The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Tow sat within the wellness center’s dome-shaped confined space, sited on the lower level of the ship. With hands clasped together behind his head, he let the warm, moist air soothe his injured outstretched leg, as well as calm his equally wounded psyche. Tow reflected back to the last time he’d been to the chamber, which was capable of administering to four individuals at once. It was with Soweng, when he’d first kissed her. Or had she kissed him? Why had they waited so long … two years? So much time wasted.

  “Captain Tow.”

  Tow sighed, “Yes … go ahead.”

  “One of the Howsh vessels has moved on from Neptune and is currently en route to Uranus. The other two vessels will be completing their terrestrial scans shortly then moving on.”

  “Terrific. Don’t you ever have any good news for me?”

  “It is a very large planet. It will take them much longer to traverse—”

  Tow cut the AI off: “I’ll be out shortly. You can update me then.”

  Tow tried to mentally retrieve the image of Soweng, the feel of her lips upon his. The way she’d looked at him with such intensity. But the moment quickly passed. More pressing issues now clamored for his attention.

  He raised his leg, probing it with outstretched fingers. He increased finger pressure downward, at the location of the injury, where a hairline fracture had made his life miserable for so long. Bones don’t set well in space. The pain now was significantly less, and he figured he’d need only one or two more healing sessions.

  * * *

  By the time Tow entered the bridge, it was getting dark outside. Dusk. Looking through the window, he watched with fascination at what the AI orb had referred to, pointing with one of its articulating arms, as fireflies. Magically, they glowed on and off, with no determinate rhyme or reason. Perhaps some kind of mating ritual? he wondered. Tow was finding it harder and harder to keep within the confines of the Evermore’s hull. The outside world beyond was just too compelling—calling to him. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten his mission—the importance of setting off for Primara: to again set her roots upon her furtive soil, unfold the heritage pod’s wide fronds, and commence the awakening.

  Tow brought his attention back to the view-scape display—the crisscrossing of colored vectors. “All right, AI, talk to me about the Howsh’s scouting progress.”

  “The Howsh have made sufficient progress. Engaging the Evermore’s propulsion system to make repairs will, beyond any doubt, alert them to our location.”

  Chapter 6

  Cuddy awoke to darkness and pain.

  He remembered the two attackers. He remembered Rufus trembling at his feet and tried calling out for him: “Rufus? Here boy …” His voice sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. He then was aware he was no longer outside. No longer lying on the ground near the train tracks.

  “Rufus? Are you there?” Cuddy, trying to make a kissing sound, instantly regretted it. His lips were split. He touched them with his fingertips, finding them swollen and cracked. He felt a bandage on his cheek and another one on his ear.

  Cuddy tried to raise his head but found it too painful to move. He was in his bed, he knew, with his own pillow and the soft blanket Momma had made for him, using long needles.

  “Rufus? Here boy … are you there?”

  He tried again to turn over on his back and, even though it hurt a lot, he did manage to roll over. He heard voices—Momma’s voice and someone else’s. Cuddy’s heart began to race. His eyes turned to his bedroom door as it slowly opened.

  Cuddy watched the tall figure—his form silhouetted in the hallway light—approach his bed. It was the smell that gave him away first: cigarettes and the musky body odor on his Army jacket that needed washing.

  Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed and stared down at Cuddy. “Are you alive, little brother?”

  Cuddy laughed at that, then cringed in pain. “Of course I’m alive … how else would I be seeing you?”

  “Who did this to you, Cuddy?”

  Cuddy heard the seriousness in his brother’s voice. “I’m glad you came home, Kyle. Are you going to stay here? Do you live here now?”

  “I don’t know … maybe. Who did this to you, Cuddy?”

  “Um … I don’t know their names.”

  “There was more than one?” Kyle’s voice rose, and he sounded angry.

  Momma’s voice came from the hallway, “Don’t you be upsetting him, Kyle. There’s plenty of time for all that tomorrow. He needs to rest.”

