Nobody messes with Cuddy and lives to talk about it. But he surprised even himself and kept his cool after that—for the most part. He owed Momma that much—not to be thrown back in jail just days after returning home. If prison had taught him anything, it was patience. So he bided his time and waited. But then Tony went one step farther, stealing old man White’s mustang, making it look like Kyle had stolen that one too. Kyle still didn’t know why Tony was going to such extremes to fuck with him. Hell, if anything, it should have been the other way around. In any event, that act was the last straw.
Kyle showed up at the sheriff’s house early that morning. Noticing his police cruiser wasn’t there, he went inside and found Tony and Gary sitting next to each other on the couch. As cartoons blared forth from the TV, they didn’t notice his presence while passing a bong back and forth. Kyle, coming around the side of the couch, pulled Tony to his feet and saw his nose still taped up. But Gary was apparently less stoned than Kyle had estimated. He jumped to his feet and connected with two solid hits—one to Kyle’s nose and one to his eye. As Kyle staggered backward, barely dodging a wild punch from Tony, he balled-up his fists until his knuckles turned white. With one year, seven months, and three and a half weeks of rage consuming him, he stepped in and elbowed Gary hard in the mouth. Two of his upper front teeth ended up somewhere on the carpet. Kyle next aimed for the two white strips of tape, striking Tony twice in his already ruined nose. As he doubled over in pain, Kyle kneed him in the balls.
“The second I get out of the joint you beat up my brother! What was that supposed to be, some kind of message?” Kyle yelled—infuriated. “What … you wanted to keep me quiet that you were there … along with me on that joyride? I should rip your head off your pimply neck!”
Both Tony and Gary were down for the count, though Tony was still conscious. Kyle knelt on the floor beside him and, putting his mouth next to his ear, said, “Can you hear me, Tony?”
“Fuck you … I’m going to kill you. My dad’s going to—”
“No, Tony, you and that idiot friend next to you did this to each other. That’s what you’re going to tell your father.”
“Fuck you.”
“There’s one thing I did gain in prison, Tony.” Tony didn’t reply.
“Friends. Friends like Olson Briggs. Remember big black Olson from our high school football days? He played right guard. Well, he’s a lot bigger now … must be three hundred and fifty pounds. Anyway, Briggs was in there for, I kid you not, ripping a man’s arm off. Tony … he ripped a guy’s arm right off at the shoulder in a bar fight for teasing him about his damn lisp. You remember Briggs’ lisp, right? I think you used to tease him about it too. Anyway, Briggs is out of prison now … got out a month before me. He and I are still pretty good friends. He liked me in there. I treated him like a regular guy. And he saved my ass, literally, while I was in there. Nobody messed with Briggs, or with me. Tony, I think I might want to give my friend a call. Have him drop by here sometime. But I have to warn you; he picked up some bad habits in prison. But we won’t go into that right now.”
Tony shook his head, his words coming out wet and nasally, “No … I remember Briggs. Yeah, Okay … Gary and I did this to each other. I promise.”
“That’s good, Tony. But if I even hear your name come up in a conversation, I’m sending pile-driver Briggs, that’s what everyone called him in the big house, over here. He’ll make both of you his bitches and you’ll be sitting on stacked pillows for at least six months. I kid you not.”
Kyle left them both lying on the floor. There was no guarantee Tony would keep his word, but he’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.
Up ahead, he saw flashing red and blue lights coming off of the cruiser’s light bar. He slowed under the speed limit as three cruisers sped past, their sirens blaring. Next, he heard the distant firehouse alarm come alive—bellowing out back in town. Kyle switched on the radio, hearing nothing but static. Even changing the station made no difference. He looked up at the colorful sky and thought he saw something fly past in a blur overhead, pretty sure it was a helicopter. He’d heard about the situation with the nuclear power plant. Someone shit the bed, a colossal screw up, and now radioactive steam was venting into the air. He thought about Momma and Cuddy and stepped harder on the accelerator. Then he saw it again, this time in the rearview mirror, approaching low to the ground, and coming from behind. It flew right over the top of the car and Kyle reflexively ducked his head. What the fu … realizing that it wasn’t a helicopter. No doubt about it, it was some sort of spacecraft. Not some kind of military secret project, or something NASA had come up with. The craft was dark and looked threatening with all its sharp angles and edges. Weapons were clearly visible—mounted on the outer wings and along the underbelly. The outside of the vessel was a complicated looking assemblage of what looked like interconnecting pipes and junction boxes. Everything about the vessel was ominous.
