The Rise and Fall of El Solo Libre

by Peter Nelson

  The old G’Dalien smiled and turned back to face the others.

  “Why, he ain’t nothin’ but a big, blobby bag of bully blubber! I say let’s get him!”

  In an instant, the entire G’Dalien population of Merwinsville burst into cheers and sprung into action. They leaped, climbed, and swarmed all over Mr. Nibbles. The three baggy-skinned G’Daliens stood back and motioned to a floating AirChair high above the Death Slug’s head. Suddenly, Mr. Nibbles began rising above the ground, its wings flapping limply.

  The G’Daliens hung on, kicking, biting, and scratching the beast as it tried to “fly” away. It rose higher, until it was directly in front of the TransPodium, where the captain and his Klapthorian first officers stood watching in horror.

  “Uh, sir? Do you have any orders? Sir?”

  The Klapthorian leader stared at his pet beastie getting wailed on by peace-loving G’Daliens.

  “Ek.”

  Down below, the three baggy-skinned G’Daliens again gestured to the AirChair—this time in a cutting motion.

  CLICK! WHOOSH…BOINNNNNGGG!

  Mr. Nibbles dropped to the field, causing the attacking G’Daliens to tumble off him. His body hit the ground with a wobbly BOING! and bounced straight back up like a beach ball. It SLAMMED into the TransPodium, knocking the captain and his officers into the air. They took flight and hovered above the field, watching in horror as Mr. Nibbles plummeted back down.

  The G’Daliens scattered to avoid being squashed, except one: the old grandpa G’Dalien stood his ground and held his cane over his head, pointy end first. As the blobby Klapthorian Winged Death Slug landed squarely on top of him, the old alien yelled out some sort of ancient G’Dalien battle cry:

  “ODELLLIIIDELLLAAAYHIIIIIDLLEH!”

  KA-BOOOM!

  Mr. Nibbles burst into a million scraps, popping like a giant balloon.*

  Rubbery pieces of him flew everywhere, in all directions at once, spraying the crowd of humans in the stands, who cheered their fellow citizens on.

  Nibbles chunks smacked the hovering captain and his officers, slamming them against the side of their ship. Panicked, they quickly scrambled back into the cockpit and sealed the doors.

  “Get us out of here!” the captain cried. “FULL REVERSE!”

  As the enormous ship began to lift away, Old Man Alex joined forces with the humans in the stands. Together they grabbed a large, floppy chunk of Mr. Nibbles and pulled the stretchy skin like a giant rubber band. As the ship backed away above them, every man, woman, and child in the stands yanked with all their might, strrrrrrrrrrrrrretching it tighter…tighter…tighter…

  SPROING!!!

  The rubbery chunk flew high above the Flee-a-seum and smacked the tiny windshield of the Klapthorian Death Cruiser with a THWACK!

  “AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!” Inside the cockpit, the captain and his officers squealed in horror as the stretched-out googly eye of Mr. Nibbles stared grotesquely at them through the window. “They’re attacking us with the tattered flesh of our own pets! These Merwinsvillians are monsters! RETREAT! RETREAT!”

  The Klapthorian Death Cruiser clumsily turned and thrust upward. It slammed into the top tower of the Flee-a-seum and fishtailed across the Merwinsville skyline. Its massive rear hull swung wildly toward City Hall. KERRRASH! The ship wiped out the SlayerLair, smashing its giant windows and lopping off its roof. From the Flee-a-seum the crowd could just make out a large, black, supercomputer-shaped object go soaring across the sky.

  “Isn’t this just peachy,” SarcasmaTron said as he sailed toward a large dumpster in an alley on the other side of town.

  The mighty cruiser straightened out and blasted skyward, fleeing the earth as fast as it could. As it headed back into space, all the citizens of Merwinsville, human and G’Dalien, burst into a loud and hearty cheer—this time in honor of themselves.

  The Merwinsvillians were so busy high-fiving each other, no one noticed as Old Man Herbert drifted down in his AirChair and joined in the celebration with the other members of Operation Slugwalker Switcheroo. Also going unnoticed were the three baggy-skinned G’Daliens, waddling toward the Flee-a-seum exit.

  They almost made it.

