by Marty Chan
I looked at the long stretch between the fence and the hill and sighed, “We’ll never make it without him seeing us. Maybe if we waited until it got a little darker. Then it’d be harder to see us.”
Suddenly, Remi dropped on his belly and pulled me down with him.
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Crawl.”
Remi slithered through the snow using his elbows as snow ploughs. When he reached the barbed wire fence, he lowered his head and squirmed under. I crawled behind him, but he moved too fast for me to keep up.
“Stay down until we get behind the hill,” Remi shouted back. “Try not to breathe or they’ll see the puffs.”
I held my breath and inched through the cold snow. I heard a door slam in the distance. I glanced at the farmhouse. The coast was clear. I continued to crawl through the snow.
When I reached the back side of the hill, Remi was already digging snow away from the slope. I joined him. While we could easily clear the snow away, the frozen dirt posed a bigger problem. Our mittens barely made a dent in the hard black surface.
“This is going to take forever,” I told Remi.
He agreed, “Yeah, it sucks if you want to make a fast getaway.”
“If I hid the space ship here, I’d make a fake section of the hill where the door is. It’d look like part of the hill, but one tug of a branch and the flying saucer door would swing open. I wouldn’t have to dig at all.”
“Yeah, it would make sense. Do you think your dad did that?”
“Maybe. We just have to find the fake part of the hill.”
“I knew I should have brought my dad’s shovels.”
I noticed some branches had fallen from the birch saplings at the top of the hill. I picked up two and handed one to Remi.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.
I stabbed the hill with my branch. It made a dull thud in the frozen dirt.
“When you hear the branch hit something metal, then we’ve found the door.”
“You aliens are pretty smart,” Remi said.
He jabbed the hill with his stick. Together, we poked the entire side of the hill. My face became numb from the chilly wind. Remi’s face almost glowed red. I leaned against a tree and caught my breath, while Remi clapped his hands to warm them.
We had not found the door.
“It’s got to be here,” I said.
“I’ll bet the door’s at the top of the hill.”
I agreed. We started to climb. Halfway up, we heard a faint noise. We stopped and listened.
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
Footsteps, coming around the hill toward us.
“Run!” Remi said as he scrambled down the hill.
As I followed him down the hill, my boot wedged under a tree root and refused to budge.
“Remi,” I called. “I’m stuck.”
He skidded to a stop and returned to help me. He knelt down and lifted the root up. I pulled my foot out.
“Well, well,” said a voice behind us.
We turned to face Jacques Boissonault. Just behind him, Jean carried a rifle.
“What do we have here?” Jacques continued.
“Trespassers,” said Jean as he hid the rifle behind his back.
“What are we going to do with them?”
Remi explained, “We were taking a short cut.”
I nodded, too scared to say anything.
“Cat got your tongue?” asked Jacques.
“Their kind don’t talk much,” said his brother.
“He talks just fine,” Remi defended me.
I squeaked, “Yes. I can talk.”
“Shut up!” Jacques barked.
He advanced on us, while Jean hung back.
“We should teach these trespassers a lesson,” threatened Jacques.
His brother agreed. “Got some yellow snow they could eat?”
“The Chinaman probably likes eating yellow things.”
Jean let loose a high-pitched laugh.
Despite the cold, I could feel my face burn red hot. I wanted so badly to find the flying saucer so that I could return to Saturn.
Remi came to my rescue, “Stop calling him that. He’s my friend.”
“And after we took on the Anglais for you,” Jacques said. “You’re a traitor.”
“He’s better than you,” I defended Remi.
“Shut your mouth China —” Jean corrected himself. “I mean chink.”
“Take that back,” Remi said.
“You gonna make us?” Jacques advanced on us.
“You take another step and you’ll be sorry,” Remi warned.
The Boissonaults didn’t stop. Instead, Remi backed up. He grabbed the back of my jacket and pulled me with him.
“Get ready to run,” he whispered.
I didn’t know what Remi had in mind, but anything was better than these two lug heads pounding on us.
Jean taunted us, “You gonna show us some kung fu, petite Chinois?”
Jacques laughed. “Yeah, let’s seem him break some boards with his yellow face.”
“You won’t be laughing so hard when we get through with you,” Remi said.
“The two of you against us?” Jacques laughed.
“No, all of the Anglais are on top of the hill,” Remi smiled at me.
I picked up on Remi’s hint. I added, “Yeah, this is one big trap.”
“Bull,” Jacques spat out.
Jean seemed less sure than his brother. “What if he’s telling the truth, Jacques?”
“He’s bluffing, Jean.”
Remi stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply.
“Okay, boys! Let them have it,” he yelled.
Jean and Jacques stepped back and looked up for snowball snipers. For a second, neither of them moved.
Remi shoved me.
“Run!” he yelled.
We bolted for the barbed-wire fence, wading through the deep snow. The Boissonaults sprang into action and chased us. Heavier than us, they sunk deeper into the snow drifts. Remi ploughed through the snow like a mad bull, while I followed in his tracks. Behind us, the Boissonaults started to gain ground.
