Hawaiian U.F.O. Aliens

by Mel Gilden

  'OK,' I said. 'So you're the only one in the place who's on the level. That still doesn't explain your interest in blowfish spine necklaces.'

  She closed her eyes, making her look like a golden statue. Her smile was a thousand years old. She said, 'You have been approached by my people.'

  'I was nearly murdered by one of them.'

  Medium Rare sighed and said, 'Even I must take what I can get, and only the Ultimate is perfect. What are the necklaces to you?'

  'Ask Avoirdupois.'

  'Avoirdupois is a fool, but he is tenacious.'

  'That isn't all. He has connected the spines to a certain top hat on the beach at Malibu, and hooked them both to a certain blonde Polynesian.'

  'And you?'

  'I have a client and an aching head.'

  'Perhaps we can be of use to each other.' I waited while she squeezed the bridge of her nose between her eyes. I didn't know what good a nervous twitch like that would do a robot, even one equipped with a psychic sense and a spirit guide. She was still mangling her nose when she said, 'But not here. The conflicting auras at the Aquaricon disturb the ether. You must visit me at my home, and all will be made clear to you.'

  'If you're good enough to do that, it'll be the first time.'

  She smiled and said, 'Awaken your bot and bring him to me.'

  'Bill,' I called.

  'Erk,' he said.

  'Bill, come on over here.'

  Bill extended his feet a short way; they sprang back into his body, then slowly extended to their usual length. He walked to Medium Rare, saying, 'A psychic robot, gee.'

  'Interface,' Medium Rare ordered. A cable snaked out from somewhere under her dress and met a similar cable that snaked out from Bill's belly. At the tip of each was a disk covered with bumps and holes. The disks touched with a spark, and a second later, it was all over. 'Got it,' Bill said as he reeled in his cable.

  'Tomorrow,' Medium Rare said.

  'I could have predicted that,' I said.

  Chapter 19

  Cruise Patrol

  THE afternoon was young when I drove back to Malibu with nothing much to do except think about things. That didn't get me anywhere, and wouldn't till I saw Medium Rare the next day, so I parked the Belvedere across the front of the garage and went into the house.

  Thumper was in the living room, looking at the mess as if it had disappointed him in some way. But he had his hands in the pockets of his chinos, so he wasn't in danger of doing any work. I said, 'Where are all rabbits?'

  'Captain Hook figured out how to stuff them back into things.' He pulled open a pocket of his pants and twisted his head to look into it. He said, 'He even stuffed a few in here. They're gone now.'

  I said, 'As long as they're gone. Anybody know how to wash a car?'

  'I know,' Bill said.

  'Then you can be in charge,' I said. 'What about you?' Thumper said, 'Sure. Better that than cleaning up the living room.'

  'Where's everybody else?'

  'Around,' Thumper said without concern.

  We collected some old plastic pails, and loaded them with soap and polish, and some rags that had been pretty aggro T-shirts once. I put on Will's short Johns again, and followed Thumper outside, where we slopped around a lot of soapy water, and got very silly with the hose. Bill pointed out spots on the car we'd missed. All in all, it was a wet, slippery afternoon with a clean car at the end of it.

  Thumper, Bill and I looked at the gleaming car. That was part of the job too, the part you wait for. Water beaded up on Bill and rolled off, but both Thumper and I needed some dry clothes. Instead of putting them on, we went out back and lay down on the sand in the sun.

  A lot of robots were surfing. I could see Mustard and a few of the girls running up and down the shore with their control boxes. Nobody got close to the top hat.

  Captain Hook dropped onto the sand next to me and said, 'This is positively the most amazing.'

  'We don't want to hear about it,' Thumper said.

  'Observe,' said Captain Hook as he manipulated the air as if it were a deck of cards. He offered the imaginary deck to me and asked me to pick a card, any card. Bill took a card. After a little more show biz, Captain Hook told Bill what the card had been. Even Thumper was impressed when the Captain got it right. But the Captain still wasn't happy. He said, 'I need a vacation.'

  'I'm working on it,' I said.

