Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  IT TOOK MIKEY THREE long days of heavy deliberation to convince himself to talk to Mole, and another two to build up the courage to do so.

  Standing at the door, he reached up for the third time to ring the bell. He could just reach it when he stood on this tiptoes. As he waited, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His thoughts alternated between, Please be home, be home and Please don't answer the door. I'll go away.

  The "go away" had about won out when the door finally creaked open a few inches. Mikey could just make out the shining rims of Mole's glasses on the other side.

  "Go away, go away...Oh, Mikey, it's you. So sorry, my dear boy. I thought it was one of those damn Krishnas trying to save my soul. Do come in. It's been quite a while since you've paid your old friend a visit. So good to see you. Do come in."

  Despite his worries, Mikey found himself smiling and feeling better than he had for days. He stepped into the house and was surprised to see two new locks on the door. Mole engaged each one, four in all, before turning his attention back to his guest.

  "My dear boy, do I have exciting news." Noticing Mikey staring at the locks, he added, "Yes, I had to increase security around here, but that's all part of the news. Come, come, down to the cellar. I think you'll be duly impressed."

  Not waiting to see if Mikey was following, Mole shuffled off towards the cellar door. Mikey followed obediently behind.

  I've got to tell him what I did, he thought, as he watched Mole's hunched shoulders disappear down the steps. But if I do, he'll never trust me again. But if I don't, it'll only get worse. Damn, I hate these grown-up decisions. I shouldn't have to be making them until I'm a lot older.

  Mikey ran to catch up with Mole, who was impatiently waiting at the door to his lab. "Now, Mikey, you must be very quiet and promise not to touch anything without asking me first. Do you understand?"

  "Sure, I know the rules, Mole. But what's going on?"

  "You'll see, you'll see. Oh, and one other thing. You must promise, I mean really promise, not to tell a soul about what you are about to see. Not even your parents. Especially not your parents. Is that clear?"

  "Sure, Mole."

  "Do you promise?"

  "I promise not to tell a soul, cross my heart and hope to have perfect sight."

  Mole smiled at their standing joke, then slowly turned the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Mikey hesitated for a moment before entering the lab. The lab had always been one of Mikey's favorite places in the world. It was like a cross between the land of Oz and the Mr. Wizard Show. Like the rest of Mole's house, the lab was a hodgepodge of filled counters, overstuffed cabinets and shelves that threatened to collapse under the weight of what they held. Mikey only wished his folks would let him keep his room as cozy.

  Mikey was not prepared for what he saw in the lab. First, many of the cabinet tops and shelves had been swept clean of their junk. In its place was a series of ten-gallon glass tanks. Each one housed a single yellow globe approximately the size of a volleyball. Each one pulsated slowly and rhythmically in exact synchrony.

  "Aren't they marvelous? They've grown incredibly well and just yesterday, the beating started. They all started at the same time, and no one has missed a beat yet. Oh, sorry, I haven't explained what they are. Well, to be honest, I don't know what they are exactly or where they came from."

  Mole related his story of the bassinet, as Mikey floated from one incubator to the next, his mouth open in a perpetual gasp.

  "So, when I made the horrible mistake, and the tiny fetus died, I made a commitment to the rest that I'd do everything in my power to save them. I had taken tissue sections from the first one. That helped tremendously to get a good idea what the nutritional and climatic needs of these would be. I had to improvise with the tanks, but actually, their needs are fairly simple. And they're growing so well, don't you agree?"

  Mikey had missed most of this last information, his mind stuck on the thought of the small green carcass lying in the shoe box. Mole had to be warned that his secret was not a well kept one. But how?

  "But, what are they?" Mikey finally managed to ask.

  "I'm not sure actually, but I suspect from their unusual biochemistry and morphology, that they are the spores of an alien life form."

  Mikey was confused by Mole's statement, finally deciding that "alien" was the main word to be concerned with.

  "How come they're here?" Mikey asked, wishing all along that they weren't.

  "If you mean, how did they get to 2111 Down Street, I haven't the foggiest idea. It would seem that someone dropped them off. Perhaps someone found them and didn't know how to take care of them. Maybe they knew of my reputation as a reproductive physiologist and decided to entrust me with their care. I didn't start out too well, I'm afraid, but, my, haven't I made a comeback?" Mole smiled proudly.