  “Kyle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where’s Rufus?

  Kyle hesitated. “He’s hurt, Cuddy. Hurt pretty bad.”

  Cuddy stared at his brother’s face. “Is he … dying?”

  Kyle smiled his familiar crooked grin. “I don’t think so. But you won’t be able to wrestle with him for a while. He should be okay in a week or two … maybe three.”

  “Okay … let him rest now. Out with you,” Momma ordered.

  Kyle stood and headed toward the door. Then, glancing back, he smiled.

  Momma took Kyle’s place on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, she kissed Cuddy on the forehead. “You gave me quite a scare, boy.”

  “Momma …? I don’t remember … walking home.”

  “That’s because you didn’t. Kyle got home while you were gone. When it started getting dark I called the grocer. He said you’d left hours earlier so I sent your brother to go find you. He came back with you and Rufus in the car. You both were in a bad way.”

  “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Do you remember Doc Sanderson stitching up your lip and cheek?”

  “No.”

  “He says you’re going to be fine, but you have bruised ribs. You’re all wrapped up around your chest.” Cuddy noticed his chest did feel constricted and, placing an open palm there, could feel the bandaging beneath his pajama top.

  “I’m tired, Momma … I’m going to go to sleep now.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Cuddy sat at the kitchen table, chewing on a mouthful of syrupy pancakes. Pancakes were his very favorite and he was already on his second batch. Fresh off the griddle, Momma carried over three pancakes atop a wide spatula and slid them onto Kyle’s empty plate. His brother sliced off a large pat of butter and spread it across the top of the stack. “Pass me the syrup, little brother.”

  Cuddy, doing as asked, looked over at Momma, who seemed tense. His brother also looked tense. Cuddy wondered if it had something to do with an earlier phone call? He noticed them exchanging serious glances.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Mom?” Kyle asked.

  Sitting down at the table, she said, “I’m not hungry,” using a paper napkin to swipe at Cuddy’s sticky chin. She then glanced out the large kitchen window behind Kyle, toward the long winding dirt drive that led down to Beacham Road.

  Cuddy smiled. Happy that Kyle was back home again. Happy too that he was eating his favorite breakfast, and that Rufus was sleeping in his bed in the far corner of the kitchen. The lab had bandages wrapped around his chest too.

  Momma sat forward with her elbows on the table, her joined hands supporting her chin. Suddenly Rufus’s head came up and barking only once, he looked toward the front door.

  Momma said, “Ahh shit.” Cuddy was surprised. He’d rarely heard her cuss.

  Momma, after exchanging another long glance with Kyle, rose from the table and headed for the door. Glancing out the window, Cuddy noticed a plume of dust approaching from the distance, and watched as a black and white police SUV turned onto their drive. Eventually rolling to a stop in the front yard, the car parked next to Momma’s old Maxima.

  Cuddy rushed to his feet and hurried after his mother. Exiting through the screen door, he waved, “Hi, Officer Plumkin.”

  Momma stood on the porch, wringing her hands in a dishtowel, as Officer Plumkin extricated his large bulk up and off the front seat of the police cruiser. Wrangling the gun belt that was out of position
around his protruding belly, he tapped the brim of his cap. “Morning Cuddy … Mrs. Perkins.”

  Kyle, followed by Rufus, came out too, and the screen door banged closed behind them. Officer Plumkin’s chin came up, and he warily eyed Kyle.

  “When did you get out?” Plumkin asked, his smile faltering.

  “Few days ago.”

  Momma said, “That’s all behind him now. He’s been helping me around the ranch and with Cuddy.” She raised the dishtowel in the direction of her youngest son.

  Plumkin’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “Make sure it stays that way, boy.”

  Cuddy knew Kyle had spent time in jail, that he’d, again, stolen a car. Momma always said Kyle hung out with the wrong people. Officer Plumkin and Kyle were the same age, both twenty-two. They’d grown up together—went to the same high school. Cuddy didn’t understand why Officer Plumkin called his brother boy. Kyle didn’t like to be called boy.