  That seemed to surprise him. He watched my leg dry, then got up and walked down the beach, throwing clouds of doves into the air. He gave the hat a wide berth, and stood watching the water slide up to his toes, then back into the foam.

  We had Chinese for dinner and a Gino and Darlene movie for dessert. It wasn't the evening I would have chosen if I'd had a choice, but at least nobody tried to ream out my vibes with a hunk of rock.

  The next morning, Whipper Will announced that he and Bingo were going grocery shopping. I was in the kitchen with Bill, listening to them bang around in their bedroom, getting ready to go. I drained my coffee cup and was rinsing it when I said, 'You have Medium Rare's address?'

  'Right here in the old bubble memory,' Bill said.

  'Let's go to it, then.'

  I expected him to leap off the chair with a reassuring exclamation, but he didn't move. He said, 'I don't know where it is.'

  I don't know what kind of look I had on my face, but Bill could have astonished me less if he'd grown a nose from his forehead.

  'What about the old bubble memory?'

  'I got L.A. County in here, Boss. Changehorses is not in L.A. County.'

  'Where is it?'

  He wanted to shrug but he didn't have any shoulders, so he made a small mechanical noise back in his machinery. The front door slamming brought me out of my trance, and I ran through the house to swing it open. 'Will,' I cried as loudly as I could.

  Will and Bingo were half way across PCH, but they heard me and came back, looking surprised and curious. I waited for them. Will said, 'What?'

  'I need a map that shows a town called Changehorses, probably in California.'

  His eyebrows went up.

  'I seem to have found the edge of Bill's bubble memory.'

  'Can it wait?'

  'Can Captain Hook wait?'

  'All right.' Will said. We all went back into the house, where Will pulled heaps of maps out of the bottom drawer of his dresser and threw them onto the floor, where Bingo sorted them. Bingo found what she was looking for, and—I handed it to Will.

  He spread a map of California on the bed. He looked up something on a list, turned the map over, and looked closely at it. If his nose had been a match, he'd have set the map on fire. 'Here it is, above Newhall. You might be able to find it by yourself, but having a guide with his stuff wired might save you a few hours.'

  'Want to apply?'

  'There's the groceries.'

  'And the sun and the sand and the surf. I guess the Malibu Chamber of Commerce is going to repossess all of that tonight.'

  'Right you are, dude. How often can I score an adventure? Want to come, Bingo?'

  She shook her head. 'Somebody around here has to keep their stuff wired. You guys go on cruise patrol. I'm going to get groceries.' She walked from the room, singeing the air.

  'One aggro mama,' said Will appreciatively.

  We all seemed to get very busy then, though not much needed to be done before we got into the Belvedere and headed toward Topanga Canyon.

  Bill was sitting in the back seat seeming to enjoy the ride, but I worried about him. Finding one of his limitations must have been as tough for him as it would be for anybody. Can robots hurt? Maybe he had an overloaded silicon semiconductor. Or maybe I'd just had too much coffee. I was the only one who seemed to be bothered.

  I drove us among the trees and the rugged looking cliffs. Prickly puffs of faded green scrub hung off high hills when it wasn't too difficult, and gave off a sweet, spicy scent that almost had me hanging out the window. Whipper Will got us from there through a business dis
trict that thought it was quaint but couldn't quite hide the cheap come-on, and from there onto a freeway. We went east, then north.

  For a while we drove between high cinderblock walls, behind which I could see the roofs of houses that all looked the same. We passed enormous, weedy lots, and the freeway widened. The lots gave way to hills that rolled in like tidal waves, then kept their distance as if they were afraid of playing in traffic. A lot of big trucks shouldered their way in around us, grumbling and puffing black smoke as they climbed a grade with all the effort of toe-dancing elephants.

  After leaving the freeway, we drove through a nice residential area with houses somewhat larger than shacks, and a lot of tall spindly evergreen trees and well-manicured lawns that rolled in a single wave to the street.

  Once out of the residential area, we rolled without noticeable transition into a wild forest that grew right to the edge of the road, making it seem to be a length of white masking tape that had been laid down over the trees and brush. We drove through the shade and pine smell like a submarine through water.

