by MJ Ware
We easily overpowered the three aliens in the engine room.
"This looks important," he said examining a big round, cylinder thing standing almost in the middle of the room.
He undid three latches and took off the top. "Everything these aliens use seems to work with this magnetic technology. Or maybe it's anti-magnetic. I'm no scientist."
I gazed down into the huge hole. It was a good three feet wide and at least twenty feet deep. At the bottom was a crazy, glowing, spinning globe that looked a lot like the force field bubbles.
"My guess is we throw your toothbrush down there, and this ship is toast."
"Well, let's give it a try," I said, flipping the toothbrush on and tossing it in the hole.
The effect was immediate. The ship shook violently, then lurched to the right. My stomach dropped. I could tell we were going down.
"Quick, get to the hatch," I said as I handed Grandpa Bucket the other jetpack.
We made our way to the holding bay as quickly as we could, bumping into walls and almost falling as the ship careened out of control. I'm not sure how Gramps managed to stay on his feet.
When we got back, everyone but Zoey had already left. "Wheww... I thought you guys weren't going to make it."
"You didn't have to wait," I said, clutching onto the railing to keep from falling on my rear.
"I wouldn't leave without you, Zack." She smiled and added, "Besides, no jetpack."
I realized I was going to have to take Zoey down with me. She wouldn’t want to go with Gramps, and even though he was strong for a super-old dude, I didn't want to risk his strength giving out halfway down. I handed him the backpack with the umbrellas, and he put it on the front of his chest.
Once I had my jetpack on, all I had to do was glance at Zoey, and she latched onto me like a sucker fish.
"You go first," I said to Grandpa Bucket.
He grinned. "Oh, I see. You two want a moment alone." With that, he leapt out.
I followed him right away, trying to get out before Zoey could kiss me—no such luck.
As we fell through the sky, I realized I had no idea how to fly a jetpack—or even turn it on.
It had stopped raining, but an icy wind rushed past us for a second or two while I fumbled with the controller. Then the engine seemed to kick on by itself. I quickly figured that the controller's stick moved us left, right, up, and down. The trigger button was the throttle, and even barely pressing it gave us a huge boost of speed. I'd always told Mom that all the time I spent playing video games wasn't a waste.
Gramps flew up beside us, his cane clinking against his jetpack. "Looks like the other ship is trying to pick some of the kids back up." I could barely hear him over the sound of the wind.
Looking back, I saw that the first saucer had gone over a hill and already crashed, but several aliens emerged from the second ship. They headed for the line of kids who were on their way to, or had already reached, the ground.
"Guess we better take them out," I bellowed.
"No dice, son. You've lost your toothbrush."
"Then how will we stop that ship?"
"Zack, I need you to do me a favor," Gramps hollered over the howling wind.
"You want me to run interference?"
He shook his head. "No, get Zoey to safety."
"But if we don't disable that ship, they'll start picking kids back up."
"You forget. I've got my own magnets." He tapped his chest.
"No, that would kill you." But he was already gone and heading toward the ship.
"Zack, we have to go after him," Zoey cried.
"And then what? What could we do to help?" As I watched him fly away, I desperately tried to come up with another way to take down that ship.
I waited for Zoey to reply, hoping she would think of something—anything we could do that I'd overlooked. She was silent.
Flying through the air, Gramps took out half a dozen aliens—slamming umbrellas in their mouths or simply knocking them off balance—before he went into the ship.
Slowly, I brought us down. The big red button stopped the engine. Even with our feet on the ground, Zoey didn't let go, didn't even loosen her grip.
"He's one tough old fart," I whispered.
I felt Zoey’s face next to mine. My first thought was to pull away, expecting her to try to lock lips. What I felt was something wet, but not lips. Tears trickled off her cheeks and down my neck.
A couple minutes later, the flying saucer began to spin out of control. A few aliens jumped out—one without a jetpack—before the ship crashed into an open field.
"He did it," Zoey said as she finally loosened her grip.