The craft continued following along in the same direction of the road. Kyle, too slow moving his foot from the gas pedal to the brake pedal, suddenly had all four tires lock, causing a painful screeching sound. Smoke from burning rubber billowed into the air. The Maxima finally slid to an angled stop. The spacecraft set down fifty yards ahead and he had almost plowed smack into it.
Kyle sat there, his hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. The engine had stalled and he heard the tic tic tic of it cooling. Black smoke from the hot tires was slowly dissipating from around the car. Kyle continued to stare at the spacecraft and figured it was several hundred feet long—twice as wide as the two-lane road it rested on. Small jets of steam periodically spewed out from various points along the ship’s hull. Kyle could feel heat emanating from the ship’s stern, where two thruster-like cones faced the car.
“This isn’t happening,” he said aloud. He had forgotten to breathe and suddenly took in a lungful of air. The triangular-shaped craft was suspended on three metallic landing struts, and looked battered—beat to shit. At one time, it was probably orange in color but now was more a sooty gray.
“What am I doing? I need to get as far away from this thing as …”
Suddenly, an underside section of the spacecraft began to lower. Amazed, Kyle watched as events transpired—he was paralyzed with a combination of fear and stupefied fascination—which kept him sitting alert in the driver’s seat—his hands gripped on the steering wheel. The lowering section of the ship seemed to be some kind of lift—a platform. It soon became apparent that three sets of legs were standing on the platform. Not human, they were thick as tree trunks—and furry. As the lift continued to lower, more and more of the three alien beings became visible and he found it difficult to breathe in. He’d seen pictures of big foot before and these three could pass for his much larger cousins. Except big foot didn’t carry advanced weaponry, like these aliens did.
The furry aliens jumped from the lift just before it reached the ground and, moving fast, headed straight for Kyle.
This can’t be happening …
Chapter 20
Captain Holg unconsciously coughed up a galk from the back of his throat with a guttural choking sound, then began chewing the congealed secretion. Primarily composed of thick phlegm—mixed with hundreds of strands of snarled hair—the habit was similar to a cow chewing its cud. All Howsh found strange comfort indulging in the practice.
With a bridge crew of seven, the captain paced back and forth behind them, silently fuming. The venting of radiation into the atmosphere had been an ingenious tactic, and one, he was certain, instigated by the hiding lone Pashier. The indigenous savages of this blue world simply weren’t capable of that level of intelligence.
Captain Holg’s baritone growl filled the small space. The others mimicked the sound, a practice customary among subordinate Howsh crewmembers. Holg, now standing behind the tactical officer, Tee Ro, assessed the console readouts and his growl intensified in volume. The ship was called the Arm of Lia. Its sensor array wa
s practically useless. Both long- and short-range scans were indeterminate in providing the specific location of the Evermore. But Captain Holg knew they were close … of that he was certain.
I O stood tall, twitching his shoulders and upper back. “Tee Ro … continue the search. I will be in the Containment Lab …”
* * *
Coming around, Kyle had the distinct sensation of movement—like a pendulum swinging back and forth. He opened his eyes to an upside-down view of a dingy metal wall in a place he didn’t understand. Where the hell am I? His head throbbed. With a profound sense of dread, he remembered driving Momma’s Maxima when a strange craft—a spaceship—landed in the middle of the road. Like something out of a movie, aliens exited the ship and were approaching the car. Scared shitless, Kyle sat frozen. If only he’d put the car in reverse and hightailed it out of there. Why didn’t I do that? Instead, one of them raised a weapon and shot him.
