Noah Jordan vs. The Aliens

by Tyler Wild

  “You wanted to see me?” I said, standing in the clinic doorway.

  Nurse Betty had vibrant smile and a pleasant demeanor. Her scrubs expanded to their limit in an attempt to contain her ever-growing waistline. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said in sing-song.

  “Is that what this is about?”

  “Quit being a big baby and take a seat.”

  I reluctantly sat in the chair that she offered.

  “It’s not mandatory. And I can’t make you do this. But we are recommending that all students get their flu shot. It will help cut down on attendance issues.”

  “I don’t do needles. Is there some other way to accomplish this? A pill, perhaps?”

  Nurse Betty rolled her eyes. “A big strong boy like you afraid of a little needle?”

  “I’m not afraid. It just makes me a little…” My stomach went queasy as soon as she brandished the syringe. She popped off the cap, revealing a sharp needle. She stuck it into a vial and withdrew the vaccine.

  My face went pale and my palms grew slick with sweat. I don’t know what it was about needles, but they creeped me out.

  “Just think happy thoughts.”

  I felt lightheaded, and the corners of my vision went dim. Then everything went black.

  The next thing I knew, nurse Betty was frantically asking me if I was okay. She handed me a glass of juice and a cookie. “You passed out. Eat this!”

  “What happened?” I bit into the chocolate chip cookie and washed it down with a sip of grape juice.

  “It’s all over with. I gave you the shot while you were blacked out.”

  “Is that even legal?”

  “You’re 18. You can make your own decision.”

  I frowned at her, then grumbled. “I don’t think passing out is making a decision.”

  “Quit your pouting.”

  “I think I’m traumatized for life,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m going to need to stay here through seventh period to recover.”

  Nurse Betty’s eyes narrowed at me. “I see nothing keeping you from going back to class. Your arm might get a little sore over the next few days. But that’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Can I have another cookie?”

  She sighed. “I suppose.”

  I gobbled the first cookie down, and Nurse Betty handed me another one.

  “What do you plan on doing with your life, Mr. Jordan?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of want to fly jets. I’m thinking about joining the Navy.”

  “Newsflash. If you want to join the military, you will have to get over your fear of needles. Recruits are given all kinds of shots and vaccinations. You’ll learn first aid, and you might even need to administer a few shots. And there are a lot worse things out there. There is a possibility people might shoot at you. That’s way worse than any needle.”

  I had no rational argument. It was just one of those things. “I know.”

  “Well, you better suck it up, buttercup.”

  4

  “You and your little freak show friend need to stay out of my room!” Hannah growled.

  She stood in the doorway wearing nothing more than a bra and panties. The delicate fabric fought a losing battle to contain her sumptuous curves. They were just screaming to break free.

  Oliver’s jaw hung low, and his tongue practically flopped out of his mouth.

  I had to admit, she looked good. She was so angry, she hadn’t thought twice about barging into my room in her underwear.

  My face twisted up, perplexed. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. “We haven’t been in your room.”

  Oliver and I were sitting on the couch in my room playing video games. It was a typical Friday night for us. Nothing too exciting. We were waiting on the pizza guy and were going to study a bit, try to make it to the next level in Galactic Wars, and maybe sneak a few beers from the fridge.

  “Bullshit! I know you little pervs go through my panty drawer.”

  “I swear to God, I haven’t been through your panty drawer. Why would I do something like that?”

  Her green eyes narrowed at me. “All I know is that ever since I moved here, my panties are going missing. And if you little rejects are selling them on the Internet I’m going to kick your ass! Got me?”

  I had to stifle a laugh. “I’m not selling your panties on the Internet. Who would buy them anyway?”

  She scoffed. “Please. Dirty old men would pay a fortune for some cute teen’s undies.”

  “Cute is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” I said just to annoy her. “And you’re 18. The whole teen thing is just about used up, isn’t it?”

  “Ugh, please. You’re just jealous because you know you’re never going to hit this,” she said, pointing at her sublime body.

