Frank spent the rest of the evening reading through the book. Frank enjoyed reading as long as it was something he was interested in. This project was the perfect thing to take his mind off the sorrow that surrounded him. He went to his room and counted the money he had been saving from his past birthdays.
The following day, Frank set out on a mission. He purchased a cheap tool kit from the nearby pawn shop. He felt he overpaid, but what chance does a kid have with haggling, really? Then at the hardware store, he purchased a new spark plug, some oil, and a gas can. One quick stop at the gas station and he was on his way home to really get to work. After several hours of very careful work, paying extra attention to not get the book dirty, the lawnmower started up. The grass was cut before his mother returned home from her waitressing. He returned the manual the next day.
“I see that it went well, young man.” Estelle said, almost smiling.
“Yes, Ma'am. I couldn't have done it without your help.”
“Glad to help. But how would you feel about working out a trade?”
Frank listened, not quite knowing what to say.
“If you cut my grass too, I'll let you use my weedeater.”
“It's a deal!” Frank was feeling extra proud as she led him back to her garage. His jaw dropped when he saw the amount of tools inside, hanging neatly on two complete walls.
“This all belonged to Mr Williams. He was very particular about keeping everything neat and clean. No one ever uses any of this stuff. My kids and my grandkids are all too damn busy all the time to even help me out with any of this work. No one even ever calls me unless they want something. I been paying this other kid to cut my grass and it looks like shit.”
Frank smiled at her words. Although they were rather negative, she spoke with a special kind of rhythm that he liked.
“I'm kinda new at cutting grass, but I'd be happy to cut yours, Ma'am.”
“You can call me Mrs. Williams.”
“I'm Frank.”
2.
Frank came to in a dimly lit chamber. There was no visible light source, but everything had a strange red tint. He realized he was upright, and seemed to be stuck to a wall. He was unable to move his arms or legs, but was able to turn his head and look around. The room was oddly triangular, and along one side, which happened to have a curve to it, there were several partitions, metallic in nature, not unlike the dividing walls between urinals in a public restroom. Inside each section stood a person. Frank was in the second space from his right. He recognized Terrelle on the other end, and Wendy, two spaces over from him. They were separated by a person he didn't know. He recognized Sam and one of the guys from the bar as they were waking up. Then to his right was Dark Haired Guy, awake, and staring at the floor with a look of complete terror.
Frank looked down at the substances that were spilled all over the room. He struggled to piece together in his mind just what it was that he was seeing. Then it occurred to him it looked like something he had seen on TV once. It was a show about livestock. And slaughterhouses.
Movement from the opposite side caught his attention, and Frank was surprised to see what at first appeared to be a very short man holding a tablet computer. It didn't take long to realize that it wasn't a man at all. It had four arms and seemed to be covered in scales. Everything else about it was proportioned like a man. There were two large green eyes, a small nose, and a lip-less mouth. Instead of ears, there seemed to be a small hole on either side of its head. A tight fitting dark gray jumpsuit adorned its body. The shoulders seemed to be stacked on top of each other, taking turns going forward and backward as it was holding the tablet with one hand and entering information with two. The fourth hand hung at its side. It pushed a final button and looked up.
A wall panel just to the left of the creature opened up, revealing itself as a door. Six identical creatures walked in. They looked like the classic aliens that are shown on programs about abductions. Large bald heads with grayish skin, big black eyes, and even smaller noses and tiny mouths. The gray of what appeared to be their uniforms was almost a perfect match to their skin tone. And each of them was holding what could only be described as a gun, clutched tightly with their skinny little fingers, covering the room against escape.
Frank noticed Four Arms pushing more buttons, then stopping as if to study the humans as three hulking monsters strode in. The fear in the room was already palpable before, but when the largest of the three of what could only be described as bi-pedal lizards started laughing, one could taste the dread.
“That's it. I'm dead.” Frank's inner monologue was stuck on repeat. The other two joined in the laughter. It was a haunting mix of croaking and hissing, mixed with a deep belly laugh.
The largest lizard paused and seemed to look over everyone. He then walked over to the man that was trapped, sobbing, between Terrelle and Wendy, who were both wide eyed and looked to be on the verge of either fainting or vomiting. The beast reached up and grabbed the man by the chin with his large clawed hand and turned the head left and right, inspecting his quarry. He then used his left claw to grasp the man's right wrist, drawing it upward so his arm was parallel with the floor. The lizard then drew out a great knife from his belt and in one stroke severed the arm clean off, through the bicep area.
Frank stood still, emotionless, as the room erupted in a mixture of screams and crying. The largest of the three laughed again, and as it turned to walk out, it took a bite out of the arm, like a human eating a chicken wing. Wendy passed out. Terrelle couldn't stop screaming. Then as the other two joined in on the laughter and looked around for what or who they would eat, the bonds holding the prisoners were released. Everyone except Frank ended up on the floor in a heap of confusion and paralyzing fear. Frank only reached for his pocket where he kept his favorite pocket knife. He flipped it open, like he had done thousands of times before at work, and he charged.