Kyle tried moving his legs, but couldn’t. Hanging upside down, his legs were bound at the ankles to somewhere high above him, his arms bound behind his back. He found if he shimmied his hips left then right, he could build up enough momentum to spin his body around and face in another direction.
Snap … crack … snap … crack … crack … Instinctively, Kyle grimaced at the sounds. Unsure what they were, there was something familiar about them nevertheless. Perhaps it was the beastly grunts that came along with them—grunt … snap … grunt … crack. Exertion grunts! Like the sound you made removing over-tightened lug nuts changing a tire.
As Kyle’s bound body slowly spun around, one by one other hanging forms came into view. Suspended upside down—their legs bound and secured to something high up out of view—were three women and two men of varying ages, all naked. He realized he was naked as well. Three wires were attached to their abdomens—secured to bloodied metal probes that penetrated their bodies. The other ends were tethered into a small box, which swung free. A grizzly sight. Grunt … snap … grunt … crack. One of the big foot furry beasts, Kyle realized, was the chief source of the sound, at least the grunting part. The other sounds were of bones breaking within limbs. The male being tortured looked rubberlike—like a big Gumby toy. Although he seemed conscious, his screams were eerily mute in contrast to his desperately pleading eyes. His gaping, wide-open mouth was the most frightening sight Kyle had ever witnessed, and one he would never forget. He tried to control his own hyperventilating, but it was no use. He was beyond terrified. Oh God … when will they turn their attention on me?
Then something strange strode into the compartment. Clearly some kind of robot, it also was covered with long fur—nearly identical to the alien big foots. They had made the robot in their own likeness … sort of. The big-foot-like creature grunted something at the robot, which then bent over and moved its mechanical head close to the man’s ear. Its distorted robotic voice was beyond frightening. “Where is the spacecraft? Tell me … and your misery will come to an end.” The robot then touched something on the hanging box and the man’s bone-chilling screams reverberated all around. With a raspy voice, almost undecipherable, the man screamed, “Ahhh! ppplease stop … please … I … I don’t know anything about any spaceship!” The robot next touched something on the box and the man’s screams mercifully silenced.
Another furry bastard entered, wearing a red angled sash, and both the torturing alien and the robot momentarily bowed their heads. Must be someone in charge, Kyle thought, and tried to say something—to tell the one in charge there’d been a terrible mistake. That he wasn’t supposed to be there. But like the Gumby man, he was voiceless.
Kyle felt sick as he watched the alien in charge move from one upside-down prisoner to the next. Red sash hesitated then began to openly defecate, his excrement plopping down below onto a widely spaced metal grate. Disgusting. Kyle closed his eyes, the only aspect of his present life he had some control of, and trembled as the footsteps approached.
* * *
Deep in thought, Holg moseyed between the savages’ hanging carcasses. As disgusting as the Pashier were, these humanoids were worse. Their lack of intelligence … their pink, now exposed, flesh … so revolting. He symbolically looked upward and silently asked Thonna, the god of all gods, what he should do next. Above and beyond finding the Pashier’s ship—destroying the wretched heritage pod—and exterminating the one called Tow, what about this world? At some point, like the others, would it too require extinction? To be cleansed of these vile creatures—these ungodly life forms? Not lost on Holg was their similarity to Mahli. Yes, dangerous to let the humans evolve much further. He contemplated what another cleansing would entail—weeks, if not months, of eradications. Relentless plasma strikes into primary population centers. Dispersion of Dirth, of which only so much remained within their storage canisters. He needed to decide if this foul planet warranted using that limited supply up.
