A Beginner's Guide to Invading Earth

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Another pinch to his butt. And his side. He turned. More of that damned grass. As the light shined around him, the grass looked thicker. The blades hung low, pointing, as if each piece of grass had tiny arms that reached towards him. They pricked him. He pulled away and swatted at the grass and dropped both the shotgun and the flashlight. It was like being stabbed by pins. The grass drew closer. Lindsey felt a tingle, and then a fuzziness overcame him. He fell to the gravel and heard the grass moving all around him as it got closer, still poking and stabbing. He tried to get up but could barely move his arms and legs. He tried to cry out, but even his voice wouldn't work, and he only croaked a dry gasp. Panic overwhelmed him. Had he been bitten by a snake? Maybe tripped on a nest of them? This couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible. Things like this happened to other people.

  “Lindsey Sheldon,” said the scratchy, grassy voice.

  Lindsey didn't understand anything else the voice said. There were no snakes, just the blades of grass, moving of their own volition, pricking with deliberate intention.

  He could feel each of the itchy, sharp stabs of the grass creatures until finally the pain stopped. They leaned in close, leafy limbs brushing and grabbing at him. Whatever they were doing didn't make much sense. When his belt was undone and his pants were pulled down, it made less sense. His paralysis was total.

  ***

  The Captain addressed the hundred members of his Clyptus crew, two- to three-foot-tall spindles of vegetable matter, all pinky-thin as was their custom. No fat Clyptus on this crew. They finished stabbing Lindsey with their dart-tipped hands equipped with the species' natural tranquilizers, and then the crew bunched up around him. A titter went through their ranks, a sound like crumpling paper.

  “Vendetta,” the Captain said.

  The Captain of the Clyptus crew was a founding member of the Alien Vendetta Alliance (Ltd.). The Head Grey had formed the Alliance in the sub-subbasement of the Happy Alien Welcome Committee's headquarters and gave the Clyptus first crack at an assignment. The Clyptus crew had lost ten good men here on Earth to a group of preteen girls that had come upon a Clyptus science survey during a middle school field trip to a state park. The Clyptus froze to blend in with the Earth flora. The girls proceeded to trample through the survey team and rip the science team’s vital organs off their arms and throw them at one another, calling the dismembered parts “love darts." The girls had shrieked with delight whenever a “dart” would stick to another girl's clothing. With the recent acts of violence towards the Happy Alien Welcome Committee, the Clyptus, too, wanted payback.

  The captain of the Clyptus crew was also a leader in the field of proctobotany, a science and hobby banned in most of the galaxy. He and his crew kept his practice of this dark art a secret. But here with this human under this quiet, alien sky, the captain opened up his null-space toolkit and laid out all manner of tools, both long and wide, sharp and blunt, straight and twisted. He began to ply his avocation, the crew bending close to watch.

  When Lindsey managed a whimper, the crew brushed their leafy hands together in applause.

  The Captain documented the process and took plenty of notes. Practice made perfect, and Lindsey Sheldon was but a warm up round for Jeff Abel, the Alien Vendetta Alliance (Ltd.)'s number one target.

  CHAPTER 10

  JEFF SPENT THE NEXT WEEK cutting back the yellow pines that had started to grow into the phone and power lines on the property. The work proved hard and tiring, and he had plenty to do, but he still walked every day to the pond and the rocks, checking for any more visits from the hairy alien and its boxy spaceship.

  He needed evidence that the craft had been there at all, and besides the missing staple gun, there was no indication it had ever been there. If he could only get his hands on a Geiger counter, check for radiation around the landing site. Maybe he needed a psychiatrist instead. His wife had suggested just that on more than one occasion.

  Jeff checked his small supply of canned food, his medicine cabinet, and the rest of his tiny larder to see if, in a fugue state, he had purchased massive quantities of alcohol or pills, but the same three bottles of soda sat unmolested in the refrigerator, and he only had ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. The trash and recycling containers were free of empty liquor bottles. Jeff was normally a sober man and not prone to wild fantasies, so after the third day of checking around the grassy areas of rock and the edges of the pond, he quit looking.

