I'm Telling You, They're Aliens!

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said.

  ‘Was it about Marsha?’ Mum prompted, with a tiny, knowing smile she thought I wouldn’t notice. Parents, eh? What do you do with them? You can read them like a book.

  7 Diddle-iddle-dang Time

  At 2 a.m., I met Marsha behind the bushes in our front garden. The first thing I did was ask her how you could tell if your mum or dad was about to leave.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Rob. I don’t know how you manage to cope with the inside of your head. It must be dreadful, worrying all the time about absolutely everything and nothing at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Take a look at yourself. You’ve got that ridiculous rucksack with you again, stuffed full of rubbish I bet, just in case. Anyway, your parents are fine.’

  ‘But they quarrel. They don’t speak to each other sometimes and…’

  ‘Everyone is like that. Look at us. We quarrel too.’

  ‘We’re not married,’ I pointed out.

  Marsha laughed. ‘Stop fretting and try relaxing a bit more.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s a bit difficult to relax when you live opposite a house stuffed with aliens.’ I stared across at the dark building opposite. The street was still and silent. The only light came from the orange street lamps. Further up the road a cat trotted from one side to the other, then back again and then crossed a third time.

  ‘Why doesn’t that cat make up its mind?’ I wondered out loud, but I knew how it felt.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Marsha asked, sounding a touch nervous herself.

  We slipped out of the garden and ran quickly across the road, up the Vorks’ front path and over to the front door. Marsha crouched down, putting her ear to the letterbox and listening for several seconds.

  ‘Not a sound,’ she whispered, and nodded to me. I slid the spare key into the lock and a moment later we were inside. I gently closed the door behind us and leaned back against it, breathing fast.

  I felt dreadful. My heart was banging away all over the place, like a tumble-dryer that had broken free from its moorings. (I hope my English teacher sees this.) I knew people could die of fright, and now it was happening to me. I breathed hard and clamped both hands over my chest to stop my heart banging its way out through my ribcage.

  ‘I think I’m having a heart attack,’ I told Marsha.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she scowled. ‘I’m scared too.’

  ‘Who said I was scared?’ I squeaked. ‘I said I was having a heart attack. I mean, don’t worry too much, will you?’

  Marsha was standing in the dark shadow of the hall, but I could see the whites of her eyes glinting at me. ‘If you’re having a heart attack then you’d better go home and have a lie-down, hadn’t you?’

  I dropped my hands from my chest. ‘It’s OK now,’ I said, breathing more easily. Marsha sort of chuckled and shook her head. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘What now?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, Rob. Come on.’

  We moved up the hallway, ears on alert. For some strange reason there were two giant-sized fridge-freezers parked in the passage. We squeezed past them. Closed doors stood like sinister sentries on either side of us. Marsha pointed to the nearest one. She reached down and began to turn the handle, very, very slowly, screwing up her eyes anxiously. She edged the door open and we both stared into the room, trying to make out what was inside.

  Nothing.

  Well, no aliens at any rate, just loads of monitors and computers and top spec electronic equipment. The Vorks certainly liked their… DINNGG! The penny dropped into both our brains at the same time. This room was full of hi-tech stuff, I mean FULL of it. Nobody in their right mind would want so much of it. And it wasn’t ordinary TVs, it was weird stuff – banks and banks of switches and dials, controls and knobs and buttons.

  Little lights flashed and danced on some of the machines. There were tiny screens and one huge viewing monitor, hanging on the wall like a picture that had been stolen. (Yeah, yeah, OK, I know what you’re thinking – how can a picture hang there if it’s been stolen? I mean the picture itself wasn’t there. It was like a silent, empty TV screen, only empty TV screens aren’t menacing and this thing was, as if it was trying to tell us something horrible.) This room made the deck of the Starship Enterprise look like something from Blue Peter, and it was obviously some kind of control room.

  We slipped out of the room and poked around in the kitchen and the back of the house, but there was nothing there. It was time to go upstairs.

