It took less than fifteen minutes for Bob to locate the Heritage Pod. They needed to hurry. Missions like theirs were always at risk.
Basically, the Howsh were the enemy of the Pashier; and thus, by default, they were Cuddy’s enemy too. They were a race of vile, furry, aliens that for decades had been hell-bent on eliminating other beings within their home star system; mostly those who inhabited the neighboring planet of Mahli. The Howsh had been highly successful in exterminating the gentle, pacifist, Pashier. First, by bombarding the surface of Mahli with explosive weaponry, then, if that weren’t enough, by dispersing into the planet’s atmosphere a genetic, lethal disease, called the Dirth. What the Howsh had not counted on was the Pashier’s unique capability to go into a form of hibernation—sort of a reincarnation-like transition. Cuddy found their wondrous and mystical transitioning a natural process—an enduring progression of life. The dying, or very recently dead, Pashier were guided into the opened leaf fronds of a heritage pod—an organic, plant-like organism. Its sole purpose in life, as far as Cuddy could determine, was to provide a safe, perpetual, existence for the many thousands of Pashier life forces. That is, until the same, now in suspension, life forces were again reconstituted at some future time. He didn’t know how it all worked, but he found the strange alien evolution process miraculous and fascinating.
Hot and steamy, moisture dripped off the surrounding plant life.
“Um…where is the thing?” Tony asked, looking around. “There’s no pod here.”
“Why don’t you give Bob a minute before spouting off?” Jackie urged.
Cuddy noticed Jackie, of late, was in a particularly foul mood, maybe due to fumes wafting from singed plant life. He reminded himself to stay out of her way as much as possible.
The orb slowly began to rise into the trees. Twenty feet up, it paused, emitting a series of clicks and beeps, then descended to the waiting group.
“The heritage pod is situated high up in the trees.”
Cuddy strained his neck, staring up, trying to get a glimpse of it. “I don’t see it. Are you sure…that it’s up there?”
“They’ve never been placed in trees before,” Kyle said skeptically. “This is weird. I’m not liking this—”
His words were cut short by a loud animalistic shriek. Startled, everyone crouched low and peered upward. Suddenly, the jungle was alive with hulking black shapes moving up in the trees. Shrill squawks erupted from all around.
Above the noise, Cuddy heard Bob say, “Spinktrolls…indigenous tree beasts.”
Furry and the size of small gorillas, they had long thin arms—maybe more like monkeys, in that regard. Their elongated faces reminded Cuddy of pictures of camels he’d seen in nature books. Hanging from vines and extended branches, they swung their big bodies through the trees, springing from limb-to-limb—from vine-to-vine. Incredibly strong, Cuddy thought.
As the blur of black shapes descended from the trees, Cuddy glanced around to the team—instinctively looking for Jackie. Crouching low to the ground, he found her huddled beneath his brother’s outstretched arm. Terrific… she’d turned to him for protection.
As the first Spinktroll beast landed on terra firma, Bob complicated things further—informing him that a Howsh warship had just entered the planet’s upper atmosphere and was heading in their direction.
Chapter 3
Seven years earlier… Woodbury, Tennessee
Kyle, fourteen, Jackie and Cuddy, both twelve—bounded through the tall, waist-high, Indian-grass. Late afternoon breezes had caused a shimmering sea of tans and golds all around them, outward as far as the eye could see. Now late August, the southern enclave, known as Woodbury, Tennessee, was both hot and humid. A wake of disrupted jewelwing and spiketail dragonflies filled the air as the three ran farther and farther away from the Perkins’ farm.
Huffing and puffing, Cuddy used his sleeve to wipe the salty perspiration from his stinging eyes. He was ready to walk for a spell. His head had started to hurt again for he wasn’t supposed to be running around like this. He watched as Kyle and Jackie raced off ahead, leaving him far behind.
Getting lost out here could be a problem. Cuddy didn’t usually go this way—wasn’t part of his daily routine. He knew how to get to town following the dirt road. Once he passed the old black folks’ house—Elma and Rutherford—and crossed over the railroad tracks that went past the high school, the town sat just a little bit farther on. But way out here, Cuddy didn’t know what lay ahead beyond the huge field. Momma said he wasn’t supposed to go anywhere she didn’t know about, and he was fairly sure she didn’t know anything about this particular field.