  Jeff's work remained steady. That morning, he got a load of gravel from the lumber yard in town and filled a few potholes in one of the back lot spaces behind the offices. Now it would be a smoother ride. Next he headed to the front of the property. He took the weed whacker out and cleared the school's sign of grass and thistles. He got a can of white paint and touched up the indented letters that read “Miwok Road School.”

  “You know, you probably should reseal the entire sign,” said a female voice. A young woman stood in the shadows by the public road that passed by the front of the school. Jeff tensed up, startled. He hadn't noticed her there.

  “Owner likes it rustic but legible,” Jeff said, trying to hide his surprise. He wiped the last of the paint from the brush onto a rag and recapped the can.

  She walked closer, examining Jeff's work. “It looks like you gave him what he wants.”

  Jeff looked at her. A large backpack sat back just off the shoulder of the road behind her. She was wearing a dark denim vest over a purple t-shirt and faded jeans. Her hair was an unnatural black in a short, deliberately tousled style with long bangs that almost hid her amber eyes. A few tufts of her hair were purple. Young. College aged or just past that.

  “Live nearby?” Jeff said.

  “Sacramento. I'm passing through to the coast.”

  “More direct routes than this road.”

  She shrugged. “I'm in no hurry, you know.”

  “No bike or car?” Jeff asked.

  “No. I'm walking and catching rides as I go,” she said. The words tumbled out of her without gaps between the words, like she had drank too much coffee. “It's been safe so far. I've met lots of nice people.”

  He nodded, looked down at her shoes. She wore faded, old stitched-canvas sneakers, dusty and frayed.

  “Well,” he said, “mind the corners and watch the traffic. Everyone drives pretty quick here.”

  Jeff collected his things and put them into his truck.

  “I'm heading maybe up to Eureka,” she said. “I have friends up there.”

  He closed the toolbox. “That's a long ways. Be careful.” He gave her a smile. She smiled back but didn't move.

  “I was wondering,” she said, “if you had a snack or sandwich I could bum off of you.”

  He considered. “Nothing with me in the truck. And I didn't pack a lunch.” After a pause, “I could grab you something to go and bring it back out here for you.”

  “I could just go with you and help you make it,” she said.

  “No, I don't think so,” he said. “No one's supposed to be on the property. But I'll go grab you something and bring it back.”

  With that, he got into his truck and drove off, not noticing her face falling into a scowl. At his caretaker's lodge, he went to the kitchen and washed the dirt and paint from his hands. He popped open his cupboards. There wasn't much there but a few of his favorite staples. He picked peanut butter, bread, and raspberry jam. The bread was free of mold, and the jam smelled okay. Jeff made a pair of sandwiches, wrapping them with foil. He grabbed two cans of grocery-store brand lemon-lime soda, a spotty banana, and some breakfast bars and put it all into a bag. He drove back out to the road.

  The girl sat on her bag at the driveway entrance by the freshly-painted sign. He parked the truck, got out, and handed her the bag.

  “Hope this will tide you over,” he said.

  She got up and took the bag.

  “I'm not on drugs, you know,” she said.

  Jeff twisted his lips a bit, gave her a look. “Didn't think you we
re.”

  “And I'm not begging, either,” she said. “I have money. I can give you a few dollars.”

  “No, it's fine. I don't want any money. Happy to help out.”

  She opened the bag and looked inside. She parted the foil. “Well, thanks. I love peanut butter.”

  “Do you need me to call anyone for you?” Jeff said.

  She shook her head. “I have a cell phone. There's no one you need to call. I'm fine. I just underestimated how long the walk would be to the next place to grab food, since the rides weren't happening.” Her words poured forth like a torrent.

  “It's quite a ways yet to the coast,” Jeff said. “Be careful.”

  An awkward pause. Jeff looked at her, at his truck, at his hands with the truck keys.

  “I'd better-” he started to say.

  “It's hard to meet people,” she said. “I'm glad I met you, Mister...”