  "But they can't stay here, can they?"

  "And why not?" Mole asked, a little alarmed. "They must stay here. Mikey, remember your promise. You mustn't tell a soul. If the authorities ever found out about them, they would take them away. They'd experiment on them, probably kill most of them for 'scientific research.' We mustn't let that happen." Mole caressed one of the tanks affectionately. "There's a warm, comforting feeling to having them here. It's like the house is alive. New life. Oh, maybe I'm being overly protective of them, but, well, I should be. I'm...well, I'm their mother, in a sense. I've every right to be protective."

  Mikey could not shake the picture of the small green carcass lying in the shoe box. It probably wasn't in the box now. Buzz had said he was going to put it in a jar of preservative, maybe sell tickets to anyone who wanted to see it. If so, it would only be a matter of time before some adult heard about it. Just a matter of time before someone traced it down to 2111 Down Street. Just a matter of time before Mole lost his new children.

  Mikey opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. What could Mole do about Buzz's plan? He'd only get mad at the one who had led the kids to the pet cemetery. He wouldn't be able to stop Buzz. But I can, Mikey thought. I've got to. It's my only chance. Mole never needs to know what I did.

  FOR TWO DAYS, MIKEY tried to throw himself into his school work and forget his other problems, but since he had never been much for studying, the attempt failed miserably. It was at the end of the second day when his worst fears were verified. The news came from Alex.

  Alex was a tall lanky kid. He was two grades above Mikey and would not, under normal circumstances, be caught dead talking to anyone of Mikey's status. But Alex had become much friendlier with Mikey since he had risen into Buzz's good graces. In fact, it nauseated Mikey a little to see how readily Alex began fawning after him.

  It was after school, as Mikey began to walk home that Alex caught up with him. "Hey, Mikey, wait up. I want to talk to you."

  Mikey considered for a moment ignoring the bigger boy, but remembered too well what it felt like to be on the other end of that kind of game, so he turned and smiled weakly as Alex ran up.

  "Have you heard?" Alex asked, then stopped. It was one of those annoying habits that Mikey hated—asking stupid questions and then refusing to continue until someone answered them.

  He decided to play along. "Heard what, Alex?"

  "Buzz has put the buried treasure on display."

  "What?! You can't be serious. Not after what he said about keeping it secret or else."

  "Well, not actually on display, like in public. It's more of a secret display. Only kids are to know about it, and no one who we can't trust. I knew you knew about the treasure, so you're safe. Hell, you're the one responsible for finding it."

  Don't remind me, Mikey thought. There is no way it'll be kept a secret for long. Too much curiosity among a bunch of kids. Someone who was snoopy would ask someone with a loose tongue, and next thing you know, some adult would hear about it. Hell, by tomorrow it could be in the New York Times.

  "Where is he showing it?" Mikey asked, the sick feeling returning to his stomach.
<
br />   "At his house. He's keeping it in his room, but he'll bring it down to the garage for anyone who has fifty cents. I'm going over to old man Jacobs now to see if he'll let me cut his grass. I've gotta see that thing up close."

  Alex started to run on, then slowed for a moment. "Ah, Mikey, you wouldn't perhaps have fifty cents to lend me, would you?”

  Mikey shook his head, only half hearing the question. It was pretty automatic to turn down a loan request from Alex. He owed everyone money. "Nah, 'fraid not."

  "Didn't think so, but thought I'd ask. Well, I hate having to work for a living, but I gotta see that thing. I'll talk to you later."

  Mikey nodded vaguely again, deep in his own thoughts. He did have fifty cents. In fact, at home in his bank, he probably had better than twenty dollars. Buzz was obviously into making some money off of the alien embryo.

  "I'll buy it!" Mikey said out loud, then looked around quickly to be sure no one had heard him. That's what I'll do. I'll buy it and put it back where it came from. No one would think to look there a second time.

  He started running home, cutting through every yard he could. He had to find Buzz before the other kids found their fifty cents and the word seeped out.