  You know those films where you just see someone’s feet going up the shadowy stairs of a dark, dark house? There’s really creepy music playing and every so often a stair gives a faint creak and the foot pauses for a moment and then goes on and up and the tension mounts and mounts until you realize you’ve chewed all your fingernails to bits and now you’re starting on your knuckles and your eyes are bulging fit to burst and the blood is ringing in your ears and you’re on hyper-alert…?

  It was just like that. Marsha was ahead of me. My eyes were glued to her feet as she went up. Every little creak and she would freeze, listen and then move on once more and the spooky music in my head was getting louder and louder…

  Dee-dmmm! Dee-dmmm! Diddle-iddle-iddle-iddle-iddle! Dang-dang-dang-dang!

  ‘Rob!’ Marsha suddenly hissed, making me jump.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stop singing!’

  ‘I wasn’t singing!’

  ‘You were. You were going “Diddle-iddle-dang” or something. Shut up!’

  I clenched my lips shut and followed in silence. We reached the top without any trouble. I pointed to a door on the left which was slightly ajar. Marsha pushed it open.

  The bathroom. Nothing strange there. We moved down to the next door. For some reason I found myself wondering what I would say if we were caught. I tapped Marsha’s shoulder and she silently mouthed back at me, ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s say we’re sleepwalking,’ I whispered.

  ‘What are you going on about now?’

  ‘If we’re caught, we can say that we’re sleepwalking.’ I nodded at her frantically. It seemed a good idea to me, but Marsha didn’t look very impressed.

  ‘What? Both of us? We both end up sleepwalking in the same house, in the same room, on the same night? Do you really think super-intelligent aliens are going to believe that?’

  ‘They might. Anyhow, have you got a better idea?’

  ‘Yes. If they wake up we run for our lives, OK?’

  ‘It’s not very sophisticated,’ I grunted. (That was in last week’s spelling test too.)

  The handle squeaked as Marsha carefully turned it. She edged the door open and there they were, and I mean –

  THERE THEY WERE!!!

  Four aliens, lined up like bugs in a rug. They seemed to hang there in the gloom: still, silent and fast asleep. Even in the darkness we could make out their sallow skin. It looked smooth, shiny and hard. A faint, flickering glow surrounded each body like an aura.

  The bodies themselves were shaped like large jars, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a point at the bottom, like a wasp’s sting. They each had three, very thin legs. There didn’t seem to be any kind of head, but tentacles sprouted from the open neck, at least ten to each alien. The tentacles were as long as their bodies and from time to time they moved slightly. I could see they were covered with a spiralling line of frills, running from shoulder to tip. Something about those frills made me think – poison!

  How long Marsha and I stood there gazing at these monsters I don’t know. All I could think was, these creatures really are aliens. There are aliens in the house across the road. ALIENS!

  Marsha nudged me and mimed taking the photograph. I nodded and slipped the rucksack from my shoulder. I undid the top and searched for the camera. I pulled out the spare torch and placed it quietly on the floor. I got out several boxes of plasters, toenail clippers, a sling for a broken arm and a thermometer.

  ‘We want to take their photog
raph,’ hissed Marsha. ‘Not their temperature! Hurry up!’

  I rummaged inside the bag again, found a road-map of Europe and put it on the floor.

  ‘What’s that for!’

  ‘In case we get lost.’

  ‘We’re in the house across the road. How can we get lost?’

  ‘Suppose they kidnap us and take us away in their spaceship?’

  ‘A map of Europe won’t be much use, will it?’ growled Marsha. Maybe she was right, but I still found it comforting.

  At last I located the camera and lifted it quietly from the rucksack. Marsha scowled, but gave me a thumbs-up sign. I removed the lens cap, got all four aliens lined up in the viewfinder, and then had an awful thought.

  ‘What happens if the flash wakes them up?’

  ‘I told you, run for it.’

  I swallowed nervously. ‘Can we stand nearer the door then?’ Marsha moved towards the door and I followed. I put the viewfinder to my eye once more, took a deep breath and pressed the button.

  Nothing happened. For several seconds Marsha and I stood there, frozen with tension. Then I tried again, but still nothing happened. I shook the camera and peered at it in confusion.