  “Jeff's fine.”

  “I'm Jordan,” she said. “Want to eat lunch with me?”

  He smiled. “Sorry, I'm in the middle of work. I need to get going.”

  She nodded. “The knight always tells the truth,” she said.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Thanks again for lunch.”

  He nodded and got back into the truck. He backed up, turned, and drove onto the property.

  ***

  “And the knave always lies,” she said to herself. She knelt over her pack and put the bag of food away. She pulled out a small device that looked like a phone, stared into it. Her fingers brushed its surface. She whispered something and closed her eyes. An aroma of lilac wafted forth. She nodded, agreeing with whomever or whatever was on the other end.

  ***

  Jeff checked the rest of the property. He took the truck down each driveway and around each building. He checked the barn and the many sheds and storage units. Back where the school grounds met the main road, he got out to see if anything looked amiss or if anyone else was here. A gang of thieves' oldest trick in the book was to send out a salesman or beggar or a cute girl as a decoy to the front while bandits struck around the back. But Jeff found no intruders, and all was as he had left it.

  Leaving the truck behind, he walked uphill to an oak knoll that overlooked the school's entrance. Besides live oak, a few redwoods grew here, towering above the lesser trees. This was one of the views on the school's brochure. How rustic! He could see much of the front of the property where the road passed by, as well as the school and the tops of most of its buildings. He didn't see Jordan until he noticed she had moved from the sign by the entrance to the other side of the road just below him. She stood in a sunlit part of the shoulder, her pack tucked between her feet. She looked east towards any incoming traffic.

  A pickup drove past. She stuck out a thumb, struck a friendly pose. The pickup whizzed by and she withdrew her arm. With the next vehicle, an aqua-colored Buick with oxidized paint, she tried a more casual thumb out, arm at ninety degrees. The low-key approach didn't work either. Next came a water tank truck. It drove wide down the road, one tire flirting with the faded paint that marked the shoulder. Her arm went out. She considered the truck and its trajectory and took a step back. The truck barreled forward and inched further from the road's center and Jordan backed up even further, pulling her pack along with her. Not far enough. When the truck whipped past, Jeff heard a scream. The truck continued by but Jordan was gone.

  Jeff slid down the hill until the ground evened out enough to run. He pushed through the undergrowth and climbed the fence to the road. Jordan's pack lay over in some grass. Across the road grew a thick mass of thorny blackberry vines. Down in the tangle, Jeff saw Jordan, her hands and feet flailing at the air.

  “Hey,” he called. “You okay?”

  “Ouch,” she said. She tried to get up but was caught by several vines that hung on to her with a purpose.

  “Hold on,” Jeff said.

  He looked both ways and crossed the street. Jordan continued to struggle with the bushes. He stepped down to her carefully, crunching on layers of the bramble. The thorns snagged her hair and clothes and drew straight lines of red across her bare arms and face. With his folding knife he cut her free.

  “Anything broken?” he said. “Did you hit your head? Any dizziness?”

  “I don't think so. My ankle hurts.”

  She limped a bit as he helped her up to the shoulder. She leaned on Jeff when they made it to level ground. Parts of the bushes dragged along behind her like streamers. Another car shot past, giving them very little space.

  “Let's grab your pack and get you someplace safe,” Jeff said.

  Jordan nodded. “I guess the tourists heading to the coast drive pretty fast,” she said.

  “Nope. It's the locals you need to watch out for.”

  ***

  Jeff took her to his lodge. Her limp became more pronounced as they made their way down the long driveway, but she refused his offer to get the truck. He got her inside and onto the sagging sofa. Jeff checked her over and pulled away slivers and thorns hooked in her clothing. Her hair was full of debris and dirt, but no blood. He tried to pull out some of the larger pieces, but her hair wanted those things to stay.

  “Ahh!” she cried as he tugged at a hair-wrapped thorn.

  “Do you want me to take you to a hospital?” Jeff asked.

  “No,” Jordan said. “I don't think it's that bad. Just embarrassing, you know.” Her hands trembled. “Freaked me out, though.”

