Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One

by Patrick F. Johnson

  “You should have set one up a long time ago, Frank.”

  7.

  Frank left the building feeling rather satisfied. He felt good knowing Sammie would be taken care of one way or another. Terrelle had proposed approaching him with a generous offer as a silent partner. Frank walked down the sidewalk to the meter where his van was parked. He unlocked it, got in and turned the key. The next few seconds were a blur as his shield became visible, wrapping him in a bubble of safety as the van exploded around him. He suddenly found himself in the street, having bounced off the car that had been parked in front of his van. He stood to survey the damage. Broken tools and burning papers and van parts had been blown outward in about a thirty foot radius. People were scattering all about as he pushed the button on his bracelet. He rounded the corner into an alley when the light went green.

  Once inside the boat, Frank let out an expletive, “Fuck! I loved that van!”

  His alien friends were very matter of fact. Phildan said, “Good thing the explosive devise wasn't any closer to your seat.”

  Gladosanthos' orb added, “Your shield worked flawlessly.”

  “Yeah, but the secret's out. Someone wants me dead.”

  Just then Frank's phone rang. “Hello?..........yeah T, I'm good.........sorry about the mess.........yes, keep to the plan..........later.”

  * * *

  “Let me get this straight, you blew up this guy's van, he was ejected, unscathed, and ran away. Then you lost him?” Jason was furious. “How many bystanders did you kill?” Unsatisfied with the conversation, he hung up the phone. After a few moments, he dialed another number.

  “This is Jason. Do you have eyes on the hospital?” As he listened to the voice on the other end, he formulated potential end points on the map in his head. He had identified his quarry. Now to spring the trap. “I'm sending you a photo that I lifted from the film......The film the reporter had........She had no choice but to be cooperative.......yes, shoot to kill. His name is Frank Ford.”

  He hung up and began to consider what to do about Dylan. He had done well with identifying the gray man from the film, but then he got sloppy. He'd taken it upon himself to stake out the location of the most recent abductions, as only eleven were involved instead of what had been twelve all the times before. And he seemed to be right about the gray man having been somehow enlisted in the services of this other group of aliens. The sergeant had said his name was Frank. The video was incredible. But there were too many variables still. How many aliens were there? And how can a guy survive a bomb and just run away?

  “Dead men tell no tales,” he said out loud to himself. He then called Dylan back. “I'll take the hospital. Be ready for the next delivery.”

  * * *

  “I'm sorry about your van, Frank.”

  “It's okay, Gladys. It's only a van. Were there any casualties?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  He only nodded his approval. His brain was in ten places at once at this point. How had his identity been discovered so quickly? It must have been from the film that had been shot in Texas. He then recalled having told the soldiers his name and maybe that was enough to piece it all together. Still, it seemed pretty vague. These people must have been very resourceful. And how could her voice be so soothing?

  “What are your thoughts, Frank?”

  “How does your remote work? I mean, how do you see?”

  “As you know, I am on the Main Ship. The remote sends me a three dimensional video feed at all times. That is how I appear to be so adept at controlling it.”

  “Is the feed saved? Or is it like a live stream that gets erased as it's viewed or something?

  “It is saved. It will get purged after a preset duration of time unless it gets marked otherwise.”

  “We need to save all the footage from the skirmish in Texas. I realize it was just a raiding party, but we may need to show it. Can you project it here or do we need to be on the Main Ship?”

  “I can reroute it back through the remote. It can be viewed virtually anywhere. But it helps to be in a low light setting.”

  “Good to know. New topic.”

  “What is it?”

  “What do you know about lying?”

  “I try to be honest about most things. Dishonesty has no place in science.”

  Frank laughed, “Not you, Gladys. I mean what do you know about what happens to a human's body when they lie? We need to figure out a way to rig up a lie detector.”

  “I'll see what I can do. Phildan and I can put something together, I'm sure.”

  “Great. Phil, how's the research going on those soldiers?”

  “Not good, Frank.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “My comm chip lets me understand and speak English, but I don't know how to read it yet.”

  “Yeah, it took me a while to learn too. Don't worry about that now. If you guys can get that lie detector up and running then we'll be able to find out what we need.”

  Phildan's face formed his version of a smile. “Who are we going to use it on, Frank?”

  “Anyone and everyone. I'll use it on the damned President if I have to.” His own statement really got him to thinking. “I'm working out the details in my head. But right now I need to get some new clothes and stuff. Mine seems to have blown up.”

  * * *

  They located a twenty-four hour department store in a different location in the country. After nightfall, Frank dropped down to do a little shopping. He was pleased to find his size in carpenter jeans on sale. “This is how the rich stay rich right here. Finding jeans on sale!” He realized he was talking to himself again. But after looking at the rest of the clientele, he decided it was a non-issue. “The freaks come out at night.”

  With fresh supplies in hand, he was raised into the landing boat. Upon entering, he opened a bag of potato chips he had just purchased. “You gotta try these chips.” Phildan looked up from his work and reached into the bag.

  “No meat I hope.”

  “Nope. I swore off the stuff.”

