by Rod Little
“It's an improvement, trust me.”
Now Shane took his turn and ran his hand over Jason's short hair. “Too bad, I was hoping you'd start an 80's hair metal band.”
Jason pulled away, laughing, “Okay, okay, are you finished? Stop touchin' me.”
“Almost,” Shane said. “I just want to rub it one more time for good luck.” He reached across and rubbed the top of Jason's head again and received a light punch in the arm for his efforts.
There was a pause, before Sam got serious. “Look, guys, does it bother you at all? I'm from the enemy. My brother and I are part of them. We are Neptunes. Neptonians, or something like that.”
“I think he said Sayans,” Bohai corrected him. “...and the hell with that. You're with us, aren't you? You're no more an enemy today than you were yesterday. And besides, we've all got a dodgy past. I'm a freak who talks to animals, and Jason here... well, Jason is just a freak.”
They joked together the way friends do, but Sam would not drop the subject.
“Everyone looks at me differently now.”
“They've always looked at you different, dude, your whole life.” Bohai forced him to recall those painful growing years. “Same as with me.”
“But this is worse. Before, I was just the sparkler boy. Now I'm the alien sparkler boy.”
“That will change,” Bohai assured him. “We're with you, all of us. This place is important, this fortress of ours. If we stick together, we can keep it and make it work.”
“Okay, this is getting way too After School Special for me,” Shane said. “Do we need to hug it out? Or can I get back to my job?”
“No hugs!” Jason pleaded. “Please, no more touching!”
They quieted down as Camila came up the stairs. They stopped talking, the way students stop joking when the teacher enters the room.
“Don't let me interrupt,” she said.
“We'll leave you two alone,” Sam whispered to his brother. He winked and kissed the air. “Come on, weed-boys. Let's find some food. I need a snack.”
Shane flicked Sam's ear and told him to get lost. The three boys disappeared down the stairs, arguing about what they missed most at night: the internet or TV. It was a tie, until Bohai pointed out he missed internet-TV.
Camila handed Shane a bottle of Cherry Cola. He took it and held it up to read the label.
“Wow, what's this?”
“We don't have many,” she said, “but we're celebrating our first victory. So go ahead.”
“I'm not sure it was a victory, but I'll take it anyway.” He pretended to examine the bottle as a wine connoisseur would. “Nice vintage. Split it with me?”
“Yep. That's the idea.”
He took a swig from the bottle and handed it back to her. They talked for hours, alone just the two of them. He felt comfortable with her.
After his shift, she spent the night in his room. Even though they had only kissed and fallen asleep together, at dawn his only thought was: What if we have half-breed alien babies?
✽✽✽
Somewhere in between late night and early morning, Sam woke up frightened by a nightmare. His body felt cold, even though his chest and arms glistened with sweat. It took a long minute for him gain his bearings and to realize he wasn't in a classroom, but in a hotel at end of the world.
He had dreamed he was back in high school, had green skin and could morph into a cold black creature not unlike the lizards they had been fighting. In the dream, he ate Billy Morsky alive.
Sam groaned, covered his head with a sheet and went back to sleep. Being a non-Earthling was going to take time to digest.
Chapter 38
The next day the air felt thin to Dexter. He could hardly breath, as he unfolded the cloth surrounding his precious box. Its design was so ancient, the dinosaurs would have been impressed by its antiquity. And it had been resting here on Earth, right under Walter's nose. That zealous scientist had never known he was keeping a mechanism of alien origin, protecting it, touching it, and even disregarding it. The answers to so many questions lay within his grasp all these years. Like a man dying of thirst and charged with guarding a small obelisk that turns out to be a thermos full of water.
That thought made Dexter smile with a genuine shred of humor. For the first time in a decade, he almost laughed.
Have I ever laughed? He wondered, then dismissed the notion. Of course he had, but not on Earth. Nothing good had ever come to him on Earth. He missed his home.
He thought about the half-breed Sayan boys, especially the one with the spark. A small part of him wanted to save them from the inevitable future of this planet. But a larger part of him simply didn't care anymore. There was a time when he cared about everything, perhaps too much. Those days were long gone now, left behind like so many broken childhood toys.
Dexter sat down before his communication box that – at long last – lay on his desk, his treasure regained once more. He had retrieved it from Walter without incident, as the animosity between the two scientists had already begun to fade into mere dislike. The two could not be considered friends again, but certainly were no longer enemies. He suspected Walter only wanted the secrets of Neptune from him. The man was a scientist first, above all else, greedy for knowledge; but Dexter was not going to be so accommodating. He did not intend to spill any secrets just yet.
How many years ago had this all started? How had he come to this place? Dexter could scarcely remember. Or he could remember, but didn't want to.
“Loxtan, my brother,” he said aloud as if exhaling a poison. In his mind, his older brother was the source of all evil in Dexter's small world.
The mistakes made in his life, he could hardly count now. He pushed aside the pool of self-pity starting to well up, and steeled himself for the future. There still was a future for him, he partly believed that. He had to believe that. And now, at least, he had a way to send a message to the only person who mattered anymore. Until now, the timing had not been right, and the means out of reach.
Gently he placed one hand on the box, like a pirate fondling a gold bar. It felt smooth and warm to the touch.
The glyph on its top surface, a character of his moon's written language, lit up and glowed orange.
Carefully he crafted his message in the local dialect of his home moon. He had to get the words right, no miscommunication. In a moment the machine would encode the words that Dexter had yearned to speak for so many years.
“No more waiting. It's time now,” he said to himself. He had waited too long already.
Dexter activated the device with a swipe of his hand. The top glyph now turned blue, a cool color, soothing to the Sayan's weary eyes. Symbols on the side lit up one after the other in yellow, then orange, then blue. The box hummed imperceptibly. It was ready to send and receive.
After a deep breath, he leaned in closer to the box.
And he spoke.
To Be Continued in
Sons of Neptune, Book 2 :
Revenge of the Spiders
For more information about the “Sons of Neptune” book series, and other books by Rod Little, visit the author's website: www.rodlittleauthor.com
If you enjoyed Earthweeds, please leave a review on Amazon. Thanks!
About the Author
Rod Little has written for two dozen science fiction, fantasy, and horror magazines over the past two decades. He has also written novellas for the Wayward Pines series and The 100 series, and five novels, including his own series: Sons of Neptune.
Born in East Peoria, Illinois, Rod later moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and worked as a translator. In 1994 he opened a sci-fi gaming store called Starbase One on Pittsburgh's famed Forbes Avenue, which he kept open for eleven years of fantastic fun. In 2006 he moved to Thailand to begin writing again.
Rod travels often around the world, especially Asia, but prefers intergalactic travel. He is partial to the Carina Nebula, where he still has friends of an alien nature.
“Rea
ding sci-fi should open your eyes and make you think, but it should also be fun.”
Books by Rod Little:
Sons of Neptune:
Earthweeds
Revenge of the Spiders
The Last Starbase
Wayward Pines: Dark Pines
For more information visit:
www.rodlittleauthor.com
Feel free to contact the author with any questions or comments. Feedback is always welcome!
