The Mystery of the Frozen Brains

by Marty Chan

  “What does a priest have to do with aliens?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Remi said, stumped.“Okay, if we break this down, we can figure it out. What does Father Sasseville do? ”

  “Well, he runs the church. Sometimes, he reads from the Bible. Sometimes, he says mass. And sometimes he talks about the good things that Jesus Christ does?”

  “Jesus? You mean the statue guy in the schoolyard?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shook my head. “I just thought he was the first principal at the school.”

  “For a guy who reads a lot, you sure don’t know much,” he joked.

  “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Jesus is the holiest of the holy. He’s our saviour. When he was born, three wise men came to see him. And they gave him all sorts of cool stuff.”

  “Video games?”

  “No, it was in the old days. They gave him gold, frankincense and myrrh.”

  “What are frankincense and myrrh?”

  “I have no idea,” Remi said. “But they’re probably as valuable as gold. Anyway, a star led the wise men to where Jesus was born. They said the star was a sign that he was gonna be someone great.”

  “A star?”

  “Yeah, you know. The little lights in the sky. It flew across the sky.”

  “You mean like a U.F.O.?”

  Remi’s mouth dropped open as he made the connection.

  I kept going. “Maybe myrrh is milk.”

  Remi flashed me a puzzled look

  “My dad gave the Night Watchman some milk.”

  “What could be so important about free milk?” Remi asked.

  “Cows!”

  “The mutilations? Maybe aliens need milk to live. It’s like air to them.”

  “Then why did my dad give away his milk to Father Sasseville?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe to show him how much the aliens trust him.”

  “That’s stupid. My mom could read his mind and find out if he could be trusted or not.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think of that. Hey, can you read minds? What am I thinking right now?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to reach into Remi’s brain. I found nothing. I opened my eyes and shook my head.

  “Too bad,” Remi sighed. “It would have come in handy to figure out what your parents are up to.”

  “I guess we’ll have to figure it out for ourselves,” I said.

  “There’s got to be some kind of link between aliens cows, milk and Father Sasseville. I just don’t see what it is yet.”

  “I’ll bet the priest knows,” I offered.

  “Yeah, but how are we going to find out?”

  “Ask him?” I joked.

  “Good idea!”

  The next thing I knew, Remi and I sat in Father Sasseville’s office. Behind the priest, high up on his wall, a giant cross with Jesus looked down on us, just like the statue in the schoolyard. Beside me, Remi held his black toque in his hands as if he were praying.

  “What can I do for you, my sons?”

  Remi leaned forward and whispered, “My friend wants to join the Church.”

  Father Sasseville leaned back in his creaky chair and smiled at me. “You’re making a good decision.”

  “I’d like to learn more about your religion first,” I blurted.

  Remi elbowed me. “He means he wants to get more information so he can fit in with the rest of us.”

  Father Sasseville beamed. “I know just what you need.”

  He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out a black book. Was everything he owned black?

  “This is all you need to get started,” he said. “The Good Book.”

  He handed me the thick book. As I flipped through it, I squinted at the tiny print. I would need weeks to read this book.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I have some questions that can’t wait.”

  “Yes, my son. What answers do you seek?”

  “What do you know about things that come from the sky?” I asked.

  Father Sasseville flashed a curious look at Remi. His raspy voice cracked a bit as he asked, “What have you been telling this young man?”

  Remi looked more nervous than I had ever seen him before. He might as well have been talking to the Boissonault brothers. “I told him about the baby Jesus and the wise men.”

  I peeked at Father Sasseville for a reaction, but he just leaned back in his leather chair and drummed his fingers against his lips. I went on the offensive, hoping to catch him off guard.

  “I know about the star,” I said.

  “Ah, yes, the guiding light,” Father Sasseville said without hesitation.

  “Why did it move?” Remi asked. The two of us worked together like the Frank and Joe Hardy. I was Frank, the smart one.

  “It is a mystery and a miracle,” Father Sasseville answered.

  When we heard “mystery,” Remi and I gave each other knowing looks.

  I interrogated Father Sasseville, “Did the light move like a U.F.O.?”

  “I never thought of it that way, but if it makes it easier to understand the story, then yes.”

  We had our man.

  I turned to the priest. “So why would this star guide the wise men to the baby? What was in it for the star?”

  “I don’t understand your question my son.”

  Remi jumped in. “What he means is why did the star do all this?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Was it to take over the world?” I stared into the priest’s blue eyes.

  “What?”

  Remi lost his nerve and looked down at his shoes.

  “Maybe we should start you in Catechism Class. And Remi, you might need a refresher too. Why don’t we start with that?”

  “But I need answers now,” I said.

  “At times, eagerness can be a hindrance and patience a virtue.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Don’t be so quick to forge ahead. The joy is the journey, not the destination.”

  I perked up. “What kind of journey? Where do you want to go?”

  “It’s an expression, my son,” Father Sasseville sighed. “Perhaps you should start reading the Bible. If it doesn’t give you the answers, then come back and we will talk some more.”