We walked to the nearest street along with a line of kids and headed back toward town. After about half a block, a familiar beat-up, bumblebee-yellow Volvo station wagon came puttering up.
"Like my ride?" Sunny said as she rolled down the window.
"Where'd you get that?" Zoey looked shocked to see Sunny behind the wheel.
"Don't ask," I said. "Sunny, how'd you find us?"
"Simple, follow the flying saucers." She glanced at all the kids. "Where's G.I. Grandpa?"
"He didn't make it." I looked away.
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry," Sunny said. For a second, Sunny and Zoey both looked as if they might cry, but Sunny took a deep breath and said, "Hop in. We've got work to do."
I reached for the passenger door. "Other side. That one won't open anymore." Sunny smiled a bit, just enough to wrinkle her nose.
"How many kids do you think we can pile in here?" Zoey asked.
"None. We have to get going if we’re going to save the world."
Chapter 12 – My Television Debut
We both squeezed into the front seat. "So what's up, Sunny D?" I asked.
"Don't ever call me that." As she raced around a corner, the car shuddered. "It's the aliens. They're picking people up off the streets."
"So? They've been doing that for a while."
"Now it's everywhere—hundreds of ships. It's like, nonstop."
"Maybe we’d better head home," Zoey said.
"No. We have to get on TV, so we can tell people how to defeat them."
"TV?"
"Yeah, I'm driving to the local TV station. We have to tell everybody about the umbrellas and neodymium magnets."
I was pretty wiped out. All I wanted was to go bury my head under my pillow, but Sunny was right; we were the only ones who knew how to take down the alien scum. We had to get the word out.
"How'd you know about the magnets?" I asked.
"I've read about superconducting magnets levitating rats. Still, I didn't really know. It was a lucky guess." She flashed both her dimples. "But you're not dead, so it must have worked."
We made it to the TV station as quickly as our half-gone station wagon would allow.
"Okay, Brainiac, what's the plan for getting in?"
"Steve Stephenson does a national financial broadcast every afternoon at five o’clock."
"You mean that news guy with the comb-over?"
"He doesn't have a comb-over. He's just thinning a little." Sunny sounded irritated. "He's distinguished."
"Distinguished? Oh, my gosh, you're in love with the old dude on the nightly news." I laughed.
"I am not." Sunny's face turned a familiar shade of red. "Sometimes I think your trap's bigger than the aliens'."
"Come on, guys, it's almost five o'clock. We've gotta get going." Zoey handed out a bunch of umbrellas Sunny had apparently acquired from another convenience store.
We couldn't simply walk into the building where the TV station was. We had to get past a security desk right next to the front door, behind a wall of bulletproof glass. Apparently, they were concerned about deranged fans stalking the news people—Sunny was probably on the top of their list.
When we got to the door, there wasn't a security guard behind the glass—it was an alien. We looked at each other, trying to figure out what to do.
"Hi, we're here to see my father," Sunny said.
"No admittance," the alien replied.
"He's Steve Stephenson. He's a big newscaster, and I know he doesn't look old enough to have a daughter my age, but he's expecting us."
"No admittance."
"This isn't going to work," Zoey said under her breath.
"You've gotta let us in. It's important," I said, pulling out an old math quiz I was supposed to get my mom to sign. "I've got a note from Admiral Nact-bauk himself, giving us access."
"No ad—let me see that."
"Sure, sure, just open the door."
The alien thought for a while, then said, "Put it up to the glass."
"Sorry, I can't do that. Admiral Nact-bauk said if you didn't let us in, he would personally have your left tentacle." Lying to Mom was never this easy. "Besides, if you open the door, you can eat my friend here. She's tender and much chubbier than she looks." I pointed to Zoey.
"Chubby?" Zoey cried. "You think I'm chubby?"
"And tender."
She lifted up her umbrella, about to clobber me.
"I'm joking."
The alien opened the door and grabbed Zoey.
