Crystal closed the distance between them and whispered, “Thank you.”
Alex felt his ears getting warm again. “Oh, it was noth—”
Suddenly Crystal’s lips were on his, and he ignored the stinging pain in his split bottom lip as he returned the kiss awkwardly. Crystal pulled away after a few moments and got to her feet. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She placed it in Alex’s hand and closed his fingers around it.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “My mom’s downstairs.”
“Yeah. Mine too,” Alex replied automatically, then winced at the stupidity of the remark.
::Smooth,:: said Samrai.
But Crystal just smiled and bent down to give him one last peck on the lips.
“Call me when you’re feeling better, ‘kay?”
Alex nodded. “Okay.”
Once she was gone, Alex opened his hand and stared at the piece of paper. He unfolded it and, inside of an ornately drawn heart, was a ten-digit phone number; a number he had wanted to dial many times, but never had the nerve.
::Score?:: Mo’s voice whispered from the back of Alex’s mind.
Alex smiled. ::Score!::
Chapter Nine
July 5th
Alex stared at the ceiling, listening to his father snore next door while his brain swam with thoughts of Crystal and the three aliens sleeping downstairs. While he’d been unconscious, the Replodians told the Walkers that they’d come to town to see the fireworks display and check out the local shops, but had missed their bus out of town when they stopped to help Alex. With Bonaparte being an historical tourist town, the Walkers had accepted this explanation without question. So when Lomaant asked for lodging, Mrs. Walker graciously provided blankets and sleeping bags and offered them the pullout couch for the night.
Between his father’s snores, Alex was able to discern three hushed voices below him. Quietly, he snuck downstairs and entered the dimly lit living room. Lomaant and Mo sat on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other and conversing softly while Samrai knelt at the coffee table with various pieces of the Walker family’s DVD player strewn across the table’s surface.
“Hey,” Alex hissed. “That’s my dad’s DVD player!”
Samrai glanced up at him, and then surveyed the pieces on the table. “Yup. Looks like it.”
“Well, what are you doing to it?”
Samrai rolled his eyes. “Fixing it. Duh.”
“It’s not broken!”
“Don’t worry,” said Mo. “He’ll put it back together just the way it was. Won’t you, Samrai?”
“Better,” said Samrai without looking up from his work.
Alex found a section of table clear of electronic bits and sat. “So what’s the plan?”
“As soon as there’s sufficient light, we’ll go out and search searching for that command center,” said Lomaant.
Alex shook his head. “This farm is over five hundred acres, and a good chunk of that is timber. We don’t even know what we’re looking for. It could take days to find the entrance.”
“We don’t have days,” said Mo.
“Why not?”
“Exactly how long do you think your parents are going to let us sleep on your couch before they realize something’s up?” said Mo. “We need to get out of here. And fast.”
“Besides,” said Lomaant, “we don’t know how urgent our mission is. We may have a truncated time table.”
“A what?” asked Alex.
“No time,” Samrai translated. He was scrutinizing a small white gear.
Alex sighed, but then his face brightened. “There’s an old capped well out in the timber!”
“A whatnow?” asked Samrai.
“A well,” repeated Alex, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a hole in the ground about three or four feet across and really, really deep. In the old days, people would drop buckets into the hole to draw up water.”
“Primitive,” Samrai muttered.
At the mention of water, the Replodians on the couch exchanged glances, got up, and walked to the kitchen. A moment later, Alex heard water running and the rattling of glasses. It suddenly occurred to him that over the course of the night, he had seen the aliens each consume several glasses of water. Maybe it had something to do with their body temperature; in fact, he could feel the heat radiating off Samrai’s body from where he sat.
There was a brief silence as the two aliens drank, followed by the sound of more running water as they refilled the glasses.
Samrai began reassembling the DVD player. “Hey, what’s a guy got to do to get some service around here? Bring me one.”
Lomaant nodded and grabbed a third glass for his brother.
“Anyway,” Alex continued. “The well was capped off years ago with a big cement disk. Maybe if we pry it off, we’ll find some kind of door underneath.”
“It’s worth a shot,” said Lomaant as he reentered the room and handed a glass of water to Samrai, who accepted it with one hand and drank it while continuing to reassemble the machine with his other hand.
“It’s our only shot, Lomaant,” said Mo.
“That reminds me,” said Alex. “We need to do something about your names.”
Samrai licked a stray drop of water from his chin and looked up. “What’s wrong with our names?”
“Well, they’re not exactly what we here on Earth would call ‘normal.’”
Samrai scoffed and returned to his work. “Normalcy is an illusion created by one’s own perception. Besides, I like my name.”
“Deep,” said Mo. “Any more T-shirt wisdom you’d like to impart on us, oh great sage?”
Samrai gave him the finger.
“No, no, he’s right,” said Lomaant. “His mother had so much trouble with my name tonight that she kept calling me Lamont.”
Mo furrowed his brow. “That’s odd. She didn’t have any trouble with mine.”
“Well, of course not,” said Alex. “Moe’s a fairly common Earth name. M-O-E.”
“Really?” said Moe. “Sweet!”