  I examined the heavy black book in my hands. Father Sasseville was stalling. I lobbed one more question at him.

  “What was so important about the baby?”

  “Christ is our saviour. We owe everything to this child.”

  Suddenly, the answer cut through the fog like a lighthouse beacon. I nudged Remi. Time to go.

  “Thanks Father,” he said. You’ve helped us a lot. I’ll make sure Marty reads the book.”

  “Yes, thank you, sir,” I said.

  “Tell your father I said hello,” Father Sasseville said, looking me square in the eyes.

  I stammered, “Sure.”

  I felt like I was standing on thin ice. I knew the ice would soon crack and I would fall in. I didn’t know when, but I knew it was going to be pretty quick and cold. I scrambled out of Father Sasseville’s office. Once Remi and I were outside the church, I sprinted down the street. I wanted to put as much distance between the Night Watchman and myself. Remi chased after me. Two blocks away, I slowed to a walk.

  “What was the rush?” Remi asked.

  “I know why the Night Watchman is Father Sasseville, and why the Church is tied up with the aliens.”

  “Why?”

  “Jesus was an alien.”

  “No way. You’re crazy.”

  “Listen,” I said. “The U.F.O. led the humans to this baby, right? Why would it do that? Because Jesus is from outer space!”

  Remi shook his head in disbelief.

  “That’s why his statue is high up and looking down at us. He’s really an alien in disguise.”

  “Jesus doesn’t look anything like you or your parents. He looks more like my dad.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe it’s a different kind of disguise,” I said.

  Remi shook his head, “If the aliens could disguise themselves to look like Earthlings, why would your family look Chinese? It just doesn’t make sense.

  Think about it. You could have blended in with the rest of us. You could invade Earth and no one would know. Why would your parents disguise themselves as Chinese if they could look like Jesus?”

  I couldn’t argue against Remi. If I was an invading alien and I could pick my disguise, I definitely would not pick the one I had now.

  Remi continued, “Besides, Jesus teaches us to accept people for who they are. He doesn’t talk about alien invasions. He talks about harmony and peace.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But maybe harmony and peace are codes for alien invasion.”

  Remi sighed, “Do you really think that?”

  “No, but if he’s not an alien, what’s his connection to the U.F.O.?”

  Remi offered a theory. “Maybe the aliens found him because they knew he wouldn’t judge them. He’d accepted everyone. And he would accept aliens. That’s why they wanted him to be the king of kings.”

  I hated to admit it, but Remi’s explanation sounded pretty good, except for one thing.

  “Not enough people listened to him,” I said. “There’s still war in the world. And some people still don’t like people who look different.”

  “Yeah,” Remi said. “But it’s not his fault that some people don’t listen.”

  “Maybe the aliens can’t wait for Earthlings to accept them. That’s why they’ve decided to invade.”

  “Why would Father Sasseville help?” Remi asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe the aliens have some kind of mind control.”

  Remi gasped. “Can you do that?”

  “No, I tried to make Eric Johnson pick his nose in class the other day, but he didn’t do it.”

  “Maybe his brain was too small.”

  “Remi, this is no time for jokes,” I said. “We have to stop the alien invasion. We have to get help.”

  “From who?”

  I had no idea.

  ELEVEN

  Remi and I had to tell someone about the alien invasion, but we didn’t know who to trust. I worried that my alien parents controlled more people than Father Sasseville. Remi believed that if they controlled a priest, they might also control members of his church.

  “We have to look for people who aren’t at church on Sunday morning,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “They’re probably the only ones who haven’t been turned into puppets.”

  Remi asked, “Do you think your parents control everybody’s minds?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t take any chances. If we talk to anyone who goes to church, they might tell Father Sasseville, and then my parents will know everything.”

  “You’re right,” Remi said. He glanced around the street to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

  “We have to find rebel fighters.”

  “We?” Remi said. “You mean you. I have to go to church.”

  “But I need your help.”

  “My parents won’t let me skip mass.”

  “But Earth needs you.”

  Remi shook his head. “Think about it. If I’m not at church, Father Sasseville might suspect and then tell your parents.”

  “He might already know,” I argued. “He knew who I was.”

  “Duh. You’re the only Chinese kid in town.”

  “Alien in Chinese disguise,” I corrected him.

  “You know what I mean. It’s not hard to guess who your dad is.”

  I whined, “That’s a lot of houses I have to check by myself.”

  “We have to pretend everything is normal,” Remi said. You just have to find one person. Start with the new houses in town. They’re the farthest away from the church. There may be people who don’t want to travel that far for mass.”

  “Okay, but keep your eyes open during the service. Make a list of people who aren’t under mind control.”

  “How am I supposed to figure that out?”

  “I don’t know. Think of something. I have to walk around town in the freezing cold.”

  Remi grumbled but agreed. We separated with a plan to meet up after mass.

  The next morning, the church bells rang to signal the start of mass and the start of my mission. Remi told me I had about an hour before the service ended, so I had to move fast. I jogged along the snow-covered sidewalk, past the bank, the newspaper office, the video store. I caught my breath just across the street from the IGA in the centre of Bouvier, then I continued running east to the new development area.