  I looked her up and down and feigned disgust. “I’ll pass.”

  Oliver couldn’t believe I was dissing her so hard.

  Hannah sneered at me. “You do not want to be fucking with me. I will make your life a living hell, I swear to God.”

  “Mission accomplished,” I said, snidely.

  She was seething. Her eyes blazed into me. Then she finally realized she was half naked. Hannah covered up with her hands. “Quit staring at my tits, freaks!”

  She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

  Oliver and I chuckled.

  “Have you been stealing her panties?” Oliver asked.

  “No! Have you?”

  “No, but she’s right. I think we could make serious cash on the Internet.”

  We laughed again.

  Oliver’s face twisted. He turned aside and covered his face as a sneeze exploded from his nose.

  “Bless you,” I said.

  “Thanks. My allergies are fucking killing me.”

  The muffled sound of the doorbell filtered into my room. Oliver and I exchanged a glance and said in unison, “Pizza!”

  We sprang from the couch and sprinted downstairs. I pulled open the door and the glorious smell of steaming hot cheese pizza hit my nostrils. I dug in my pocket and handed the delivery guy a wad of cash. He looked bored to tears. He pulled the cardboard box out of its thermal case and handed it to me. I thanked him, kicked the door shut, and brought the pizza box into the kitchen.

  Oliver and I must have looked like ravenous monsters as I lifted the lid. An ocean of cheese covered the large pie. My stomach suddenly felt like a bottomless pit.

  Oliver and I pulled off slices and proceeded to stuff our faces, trying not to burn the roofs of our mouths. That was a losing battle. I was so hungry, I couldn’t wait for the pizza to cool.

  “Mind if I have a slice?” Dad asked as he ambled into the kitchen.

  “Knock yourself out,” I said.

  “What are you boys up to this evening?” he asked as he grabbed a slice. His head craned around to make sure Claire didn’t see him breaking his diet.

  “You know, the usual,” I said. “Cocaine and hookers.”

  He frowned at me, trying to pretend he wasn’t amused by my sardonic wit.

  Dad had gotten a little thick around the waist. After mom died, he let all dietary considerations slide. Claire was trying to get him back in shape. His cholesterol numbers had spiked up, and the doctors wanted to put him on statins. Claire said she wanted him around as long as possible and that he was going to have to start taking care of himself. I was glad she cared about him, and I didn’t have anything against her, other than the fact that this whole merging of families was making my life miserable.

  “Don’t tell your mother,” Dad said as he bit into the pizza and gobbled it down.

  “She’s not my mother.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed at me again. “Claire would really appreciate it if you started calling her Mom. She wants us to be a family.”

  I sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll try. It just seems weird, you know.”

  “I know.” He gobbled the rest of the slice down.

&nbs
p; The idea of calling Claire mom always stuck in my throat. I couldn’t say the word without thinking about my real mom—and that was painful. I still hadn’t quite come to terms with the decision we made in her final days. Dad and I had many heart-to-heart discussions about it, both before and after. What we did had to be done. But I couldn’t help feeling like we—

  Claire walked into the kitchen, catching Dad red-handed. His cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and he nonchalantly tossed the crust back in the box.

  “Eduard!” Claire scolded.

  “What?” Dad mumbled innocently.

  Claire sighed. She was fighting a losing battle. “Might as well enjoy that bite, because I’m going to make you work it off at the gym tomorrow.” A naughty glint sparkled in her eyes. “Or maybe later tonight.”

  “Guys!” I shouted. “Come on, I’m eating.”

  Claire wrapped her arms around my Dad and the two doted on each other.

  “We’re going to catch a movie,” Dad said. “You two behave. No wild parties.”

  “Sure thing!” I replied.

  “We are going to the museum tomorrow,” Claire said. “It’s the first day of the Impressionist exhibit. Do you want to go? You’re both welcome to come.”

  “Um, thanks, Claire—I mean, Mom. But I think we’re going to watch the game.”

