Noah Jordan vs. The Aliens

by Tyler Wild

  Noah Jordan vs. The Aliens

  Tyler Wild

  Copyright © 2018 by Tyler Wild

  All rights reserved. Worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services. All characters engaging in sexual activity are above the age of consent.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Welcome

  Reader Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Would you review on Amazon?

  Author’s Note

  Connect With Me

  Welcome

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  Reader Note

  This book contains action, violence, aliens, fun, sarcasm, and a tasteful harem of beautiful ladies. The sexy times are not graphic—more like Fade-to-Grey (as opposed to Fade-to-Black).

  If that kind of thing ruffles your feathers, you might want to take flight now.

  1

  Two thoughts raced through my mind as I saw the big disc emerge from angry clouds. It hovered over the towering skyscrapers, casting a shadow over downtown. The alien ship was the biggest thing I had ever seen. Its exterior hull was dark gray, almost black. A bazillion small lights flickered on its surface in an array of colors. Intricate panels adorned the surface. Vertical thrusters glowed blue, rippling the air below with distortion as the craft hovered in the sky like a blanket of doom.

  We were so totally fucked.

  That was my first thought.

  My second thought lasted a millisecond. For a fleeting moment, I thought they had good intentions. Hoped. But that was just wishful thinking. The optimist in me wanted to believe that they were here to bring us new technology, breakthroughs in medicine, a cure for cancer, an end to world hunger, and cheaper smart phones.

  But a superior species doesn’t travel millions of light years and hover atop major metropolitan areas in a threatening manner just to say hello. The ships hadn’t shown up on radar or any early detection systems. There were no transmissions announcing their impending visit. This was the first contact. And it didn’t bode well.

  We’ve all seen the movies. We know what happens next. It was only a matter of time before they used some type of advanced weaponry to turn the architectural mountains of steel and glass into rubble.

  I swallowed hard, and my chest was tight. My heart thudded like a jackhammer, and my skin grew slick with sweat. Nervous energy vibrated by body. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but I had an active imagination. And I couldn’t imagine anything good. I needed to take slow deep breaths, otherwise the situation was going to spiral into a full-blown panic attack.

  The aliens were here for a few possible reasons. To destroy us because they thought we posed some kind of threat to them or the galaxy. To take our resources. To eat us. To enslave us. Or maybe they just needed target practice? I had no doubt that our military would mount an admirable defense. But at the end of the day, this was a battle we couldn’t win.

  I had to accept the fact that life was going to get really crappy from here on. Hell, just a few hours ago my biggest problem was a world history exam I was studying for. Oliver and I had been quizzing each other in the cafeteria. We had no idea what was in store for us.

  “Which Roman Emperor built a massive wall across Northern Britain in 122 A.D.?” Oliver asked.

  The question flew past me at the time. My gaze was fixed across the cafeteria on the object of my desire—Skylar Brock. Her raven hair and crystal blue eyes were sheer perfection. She had sculpted cheekbones and plump pouty lips and a perfect nose. Her pearly teeth sparkled when she smiled, like a toothpaste commercial. The school had a dress code, but she always found creative ways to reveal as much of her petite frame as possible. Her skirt was hiked well past the knee, exposing her sumptuous legs.

  I found it hard to concentrate around her. Speaking became difficult. She could set my stomach aflutter and my heartbeat into overdrive. She was the kind of girl that could give a man hope. Proof of the existence of a divine power.

  “Dude! Pay attention,” Oliver said over the chatter of the cafeteria.

  Silverware clinked against green plastic trays. The occasional tater-tot flew through the air. Soft light filtered in from large windows that lined the north side. It was the usual chaos that ensued during lunch. Students crammed less than tasty morsels into their mouthes, socialized, and studied. The social hierarchy was easily discernible. The cool crowd was clustered in a row of tables on one side, while the outcasts were scattered on the opposite end of the lunch hall.

  “Who built the wall?”

  “Trump?” I said, still distracted.

  Oliver sighed, exasperated. “No.”

  I tried to refocus my mind, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Skyler.

  “Why do you torture yourself like this?” Oliver said.

  He was my best friend. He had dark hair, a round face, thick black glasses, and could always make me laugh. It was almost a problem. I had spent countless days in detention because I cracked up about something he had whispered, or drawn, in class. He’d been doing it since grade school. This was our senior year, and I had been hoping to make it through without any suspensions. But Oliver and I always found a way to get into trouble.