  Phildan's eyes lit up. “These are amazing!”

  “I thought you might like them. If Gladys was here, she'd probably like them too.”

  “That is quite possible.”

  Frank located his tablet and began researching. He wasn't looking for reporters or soldiers though. He was looking for swords.

  “Phil, what do you know about metallurgy?”

  “A fascinating topic, for sure. Next to nothing I'm afraid.”

  “Well, I'll just have to use Earth technology then.”

  The next morning Frank directed Phildan to take the boat over a small store in a town in the state of Arizona. He dropped down for some time. When he finally returned, he was carrying a long rectangular box. Hugging it as he entered the red circle, he eased his hold on it and sat it down on its side as his feet rested again on the floor plates. He opened it to reveal several swords. All of them were of the Japanese variety. There were eight longer swords and two short ones. Two of the longer swords were made out of wood.

  “Why so many?” Gladosanthos asked.

  “Oh, I guess I assumed they'd break. These were the highest quality swords that I could locate.”

  “I look forward to keeping them all sharpened!” Phildan was truly enthusiastic. “Shall I sharpen the wooden ones too?”

  “No Phil, those are called bokken. Training swords. Just for practice.”

  “Very good,” Gladosanthos complimented. “You've planned well.”

  “I'm just winging it. How goes the lie detector?”

  “Phildan and I have been researching the topic. We should have a working model soon. I assume you would prefer it to be invisible to whomever is being tested.”

  “I hadn't given it that much thought, but if you can manage that, hell, it would be perfect!”

  “Lucky for you, Phildan likes a challenge.”

  “Yes I do!”

  “Okay then. While we're all just hangin
g out, we should head back to the island so I can practice swinging these swords.”

  * * *

  For the next two days, Frank split his time between training and making up lies to test his friends' device. His reflexes and memory had improved so much that he only had to watch a technique just a couple times before he could mimic it perfectly. His lies, on the other hand, weren't getting any better. Having been a mostly honest man for his entire life, he found it difficult to make up things to lie about. He resorted to telling fishing stories. In reality he rarely even fished.

  Having drilled with a katana for the past several hours, he was relieved when the orb found him in a clearing, away from the water.

  “I think we have a working model finally. Thanks for all of your input.”

  “For all the whoppers you mean?”

  “Yes. Whoppers.”

  “Gladys, do you ever laugh?”

  “I used to.”

  “Well I know not to pry when it comes to a lady. If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm here for you.” He was thinking to himself that he could listen to her beautiful voice for hours.

  “Thank you, Frank.”

  “You're welcome.” Frank decided to change the subject. “Any news about our soldiers?”

  “We've been busy with the lie detection. To be honest, neither of us can read English well enough to search the internet with any efficiency. Phildan has plans for voice command implementation but it's still in the planning stages.”

  “I'm not too good at searching the internet either, and I read English just fine. Maybe we should head back over to Texas and see if there are any troops still around. I left them quite a mess.”

  “I'm no expert on American military but I can only assume they will try to detain you.”

  “We'll have to risk it.”

  As they made their way back to the boat Gladosanthos commented on an observation. “I've noticed a change in you, Frank. English is a wonderful language for making jokes, and your jokes are coming much more frequently. Have you found that immortality suits you?”

  “It's not that. I just finally got over a lot of shit.”

  “May I ask?”

  “My divorce mostly. She left me for my best friend. So I spent the last seven years moping around. Avoiding people. I wasn't going to let anyone get close again. I didn't wanna get burned again.”

  “I see.”

  “So, did you design us to mate for life?”

  “Not at all. I think that's something you came up with yourselves. Like the whole omnivorous lifestyle.”

  Frank laughed, “That's a good one.”

  He raised into the landing boat to find Phildan readying their departure. It became obvious that Gladosanthos had no problem being in two places at once. He set his tablet to charge and looked around at the drab interior of the landing boat.

  “We should really fix this place up. I mean, if I'm going to spend most of my time here, we should get a couch or something. Maybe a big screen TV or something. And some windows.”

  “The exterior needs to be uninterrupted for the camouflage to work properly,” Phildan explained. “Perhaps I can use some viewing screens as artificial windows so you can see what's outside.”

  “Yeah, I could wave my hand and say 'on screen'.”

  “I'm afraid I don't understand the reference.”

  “Figures. It's from a show about these people flying around in a spaceship, talking to aliens and shit.”

  “It sounds delightful.”

  “It ain't bad. They wore silly uniforms though.”

  They arrived over the ranch within minutes. Frank couldn't help but to be constantly impressed with the smoothness of the ride of the boat, even at such ridiculous speeds. As the orb projected a picture of the landscape below, Frank pointed to the spot where he wanted to be dropped. It was about a hundred yards from the makeshift military encampment.

  “Which sword would you like?” Phildan asked most enthusiastically.

  “None this time. I want to look as friendly as possible. Wish me luck.” He stepped into the red circle. “Gladys, would you be so kind as to hop into my pocket?”