  Mayor CROM-WELL was not one to allow local heroes to go unrecognized, especially when they deserved loud, public mayoral thanks. Spotting them from up on the TransPodium, he bellowed so all could hear: “THOSE THREE ARE GETTING AWAY!” His voice boomed through the arena to the crowd below. “QUICK! ENTHUSIASTICALLY SEIZE THEM!”

  The crowd swarmed the three frumpy G’Daliens, lifted them up onto their shoulders, and carried them back to the center of the field. As the heroes were jostled and bounced into the air by the happy crowd, their three rubber G’Dalien heads suddenly popped off. The cheers of joy turned to screams of horror—until all eyes recognized the faces of Sammi, Alex, and Herbert in their rubber suits. The crowd fell silent.

  “It was you?!” someone yelled out from the crowd.

  “Wait,” said another. “You said you weren’t AlienSlayers.”

  The three looked at one another, unsure of what to tell them.

  Alex spoke up. “We’re not AlienSlayers! We’re not Solo Libres, we’re not superheroes. We’re just…friends.”

  Sammi grinned at him and added, “You’re the ones who slayed that space slug, not us! What I said was true—you don’t need to flee, and you don’t need anyone else to fight your battles for you!”

  The two of them gave Herbert a look. He was staring off sadly at the craggy wreckage of what was the SlayerLair, now the lopped-off top of City Hall. Alex elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Ow! Uh, that’s right. You all ripped apart a giant, slug-shaped balloon. So, yeah—way to go.”

  There was a half second of silence—then the crowd erupted once again in a burst of civic pride.

  The human Merwinsvillians made their way down from the stands and waded into the celebration on the field. GOR-DON searched the waves of people, looking for Marion. When he spotted her from a distance, her eyes grew wide. She burst into a sprint, running straight for him. At last, GOR-DON thought to himself. He shut his eyes, spread his arms, and puckered up for a kiss as best he could, considering he didn’t have lips.

  POW! “HIIIIYYYYYAAAAHHHH!!”

  Marion plowed into GOR-DON and launched herself off his stubbly bald head. She shot into the air, her steady, warriorlike gaze fixed on something just beyond the crowd of G’Daliens holding up Sammi, Alex, and Herbert.

  “RRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAARRRR!!”

  The real Mr. Nibbles had CRASHED out of the front of the oblong warehouse and stretched its powerful wings, bursting out of its Lunar Shuttle straitjacket. It launched into the air and dove straight for the three snack-sized humans responsible for disturbing his nap and giving him a pounding headache—Sammi, Alex, and Herbert.

  Mayor CROM-WELL fainted.

  “Sweet chariots of fire!” Special Agent Illinois leaped up onto the TransPodium, dove on his chubby boss, and immediately gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, despite the fact that they both had mustaches, and the mayor had eaten an egg-salad sandwich for lunch.

  Marion soared over the mob. She ripped the hairnet from her head and slammed midair into the angry worm. In an instant she stretched her hairnet around the tip of the Death Slug’s snout. The G’Daliens below dropped the ex-slayers on the ground and scattered as Marion swung herself up onto Mr. Nibbles’ neck and pulled back on the hairnet with all her might, like a crazed, lunch lady cowgirl yanking the reins of a wild stallion.

  “RRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAARRRR!!”

  The leather-winged beast swooped out of its dive, missing Sammi, Alex, and Herbert by a hair. Mr. Nibbles soared back up and bucked madly above the field. The Merwinsvillians still in the stands cheered like fans at an alien rodeo, while those on the ground joined the G’Daliens jumping up and down wildly at the spectacle overhead. Marion held on with one hand, the other raised high, riding the bucking Death Slug as it thrashed about above the fi
eld.

  Finally Mr. Nibbles crashed to the ground and skidded to a halt, its belly heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Marion leaned forward and rubbed his head, cooing softly in his ear.

  “Easy, big fellah. Mama’s here now.”

  The crowd went wild, rushing up to Marion as she dismounted. They lifted her up over their heads and paraded her around as EL-ROY, Dallas, and Sausalito ran to tie down the broken and defeated Klapthorian Death Slug.

  Still lying in the dirt nearby, GOR-DON watched the entire scene in amazement. A slight grin grew on his lipless mouth.

  “What a woman,” he mumbled to himself. “GOR-DON likey…”

  “So, m’lady. We meet again.”