  “Stay out of trouble, Kyle. Nobody wants a repeat of past events.”

  Kyle shrugged. “That’s not what your wife told me last night—after you fell asleep in your tighty-whiteys in front of the TV.”

  Cuddy laughed at his brother’s comment.

  “Knock it off, Kyle!” Momma said, giving him a serious glare.

  Plumkin stared at Kyle for several long beats—then turned his attention to Cuddy. “Cuddy, I understand you had an altercation with some local fellas the other day.”

  “What’s an altercation?”

  Kyle said, “When those two guys beat you up, Cuddy.”

  “Well, hold on there … that’s not exactly how I heard it,” Plumkin said, dramatically holding his palms up in mock surrender. “There’s a hurt young man with a broken nose. He’s pretty upset. Says he wants to press charges.”

  “That’s bullshit … and you know it!” Kyle took a step forward on the porch.

  Momma said, “Officer Plumkin, you know Cuddy. He’d never hurt nobody. Not ever. It just ain’t in him.”

  “Not my call, ma’am. Tony Bone wants justice for what happened to his nose. Says it was a vicious attack.”

  “Oh … come on! It was two against one,” Kyle said. “Two hoodlums against someone who can’t defend himself.”

  Plumkin made an exaggerated expression of astonishment. “Have you looked at this bubba lately? What are you, boy … six two … six three? Two hundred … two twenty?” Plumkin continued on with, “Cuddy may have the small brain of an imbecile, but he’s a full grown man just the same.”

  Kyle was off the porch in two strides, heading straight for Plumkin—his balled fist coming up fast. Startled, Plumkin took a stumbling step backward, his wide ass falling against the door of his cruiser as he fumbled for his pistol.

  Momma yelled for Kyle to stop.

  Kyle held up short—his fist raised and clenched. “Don’t do this, Plumkin. We were friends once. That should account for at least something.”

  Plumkin, fingers working on the holster on his hip that held the unyielding pistol, nervously stared into Kyle’s face.

  Holding his breath, Cuddy watched them, as they stood glaring at each other for several seconds. Finally, Officer Plumkin’s tense face slackened some. His shoulders lowered and his hands came away from his still-holstered weapon.

  “You do know who Tony’s dad is, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve met the sheriff … a few times,” Kyle answered back sarcastically.

  “And there’s more,” the portly policeman said.

  “What … what else, Plumkin?” Momma asked.

  Officer Plumkin’s eyes moved off Kyle to up on the porch. He gestured with his chin, and said, “Both boys say your dog attacked them. Said he was rabid … foaming at the mouth.”

  Cuddy hurried over to Rufus then dropped to his side. Putting his arms around him, he said, “Mamma … they said he had the mange. That they were going to put him down. Then they kicked Rufus hard … in the side.”

  Plumkin watched as Rufus relentlessly licked Cuddy’s face.

  “Looks pretty rabid to me,” Kyle said sarcastically. “Maybe you should have brought some backup … for old Rufus.”

  For the first time, Plumkin cracked a smile. “Let me see what I can do … about Cuddy. I’ll talk to the sheriff, but no promises. But if so ordered, sorry, I’ll be back to take him into custody.”

  “Those boys were more like grown men … the ones who did this to my son and to his dog. It’s them you should be hauling off to jail,” Momma said angrily.

  “Look, I don’t completely believe their story, but there’s still a procedure I have to follow. The sheriff’s looking for retribution for what happened to his son. For now … I do have to take the dog … it’s a formality. Let the vet check him out for rabies. He’ll be in quarantine for a few days … maybe a week.”

  Cuddy didn’t know what quarantine meant. He didn’t like the thought of being away from Rufus for a whole week.