  ‘Why doesn’t it work?’ she asked.

  I lowered the camera slowly and looked up into Marsha’s face. ‘It hasn’t got any film in it,’ I said.

  ‘Rob!!’

  Instantly a loud humming filled the room, like a gigantic swarm of killer bees stirring into life. The long tentacles began to rustle, their tiny frills sniffing and feeling the air.

  ‘Run for it!’ yelled Marsha, and we practically fell down the stairs and went shooting out of that house like bullets from a gun. We raced down the road, round the corner, along the next street, round another corner and had almost reached the town centre before we slowed down and stopped. We collapsed panting in the dark doorway of a shop.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Marsha croaked, looking back down the road. ‘There’s no sign of them.’

  I leaned back against the door, feeling its solid, cold hardness press into my back. It was very reassuring. ‘What do we do now?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Those were real aliens, Marsha.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘From outer space.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I mean, they were – real aliens!’

  ‘I know. Stop going on.’

  ‘We’ve got to do something,’ I whined. Marsha shuffled her long legs anxiously.

  ‘Police? I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Not after last time. They’ll just ring our parents again and this time we shall really be in trouble.’ We were both beginning to calm down a bit – not a lot – but I reckon my heart had slowed from about three thousand beats per second to a mere three hundred. It even felt as if it was back in the right place behind my ribs and not slopping about round my ankles as if my trousers had fallen down.

  ‘They don’t know it was us,’ Marsha pointed out. ‘I’m sure they didn’t see us. We leave everything for tonight, but tomorrow you put some film in that camera, we go back and get that photograph.’

  ‘But they’ll be suspicious.’

  ‘Stop worrying, Rob. They’ll just think it was a cat or something.’

  ‘Really?’ Marsha didn’t sound very convincing. We slipped back to our homes.

  The next day was a Saturday, so I was able to sleep in a bit. Even so, Mum had difficulty in waking me I was so exhausted. She kept shaking me.

  ‘Rob? Rob! Wake up now! Norman’s come to see you.’

  I sat up with a jerk. Norman? Alarm bells began to go off in my head and I rubbed my eyes. Norman Vork?

  At that moment he appeared in the doorway of my bedroom, one hand behind his back. He gazed across at me with a horrible smirk and then lifted his arm.

  ‘I think this rucksack is yours,’ he said.

  8 Walking on Tentacles

  Today’s horoscope: Be careful in open spaces. Stay indoors if you can.

  Small animals could bring you great fortune.

  I shook my head. ‘No, no, no way. It’s not mine.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ said Mum, ever helpful. ‘We gave that to you last Christmas.’

  ‘It looks like mine, but it’s not mine,’ I insisted.

  ‘It’s got your name inside,’ Norman snarled, and even Mum took a step back.

  ‘Oh, that rucksack!’

  Norman looked across at my mother. He didn’t speak, he just stared at her. I was astonished to see her turn red. She gave him a faint smile. ‘I’ll be downstairs then,’ she said, and went. Truly spooky! It was as if he’d silently ordered her to go, moulded her thoughts somehow.

  Norman sat himself on the edge of my bed. I pulled the duvet up to my chin. ‘So,’ he hissed, and his eyes bored into mine. ‘How much do you know?’

  ‘What about?’ I stalled. Norman folded his arms and gazed at me steadily. It might have been my imagination, but I reckoned I could see little red dots coming out of his eyes… doot-doot-doot-doot-doot. I think he was trying to hypnotize me, just like he had my mother, so I looked at the duvet cover instead. It was the one with Thomas the Tank Engine all over it.

  Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, Thomas the Tank Engine! What a baby! Listen, when I was five I thought Thomas the Tank Engine was wonderful. But now I felt ridiculously embarrassed. I mean, here I was, talking to a dangerous alien, with nothing between us except my Thomas the Tank Engine duvet cover.

  ‘My parents gave me this when I was little,’ I explained nervously. ‘I don’t like him any more.’