  “No worries. I just thought I’d ask.” She turned her attention back to my Dad. “We need to get going. I don’t want to miss the beginning.”

  Once they left, we had the house to ourselves. Hannah went to spend the night with Skyler. I’m sure they were going to hit few parties—the kind that we would never be invited to.

  There were only two beers left in the fridge, and I was pretty sure Dad would notice if they were missing. Oliver and I decided to hit the liquor cabinet instead.

  It was a bad idea.

  5

  The rum and cola tasted so good going down. Not so much coming back up. Maybe we got a little carried away?

  I woke up in the morning feeling like someone had poured glue into my mouth and sealed my eyelids shut. My head felt like it was squeezed between 2, 45 pound weights. My temples throbbed. My stomach rumbled, and the sour acidic taste of bile crept into the back of my throat. Sweat misted my skin, wreaking of alcohol.

  I peeled open my eyes. The bright light filtering into the windows exacerbated the pain behind my eyes. I slowly sat up in bed. The room had stopped spinning, but it wasn’t exactly stable. I felt like I was on a cruise ship. I pulled myself out of bed and threw on jeans and a T-shirt, then staggered downstairs.

  The house was empty. There was a note from Dad on the kitchen counter, telling me that he and Claire had gone to the museum. Hannah was still at Skyler’s, presumably.

  I figured some leftover pizza might settle my stomach. Careful, measured bites were the name of the game. I started slowly at first, then increased intake as it seemed my stomach would tolerate the food.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted off the top. I guzzled it down in no time. My body was so dry and desiccated, I felt like a mummified corpse.

  My stomach rumbled, and for an instant I thought it was all coming back up. I held still with a look of fear on my face. My throat felt full. After a moment, my stomach settled, and I swallowed. If I could keep this down, I’d be good to go for the rest of the day.

  I staggered back into the living room and sat on the couch. I clicked the remote, and that’s when the fun began. Or the nightmare—however you want to look at it.

  Every channel was the same. Breaking news images of the massive spaceship hovering over downtown. There was footage from every major metropolitan area. These things were all over the globe. No way were they going to be friendly.

  I ran back upstairs and looked for Oliver. He wasn’t in the guest bed. I found him passed out on the floor in the bathroom, hugging the toilet. “Hey, wake up!”

  Oliver was non-responsive for the first few moments.

  I grabbed his shoulder and tried to shake him awake.

  “Fuck off!” he mumbled.

  “We have a situation!”

  “I don’t care.” He hadn’t opened his eyes yet and didn’t look like he had any intention of doing so. His skin was pale, almost green. He looked worse than I felt.

  I ran back into my room, lifted the window and crawled out onto the roof. My eyes glanced over the edge at the ground below, and my head swirled with a moment of vertigo.

  Damn, it was a long way down!

  I wasn’t necessarily afraid of heights, but I sure as hell didn’t want to hit the ground. The asphalt shingles felt like sandpaper under my bare feet, and tiny granules broke off with each step. It didn’t instill confidence. I felt like my feet could lose traction at any moment.

  My first instinct was to climb back into my room, but I had to see with my own eyes. I carefully climbed to the peak of the roof and stood tall, straddling the crown. Over the treetops I had a good view of downtown. The massive alien disc loomed large in the sky.

  A rush of adrenaline made me forget all about my hangover.

  I watched for a few moments, unable to move.

  Then it happened.

  It felt like a punch to the gut. My knees went weak, and I almost fell. I felt lightheaded and my heart jumped into my throat.

  A brilliant blue beam emanated from the center of the flying saucer. It struck at the heart of the city. A blinding explosion followed, incinerating downtown, spewing debris into the air and rippling out from the epicenter.

  I watched as the blast wave spread, demolishing structures in its path.

  The burst of air swayed the treetops as it raced toward me. The hot gust of wind slammed into me, knocking me off my feet. I tumbled down the roof, careening toward the edge. My hands clawed at the shingles, trying to grasp onto anything—the pads of my fingertips rubbed raw against the gritty surface.