  The road gave us our money's worth of hairpin turns and views that made you wonder why people even bothered with art. In the middle of a fairly straight stretch stood a blue sign that said GAS—FOOD—LODGING—SPIRITUAL ADVICE. 5 MILES.

  Chapter 20

  Like Something Out Of Poe

  THERE wasn't much to Changehorses but a gas station called Spirit Gas, a combination grocery store, restaurant, and post office called Medium Rare's Emporium, a bar called Medium Rare's Changehorses and Dance, and a few houses that looked as if they'd been left in the bushes to die. The name of the gas station must have been a misprint.

  Bill had the address of Medium Rare's house, but on Whipper Will's map the town was barely a freckle. There was no way to know where in town the house was.

  I pulled into a spot in front of the emporium and got out of the car. The air smelled of syrup and pine dust, and was much colder than the air in Malibu. I was glad, for once, that I had my trench coat and hat.

  A couple of rustic types—all flannel plaid and beards—were sitting on metal chairs near the front door. I shivered, thinking how cold that metal must be. But they were real he-men, complete with frozen bottoms. I guess they didn't see many strangers in Changehorses, because every eye that wasn't nailed down was all over me. I nodded to the rustics as I walked into the emporium. Whipper Will nodded. Even Bill nodded. They nodded back, but I think it was just reflex.

  Inside, the emporium was warm enough that I couldn't see my breath, but that didn't mean it was warm. The air was heavy with the brown smell of cheap restaurant cooking, and I decided I could wait a while longer for lunch.

  We passed counter after counter of absolute junk—bumper stickers, key chains, candy, coffee cups, glow-in-the-dark skulls—things that the Here Today-Gone to Maui Souvenir Company would have been embarrassed to carry. Something called 'The Legend of Changehorses' had been shellacked to slabs of tree trunk. Everything was priced high, so the faithful wouldn't have too much money to get into trouble with.

  Every piece had Medium Rare's name or likeness on it, sometimes both if they wanted the piece to move. Bill seemed particularly fascinated by the eyes jumping in a three-D portrait of Medium Rare staring raptly into her glass ball. On almost every counter top was a stack of flyers that said, HAPPY DAY! MEDIUM RARE LOVES YOU! As far as I could tell, the flyers were free.

  Business was slow that day, and we got the entire attention of a balding, middle-aged man whose taste in shirts seemed to run to fringe. A bar on his shirt pocket said, MERLE. We caught him prowling behind the counter with a small feather duster that he occasionally used to tickle the merchandise. He smiled, and in a melodious drawl, asked how he might help us.

  I was about to ask for directions to Medium Rare's place when Whipper Will said, 'Elvis? Is that you?'

  I heard the wood in the handle of the duster crack as Merle gripped it hard. He licked the smile off his lips and glared at Will, daring him to say anything else. 'Name's Merle,' he said, and jabbed at the bar on his chest. Signals flashed between him and Will as surely as if they'd been talking on the telephone, though neither one of them spoke or moved.

  At last Will said, 'Right,' as if he'd come to a decision. Merle nodded, as if satisfied. The smile returned, but it went no deeper than his teeth. I asked for directions, and Will repeated the directions back to Merle to make sure he had them right.

  'She'll help you, I'm sure,' Merle said, and clucked meaningfully at my nose.

  'I'm sure she will. And when she's done, we'll come back for a keychain and a coffee cup to remember the experience by.'

  'You do that,' Merle said. 'We got a sale on Medium Rare tea sets.'

  Will and Merle said good-bye to each other and wished each other luck. They both seemed to understand that the words were hiding more than they were telling.

  We managed to get past the display cases without buying anything, and walked back out into the cold, sweet air where the old men hadn't moved. Only their eyes followed us as we got back into the car, revved the heater, and drove up the hill.

  I said, 'What was that all about?'

  'I just thought I knew him, that's all.'

  I nodded and waited for more. It never came. Will was as silent and brooding as the tall trees on either side of the road.

  Merle's directions were simple and finely polished by many retellings. Finding Medium Rare's place was easy. We turned right at the stop sign, a big landmark in Change-horses, and continued up the hill till we came to a gravel side road, nearly a path. We bounced up the gravel till it widened into a circular drive at the top of the mountain.