Finally, he had to stop—the burning in his chest was just too much. Leaning over, hands on knees, Cuddy gulped in deep lungfuls of the thick, heavily scented, air. Dang… they’d be long gone by now. Didn’t even notice me lagging this far behind them. Sure, that was pretty much normal behavior for Kyle—not to think about anyone but himself—but not for Jackie, Cuddy’s best friend in the whole world. It had always been that way. Even with him being a lot stupider than other kids their age—ever since the barn accident—but she never seemed to care. Not one bit. Cuddy squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He knew he wasn’t supposed to fib and he had a feeling he was fibbing to himself. Well, maybe things were different lately. Ever so long now, Jackie had been just like him; a skinny little kid with heaps of energy. But something was happening with her shape. Less bony angles and more curves. Sure, he’d noticed, but not as much as Kyle had, who stared at her a lot now. Sometimes putting a hand on her shoulder, or tickling her, or tackling her like she was one of his guy buddies. Cuddy didn’t like that much. She was his friend, not Kyle’s. He then thought, maybe she’d be running ahead with me instead of Kyle, if it had been Kyle who’d fallen off the hayloft all those years ago. The truth was, Cuddy knew he didn’t simply fall; he’d been pushed. Pushed off by his brother.
Cuddy didn’t want to think about that painful incident anymore. Feeling something on his tongue, he spit into his hand. Several dead gnats pooled in the hollow of his palm. Wiping his hand on his pants, he straightened up. Although alone in the field, he heard something. A motor? Turning around twice, he spotted wisps of black smoke in the distance.
By the time he made his way through the tall prairie grasses and approached the slow-moving tractor, and the man perched atop it, Cuddy had forgotten all about Kyle and Jackie—and about falling onto his head in the barn. But that was normal behavior for him. Ever since that bad day when he was seven, he wasn’t able to remember things for long.
Cuddy smiled and waved. The man steering the faded-red tractor idled down the old machine.
“Are you daft? Good way to get yourself killed, boy.” The old man wearing soiled overalls gestured to the swath of cut grass behind the mower attachment. “Whatcha doing out here, anyway?”
Cuddy didn’t have a ready answer. Instead, he took in the old man’s craggy face, the deep-set lines around his eyes and mouth when he removed his wide-brimmed hat, mopping-up sweat on his brow with a folded blue bandana.
Replacing the hat on his bald head, he leaned forward in the tractor seat. “Hey, you’re that Perkins boy…ain’t that right?”
Cuddy shrugged. “I’m Cuddy.”
The old man, nodding slowly, with an expression that read, yeah…I know who you are, asked, “Lost?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Your dad…Carl…we were friends once when we were quite a bit younger than you are now.”
That got Cuddy’s full attention. He didn’t know much about his father. Had no recollection of him. Momma didn’t talk about him at all.
“Pa doesn’t live with us no more.”
“I know that. He’s living in…Nashville, I think.”
“My pa’s alive?”
“Sure…alive as I am. Though not sure I was supposed to mention anything about that. I think it’s best that you run along home now, boy, I got work to do. Your momma will be
wondering where you’ve gotten off to.”
Cuddy glanced into the distance—to the horizon beyond the field.
“People ‘round here call me Slatch. Hop on up here…your farm’s in the same direction I’m going. It won’t be fast, but I’ll get you back home eventually.”
Cuddy considered what the old man proposed but something was nagging at him. He remembered watching Kyle and Jackie run far ahead of him and suddenly thought of Rufus, his yellow lab. He never went anywhere without Rufus.
“Can you see my dog from up there, mister?”
Slatch stared down at Cuddy for a long moment before he stood, steadying himself with one hand on the steering wheel. “Did you try calling him…there’s hundreds of acres for a dog to get lost out here?”
Cuddy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Rufus! Come on, boy! Rufus!”