  I plunged over the edge, heading toward concrete.

  At the last second I grabbed onto the gutter, dangling by one hand. The aluminum pulled away from the roof and buckled. My feet dangled 12 feet in the air. I could drop down to the patio, but I’d be risking a broken ankle, or a fractured leg. Not a great way to start the apocalypse.

  I shimmied sideways along the gutter to the edge of the house. Above the back door was a breezeway that connected the house to the garage. I lowered myself on the roof of the breezeway, scurried across to the garage, then traversed the roof, making my way to the neighbor’s fence.

  The top of the fence was 3 feet from the edge of the single-story garage roof. It divided the space between the two garages. I crossed over to the fence and lowered myself down to the ground.

  My heart pounded like a herd of elephants. It hadn't fully sunk in yet. The idea that we had just been invaded by aliens was still an abstract concept. It didn’t seem real.

  I staggered into the house in a state of shock. I collapsed on the couch and stared at the TV as the news reported the destruction across the globe.

  Dad and Claire were downtown at the Museum. Downtown didn't exist anymore. That meant Dad and Claire didn't exist anymore. My eyes welled with tears. I didn't sob or break down, but a steady stream of liquid flowed from my eyes and dripped down my cheeks. Losing one parent was unimaginable—losing both of them was something I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle.

  I watched on TV as swarms of attack fighters poured out of the mother-ship like angry hornets. Larger troop transports descended toward Earth's surface. Panicked camera crews filmed shaky footage of the chaos. Soon, platoons of alien ground troops marched the through the streets, annihilating anything that resisted. Brilliant blue plasma beams arced from their rifles, incinerating citizens, leaving gaping wounds in their torsos. Panicked screams filled the air.

  The TV screen turned to static, the feed lost. An anchor quickly came back on, mortified by the situation. It was the first time I had ever seen one of the talking heads become speechless. The anchor stuttered as he described
scene. The station quickly cut to commercial as the anchor had a nervous breakdown.

  The commercial seemed useless. Our entire way of life and been turned upside down in an instant. Consumer goods were the last thing on anyone's mind. Food, water, and shelter were at the top of the list. Maslow's hierarchy of needs. But jackasses were still going to loot and pillage.

  After the commercial break, there was footage of two men running down the avenue carrying a large flat-screen TV. I wondered who would buy it at a time like this. I figured it was only a matter of time before the networks stopped broadcasting entirely. The aliens would want to shut down all forms of communication and infrastructure.

  Oliver staggered down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's going on?"

  I pointed at the TV and he watched in horror as the coverage continued.

  His eyes welled with tears. The droplets trickled out of his red puffy eyes. "My parents were at the game downtown. Is the stadium is destroyed?"

  I nodded solemnly. "Everything's gone."

  My whole body was numb. It was like a bad dream, and I was praying I would wake up. In an instant, we had both become orphans.

  My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and looked at the screen. It was Hannah. I swiped to accept the call.

  She was in hysterics. "Tell me Mom and Ed are at the house.”

  My throat tightened and went dry. I tried to speak, but the words didn't come out. I cleared my throat. "Just because they're not here doesn't mean they were downtown.”

  Hannah bawled on the other end of the line. She spoke in jerking sobs. “I need you to come get me."

  “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  "He's not answering. Come get me."

  "Then what?"

  "I don't know! She exploded, frazzled.

  "Where are you?"

  “I’m at Skyler's. Her parents were downtown at the stadium. We don't know what to do?"

  6

  In my closet, I had and AR-15 that I built from parts. I used a billet lower with titanium pins, bolt catch, and mag release. It had a short throw safety, and a SOPMOD stock. The upper was a 14.5 inch barrel with a pinned and welded flash hider, bringing it to the legal length of 16 inches with a mid-length gas system. It was chambered in 5.56 NATO. It had a holographic sight, and backup iron sights.