  As soon as his feet touched the ground, Frank raised his hands in a sign of appeasement and began walking toward the troops. He could see them scrambling in a panic, guns trained in his direction. One marine yelled a command and as the guns were all lowered, he and two others started marching out to meet him.

  “Are you turning yourself in, Sir?” he asked as soon as they were close enough to speak in regular tones.

  “I hadn't planned on it, to be honest. I actually came to check on how those wounded Marines were doing.”

  “Don't make this harder than it has to be. We all appreciate you pulling our guys out of there like that, but you have a lot to answer for.”

  Before Frank could reply he was startled by his shield repelling a large caliber bullet. A few seconds later, after regaining his balance, he could hear the report. The marines instinctively hit the ground. Frank was mildly amused as he noticed all the marines in the encampment scrambling for cover.

  “Was that one of yours?”

  “No, I think it came from that way.” The marine pointed in the same general direction where the news crew had hidden during the Mingrein raid.

  “Phil, pick him up and put him on ice.” He spoke to his hoodie then turning to the Marine in charge, who was still flat on his belly in the dirt, “Sir, I'm sorry I'm not good with military ranks. What should I call you?”

  The Marine's eyes never looked away from the direction of the gunshot as he answered, “I am Sergeant William Taylor. What the fuck is going on over there?”

  Frank turned to see a man about 1500 yards away being raised into the air by an invisible force. “Oh that? My friend Phil just nabbed our shooter. I'll turn him over to you after I ask him a few questions. Any idea who he is? That was one hell of a shot.”

  “There were a few agency boys wandering around. We have orders to maintain a strict quarantine around the perimeter of the alien attack.”

  “Why a quarantine?”

  “Those guys you pulled out. They're all dying. Some alien germs or something.”

  Frank spoke to his hoodie again, “Gladys, you hear that?”

  “Yes, we need a sample of one of the Rotinom projectiles,” the hoodie answered.

  “On it,” Frank turned toward the direction of the ranch house as the Sergeant protested.

  “Sir, I can't let you go in there.”

  “The name's Frank. And my friends want to find out what's making your guys so sick. Do you know where they are being kept?”

  “Walter Reed most likely. But you can't just leave. You need to be questioned.”

  “Look Sarge, I don't really have time for this. I want to fix your friends. You can shoot me if it makes you feel better.” He starting walking away. No shots were fired.

  When he was out of earshot of the Marines he asked, “Gladys, what do you suppose is making the guys sick?”

  “Most likely a simple chemical reaction. It depends on what they used to construct their projectiles.”

  Frank made his way to the road and quickly spotted the mailbox. He turned up the driveway and went past the pickup truck to survey the spot of his skirmish. The place looked totally different in the sun. It was a very nice bit of land with a breathtaking view of endless pastures. The dead hulking corpses of the Mingrein, as well as their little gray counterparts, were all gone. He could see a large blood stain on the front porch. There were plenty of bullet holes to investigate. He opted to see if he could pry a fragment out of the wooden fence post instead of going onto the porch.

  He was bent over prying with his pocketknife when he heard a tiny voice behind him. “Where is your ball?”

  Frank turned on his heel to see the owner of the voice. It was the little girl who had been in the clutches of the porch Mingrein. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. I hope you don't mind me trying to find a bullet that
got stuck in this here fence.”

  “Help yourself!” her father's voice startled him. The man was walking up from the direction of a small barn just to the right of the house.

  Frank extended his hand, “Hi, the name's Frank.”

  “Lester. I was hoping I'd get a chance to thank you for what you did.”

  “No problem. Just doing my job.”

  “What is your job?” the little girl asked.

  “Kaitlyn, mind your manners now.”

  “It's okay, Lester. Kaitlyn, I am the Custodian of Earth.”

  “That's funny,” she smiled. “Where is your ball?”

  “She's right here.” Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out the orb. He was pleased that Gladosanthos didn't fight it.

  “How do you know it's a girl?”

  “She told me.” Frank let go of the orb and let it hover. “Gladys, say hello to Kaitlyn.”

  “Hello Kaitlyn.” Her voice was so soothing and nonthreatening.

  Kaitlyn's eyes went wide. “That is so cool!” Gladosanthos provided a distraction so Frank could talk to Lester.

  “Hey, I'm trying to find a fragment of an alien bullet to analyze. Something is making some Marines sick. They had been shot during the attack.”

  “Let me grab some tools.” Lester left and returned with a medium sized tool box. “Try these.” He handed Frank some needle nosed pliers.

  “Ah, yes. I should have just asked you first.”

  “I can tell you know how to use some tools, Frank.”

  “Well, I was a carpenter before I took this new job. I'm afraid I'm still getting my feet wet.”

  “I'd have to say you're doing a fine job. Who knows where we'd be without your help. Probably on some other planet, or worse.”

  Frank decided not to comment on just how much worse it would have been. He located two fragments and dropped them into his pocket. “How's her arm doing, Lester?”

  “She's sore but I think she'll be fine. That thing had quite a grip on her. I was so scared. I'm ashamed to admit I froze. They were dragging us away and I was paralyzed.”