Slatch, doing the same thing with his hands, shouted for the dog from high up. “Rufus! Here boy!”
They stopped and listened for a while. “Maybe you left him back at the farm?”
“Maybe,” Cuddy replied, noticing Slatch was now leaning down, a hand extended in his direction. “Climb on up, we’re burning daylight.”
Cuddy strode up to the tractor. He figured the ginormous wheel was nearly twice as high as he was. Taking Slatch’s hand, he felt himself hauled into the air.
“Sit here in front of me…careful not to fall off.”
Cuddy looked around, taking in the view from such a high-up perspective. He felt the motor rev-up and the tractor wheels engage. The blades on the mower attachment whirled around and around, chewing up grass stalks as they rolled forward.
“Um…what’s your name again, mister?”
“Slatch.”
“That’s right…Slatch. Do you think you can tell me about him some more?”
“Who?”
“My pa.”
Chapter 4
Present day…
Dropping down from above, the monkey-like Spinktrolls had become ominously quiet. Together, Jackie, Kyle, Tony, and Cuddy backed away, keeping their eyes on the approaching horde.
Kyle glanced at Cuddy, and asked, “Well, aren’t you going to do something?”
“Something like what?”
“Like your kinetic thing. Just swoosh them away.”
“If it comes to that, I will,” Cuddy said.
Tony made a snorting sound. Grinning, he said, “What the fuck…”
Cuddy didn’t see any humor in scores of wild beasts edging ever closer to them. Brazenly, several were approaching faster than most others. Then he saw what Tony was ogling at. He glanced at Jackie—she’d noticed too. Eyes wide, she covered her mouth with both hands.
Tony pointed. “They’re springing boners. Monkey boners. The whole lot of them.”
Kyle said, “Um…Jackie…looks like you have a few new fans.”
“Gross! This isn’t even a little funny.” Scowling, she gave both Kyle and Tony a mean look then wrapped her arms snugly around herself.
“I think I saw the movie…Beauty and the Beast; this is like that, times a hundred,” Tony said.
As one of the furry Spinktrolls drew a little too close to Jackie, Cuddy stepped forward—his hands outstretched. He used a rapid, shoving motion, which propelled the beast into the air. Arms and legs flailing, it flew backward thirty feet before disappearing into the dense foliage. Even out of sight, it continued to screech the same deafening noise they’d heard earlier. Fellow beasts now joined in, echoing a chorus of shrill cries.
At least that compelled them to back away somewhat, Cuddy observed. He brought his attention back to the tops of the trees, where he could see the organic outline of what he suspected was the heritage pod, though it appeared somewhat smaller than others they’d come across in recent weeks.
“Can you get it down from up there?” Jackie asked, not taking her eyes off her numerous, once-again-approaching admirers.
“Um…I think so. Can you guys distract the beasts…the spinktrolls?” Cuddy asked.
“So…what’s up in the trees is more important to you?” she asked.
Surprised by her question, Cuddy shrugged. “No…of course not.”
Tony said, “You know, I think they’re more like lovers than fighters. More bark than bite. Go ahead and do your thing with the pod, Cuddy. Kyle and I will keep them busy.” He picked a broken branch off the ground. Grasping it in both hands, he brought it up over one shoulder—like a batter waiting for his next pitch.
“And the Howsh ship?” Cuddy asked, giving the orb a quick glance.
“You have ten minutes…fifteen at the most,” Bob replied.
“Why don’t you go on up there, Bob…hover in the tree tops and zap away any vines or branches you see clinging to the pod.”
Bob silently rose into the air. The movement caught the attention of the watchful spinktrolls—momentarily distracting them away from Jackie.
Bob slowed once high up in the trees—hovered there. Moments later, there was a series of bright flashes. As several branches tumbled to the ground, Cuddy raised his palms above his head. Feeling some initial resistance, he quickly found himself supporting the underside of the heritage pod. Psychically, he nudged its heft upward—up and off the tree branch that had been supporting it for years—possibly decades. More bright flashes then more branches and vines fell to the ground.
The heritage pod is now free of any encumbrance, Bob informed Cuddy.