* * *
Phildan had never been so happy before. While he had always completed his tasks efficiently, regardless of the project, these past several jobs had given him plenty of opportunities to put his favorite skills to use. He was mechanically minded by design, and subservient to a fault. He loved to tinker, and find solutions to whatever puzzle was placed before him. But most of all, he lived to please The Mistress.
She had assigned him to figure out how to affix a thought projector into a landing boat without overtaxing the power cells. He quickly drew up the schematics for her approval with some apprehension, as he realized the power would be inadequate for any group of beings over fifteen, and he feared her reaction.
“Actually, I think twelve would be better than fifteen. That would free up energy for multi-streaming.”
“Again, you astound me with your insight, Mistress,” Phildan had answered with a slight bow.
“Phildan, you do not need to be so formal.”
“Yes. I am trying, Mistress.”
“What do you think of English so far? It took the Main Ship a good amount of time to decode it.”
“It seems a silly language. It would be most fit for bartering with waste brokers. Or any other task that requires over-rationalization.” Phildan had recently uploaded the language to his comm chip, hoping to use it for context, but so far none of the subjects have spoken actual words.
* * *
In the biotech room which was now a modified thought projection chamber, Phildan was joined by The Mistress via remote. The smoked chrome orb floated through the door panel and stuck to the ceiling, giving her a clear vantage point.
“Bringing them to now, Mistress. Going silent.” He manipulated the control to release the subjects from their stasis. His job was now to monitor the controls of his modified projection room, and be on hand in case something failed. He shuddered to think of what images she was putting into their heads as he knew they most likely involved the Mingrein.
Phildan paused from his pad periodically to study the human subjects. He was again amazed by the variety of shapes, si
zes, and skin tones. They all wore different uniforms and their hair varied by the largest degree from very long, to non existent. But these particular subjects seemed to be reacting to the test in very much the same way as all the others before them. Phildan was just beginning to feel sorrow for The Mistress's repeated failure when he noticed that the second subject from the left was acting unusually calm. He double checked the projector reading to make sure there was proper strength in stream number two. Everything checked out, so he looked up in time to see the man studying him back.
The man in the second partition wore a familiar expression. Phildan realized it reminded him of the look The Mistress herself often wore. It was a look of time-worn weariness born from carrying the burden of heavy emotional toil. But that made little sense, as humans were a short lived species. He studied the man closer, noting the gray markings and deep lines that usually denoted a much older human. Shifting briefly to photo mode on his pad, he noticed quickly the non-photogenic complexion.
As the test increased its intensity, Phildan braced himself for the sounds and smells of complete synaptic overload. Everyone stayed on schedule except for the gray man.
A silent alarm beacon in the upper right hand corner of the pad alerted Phildan that a power cycle module had become demagnetized. He looked up to see the chamber releasing the subjects from their shoulder-high artificial gravitational bonds. Eleven bodies hit the floor in various positions. Those who remained conscious were either vomiting or convulsing in fear from the illusions that had been pumped, like venom, straight into their brains.
Only the gray man was left standing. A blade seemed to appear from thin air and into his hand. He took on a warrior stance and lunged at the invisible horror before him. Slicing only the air, the hand with the blade was the first part of the human to hit the floor. Unable to correct in time, or perhaps out of confusion from failing to wound the ghost of whatever the vision held, the gray man landed in a heap, on top of his own blade.
Phildan quickly reactivated the stasis beam. “My deepest apologies, my Mistress.”
Her voice answered from the remote sphere. “There is no need for that. I think we have found our man. If you would please execute the short term memory protocols on these other eleven, and return them to the surface. You will return to the Main Ship, then the three of us shall convene in my work chamber.”
“Yes, of course, Mistress.”
“And please do check him for more blades. I can't have you getting hurt.”
* * *
Sitting alone in the control suite of the Main Ship, she muted the communication relay with Phildan. “So, what do you think?” she asked out loud.
“There isn't sufficient data to form an educated opinion. But I must admit he does look promising.” The female voice came from nowhere and everywhere.
“Please let me know when you have enough data.”
“Of course, Gladosanthos.”
* * *
Phildan excelled at following directions. Having executed his orders perfectly, he stood busily at the table where the gray man was laying. Having bandaged the tissue damage to the mid section, he adjusted the position of the equipment to ready the implant installation.
“It's been a long time since I've been this close to one of them.” Her voice came from over his right shoulders, from her actual physical form. “He is quite sturdy. When diplomacy fails, he will do quite well in a physical confrontation.”
“I have a question, Mistress.”
“What is it, Phildan?”
“Is it wise to give the implants to him before he is interviewed?”
“Time is of the essence, my old friend.” She noticed his scales darken with pleasure at the honorific. “And he could very well die without the procedure. He's lost a lot of blood, and I foolishly didn't prepare for this contingency.”