  GOR-DON looked up. LO-PEZ smiled as his tentacles were doing various things at the same time—fixing his hair, smoothing his mustache, checking his breath, opening a bag of salt ’n’ vinegar potato chips. His caterpillar eyebrows began doing push-ups again, double-time.

  “I believe this belongs to you, m’lady.” His one free tentacle held GOR-DON’s trampled, dirty blonde wig as if it were a delicate lace hankie and gently placed it atop his stubbly head.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” GOR-DON grumbled.

  The ex-AlienSlayers stood back and watched the massive celebration: people and G’Daliens hugging, dancing, and spraying one another with bright green soda pop.

  A pear-shaped figure pushed his way through the gyrating crowd with a big grin on his face. Old Man Alex had taken off the Mexican wrestling mask his Uncle Davey had brought back from Guadalupe, and what little hair he had on his head was sticking out in all directions.

  “Did you guys see that?! We sent those shrimp bugs packing!”

  “I don’t believe my eyes,” a voice said. “You found him…” Old Man Herbert floated up in his AirChair. “Fraidy-Cat Filby!”

  “Uh, sorry if I don’t know your name. I played a mind-numbing video game for fifty years, and I’m slowly regaining my memory.”

  “That’s quite all right. It’s good to see you’re well.”

  “Thanks! I was gone for a while. Hiding out on the—”

  “The dark side of the moon, I know. Did you get the cave-warming gift I sent you?”

  “Ah-ha!”

  Young Alex stepped up and poked a finger at the elderly inventor. “So you did send him that video game system! I knew it!”

  Old Man Alex looked genuinely surprised.

  “Why would I do that? Those things rot your brain. I sent him a SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStickerator 3000.”

  “You said you had no idea where he went,” Herbert said.

  “I didn’t—not at first. But years later, when I heard he ran into trouble and disappeared, I used an early prototype of SarcasmaTron to locate him.

  “Then, remembering his love for those nasty stick-dogs, I invented a machine that would keep him fed for as long as he wished to stay hidden, and I sent it to him anonymously.”

  “Bio-vapor CO2 reverse thermo-protein condensenator?” young Herbert asked. The old inventor nodded. “Nice.”

  “Wait,” Alex said suspiciously. “If that’s true, why didn’t you just tell me where to find him?”

  “I wanted to test my theory of intersecting parallel-event paths,” Old Man Herbert said. “And by finding yourself, you helped me prove that they exist!”

  Old Man Alex stepped up and gave Old Man Herbert an enormous bear hug, almost pulling him off his AirChair. “I knew I recognized a friend,” he said.

  “Aw,” Sammi interjected. “See? You two are best friends, even in parallel-event paths!”

  “Nice story, old man,” Alex suddenly said, pulling his older self off Herbert’s older self. “But it doesn’t explain why you wrote this note and sent it along with that brainwashing AlienSlayer43: Virtual Vengeance game! HA!”

  He shoved it into Old Man Herbert’s face. Everyone crowded around and looked closely at it.

  “Look at the bottom! ‘Your old friend and neighbor, “H.S.”’ Let’s hear your ‘theory’ on that!”

  Old Man Herbert pushed it back. “That’s not my handwriting.”

  “Pff.” Alex rolled his eyes.

  Sammi peered closer at the note. “No,” she said slowly. “He’s telling the truth. I don’t know how this could possibly be, but I recognize that handwriting. It’s mine.”

  Another memory suddenly trickled into Old Man Alex’s brain. He looked at the note, the handwriting, Sammi’s face.

  Click.

  “H.S.—Hammy Sammi!” he exclaimed. “My old next-door neighbor! Now I remember! We gave each other rhyming food nicknames!” He looked over at the two Herberts. “And Sherbet Herbert! I knew I recognized you guys!”

  Sammi, Alex, and Herbert said goodbye to Old Man Alex and Old Man Herbert, leaving them reminiscing about old times together.

  “Looks like our parallel-event-path selves were friends, too,” Sammi said. “Kinda nice to know.”

  “Well, obviously our event path lives are far superior to theirs,” Herbert said. “I mean, rhyming food nicknames? Who does that?”

  “Don’t complain,” Alex said. “Alex Shallots? That doesn’t even rhyme!”

  The sun was low in the sky over the empty streets of Future Merwinsville as they exited the Flee-a-seum without anyone noticing or caring. They stopped and looked back at the happy, celebrating citizens of Future Merwinsville.