Alex pointed at Lomaant. “As for you, if Mom thinks that your name is Lamont, then why correct her? Let her and everyone else think that.”
“La… mont,” said the Replodian slowly, stretching out each syllable as if tasting them. “I like it.”
Alex smiled.
“Sounds a little prissy to me,” said Samrai. “Be sure to drink your water with your pinkie finger out, La-mont.”
“And you,” said Alex. “Yours is the worst of them all.”
Samrai blinked. “What? Why?”
“Because it’s just one letter away from being the word samurai.”
Samrai grinned. “Cool! So all we have to do is change the spelling and we’ll be all set. Problem solved. Thank you, come again.”
“No, no, you idiot.” Moe slapped the back of his brother’s head. “He said you’re one letter away from a word. Not a name.”
“So what does the word mean?”
“What does it matter?” Alex said. “It’s not a name. You need an Earth name.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“How about Sam? It’s simple. It’s common. It’s normal.”
Samrai’s lip curled in disgust.
“I think it suits you,” said Alex.
“I think it stinks,” Samrai countered.
“Come on, Sam,” said Lamont. “We had to change our names. It’s not that bad.”
“Yeah,” said Moe. “How attached to that name can you be? You’ve only had it for a day.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s my name!”
“Just think of it as a nickname,” said Alex.
“A what?”
“A nickname,” repeated Alex. “A shorter form of your real name. You can still be Samrai, just not around other people.”
Sam scowled, but finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to like it.”
“Well,” said Lamon
t. “We’d all better turn in. We’ve got to get an early start tomorrow if we’re going to find that access hatch.”
Alex nodded and headed for the kitchen. He stopped at the door and turned to address Sam. “Hurry up and put that DVD player back together before my dad catches you.”
Sam slammed the lid back on the machine. “What? You mean this Blu-ray player?”
Alex stared. “What?”
Sam smiled.
Moe shook his head at his brother’s pretentiousness. “Goodnight, Alex.”
“Night, guys.”
“Night, kid,” said Sam as he plugged the machine back in.
Soon the only sounds in the Walker household were Alan Walker’s snoring and the kitchen faucet filling the occasional glass of water.
Chapter Ten
The rains were long gone from the southern Iowa skies, but the memory of their passing still lingered in the air the next day. The air was hot and humid; thick enough to almost swim through, it seemed. Alex wiped the glaze of sweat from his forehead and glanced over his shoulder at the three Replodians, who seemed to be at home in the muggy conditions. After a short delay while Sam fretted over the “gross inefficiency” of the internal combustion engine in Mr. Walker’s pickup truck, the quartet had begun their search.
Alex’s dog, Rocky, had not taken kindly to the Replodians at first, Sam in particular. After some coaxing, however, Moe managed to get the dog to let him briefly scratch him behind the ears.
It didn’t take long to find the covered well in the woods. If not for Alex’s guidance, the Replodians would have walked right past it. They parted the thick tangle of weeds and brambles, exposing a large cement disc on the ground.
“That’s it,” Alex said.
Lamont brushed the boy aside with his arm. “Stand back.”
The Replodian crouched and grabbed the sides of the disc. The cement crumbled as the alien’s fingers dug in.
“Remember,” Sam called, “lift with your back, not your knees.”
“Shut up, Sam,” Lamont growled.
Sam smirked.
With a grunt, Lamont lifted the cover stone, passing it before Alex’s astonished eyes before tossing it aside.
Alex gawked at the discarded disc. “Whoa.”
Moe knelt beside the hole, brushing aside the squirming worms and insects scrambling for cover from the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy. He peered into the gloom and immediately recoiled, wrinkling his nose.
“Well,” said Sam. “Anything?”
Moe shook his head. “Not what we’re looking for.”
Alex cautiously stepped to the edge and looked down. At the bottom of the hole, just barely visible in the dim lighting, was a pool of black, stagnant water.
Sam looked over his shoulder. “Oh, that’s nasty.”
Lamont sighed. “Now what?”
Alex racked his brain. Where would one hide the entrance to a top-secret alien base? It would have to be inconspicuous, yet accessible, probably hidden in plain sight. He looked up and scanned the trees, and then, through a break in the foliage he saw it.
“The silo.”
Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Wazzat?”
Alex pointed. The Replodians followed his gaze to the sixty-foot concrete spire jutting up over the horizon.
Moe squinted. “Seems a bit exposed, doesn’t it?”
“It’s worth a shot,” said Lamont. “How do we get there?”
Alex pointed northward. “We can cut through this pasture.”
Lamont turned to his brothers. “You heard the kid. Let’s go.”
Sam muttered something indistinct as he fell into step behind his brother. If Lamont heard it, he didn’t give any indication. A minute later, they broke through the tree line and into knee-high grass. The only markings in the field were the paths left by Alex and his father two days earlier.
“Ow!” Lamont slapped his palm against the back of his neck. When he examined his hand, his lip curled in disgust. “What is this?”
Alex trudged through the grass and peered at the smear. “Oh, that’s just a mosquito. Get used to ‘em. They’re thick this year.”
Lamont wiped its remains on the leg of his jeans. “What are they?”