  OUT OF BREATH, MIKEY rushed into his house and up the stairs before his mom could even yell at him about slamming the door. Around the stairs and straight to his room and the Snoopy coin bank that sat snuggly on his bureau. After taking it down and placing it on his bed, Mikey turned and closed the door to his room, placing the desk chair against it for security. Although his parents had told him many times that it was his money, he wasn't interested in trying to explain the reason he needed it. Buying a used bike or a baseball glove would be fine, but Mikey knew even his parents wouldn’t understand or condone the purchase he was planning.

  Mikey turned Snoopy on his head and, pulling out his pocket knife, began wrestling with the catch under the dog's feet. Having taken loans out before, it took him only a few seconds before the coins and bills came pouring out onto the bed. He counted the money as quickly as possible, tossing it into an old lunch bag as he went. Twenty-seven dollars and thirty-one cents—his life savings. Soon it would be Buzz's fortune if he would take it.

  Mikey grabbed the bag and started towards the door, pausing only long enough to place the bag inside another paper bag. No reason to take a chance of losing it. He tiptoed to the edge of the stairs and looked down. He could just make out the shadow of his mom in the living room. She'd be waiting there, probably folding clothes or something else to look busy, but waiting to see what her only son was up to.

  Mikey backed away from the stairs and crept down the hall to the back steps. He rarely used them since they led down to the kitchen, where his mother spent most of her time, but they would serve as a good escape route. He wished he could tell his folks all about his problem. As folks went, his were the best, but even they could not be counted on to keep his secret.

  Out the back door, closing it with uncommon quietness, Mikey fled as fast as his feet would take him the three blocks to Buzz's home. As he approached, he noticed Buzz's skateboard leaning against the garage. Since Buzz seldom went anywhere without it, it was a good sign that he was home. Mikey hoped no one was with him that would interfere with his plans.

  Mikey stood at the door for a few minutes trying to muster his courage. He had never had the nerve to come by Buzz's house before, and it suddenly dawned on him what he was about to do. Finally, he knocked lightly on the door. No one responded. After a few more seconds, he knocked again, louder. This time, he heard some rustling on the other side. The door opened, and there stood Buzz, towering over him.

  "Hey, Mikey, what's happening?" Buzz exclaimed, with a large smile on his face. "Come to see the weirdest thing in the world?"

  Mikey took a deep breath before answering and was shocked and proud to hear his voice come out firm and without a stutter. "Well, yes and no. Actually, I came to see you about a business proposition. Have you got a sec?"

  "Sure, Mikey, come on in. Hell, I wouldn't even be in business if it wasn't for you."

  Please don't remind me, Mikey thought.

  "Come on upstairs to my room where we won't be bothered by my folks."

  The two of them climbed the stairs to Buzz's room. Once inside, Mikey realized he hadn't the foggiest idea what to say, so he simply blurted it out.

  "I want to buy the thing in the jar."

  Buzz's smile melted away to first a puzzled look, then a frown. "You what?"

  "I want to buy the thing I dug up out of Mole's yard." Mikey walked over to Buzz's bed and dumped the contents of the bag onto it. "I've got twenty-seven dollars and thirty-one cents. You'd have to show it to a bunch of kids to make that kind of money. This'll be much quicker and easier. Will you sell?" Mikey asked this last question as more of a plea.

  Buzz looked down at the bed and back to Mikey. He stroked his chin for a few moments and paced to his desk and back. Mikey began to get a little more hopeful. Gosh, he's going to sell it to me. It'll solve everything. No one need find out about Mole's experiments. He'd even confess to Mole what had happened after he had the dead fetus back.

  Buzz walked back to the bed and ran a forefinger through the change.

  When he turned back to Mikey, there was a wide grin on his face. "Kid, you're something, I gotta hand it to you. Not many four-eyed punks would have the balls to come to me with such a preposterous offer. Twenty-seven dollars? That's chicken feed. Hell, I'll make that in one day, in one afternoon, once the word gets out. I figure I've got maybe the world's only baby alien. If not that, at least a freak of nature. People will eat it up. Oh, sure, I'm starting small right now. Just with the kids around here. But that's just the beginning. I might just take this show on the road. I'll make a fortune."