“Remi! We can’t make it,” I yelled.
“Keep going,” he shouted, not even looking back.
Jean and Jacques screamed all sorts of threats. They vowed to make us roll around in cow poop. They swore they would rip off our clothes and send us home naked. They promised to hang us up in the barn and use us as punching bags. Each threat spurred me to run even faster. I pushed Remi forward, desperate to escape the Boissonault nightmare.
“We’ve got trouble,” Remi yelled.
He pointed at the section of the barbed-wire fence, which offered no space for us to squeeze under. Meanwhile, the brothers gained ground.
“They’re coming,” I screamed. “They’re going to turn us into poop-sicles.”
Remi charged the barbed wire. He reached out and grabbed the top wire and put his head down.
He yelled, “Climb on my back and go over the fence.”
“What about you?”
“Just climb over me!”
I scrambled up his back and threw myself over the fence. I flipped in mid-air and sunk butt first into the snow drift. I scrambled to my feet and turned to help my friend.
Remi shouted, “Grab the top wire and hold it up.”
I grabbed the wire and stretched it as high as I could. One of the barbs pierced through my mitten and bit into my hand, but I wasn’t going to let go until Remi was safe. As Remi stepped through, his parka caught on one of the barbs. Remi struggled to get free. He screamed as the barb dug into his shoulder.
Jacques closed the gap. Jean had trouble running with the rifle strapped across his back. But the brothers could walk and easily catch the trapped Remi.
I strained to lift the wire higher. More of Remi’s jacket ripped. Then I saw the problem and the solution.
“Remi, back up and then duck!” I yelled.
He hesitated for a second, but then followed my instructions. His parka popped free.
“Now come through,” I shouted.
Remi dove through the gap between the wires just as Jacques reached the fence. I pulled Remi out of Jacques’s long reach and we stumbled into the ditch, safe from the angry Boissonault. Jacques howled at us. Then he tried to squirm under the barbed wire. He was too big to get through. He grabbed Jean and tried to toss him over the fence, but Jean fought his brother off.
Remi and I ran down the road toward town. Jacques threatened to get even with us. Jean yelled out that they’d find us at school. Remi and I ran until their yells were faint in the distance.
I could barely breathe, but Remi sprinted effortlessly. His hockey conditioning gave him a lot of stamina; however, my chest felt like it was going to burst open. I slowed down and flagged Remi to stop for a second.
“I think we’re safe now,” I panted. “Besides, I wanted to take a look at your jacket.”
Remi waved me off.
“No big deal. The Anglais already ripped it once. I’ll get Mom to sew it up again. How are you doing?”
I took off my mittens. My right palm had a little blood from the barbed-wire, but the cold had numbed the pain. I wiped my palm. It stung a little, but there was no more blood.
“That was wild. I’d never done that before,” I said.
“I don’t want to do it again.”
“But we have to get to the flying saucer.”
“Not with the brothers guarding it.” Remi glanced back nervously.
“They’re not guarding the flying saucer,” I argued. “They don’t even know it’s there. It was just dumb luck that we ran into them.”
“I don’t think it was a coincidence,” Remi argued. “I think they’re working for the aliens.”
“What? How can you be so sure?”
“They’re Father Sasseville’s altar boys.”
I was stunned. “You mean they work for the Night Watchman?”
“They’re his favourites.”
“Oh boy, this is starting to make sense,” I said. “It’s not enough to just hide the flying saucer. My parents also have to protect it. And the Boissonaults make perfect guards.”
“They must be using mind control on them.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Why do they hate me if they’re under alien control?”
Remi said, “I don’t know. Maybe your parents can’t control what humans think, just what they do. Or maybe Jean and Jacques are jealous that you come from another planet.”
I never considered that anyone would want to be like me, especially the Boissonaults.
Remi said, “Now that the brothers know we tried to get into the flying saucer, they’re going to be watching it real close. We’ll never get past them.”
He sighed as he pulled at the loose stuffing from his jacket. As I watched him pick at the fluffy white material, an idea formed.
“Remi. You know how you got free from the fence?”
He nodded.
“This is the same thing,” I said. “Maybe we’re trying too hard to go forward.”
“So we should go backwards?”
“Not backwards. But sideways. If we can’t beat the brothers, maybe we can bribe them.”
“I’ve got like two dollars and some change. I don’t think that’s enough.”
“Not money. Ice cream.”
“Huh,” Remi almost went cross-eyed trying to figure out the logic of my plan.
“Their dad buys ice cream at my parents’ store. He says Jean goes nuts for strawberry. I figure if there’s enough strawberry ice cream, Jean might look the other way.”
“What about Jacques?”
“I think he likes chocolate.”
“Let’s get Neapolitan. Less pails to carry.”
I smiled. “I like the way you think.”
Sneaking Remi into the store got harder every time. My mom tensed up whenever she saw him. I believed that she suspected we were on to her invasion plans. I figured the less Mom saw of Remi, the better. This would give us the element of surprise.
Remi waited for me in the alley, while I ran into the store. I waved at Dad as I jogged past him.