  I approached the first house, waded through a huge snowdrift in front of the porch, and rang the doorbell. No answer. I ran to the next house and rang that door. No answer there either. I ran from house to house, down one block and up another one. Was anyone at home?

  I wondered if the entire town had filled the church. As I got further into the new development, the houses looked more expensive and the snow drifts seemed higher. I panted as I ploughed through the snow-covered sidewalks and stumbled to yet another empty house.

  The houses lined only one side of this block. Across the street sat the Boissonault farm, which boasted the only hill in all of Bouvier. Only the French kids were allowed to ride their toboggans here. The Boissonault brothers banned all Anglais from the hill.

  I tore my gaze away from the fun-looking snow hill and counted the houses along the block. There were so many that I didn’t know if I could check them all before Church ended. Did Frank and Joe Hardy ever have cases as tough as this one?

  I jogged to a house with a freshly-shovelled walk. A good sign. I walked up the cement steps of the house and pushed the doorbell. While I waited for someone to answer, I jogged on the spot to build up some body heat. I heard a faint noise on the other side of the door. Excited, I pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

  A man’s voice from inside called out. “In a minute.

  I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  I jammed my hands under my armpits. I hoped the homeowner would invite me into his warm house, so I could talk about the alien invasion over a cup of hot chocolate. I hoped the guy would believe my story. I hoped that the feeling would return to my toes. Finally, the door opened.

  It was Greg, the barber’s son. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed. He ran his hand through his rumpled hair. He wore a ratty pair of sweats and a T-shirt that read “Loser and proud of it.” His runny nose shone bright red.

  “What do you want?” he said stuffed up.

  Why did it have to be Greg? Why couldn’t I find a nice guy to help defeat the aliens?

  “Come on, I don’t have all day,” he barked.

  “Does anyone else live here?”

  “Yeah. My mom and dad. What do you want?”

  “Are they here?”

  “No, they’re at church.”

  “When was the last time you went to church?” I said.

  “If you’re pushing pamphlets, I’m not interested. I don’t believe in religion.”

  This jerk could be Earth’s only hope.

  “I have a story to tell you,” I pleaded.

  “I’m not buying.” Greg started to close the door. I blocked it with my boot.

  “I’m not trying to sell you anything.”

  “Get lost, kid.” He sneezed three times.

  “It’s about the aliens.”

  “The what?”

  “Our planet is in real trouble. The aliens are planning an invasion.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve got Sasquatch in the basement and the Loch Ness Monster in my garage.”

  “You have to believe me.”

  Greg kicked my foot out of the doorway and slammed the door shut. I wasn’t going to give up. I pressed the doorbell again.

  “Just hear me out,” I yelled.

  I listened for his reply, bu
t he just sneezed. Suddenly, in the distance, the church bells rang. Church service was over. I had run out of time.

  The next day, I wanted to tell Remi about my failure, but I couldn’t get near him. A full-scale war between the French and English students had broken out. The Boissonault brothers and their gang sought revenge for the attack on Remi.

  When I walked close to Remi, Jean Boissonault spotted me. “Sneak attack,” he yelled.

  Jean and two other French boys hurled snowballs. I scrambled away and ran straight into Trina Brewster. We fell into a snow bank, my body on top of hers.

  Trina was furious until she saw snowballs pelt the ground around us.

  She whispered in my ear, “You’re so brave to protect me.”

  I stammered, “That’s not what I am — You think? No, I’m not doing that.”

  “Modest and brave.” She beamed at me.

  Trina made me feel weird. I still hated her for organizing the freak-a-zoid tour, but I also felt something else. She made my cheeks burn hot in the middle of winter. I rolled off her and ran away as fast as I could. My French attackers chased me. Trina yelled at the boys to leave me alone, but it only spurred them to run faster.

  “Get her boyfriend,” Jean yelled.

  My cheeks burned hot again. I put my head down and sprinted hard. Suddenly, I tripped and sprawled face first into a drift. The next thing I knew, someone jumped on my back and stuck my head in the snow.

  I heard Remi’s voice call out, “Don’t worry, I got this one. There are three over there.”

  “Good eye Remi,” Jean called out. “Charge!”

  Remi pulled my head out of the snow. “You okay?”

  I spit out a mouthful of snow. “Yeah. Thanks,” I said. “So what did you see at the church yesterday?”

  Remi whispered, “It’s not safe to talk at school any more. The war is too big.”

  All around us, the French and English fired snowballs and insults at one another. Remi was right.

  I whispered, “Meet me behind the store after school.”

  “Okay,” Remi said. “Sorry, I have to do this.”

  Remi kicked snow into my face and ran off. Two English guys ambushed him. Three French boys joined the fray. Then more soldiers from both sides charged at each other. I slunk away from the out-of-control battle.

  Remi took a long time to get to the store. I asked him what kept him, but he wouldn’t say a thing. Instead, he played with the face shield of his hockey helmet and avoided my eyes.