  "You won't sell it to me?" Mikey asked, ashamed to hear the whine in this voice.

  The grin left Buzz's face. "Nah, I won't. But I'll tell you what I will do. You bring me fifty bucks, and I'll make you a silent partner. I'll give you twenty percent of the gross. I gotta hand it to you. You've got guts—not much sense, maybe, but I kinda like you. Hell, you've got over half of it now. I'm sure an enterprising young shit like yourself can come up with the rest."

  "How?" asked Mikey absently, his head still spinning from the rejection.

  "Go steal it for all I care. You want to get ahead in this world, you gotta take risks."

  Steal? Mikey had never stolen anything in his life. Well, if cookies didn't count. In fact, he'd done very few wrong things, really serious wrong things like stealing or lying or cheating. Steal? How could he?

  Suddenly, it dawned on him what he was thinking about. It wasn't stealing money. No, he'd steal the jar. If Buzz wouldn't sell it to him, he'd steal it. Besides, he'd been the one that had led them to it. He'd been the one to dig it up for them. When you stopped to think about it, Buzz had stolen the creature from him. He'd only be taking back what was his.

  "Well, Mikey, whatta you say?"

  "Ah, yeah, I'll have to think about it. Figure out where and how and all that kinda stuff."

  "Sure, kid, no sweat. It's a good offer and not one I would make to just anyone. Tell you what I'll do to show you what a nice guy I am. I'm going to let you see what you'll be buying into—for free. Hold on a sec."

  Buzz went to his closet, pulling his desk chair with him. Standing on the chair, he reached into the highest corner of the closet and pulled from the shelf a large pickle bottle. He carefully turned and eased himself from the chair, as though he were carrying a crate of eggs.

  Mikey's eyes fixed on the small creature floating in the jar. The large eyes, partially closed, seemed to open a little, as though staring back at him. Mikey continued to gawk, half expecting the tiny mouth to open and for it to scream out, "Help me, Mikey. Help me and my brothers and sisters. Help me, Mikey!"

  "It's really something to see, isn't it, Mikey?"

  Mikey was afraid to answer for a moment, for fear he would
burst out in tears. Finally, he nodded his head. "Yeah, it's something all right."

  MORNING'S DAWN WAS just as bright, the air just as crisp, and the birds sang just as pretty a song despite the fact that for Mikey, his world was coming to an end. In the space of only a few days, he had become a sneak, a betrayer of his closest friend, and was soon to become a thief for the second time. As he made his way up the walk to Mole's house, his spirit lifted despite his worries. He hoped the other aliens, or whatever they were, had been doing well. He looked forward to seeing his friend, Mole, again although it was becoming increasingly difficult to meet his eyes, knowing the danger in which he had accidentally placed him.

  Midway up the walk, Mikey stooped and picked up the newspaper from the daffodils. A good sign, the paper had missed all the flowers. As he stood on the porch waiting for Mole to answer the door, he glanced at the paper.

  GENETIC BIOLOGIST MARCUS ALDRAM MISSING

  AUTHORITIES HAVE "NO COMMENT"

  Ge-ne-tic bi-o-lo-gist? Mikey mouthed the words. I wonder if Mole would know him. It seemed like that was the kind of stuff Mole used to do. He'd have to ask him. But the thought was flung to the side when Mole answered the door.

  "Mikey, Mikey! Come in the house, do come in. Oh, you must see the little fellows. They've grown so much. Do come to the lab."

  Mole scurried back into the house and down the stairs. Energetic old cuss, Mikey thought as he followed, tossing the paper onto one of the stacks as he went. Mole had reason to be excited. His small nest of orphans were growing at an outstanding rate.

  "They burst out of their sacs just yesterday, and they're already fifty percent larger than they were when it happened. It was amazing to watch. I was fortunate to be present when it happened." Mikey noticed the small cot that had been dragged into the corner of the lab. "One popped, then another, then another. It was like popcorn. You know how a few kernels pop at first, then they all fight to catch up. I'd say they all popped out of their shells within a minute and a half. Oh, I wish you had been here. It was a miracle, a true miracle. One I will always cherish.