  Officer Plumkin’s cap suddenly flipped high into the air, almost as if it had wings. Since there was no big gust of wind it was totally unexpected. Plumkin’s fumble to try to catch it made Cuddy laugh out loud. The cap landed on the top of the police SUV—well out of Officer Plumkin’s reach.

  Chapter 7

  Staying out of view, the alien, Tow, watched and listened from the barn’s open rear door. Some of what was being said he didn’t understand, but he was mesmerized by the course of events going on just the same. His suspicions about the one called Cuddy were now confirmed. He was a simpleton. A childlike mind in a grownup human’s body. The dark-haired male with the beard, wearing a green coat, was Kyle, his older brother. Apparently, Cuddy was attacked a few days before. From the looks of his face—the nearly closed right eye, the bulbously swollen lips, and the bandages—he’d been severely beaten. The uniformed, portly male Cuddy called Officer Plumkin seemed to hold some kind of power position. He mentioned two other humans. Tow suspected he knew who they were. The same ones he’d observed several days earlier, while walking along the tree line, sitting in the pickup truck. He didn’t like them then, and he liked them even less now. He watched as the uniformed male, wearing a weapon on his hip, opened the rear door of his vehicle. The brother named Kyle attached a long leash to the dog’s neck collar and led him up into the backseat. Tow watched as Cuddy become emotional, pleading for Officer Plumkin to reconsider—to let him keep his dog.

  With the animal secured in the vehicle, the door closed, Officer Plumkin continued to speak to the three family members. Tow didn’t like the tone of Officer Plumkin’s voice. He’d known plenty of similar Pashier—windbags who liked to hear themselves talk.

  Watching Cuddy’s face, Tow felt sympathy for the odd, childlike young man. He found himself getting angry—drawn into their situation. Cuddy had already been beaten and humiliated and now that fat savage was taking his dog away, too. Ignoring his own better judgment, Tow—with a casual wave of his hand—flipped Officer Plumkin’s cap away from the top of his head. Rising into the air, it landed atop the black and white vehicle. Officer Plumkin spun around, confronting the three onlookers and giving each an accusatory stare—perhaps thinking some kind of elaborate prank had been performed but unsure how that was even remotely possible. Flustered, he climbed into his vehicle and drove away.

  * * *

  Tow chastised himself for getting involved—being noticed by those humans could have serious ramifications. He walked back through the dense pines, leaped over the babbling brook, and ten minutes later saw his ship, parked within the clearing ahead. The walk back had given him enough time to think; to take a hard look at his situation. Now that the pain in his leg was significantly lessened—a little self-evaluation was not only timely, but necessary too.

  As he approached he asked the AI orb for an update.

  “Four of the Evermore’s systems have been reloaded and are currently being tested, including those for the propulsion system and the wellness chamber’s artificial intelligence system,” the AI orb
said.

  “Just keep me apprised of your progress,” Tow said, well aware any physical repair made to the damaged emersion drive would take him the most amount of time.

  With little else to do but wait, Tow made the same short trek to the farm a daily occurrence, sometimes several times a day, and he knew why. Unconsciously, he was developing a bond with this strange world and, in a limited way, to its human inhabitants. How long had it been since he’d last had direct contact with another living, sentient, being? Six months? Leaving here quickly meant spending additional time in space; returning to the same lonely monotony. If, and when, he reached Primara, he had no idea if other beings actually existed there. It was a destination derived from ancient legends and fables—touted to be a grand expedition, a pilgrimage—when in reality it was a last ditch attempt to save a dying race. Once I leave this world, I will probably never see another living being again, Tow thought, deciding to cut himself some slack. Although not yet exhibiting any of the disease’s telltale symptoms, the Dirth was inevitable—would probably kill him before he even reached Primara.

  The AI informed him the Howsh had moved on from both Saturn and Jupiter and were finishing up with Mars. They would arrive here on Earth shortly. So why am I wasting precious time concerned with these human savages? He had no answer for that.