"Stop that, you stupid squid-alien." Zoey took the umbrella that she had been about to abuse me with and shoved it into the alien's mouth.
We dashed through the door as the alien flopped to the ground.
The inside of the TV station was pretty disappointing. I’d expected all sorts of high-tech cameras, big displays, stuff like that. There was a plasma in the waiting room and that was about it.
"He's on right now." Sunny sighed. "He looks even better in H.D."
"Sure, if you like old dudes in makeup."
"Let's just find out where they're shooting." Zoey opened the door leading out of the waiting room. "He's pretty cute for an old guy," she whispered to Sunny.
"He's smart, too," she replied. I pretended not to hear and tried not to gag.
The office area was huge, with tons of desks and offices along the walls. The desks were all empty, and the offices were all closed, blinds drawn.
"How are we ever going to find him?" Sunny said. "No one's here."
"You'd call in sick too, if human gobbling aliens were running security."
"Wait, I have an idea." I dashed over to one of the desks and, sure enough, sitting under it was an old, overweight guy with his laptop.
"Where's Steve Stephenson broadcasting from?"
"Studio A. Down the hall, first right," he muttered, obviously way more concerned with how hungry his alien overlords were than with why three kids were running around the TV station.
We ran to Studio A. It had a sign on the door with a lit red bulb above it. The sign read, "When lit, broadcast in progress. DO NOT ENTER."
We stood there for a second and stared at the door handle. No one touched it. We looked at each other, waiting.
Finally, I put my hand on it and pulled. Amazingly, it wasn't locked. As I opened the door, I placed my other hand on Sunny's back. "This time, it's your turn." I pushed her inside.
Zoey and I followed, still expecting someone to try to stop us. The room was pretty empty. Black curtains ran along all the walls except behind Steve. The place was dark with only some bright lights on tripods that bathed Steve Stephenson in a halo of light. He didn't notice us. Maybe he couldn't see past the floodlights, and the two cameramen had their backs to us.
"...I'm Steve Stephenson," he was saying, "Thanks for watching The Daily Market Wrap-up."
"Wait!" I shouted and pushed Sunny up next to Mr. Stephenson.
"I... I have something to say a-about the aliens," Sunny blurted out.
"I didn't know we had a class fieldtrip today." He smiled nervously. "Why don't you give a shout-out to your school before we sign off?" He shot her a super-cheese-ball smile.
"Ummm..." Sunny's brown eyes popped wide, and her skin went pale—it was all too much for her.
"Quickly now."
I realized I was going to have to do it. I stepped forward, and the entire room began to shake.
It shook so violently that even though Zoey held onto me, we both fell down.
"Keep rolling, Gary," Steve Stephenson said, bracing himself on the desk. "You're witnessing a live earthquake, folks. And a big one by the—"
Steve Stephenson looked up, his jaw swung open, and his tongue hung halfway out—it wasn't a look that was going to win him many new viewers.
But if his face was scary, what was causing it was positively terrifying. The entire roof was being ripped off the building in one huge chunk. Small pieces fell around us, but most of it seemed to be pulled off like a huge section of Legos.
I had a sneaking suspicion about what was causing it. I hoped I was wrong.
As the roof lifted away, Admiral Nact-bauk descended on an amber force field. "Stop those kids, NOW!" The force field set him down right on top of the broadcast desk, tentacles spilling over the sides.
I know what you're thinking about now: How the heck did Admiral Nact-bauk get off the ship?
I wasn't about to ask him, but I found out later that, after he'd managed to pull the umbrella from his nasal cavity, he’d slithered to the equipment room to discover that we'd already taken all the jetpacks. He grabbed a ray gun, jumped out the hatch, and shot himself right before the ship crashed.
Of course, he floated around in one of those stupid bubbles. But since the ships had sent out automatic distress signals as they were going down, it was only a few minutes before another saucer plucked him from the sky and tracked us to the TV station.
"I... I... I know how to stop you," Sunny somehow managed to say.