  “So if my observations are accurate,” Herbert said, “the entire city of Merwinsville just saved their own AlienSlayers from being horribly devoured by an actual alien.”

  “It’s more than we ever did,” Sammi answered.

  “Once again, ironic.”

  “I guess they don’t need us anymore.” Sammi smiled.

  “Let’s face it,” Alex said. “They never did.”

  At the top of the museum steps, Sammi, Alex, and Herbert watched the sun set over Future Merwinsville one last time. Fireworks blasted in the distant sky over the Flee-a-seum.

  “Best Flee-Festival ever,” Alex said.

  Soon the three ex–AlienSlayers were making their way slowly down the Hallway of Human History. When they came to the caveman diorama, they were surprised to find Chicago standing dutifully in front of the fake cave.

  “I gave EL-ROY the day off,” he said with a shrug.

  “Good,” Herbert said. “I don’t think we could survive another operation under his team leadership.”

  “So, is this it? I mean, forever?”

  “Not forever,” Herbert said. “We’ll all be back in a century or so. We’re gonna come back old school. We’ll age.”

  “You’re not gonna get all weepy on us are you?” Alex asked.

  “No,” Chicago shot back. “If I ever wanna have some real adventures, I can always hang out with your 110-year-old selves.”

  “Not mine,” Sammi said.

  Chicago smiled at her. “Hey, I’m sorry I was such a jerk. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I—I’m just gonna miss you. Not the fans, TV interviews, or the SkyLimo, but you.”

  “We know,” Alex said. “That’s why we’re trusting you to wait here after we go through—for one last mission.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will,” Sammi said as she hit the switch on her N.E.D. suit. Alex and Herbert did the same. The wormhole came to life, its blue swirling glow lighting up Sammi’s face.

  She leaned away from the force pulling her back to the present—and gave Chicago a kiss on the cheek.

  “See ya around, FutureBoy.”

  She turned to Alex and Herbert. All together the three of them grabbed their noses and cannonballed into the swirling blue vortex.

  FOOMPF! FOOMPF! FOOMPF!

  Herbert, Alex, and Sammi disappeared into the wormhole, leaving Chicago standing alone, wondering what his last task for the AlienSlayers could possibly be.

  Sammi, Alex, and Herbert were still laughing as they tumbled out of the wormhole and onto the grass. Standing over them was Alex’s mother,
with Ellie and Mr. Snookybuns at her side. And they all looked very upset.

  “Alex,” Mrs. Filby said sternly. “You directly disobeyed me by playing this spaceman game, you lied to your father about going camping, and—”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Filby?” Sammi said, cutting her off. “I know Alex disobeyed you, but for what it’s worth, the only reason he did it was to help Herbert and me.”

  Alex and Herbert looked at Sammi and wondered where she was going with this.

  “See, Herbert and I weren’t being very honest friends to Alex. And we were being such jerks that the only way he could show us how friends should treat one another was to play our game with us one last time.”

  Mrs. Filby looked suspiciously at the three silver-suited, soon-to-be sixth graders. “Herbert. Is this true?”

  Herbert was silent for a moment. Sammi glared at him. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Filby. Alex’s demonstration of friendship has proven to be surprisingly enlightening.”

  “Well, Alex. I must say, that’s very—uh, normal-sounding praise from your friends. I suppose if these are the kinds of things you’re sharing and learning with your spaceman game, it wouldn’t be so bad if you continued to play it.”

  Ellie’s eyes narrowed. She slowly squeezed Mr. Snugglebuns’ head in frustration.

  “That’s okay, Mom,” Alex said. “This was our last mission. We’re taking off our silver suits and packing them off to a place where we won’t see them for a long, long time.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s very mature of you, Alex,” Mrs. Filby said, slightly surprised. She got a thought and added, “Now that you’ll have some free time, I may need your help in getting your father to quit video games. I think he might have a problem. We’ll talk at dinner.”

  Alex, Sammi, and Herbert watched Mrs. Filby lead Ellie and Mr. Snugglebuns into the house. Without saying a word, they stood up and unzipped their N.E.D. suits. Standing in their normal, boring kid clothes, they gently folded the silver suits and climbed the ladder to the mouth of the tube slide.