  We weren’t bad kids, just a little mischievous. Inappropriate doodles in class. The occasional practical joke. Nothing that would even have raised an eyebrow when my dad went to school. Now, it seemed like they wanted to send you out for psychiatric counseling at the slightest infraction. In seventh grade I drew a picture of a battlefield with two armies firing bullets at each other across the page and airplanes dropping bombs. I got suspended for three days, and the school counselor actually suggested that I was displaying personality traits of a psychopath.

  “There is no way Skyler is ever going to get with you.”

  “Never say never,” I replied.

  “You’re del
usional.”

  Oliver looked over his shoulder at Skyler’s table. She was sitting next to her best friend, Hannah Mathews. She was equally gorgeous and had golden blonde hair that tickled her shoulders. Her tan skin, green eyes, and luscious curves made every swimsuit she ever wore look amazing. She was voted most likely to grace the pages of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Every guy had a crush on her. She was the most popular girl in school, and the other girls practically bowed before her. But she had a dark side. She could go from zero to full bitch in 0.5 seconds. And if you got on her bad side, you became a social outcast. In four years of high school, I don’t think she’d ever acknowledged me once, until recently. Now that we were living together, I was definitely on her shit list.

  I think she was embarrassed by the fact, and it wasn’t something she wanted to become common knowledge.

  My dad had met her mom online, and the two started dating. I didn’t make the connection until it was too late. After their third date, her mother, Claire, mentioned to me, “You may know my daughter, Hannah? I think you two go to the same school.”

  I cringed when she said it.

  Dad popped the question, and three weeks ago they moved into the house. Let’s just say the transition has been a challenge.

  Hannah was smoking hot, no doubt, but she had invaded my space. I had to put up with her mood swings, her inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, and a continual onslaught of insults. The only plus side was that Skyler was a frequent visitor.

  “I still can’t believe you’re living with Hannah Matthews.” Oliver’s eyes were transfixed by her beauty. “Can we study at your place tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll ask my mom if I can spend the night.”

  “Now who’s delusional?”

  Oliver looked back at me. “Come on. We need to focus. Who built the wall?”

  2

  “Hadrian,” I said. “Hadrian built the wall.”

  I glanced at my watch, lunch was almost over. I stood up from the table and grabbed my tray to take it back to the return bin. I wasn’t too keen on the mushy vegetables. They sat in a puddle of juice and hydrogenated oil. As I left the table, I turned right into Brett Mason.

  Carrots and green beans speckled his shirt, and the oil stained the fabric. The plastic tray tumbled to the ground and cracked. Silverware clanked and clamored.

  The entire cafeteria went silent as wide eyes gawked with anticipation.

  I swallowed hard and glanced up at the jock who stood nearly a foot taller than me. His fists had clenched, and rage boiled on his face as he surveyed his stained shirt. His lips snarled.

  Brett had a square jaw and no shortage of women who thought he was a god. His piercing blue eyes and blond hair broke hearts and melted panties. His tight t-shirt didn’t hide his rippled abs and striated pecs—and that was by design. I think he intentionally bought shirts a size too small. He was the starting varsity quarterback and had offers from several Division I colleges. He held the passing record at school and was the odds on favorite among the student body to go pro. At 6’3”, 230 pounds, he was an imposing figure. His angry palms smacked against my chest as he shoved me to the ground.

  My back smacked against the unforgiving floor, and I cracked the back of my head against the tile. Pain wrapped around my skull, giving me an instant headache.

  “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”

  “Uh, sorry,” I muttered.

  The big ogre towered over me. He looked like a giant. His clenched fists were like cinderblocks attached to rippling biceps. “Sorry’s not good enough, fucktard! You owe me a new shirt, and a new pair of pants.”

  “Why don’t you try washing them?” I said as I attempted to stagger to my feet.

  “What the fuck did you say to me?”

  The veins in his neck bulged, and his cheeks turned red. He cocked his fist back like a cobra ready to strike.

  I grimaced, knowing I was going to get my ass beat. All I could do was stand there and take it. I figured he’d probably get in a few good punches, then a teacher would stop it. Somebody would have to stop it, wouldn’t they?

