eye,” Hanson explained, cleaning his hand. “It’s creepy being stared at by that thing.”

  Bennetts dug out a set of keys and handed them to Hanson. “Pull the van around and open the icebox. Let’s get this guy stored up and haul ass. Fucking Texas is kicking up my allergies.”

  Hanson took the keys and dropped the handkerchief to the ground. Bennetts picked it up and knotted it in his hand as his partner left. He looked back down to the alien. Bennetts pointed the flashlight under his chin. It lit up his face and he glowed like a demon. The agent regarded the corpse.

  “I have waited a long time to meet you, my friend,” Bennetts said with a big grin.

  He glanced toward his young partner and he made sure Hanson was out of earshot. Then he turned his illuminated face back toward the alien.

  “You look like a sympathetic ear. I don’t know what to do about that kid,” he confessed, quietly. “I thought he had the guts for this, but I’m not too sure, now. I don’t trust him not to crack and spill everything. I think I am going to have to dissolve our little partnership. But, hey, the life of an FBI agent is dangerous, you know. Shit happens. I just have to work out the details.”

  Bennetts grimaced, as if the alien had objected. “Hey, I feel like a shit heel about it, okay. I should have seen he was too soft and green for this. But I am not going down for him or anyone else. You gotta look out for numero uno, baby.”

  Bennetts paused, as if expecting the creature to reply. Then, his face grew uncomfortable. “You know, the kid was right,” Bennetts said. “It is creepy being stared at by you.”

  He covered the alien face with the handkerchief.

  The tendrils suddenly detached from Cecil’s face. He slumped lifelessly to the van floor, and he saw nothing else.

  ***

  Bubba fought the descending alien fleet. He let out a war cry as he pointed the plastic plasma gun at the flickering saucers on screen. He glanced down to his number, and he saw that he was within a thousand points of the high score. That honor belonged to the initials of RLW. They were the only set of letters on the scoreboard besides TNT, Bubba’s cool as hell signature, that occupied the other nine score slots.

  Bubba had worked this game for months, and he was finally closing in on that top spot. He quickly surveyed the score again, smiling because he was sure he had surpassed his nemesis, RLW.

  “Really lame wimp!” Bubba quipped, pointing his weapon outside the screen and clicking to reload. “I have your ass now, RLW!”

  Suddenly, the electricity died. The store went dark and the game shut down, the cityscape graphic burned into the screen. Bubba dropped the plasma rifle. It dangled on a wire.

  “Oh, hell no, man!” he complained, lashing out and rocking the game. “Damn, I had it! I had the high score!”

  Bubba took his fountain drink off of a nearby window ledge.

  “Cecil, what the hell did you do back there?” he called out.

  Bubba marched toward the back, sure that the lights would return at any second. He imagined Cecil stumbling around in shadow toward the fuse box. There was moonlight in the store, and Bubba used it to find the side garage entrance.

  “Hey, do you know if that Invasion game loses the scores if the power is out?” Bubba called, reaching for the knob on the garage entrance.

  He twisted it and opened the door. A tall and lanky silhouette greeted him. The red glow of an emergency exit light in the garage lit the form up. Bubba stared into the ominous alien face. It resembled the faces Bubba had seen eyewitness sketches of on UFO documentaries. Its flesh was grey and it had an egg-shaped head with large black eyes and no nose to speak of. There was only one detail that wasn’t consistent with what Bubba had seen; it’s mouth. That orifice was huge and large fangs flashed from it as the creature howled and reached with its long tendril fingers at Bubba.

  He screamed and tripped. Bubba fell back to the floor, landing flat on his big bottom. The soda had miraculously survived, the plastic cup clutched in his hand. The creature knelt and grasped Bubba by his ankle. It started to tug him into the garage. Bubba screamed again and tossed his drink at the alien’s head. The lid popped off and the liquid splashed the beast’s face. Bubba heard a sound that resembled meat frying in a pan.

  The monster screeched in pain. It dropped the large man and it scurried over him, kicking Bubba in the cheek as it ran. It burst through the store entrance and disappeared into the night.

  Bubba sat, panting with fright, and then he remembered his friend.

  “Cecil!” Bubba cried, pulling himself up and limping from the clutch the alien had put on his ankle. He could smell the seared flesh of the beast in the air.

  Bubba entered the garage and followed the faint red light to the van. He noticed the back door was open. Bubba peered cautiously as he approached the quiet veh
icle. He stepped around the door and saw Cecil sprawled out next a metallic canister of some kind.

  “Cecil,” Bubba whispered loudly. He eyed the metal cylinder. Suspicious and scared, Bubba chose not to enter the van. He reached in as far as he could. He managed to snag Cecil’s pant leg. He quickly pulled his friend out. Cecil’s head banged against the chrome bumper as he slipped to the greasy garage floor.

  Bubba quickly knelt down and gently shook Cecil. “Cecil? Come on, partner. You open your eyes, man.”

  Cecil groaned and his eyelids fluttered. He groggily regarded Bubba. “Bubba?” he said, weakly.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bubba said, smiling with relief. “Thank Jesus. I thought I was going to have to give you the kiss of life.”