“You’re late,” he growled.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I turned around.
“You were playing with your friend again,” he accused.
“No.” I sort of told the truth. Remi and I were not playing. We were trying to save the world.
“Where is he now?”
“He went home I think.”
“You finish your homework?” Dad barked. Ever since his bottle of rye spilled on the floor, Dad was pretty cranky.
“I did all my homework at school,” I said.
“Then do your chores,” He snapped. “There is a lot of work to do.”
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She’s cooking. You tell her I’m not hungry.” When Dad made me pass messages to Mom, it meant they were fighting.
“Okay,” I said.
“Don’t be late any more,” Dad growled.
At the back of the store, Remi and I crept to the ice cream freezer, which was located near the kitchen. Behind the closed door, Mom clattered pots and pans loudly. This was her way of letting off steam.
As long as my parents fought with each other, they wouldn’t worry about some missing ice cream. I dug my fingers under the freezer lid and heaved it up. The pressure of the vacuum seal held the lid shut. I kept pushing until . . . thwock . . . the rubber seal broke free and the lid popped open. Cold air blasted my face.
Remi looked inside and nearly drooled on the ice cream. “It’s my dream come true,” he whispered.
“Hold the lid open,” I said.
“You got chocolate-covered bars! I love them.”
I shushed Remi, but he wouldn’t listen.
“And soft sundae ice cream with the wooden spoons. You are so lucky.”
“Shh, my mom’s gonna hear you.”
“I’m lucky if my parents’ freezer has a Nutty Buddy. Oh wow, there’s a box of them!”
“Just hold the lid, Remi.”
He reluctantly took over. As he held up the lid, he ogled the pails of ice cream. I leaned into the freezer, moved the ice cream aside in search of the distinctive Neapolitan swirl. Goosebumps popped up along my cold arms. My fingers went numb. My glasses fogged up.
“Hey, what’s that?” Remi whispered.
He pointed to the corner of the freezer to three frozen plastic bags. I wiped my lenses and grabbed one of the bags. It was about the size of a head of lettuce, but it was heavier than lettuce. I brushed the frost off the plastic covering.
“What kind of ice cream is that?” he asked.
“I don’t think it’s ice cream,” I said. “Give me a minute.”
I rubbed the frost off, then held the bag up to Remi’s face. He let out a short yelp and backed away. I turned the bag around and looked inside.
“Yikes!” I dropped the bag on the floor.
The hideous thing inside the bag looked like someone had mushed a giant batch of grey Play-Doh into a weird ball.
“Is that . . . is that . . . I think it is . . . no way . . . it looks like . . . no way . . . ”
“It looks like a brain,” I said.
Remi shuddered and looked away from the brain bag on the tiled floor. We had found three bags of brains in my parents’ ice cream freezer. The big question was whose brains?
THIRTEEN
The next day, I could barely concentrate on Mrs. Connor’s lesson. All I could think about were the brains in the freezer. What did my parents want to do with them? Were the brains some part of the invasion plan? What happened to the people with the missing brains? Were they still alive? Who were they?
Mrs. Connor pulled me out of my thoughts and pushed me into her lesson. “Mr. Chan, were you paying attention?”
“Uh. Yes, Mrs. Connor,” I lied.
“Then would you care to
repeat to the class exactly what I just said?”
I scanned the white board for some kind of clue. Mrs. Connor had written the word “Prejudice” in red. I knew what the colour meant. She wanted us to define the word. Red was for definitions. Blue was for homework assignments. Black was for pop quiz questions.
I launched into the definition, “Prejudice is the act of making assumptions about people based on how they look or what they do. ‘Pre’ means before and ‘judice’ is like judging. You should get to know people before you think the worst of them.”
“Very good,” Mrs. Connor cooed. “That’s exactly what we should do. But it’s not what I just said. I asked if anyone had seen Ms. Brewster or Mr. Johnson.”
My classmates laughed at me. I looked around. The two desks where Trina Brewster and Eric Johnson normally sat were empty.
“What’s so funny?” Mrs. Connor asked, using her patented question technique to get everyone to shut up.
Trina’s empty desk sparked big questions. What could have happened to her and Eric? Had the attack started? Why did I miss the girl who bugged me so much? I raised my hand.
“Yes Mr. Chan?” Ms. Connor said.
“Do you think something bad happened to Trina?”
The other kids snickered.
“No, Mr. Chan.”
“Maybe we should check on her.”
Some of my classmates giggled. One guy whispered to the others that Trina was my girlfriend.
“I’m worried about Eric too,” I quickly added.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Now let’s get back to the lesson.” Mrs. Connor turned to the white board and took out her black pen. Pop quiz. Everyone groaned.
Mrs. Connor wrote math problems on the white board, but I barely noticed them. Instead, I computed a different set of math calculations in my head. Three brains in the freezer. Two missing students. Who was the third?
At lunch, I searched the schoolyard for Remi. I didn’t care if anyone saw us together. The invasion had started. Eventually, I found him sitting by himself under the Jesus statue. The other French boys ran around in the field, playing with each other and ignoring him.