“Very well, then.”
“Let me just remind you that he mustn't see my true form. After the installation, you'll take him in the landing boat back to the other side of Terra. Circle far from the moon, as you know. I will join you via remote. It's time to use your new image projector.” Phildan's scales darkened even more. “Just look at his hands.”
“What about them?”
“This human is certainly no stranger to hard work,” she answered.
“He doesn't look like a soldier. He is much too disheveled.”
“Perfect. The stasis won't hold for long after the implants are activated.”
* * *
Frank was balancing between consciousness and the sweetest slumber he had ever known. The sense of self-awareness that all sentient beings shared had assured him that this was death. Death wasn't so bad. But then his eyes opened to the soft light of a very plain room that contained beside the platform he was laying on, a small table and one stool. He could see neither a door, nor any windows. His curious mind, instead of wondering his actual whereabouts, was busy trying to locate the source of the soft white light that illuminated the sparse chamber. And that's when he saw the orb. It was a small shiny sphere about two inches in diameter. It resembled a slightly blackened pinball floating silently near the upward corner of the room adjacent where he was laying.
“Are you able to stand?” The female voice came from what seemed to be nowhere, or perhaps from the orb. Frank swung his legs over the edge of the table to test their strength. He paused to regard his bare upper body.
“I could have sworn I'd stabbed myself,” he said out loud, mostly to himself.
“Your wound has been mended.” Frank once again looked around, searching this time for the source of the voice. Two wall panels were of a slightly darker gray than the others but there were no speakers or openings of any sort.
“Is this some kind of hospital? I hope so because I'm definitely losing my mind.”
“This is not a hospital.”
“What the hell is going on? I've been seeing things.”
“Reptilian creatures and little gray beings?”
Frank blinked.
* * *
The Senator was staying late in his office, looking over matters of a personal nature. After dismissing his receptionist, the last remaining staff member of the evening, he unlocked the bottom right drawer of his desk and pulled out the ledger. The numbers were quite impressive. Having inherited the reserves of his predecessor, in addition to the new payments, he was wondering if now would be a good time to start considering an exit strategy. With the disappearance of the Judge five years prior, due to mysterious circumstances, his share of the gold had quadrupled. And so had his responsibilities.
Just then the phone rang, startling him so that he nearly slipped out of his leather high backed chair. It wasn't his office phone or even his cell phone, but that other phone. The one that only rang when it was time to arrange an exchange.
“Yes?” His voice was beginning to waver, showing his age. Nerves were starting to get the better of him.
“Senator,” the thin voice on the phone said amid eerily haunting chuckles, “it's time for us to place another order.” The laughing paused for a moment as his response was awaited.
“W-What is it that you need?”
“Pigs. Cattle. Several humans.” That part used to bother the Senator, but then he realized the people being rounded up for delivery would hardly be missed. Which was just fine as they were never seen again. “The standard payment of course.” He thought briefly of strange experiments, and probes.
“Yes, of course. I'll have my people arrange for pickup at the usual place.”
“Good, good.” More laughing. “One more thing Senator” The laughing paused.
“What is it?”
“Our timeline has moved up, we need your planet now.” The other line erupted with more laughter than ever.
“But, but you said it would be several hundred years....”
“Relax, Senator. Soon every human on the planet will answer to you.” The laughing became slower, more ominous. “And you will answer
to Groll. Now you need to really turn up the heat, if you catch my meaning.” Then the line was dead. He found himself clutching the small vial of fluid that he almost always kept on his person.
The Senator closed the phone and placed it on his desk. The ramifications were staggering to consider. He had sold out all of mankind. But at least he will be sitting on top of the heap. He picked up his second phone and found the number, pushed the button and waited for the other party to answer.
“Yes, Senator?”
“Jason, arrange for a delivery. Pigs, cattle, and people. Usual place.”
“I'm on it, Sir”
He hung up the phone and tried to focus on writing the draft for a bill to deregulate everything he can think of to speed up global climate change.
“King Spears? President Spears?” he mused to himself as he put away the ledger after a final glance.
3.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I will explain everything. Please don't be alarmed at what you are about to see.”
Frank doubted anything could alarm him any further. But he was quite shocked to witness a woman materialize out of thin air right before him. She was of average height and of slight weight. Her gray hair was cut short above her ears and parted to the side with bangs that were swept just above her pale blue eyes. Although she looked quite dignified, she wore a worrisome, empathetic expression that reminded Frank of his grandmother. He couldn't decide of she was wearing robes or some sort of long white dress.
After a short, polite pause to allow Frank to gather himself, she spoke, “I am Gladosanthos Mod Suercey, High Minister of Science as Appointed By the Grand Council of the Sessik.”
Frank blinked. “Wow, that's....” he paused, “that's quite a mouth full.”
“I see from the placard we found on your person that your name is Franklin Ford?”
Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One Page 2