  Without much grace, the drive swept by the front of a big old house that had once been some dark colour, but the paint had peeled and faded until the house gave the appearance of a thundercloud with some light showing through. Thin trees taller than the house stood around like mourners waiting for somebody to die.

  Something was in the air up here. It filtered the sun's light, darkened colours, made the world seem slightly more real than it had been below, which, of course, made it look not quite real at all.

  I pulled up behind an ancient station wagon and turned off the engine. Wind sighed through the trees. None of us felt much like getting out.

  Whipper Will said, 'It's like something out of Poe.'

  'What's Poe?' I said.

  'I'll show you when we get back. Some bright afternoon when you can stand it.'

  I had no idea what Whipper Will was talking about, so I grunted and got out of the car. Something was watching us. It might have been the house itself for all I knew. Maybe it was just Medium Rare peeking through a key hole.

  Nobody would ever take Medium Rare by surprise. The steps up to her wide front veranda squeaked as if I were pinching the tails of mice. The veranda itself was a big sound box. You might tiptoe across it, but every step you took would boom like cannon fire. Will and Bill crept up behind me, quiet as two guys playing bass drums. Still nothing from the house.

  I looked for bell to ring and found none, so I knocked on the door. At first I thought the knock was echoing inside around the big house, but the sound got louder. Somebody was coming a long way across hardwood floors to answer my knock. Whipper Will licked his lips. Mine were dry too, but they always were. I waited for the door to open.

  When it opened, it opened on a very crisp-looking young man. Even in that cold he wore a T-shirt and jeans. The jeans had a sharp crease, and I think the T-shirt had been pressed too. On the front of it was a picture of Medium Rare and the same greeting as was on the flyer. His shoes were black and shiny as canned olives. Above his thin white face and wire-rimmed glasses was hair the colour of dust, slicked back into very thin daggers that hung down his neck.

  'I am Edgar Allan,' he said as if announcing that dinner was served.

  Will laughed.

  I said, 'Sorry. He probably thinks you're something out of Poe.'

  Will laughed
again, then pulled the flat of his hand down over his face, composing himself, keeping his laughter in a cage that was none too sturdy. Edgar Allan made a smile a little smaller than the smallest smile imaginable.

  I said, 'I'm Zoot Marlowe. These are my friends, Whipper Will and Bill. Medium Rare should be expecting us.'

  Edgar Allan nodded, and stepped back so that we might enter.

  The room was high, long and narrow, and made entirely of darkly polished wood. Nothing was on the walls but small electric sconces, and possibly flowers carved into each corner. In that special, mysterious, yellow light they were using, it was difficult to tell. Chairs of the same wood stood at intervals, but they were almost frivolous in a room that was otherwise so plain. It looked like a coffin for a giant who had lived well and now was going to be buried well. I knew it was not a coffin, though, because there was a hallway at the far end.

  Behind one wall an excited voice muttered, then more excited voices joined the first. But nobody was angry, they were just excited. Edgar Allan fitted his fingers into something invisible, and pulled the wall across from the muttering into two sliding doors that rumbled on their rollers like far-away thunder. Beyond the door was the bottom of a spiral staircase that twisted upward.

  We followed Edgar Allan up the cold stone steps, listening to the echoes gather into what sounded like an army of demons. Durf was the only demon on T'toom, but if he had friends, they'd sound like we did mounting that staircase.

  The top of the staircase was at the end of a long, wide hallway. Edgar Allan began to walk along the black velvet runner in the centre of the floor, and Bill started to follow him. I grabbed him. I didn't have to grab Whipper Will.

  A horse, muscles gleaming like moonlight on water, leaped through the wall at the end of the hallway and ran toward us, its hooves galloping in midair. It made no noise but a high, thin wailing, not loud enough to awaken anybody in the dead of night, but pretty unnerving if you were just on your way back from the bathroom. Edgar Allan waited patiently while the horse raced up to him, leaped higher into the air, and was gone, leaving only a smell of horse hockey and two very frightened beings.