"How?" Steve Stephenson didn't seem to realize he was still on live TV.
"You, stop me? Ridiculous," the admiral said, but beads of slime slid down his huge forehead. "Don't listen to her. I'll show you what happens to interfering little morsels like her." He opened his mouth as wide as a python about to swallow a mouse.
I couldn't get an umbrella out before Nut-Bag could swallow Sunny, so I grabbed the only thing within reach: one of the tripod light stands. As I lifted it, the legs automatically began to close.
The stand was really heavy, but it didn't matter. I had to get it in before the admiral ate Sunny.
"No!" she screamed as he lifted her off the ground.
I shoved the stand in. The tripod legs caught on his teeth and popped open as I forced it down.
"That's how," I said as Admiral Nact-bauk fell to the ground. Both cameramen panned down to catch him smack on the hard floor.
"How'd you do that?" a bewildered Steve Stephenson asked.
"It works even better with an umbrella." Sunny pulled one out and showed it off for the cameras as if she were one of those Price is Right models.
"Here, watch." I pulled on the lighting rig, but Admiral Nact-bauk slid along with it. "Hold Admiral Nut-Bag." Zoey ran forward and sat on him while I yanked it out.
"Aaahh." The admiral took a deep breath and started coughing.
Both cameramen zoomed in as Sunny put the umbrella in his face and pressed the button, launching it into his mouth. "See, it's easy."
"That's brilliant," Steve Stephenson said, then realizing he was still live, added, "And you heard it here first on Market Wrap-up with me, Steve Stephenson."
"And that's not all." I took out the ray gun, aimed it right at Steve Stephenson, and fired. He floated up as he pounded at the bubble.
"Sunny, toothbrush please," I said.
"Umm, I didn't get another toothbrush."
"Oh, poor Steve," Zoey said.
"He'll be fine. He's probably too good-looking to eat." I watched Steve Stephenson float away. "Well, just use an electric toothbrush, and the bubble will instantly pop. It's the magnets."
"Any rare earth magnets should work," Sunny added. "And Steve better be okay." She scowled at me, and I swear I heard a low growl.
One of the cameramen made a hand signal, which I later fo
und out meant, "wrap it up." But at the time, I thought they wanted to see the umbrella thing again, so I hit the release button and Nact-bauk started gasping for air. I took out a manual umbrella, shoved it in his face so I could show the 10.5 million viewers how to put your shoulder into it to get a manual umbrella open inside an alien's mouth. "Open wide!"
Afterward, the cameramen told us the signal had just been cut by the producer somewhere in New York, but that everything had aired live.
They shook our hands before tying up Admiral Nact-bauk and insisting that we de-umbrella him. They said the government would probably want to keep him for testing.
Chapter 13 - The Ugly Truth
This is the part I really don't like to talk about. You've stuck with me this far, though, so I guess I owe you.
Of course every red-blooded American dug an umbrella or two out of the closet and skewered him or herself some aliens. In the south, they tried to get even by barbecuing them—fortunately, that didn't catch on. It was less than a week before the aliens hightailed it back to the Dog Star.
School had been closed for a couple weeks while they 'sorted things out.' Which meant the school board publicly declared how shocked—shocked and dismayed—they were to learn about what had gone on at our school. After which, they sacked the principal and a few of the staff who they claimed were the only alien collaborators.
I guess, as they dragged him out of the meeting, Blathers swore revenge on Sunny and me, as well as the makers of Depends Adult Diapers.
I didn't go back to school the first day it reopened; I just wanted to sit in bed and forget about everything that happened. For once, Mom let me stay home.
The next day, when I got there, kids were walking about as if nothing had happened. Sure, a few guys I didn't know gave me high-fives like we were old friends. Besides that, you would have thought it was normal for all the classrooms to have a quarter of the desks empty.
The whole thing felt a bit strange, and I ended up late for class, opening the door right as the bell rang.
As I made my way to my desk, something unexpected happened. Something wonderful and terrible and completely unexpected.