  All at once Norman leaned forward and pushed his face close to mine. ‘You were in our house last night. We know. It’s no good pretending, Rob. I can read your thoughts.’

  ‘Really? What am I thinking then?’ and I shut my eyes and tried hard to think of something which had nothing to do with aliens at all.

  Norman laughed. ‘You’re wishing you didn’t feel so scared.’

  Now it was my turn to go red. He was dead right. But I suddenly thought, if Norman knows what I’m thinking, then why pretend? Just tell him everything. So I did.

  ‘I know all about you and your family,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. (I had to grit them together to stop them clattering with fear.) Norman tried to appear ultra-cool and sneered back at me.

  ‘Oh yeah? Such as?’

  ‘I know you and your family are creatures from another galaxy, and I know you’ve come to take over the world.’

  Boy, you should have seen his face. Talk about surprised! His jaw really did drop, and he stared at me, flabbergasted. He couldn’t speak for several moments, and when he did it was to ask me a question.

  ‘Do I look like an alien? Do any of my family look like aliens?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s daylight.’

  ‘It’s daylight,’ repeated Norman, keeping his eye fixed on mine.

  ‘It’s only at night that you take on your true form. I know that. That’s why I was in your house last night. I was going to photograph you all in your real monster state.’

  For several more moments Norman just gazed at me, a little frown on his forehead. Slowly, a smile began to creep on to his face. It wasn’t a nice smile.

  ‘You were very lucky, Chicken Licken,’ he began. ‘We hadn’t finished the shield last night. If we had, you’d be dead.’

  ‘Really?’ I tried to sound OK about this news, but my voice came out all squeaky. My voice is always letting me down like that. ‘What’s the shield?’

  ‘It’s an invisible defence wall we throw round our craft, or wherever we happen to be. It’s made from photonic particles. Our enemies just walk into it and pzzzz! That’s it, like those electric fly-traps. It just makes a tiny noise. Nobody would hear, nobody would know. Pzzzz – and you’re zapped, gone up in smoke, nothing left, except maybe your socks and shoes.’

  And you know, the stupid thing is, despite being terrified at my near brush with death, what I was actually
thinking was, Only my shoes and socks left, so it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t wearing clean underpants.

  ‘Of course, nobody will believe you if you tell them we’re aliens.’ Norman looked very pleased with himself. ‘You humans are so stupid. Especially you.’ He laughed and then asked how I’d got into his house.

  ‘You know everything,’ I said. ‘You tell me.’

  ‘You didn’t break in,’ said Norman.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ I was secretly very pleased that Norman didn’t know that there had been two of us in the house. I had to keep Marsha up my sleeve. (Just a figure of speech; she wouldn’t actually fit up there of course, unless they were super-baggy sleeves, and extra long. Even then she’d probably fall out. She’s always falling somewhere.)

  ‘So you had a key. Where is it?’

  I reached down and got it from my trouser pocket. I handed it over. Norman at last got off the bed and stood up.

  ‘Tell as many people as you like,’ he growled. ‘But don’t come near our house. From now on the shield will be in force. Our people are coming, Rob, and nobody can stop them. Keep out of trouble and you won’t get hurt. Come anywhere near us again and…’ Norman broke off and grinned. His face was pure Evil. He dropped the rucksack on to my lap. ‘I think you’ll find some bandages in there,’ he said. ‘You come anywhere near us and you’ll need them.’ And he went.

  I have never got dressed so fast in all my life. My thoughts were whirling round my brain like some de-railed helter-skelter car. I had to do something. I had to tell someone, but every thought I came up with was a dead end. Mum and Dad? No. Police? No. Army? How do you ring the army anyhow? I mean, I don’t suppose they’re in the Yellow Pages. The only person I could think of was Marsha. I raced round to her house.

  Her mum was pretty surprised to see me, but at least she gave me a smile. ‘Marsha’s still asleep,’ she explained.

  ‘Wake her up,’ I said.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  I jiggled up and down on the doorstep. ‘Sorry, I mean, please wake her up, Mrs Zewlinsky. It’s very, very important.’