Slowly, Cuddy lessened his mental resistance and the pod began to descend. From the corner of his eye, he saw the damn spinktrolls edging closer to them again.
Tony said, “Um…Jackie, maybe you should go back to the ship.”
“Forget it! I’m not going back. That’s ridiculous, not to mention sexist!”
“They’re like…in heat or something,” Tony added. “And as you can see, almost all are males.” Tony swung his branch at an advancing spinktroll but caught nothing but air as the creature darted away at the last second.
“Males don’t go into heat, dumb ass, females do…that’s biology 101,” Jackie said, nevertheless stepping a tad closer to Kyle. But, like Cuddy, he too was concentrating on the Volkswagen-sized heritage pod looming overhead.
As the pod lowered toward the ground, the more agitated and the louder the beast’s screeches became.
“Guess they’re getting a bit territorial ‘bout us taking the pod,” Kyle said.
With ten feet still to go, Jackie screamed bloody murder.
Cuddy lost all focused concentration. The heritage pod fell the rest of the way to the ground, making a mushy thunk sound.
In the blink of an eye, two spinktrolls were upon Jackie—dragging her off by her hair. Her hands clutched at her head, trying in vain to free herself. Her legs frantically kicked out, but couldn’t make contact with her abductors.
Both Kyle and Tony took off, running after her. Kyle yelled, “Can’t let them reach the trees. They’ll take her up where we can’t get to her!”
Kyle leaped forward, his arms extended in front of him. One hand landed on Jackie’s left leg and he managed to hold on, but now he too was being dragged off.
Using one clenched fist to punch the closest spinktroll, Jackie scream out, “Do something, Cuddy!”
Cuddy was already attempting to do just that. Crap! It wasn’t like he was some kind of telekinesis expert at this point since he’d only possessed the mental ability for several weeks now. Try as he may, as badly rattled as he was, he couldn’t maintain the necessary level of concentration. He watched as Tony threw himself next to Kyle, then grab ahold of Jackie’s other foot. At least, they’d succeeded in halting any further progression into the jungle. But now, even more, beasts were flocking nearby to join in with Jackie’s attackers.
Cuddy realized he’d been holding his breath. Expelling it, he did his best to breathe normally. He also tried to quiet his mind. Despite the craziness going on all around him, he thought about being back home and feeding the
old nag in the barn. He thought about Momma and watching cartoons on Saturday mornings. But it wasn’t helping. His mind was churning—horrific visions of Jackie being dragged up into the trees continued to bombard his senses.
Oh no… A spinktroll was now attempting to mount Jackie—his plank-hard, purplish member waggling back and forth mere inches from her horrified face. She screamed out, “Help me…do something, Cuddy!”
Paralyzed, he couldn’t help her—couldn’t get his mind in the right place. He just stood there watching. Jackie, on the verge of being molested by scores of foul beasts, and he was too scared, or too something, to do what needed to be done. His internal fury grew. He pictured tearing the beast’s head from its neck and shoulders with the simple wave of his hand. Seeing it fly off, end-over-end, with crimson-colored blood spiraling-out in all directions. But that was only a mental vision. Wishful thinking. Three more aroused spinktrolls were now climbing on Jackie, clawing and ripping at her clothes.
Oh God… he closed his eyes, focusing on reining in his out-of-control thoughts—just as Tow had taught him. Finally, he was starting to concentrate. Cuddy opened his eyes and raised his hands. Okay… I can do this.
But Kyle and Tony were already on the move—both now back on their feet. Fearlessly, Kyle tackled one of the beasts—pummeling its elongated face with his fists. Tony, using his heavy boots as a weapon, kicked out, alternating between his left and right foot. He clumsily missed with both. Then, momentarily hesitating to get his body into the right stance—and looking more like a seasoned NFL punter—Tony strode forward and kicked out. He put his entire weight into it—into a kick that connected with the face of the closest spinktroll. The beast’s head ratcheted backward with a decisive crack! Its neck was broken. The beast flew backward—hitting the ground—now a limp and lifeless carcass.
The Simpleton QUEST Page 2