  “Maybe you should rest here for a bit. Feel free to wash up.” Jeff gestured to the bathroom door. “Want some water?”

  “How about some tea or coffee.”

  “Coffee's instant. It's gross. I have some black tea.”

  “Tea's fine.”

  Jeff went to the kitchen and got a cup out of the cupboard. He checked it for cleanliness, inside and out. From the tap, he filled it with water and put it in the microwave.

  He watched as Jordan got up, wobbly on her bad ankle. She made it to the bathroom, relying on the walls and doorframes for stability. She removed the denim vest and plopped it on the floor. When she started to examine herself in the mirror without closing the door, he stopped looking.

  He got down a red box of China Black Tea and took out a bag.

  “So, any nausea?” Jeff said.

  “No. You know, except for the pokey parts, the landing was amazingly soft. Got any scissors?”

  He found scissors and brought them to her. She snipped a few of the stubborn bits from her hair. Black spools and knots soon sprinkled down into the sink. She keptone foot raised as she leaned on the bathroom counter.

  “I've got ice for that ankle,” Jeff said. “There's some in the freezer. Just grab yourself a plastic bag from the cabinet to the left.”

  “Okay.”

  The microwave beeped. He went back to the kitchen, got the cup of steaming water out, and plopped in the tea bag. From the bathroom came the sound of more snipping, followed by running water.

  Jordan's pack chirped. It stood at the end of the sofa.

  “Your phone went off,” Jeff said.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Want me to bring it to you?” Jeff began to walk towards the pack.

  “No, don't!” she said and came hopping of the bathroom. In her haste she almost fell. She grabbed a chair near her pack for support.

  He took a step back and gave her two palms up in surrender. “No problem. I'm not getting into your stuff.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I'm just used to taking care of myself and my stuff. Paranoid, I guess.”

  Jeff noticed a sweet smell hanging in the air near the pack. Strawberries? Maybe the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had been crushed. But the scent was piercing, nothing like what he had put in her lunch.

  “Well, you might want to check your pack,” Jeff said. “There might be a busted bottle of perfume or something in there.”

  She opened her pack and checked the contents.
She then drew the cinch tight. “It was my phone's calendar. It's fine.” She took the pack and put it next to the bathroom door. “Ouch.” She checked under an arm and pulled a small length of thorny vine from inside her clothes. “Guess I still have stickers on me.”

  She went back into the bathroom, again not closing the door. He saw her removing her shirt. He made an exaggerated point of turning away.

  “How about I give you some privacy?” Jeff said. “Tea's on the counter. I'll be back in a bit. Make yourself at home.”

  Jeff left the lodge. He didn't go anywhere specific but walked a circuit around the main school buildings. The place was neat, the buildings freshly painted and trimmed with clean and now-intact rain gutters. The weeds grew only in a few spots, the tall grasses providing him with a never-ending whack-a-mole game that he was usually more than happy to tackle, but not today. The shadows grew long in the late afternoon. A pair of grey squirrels chased each other through the high branches of an oak. After thirty minutes, he returned to his cabin. He knocked as he entered.

  “Jordan?” he said.

  He almost expected her to be gone and his stuff gone through. She might have found sixty dollars in cash, his good buck knife, and a few real silver dollars he had accumulated through the years but not much else. Part of him wanted her gone. She distracted him from his isolation. And he didn't know her from Eve. But she was still there, and his bedroom door didn't look like it had been opened. Jordan sat curled on the sofa, a towel wrapped around her torso. Her shirt hung on the open bathroom door. Her hair was an unbrushed frizz atop her head, with a few newly cut tufts standing at odd angles. She sipped the tea and had the lunch Jeff had made laid out on the coffee table next to her.

  “I took liberties with your towels,” she said.

  “That's fine. How are you feeling?”

  “Well, my heart has finally stopped racing. My ankle hurts, but it'll be fine. I don't think it needs ice. Thanks for the tea. And thanks for helping me out. You know, this is embarrassing.”