“Blood-sucking bugs,” Alex explained.
At that moment, a rather large mosquito landed on Sam’s hand, and he felt a light stinging sensation. He watched, fascinated, as the insect began to feed, its abdomen radiating a soft yellow glow. Then something unexpected happened. The mosquito convulsed briefly, withered, and died. Within seconds, nothing remained but a fine black powder that was carried away by the wind.
“Hmm,” said Sam. “It looks like we’re not their brand.”
As they resumed walking, Moe said, “What are we going to do if the entrance isn’t in that silo?”
“I don’t know,” said Alex. “I’m starting to run out of ide—”
The ground beneath his feet disappeared, and he plunged into a deep hole. His breath caught in his throat, and he struck bottom before he could call out. The back of his head bounced off one of the stones lining the side of the hole, and tears welled in his eyes as his hand flew to the tender lump rising on his scalp.
Above him, the Replodians scrambled for the hole, each calling out frantically for him. Rocky reached the hole first; his shrill, yelping barks echoed off of the walls.
“Hey, kid,” Sam called. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Alex replied weakly. “I’m okay.”
“Where did this hole come from?” asked Moe. “Is it some kind of trap?”
“It looks like another well,” said Lamont. “It must have never been capped.”
“Well that was stupid,” said Sam. “What moron would leave an open hole unmarked?”
Moe cleared his throat and held up a metal fence post, thick with rust and bent at a forty-five-degree angle. Apparently something had bent and pulled the marker from the ground, leaving the well virtually invisible in the tall grass.
“Hold on, Alex,” called Moe. “We’ll get you out. Just hold tight.”
“Okay,” said Alex. He grabbed his head. If only the dog would shut up, maybe his head would stop throbbing.
As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, Alex noticed a stone directly in front of him that was smoother than the rest in the well. He reached out to wipe the dust and mud from it. As the dirt came away, he realized it wasn’t a stone after all, but a glass panel with a glowing red light in the lower left corner.
“Hey, guys, I think I found something.”
“What is it?” asked Moe.
“How should I know?” replied Alex. “Ow, my head!”
“We’ll be right down,” said Lamont. “Sit tight.”
Alex reached out and touched the panel. He hesitated for a moment and then — holding his breath — pressed his palm flat against the glass. The red light blinked out and was replaced by a bright green one on the right.
A loud clanking sound emanated from the other side of the wall as if a heavy deadbolt had been thrown back. A section of wall, large enough for a man to stand comfortably in, slid back, releasing a blast of frigid air into the well. Alex shivered at the sudden temperature change and watched as the false wall slid back another foot farther, then shifted suddenly to the right. Darkness greeted Alex from the new hole in the wall.
A disembodied female voice echoed from inside, “Welcome, Alex Walker.”
“G-g-guys!” The icy air made his teeth chatter. “I th-th-think we can s-st-stop looking now.”
Lamont jumped down into the hole first, and immediately checked Alex’s head for lacerations. He paused once during the examination to zip his jacket, tucking his chin to his chest to ward off the chill. Finally he concluded that the bump on the back of Alex’s head was nothing to worry about and gestured to Moe.
Moe scooped Rocky into his arms and dropped down beside Lamont. The dog squirmed until the Replodian released him. His paws had hardly touched the ground before
he started licking Alex’s face.
“Get off!” Alex protested, shoving the dog away.
“Hey,” Sam shouted from above. “What’s the hold up down there?”
Lamont hugged his arms to his chest, slipping his hands under his armpits “It’s cold.”
“Oh,” said Sam. “Well, in that case, you go ahead. I’ll stand watch.”
“Get down here!” Lamont snapped.
“Fine! Jeez!” Sam climbed down the shaft, using the rough stones as foot and handholds.
It was cramped in the confined space of the well, but the heat radiating from the Replodians relieved some of the chill in the air. Finally, the air warmed to a tolerable level and they entered the darkened chamber one-by-one, fanning out to search the room.
Alex felt along the wall. “I can’t see a thing. How do we turn on the lights?”
At the mention of the word “lights,” the room blinked to life. From every corner, bright white lights flickered on and illuminated the expansive chamber. On the west end of the room, a large view screen occupied most of the wall. A raised circular platform stood in the center of the chamber. A similar device descended from the ceiling directly above it.
Moe whistled. “This place is huge! Look, there’s a door. There’s more to it than just this room.”
“And there’s another.” Alex pointed to the north wall. “It must spread out underneath the entire farm.”
“I wasn’t expecting anything like this,” said Lamont.
“What were you expecting?” asked Sam. “A tree house with a secret handshake to get in? Maybe a sign that says, ‘No girls allowed’?”
“No, I just wasn’t expecting something this… big.”
Sam smirked. “That’s what she said.”
Moe pointed to the object in the center of the room. “What do you suppose that thing is?”
Sam scrutinized the machine. “Looks like some kind of three-dimensional imaging device.”
“How would you know?” asked Moe.
Sam’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. I just… do.”
“It’s probably the same reason he’s so good at fixing stuff,” said Alex. “I bet we’ll find all our answers here.”
Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga Page 7