  By then I’d likely be in a coma.

  I closed my eyes as he was about to swing. I couldn’t bear to watch.

  “Brett!” Skyler shouted, perturbed. “Stop!”

  I peeled open an eye to see Brett’s fist ready to pummel my face. It was frozen in the air like a hammer of a .38 special, just waiting to unleash hell.

  “It was an accident. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, did you?” Skyler said, looking at me to respond promptly.

  “Total accident,” I said.

  Skyler grabbed Brett’s arm and cozied up to him. “Come on, baby. Let the loser go. It’s not worth it. If you get caught fighting again, it’s an automatic suspension.” Her voice pitched up, and she spoke in a baby-doll voice. “I don’t think I can make it through a whole day at school without you.”

  Brett frowned, then reluctantly lowered his fist. Skyler could be persuasive. Her soft voice and tender touch could melt the coldest of hearts. He snarled at me one last time, “You’re lucky, dick-wad. Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “You’re such a pussy. Gotta have a girl save you. Do you even have testicles?”

  I tried to contain a scowl.

  Skyler pulled him away. She glanced over her shoulder at me, and I mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

  She didn’t acknowledge me. She turned her gaze back to Brett, then stroked his back, and his ego.

  “That guy is such a loser,” Brett mumbled. “Why do you defend him? He’s never going to amount to anything.”

  I let out a large exhale of relief. My heartbeat slowly returned to normal. My hands were shaking with adrenaline.

  Oliver stared at me with wide eyes, dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe that I had gotten away unscathed. “You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

  “I know.”

  “And you seriously want to fuck with that guy’s girlfriend?”

  “She’s totally into me. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes.

  “She didn’t have to help me,” I said.

  “That doesn’t mean she likes you.”

  “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t,” I protested, hopeful.

  “You heard her. She just did it so he wouldn’t get in trouble. That girl doesn’t give two shits about you.”

  I shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

  The bell rang, and the cafeteria emptied as students scurried to class. Had I known what was in store, I would have skipped the rest of the day and made the most of my last few moments on Earth.

  3

  “Mr. Jordan!” Professor Phelps yelled.

  My droopy head snapped to attention. I had dozed off, dreaming I was on a black-sand beach with the girl of my dreams. She wore a string bikini that fought against her sumptuous curves. Things were getting hot and heavy between us, and my hands explored every inch of her voluptuous body.

  I couldn’t make out the girl’s face. It could have been anyone. She had dark hair, and I struggled to make her features come into focus—but my dream wasn’t cooperating. Her delicate fingers tugged on the string of her bikini top. The fabric was about to tumble away, revealing her glorious—that’s when I woke up.

  “I suggest you get more sleep at night, Mr. Jordan. Now, I’ll ask the question again. What is the typical oxidation state of the group 1 alkali metals?”

  I swallowed hard. I had no idea. But as long as Phelps didn’t make me stand up to answer the question, I was fine with the repercussions of not knowing. I was stiff as a cadaver, and I didn’t need the embarrassment—especially when Skyler sat two rows over. “Could you repeat the question?”

  Professor Phelps scowled at me. “The typical oxidation state, Mr. Jordan?”

  “Oxidized?” I guessed.

  Phelps rolled his eyes.
>
  “Can anyone else help Mr. Jordan? He seems to be mentally challenged.”

  Skyler raised her hand. “The alkali metals are not too electronegative. They have one valence electron, so they tend toward a +1 positive state.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Banks. Perhaps you are available to tutor our sleep-deprived student?”

  The class chuckled.

  I’d let Skyler tutor me anytime.

  Professor Phelps continued to ramble on about things that I was quite sure had no practical value in my life.

  A student entered, holding a slip of paper. He waved it in the air and told Mr. Phelps, “I have a note from the nurse requesting Noah Jordan.”

  Phelps grimaced. His frustrated eyes glanced to me. “Since you’re not paying attention in class, I see no harm in letting you go see the nurse now. I wish you all the best on your next exam.”

  I grabbed my books and positioned them in front of my crotch as I stood up. It seemed my junk had a mind of its own, and despite talking about valence electrons, it was still wistfully remembering my erotic dream on the beach. I ambled out of class like a hunchback. I took the nurse’s request slip and found my way to the clinic.