Chapter 21
As they sped through the town of Woodbury and passed in front of the firehouse—the noise coming from the wailing air raid siren made Cuddy want to cover his ears with his hands. He was folded into the bug’s cramped back seat, while Jackie drove and Momma occupied the passenger seat. Every so often, Momma glanced back at him, looking concerned. And every so often, Jackie’s eyes found him in the rearview mirror. Before the three of them had rushed out to the car, he had dropped the bombshell about the alien … and the spaceships. Cuddy couldn’t worry about their concerns and doubts about his sanity—not now, anyway. He had his own issues to deal with at present. For one thing, his mind had continued to transform over the hours since he’d sat within the confines of the Evermore’s wellness chamber. Cuddy thought about Tow and his decision. One that fundamentally changed Cuddy’s life. Perhaps Tow hadn’t considered the ramifications of bringing a human into the chamber—the adverse effects that would ensue. Tow had told him that Pashier and human brains were so very different. Tow had contemplated on that—on the fact that, from a technological evolutionary standpoint, the Pashier were obviously far more advanced. Tow had said the human brain was much larger—with their hundreds of trillions of firing synapses and exponentially greater capacity for learning.
At the moment, Cuddy’s cognitive processes were overwhelming him. The rapid transition—going from being an imbecilic child-like individual to … whatever he was now—had adverse effects. It was one thing to be smarter. But that hadn’t compensated for the simple fact his emotional state was constantly in flux. He was spending so much time with self-talk—reining in the wild spikes of feelings—one moment joyful the next sorrowful. One moment angry the next something else. He wished Tow was here. He’d tell him how to cope … what he needed to do.
“What is it, exactly, the nurse told you on the phone?” Momma asked Jackie.
“Only that there had been a change in Dad’s condition and I should get myself to the hospital as soon as possible. I don’t think the nurse wanted to tell me over the phone. I’m worried sick that it’s something bad … I just want to get there.”
Cuddy felt the little car accelerate. He watched as Jackie took the next turn faster than she should have.
“Well, don’t kill us all in the process,” Momma said. “I’m sure he’s fine, dear.”
“You doing okay back there?” Jackie asked.
“I’m good,” Cuddy said, giving her a more confident smile than he was feeling.
* * *
“For goodness’ sake!” Momma said. The hospital was a madhouse of activity. An ambulance was dropping someone off as another was just pulling in. Dodging a stream of pedestrians, Jackie impatiently urged an old lady to move it along. It was quickly apparent the lot was full, and Jackie was forced to park on a nearby side street. Getting out of the car, Momma told Jackie to run ahead, she and Cuddy would catch up. He watched her sprint for the double doors beneath the big red Emergency sign. He felt for her, while mentally checking his emotions—one more time.
Momma took Cuddy’s arm in hers—something she had always
done. He had a tendency to wander off at the slightest provocation. Something he knew would no longer be an issue. He smiled at her—and he found the human contact was comforting—grounding.
“Let’s hurry it up, Cuddy,” she said, quickening her stride.
Up ahead he saw Officer Plumkin’s SUV pull up to a red curb. He flung the driver-side door open and quickly got out. He repositioned his gun belt as he half ran half walked toward the hospital. He yelled, “Out of the way … come on … get out of the way!” opening a path for himself between the people moving too slow for him.
“Maybe it’s the radiation,” Momma said. “People getting sick from that damn power plant.”
Cuddy didn’t think that was it. Before Momma had turned it off, they had listened to the radio on the drive over, and the announcer had relayed the latest scientific information coming out of the NRC, the Nuclear Radiation Commission. The levels were significantly higher than normal, but not lethal. At least not for the short term. The news caster had made it clear, this was no Chernobyl or Three Mile Island situation. Cuddy wasn’t really sure what those two references meant—but it did seem that things weren’t as bad as they seemed.
So why all the activity here? he wondered.
Momma and Cuddy entered into the frenzy—all the emergency room seats were taken and hordes of people were standing around the periphery. Momma approached a middle-aged couple Cuddy recognized as two school teachers from the high school. He thought one or both of them may have been Kyle’s teacher at one time or another.
The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter Page 11
