“Consider it done…”
****
Jayme pushed her sore ass into the oak chair beside a table with barely enough room to set a glass of water. The eclectic, sticky menu took up the entire space, and all she could do was read the same damn things over and over, trying to make a decision on her lunch before her brother Jayson arrived.
“If I get the burger, I might feel sleepy,” she murmured as she continued to peruse the list. “Hmmm, maybe the chicken salad sandwich. Wait? Doesn’t that put people to sleep, too? No, that’s turkey,” she rambled on under her breath.
“Whew, I’m so sorry.” Her brother’s deep voice busted through her concentration as he swiftly moved past her, set a shiny white shopping bag down on the ground and took his seat. “Traffic was mad serious. Damn.” He picked up his Potbelly Sandwich Shop menu and flipped the pages as if nothing on the thing was good enough for his liking.
“What do you have in the bag? Did you buy me something?” she teased, picking up her glass of water, careful to not spill any of the contents on her uniform.
“No, I didn’t.” A smile crept in his tone, though he tried to sound solemn. “This actually is that new leather coat, the brown one I was eyeing at Macy’s.”
Jayme’s mouth dropped. “You didn’t!”
She snatched the bag from the floor and peered inside, jealousy swarming through her veins.
“I did, and it’s a beaut. So, what are you getting and what did I do that was so bad or so great, that you wanted me to meet you for lunch?” He scanned the menu a bit closer, his eyes narrowing as if he needed glasses.
“I think I’m going to get the chicken salad sandwich, some chips, you know, nothing too fancy. I still have to go back to work.”
“And?”
“And what?” She looked up at him from over the dessert descriptions, knowing she had no business wandering into the calorie and fat laden land of chocolate and caramel.
“Why did you invite me to lunch? I know you, Jayme. What’s going on?” He set his menu down, crossed his hands and ankles and leaned back in his seat.
“Well.” She sighed. “I’d like to spend more time with you is all.” She kept having a tug of war with herself. She wanted so desperately to explain to her brother what really happened during her captive state with Xzion. She wanted to tell him about Zarkstorm, about her son, his nephew being half alien, but it sounded so ridiculous every time she rehearsed it in her mind. So, she did all she could at that moment. She stalled.
Jayson shot her a suspicious eye and scratched his low-cropped hair with his meticulously cut side-burns.
“Mmmm hmmmm.” He looked back down at his menu, making it more than clear he didn’t believe a word she’d uttered. Moments later, a waitress arrived and took their order.
“And I’d like an unsweetened iced tea to go with my Mediterranean sandwich and yeah, do you all have Splenda because I only see sweet ’nd low here at the table.” He pointed to a small container, stuffed full of pink and blue packets.
“I believe so. I can bring you out some.”
“Thank you so much!” he said extra chipper as he passed his menu to the woman before she turned on her heels and walked away.
“So now that we’re done bullshittin’, Jayme, why am I really here?” He leaned across the table, eye-balling her with his piercing, dark eyes. Today he was clean-shaven, revealing his cleft chin, smooth brown skin and amazing good looks. He made it so damn hard to be deceptive.
“You know how Xzion is, or was…” She looked around the restaurant before focusing back on him, “…the ‘XXX’ Killer?” she whispered.
“How could I forget?” His face balled up like used Kleenex.
“Well.” She took a deep breath. “You’re going to think I’m crazy!”
“Just spit it out, Jayme. You’d be surprised what I believe after all that has taken place.”
“He…he was a hired hit man, so to speak. It wasn’t what you thought.”
“Hmmmm.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “That is mighty interesting. Why would I think you are crazy? You know I’m all about conspiracies.”
“Well, I’m not finished.”
“Do tell…” He sat back and took a deep breath.
“He…isn’t from here.”
“I know. You told me your husband is from Colombia. He looks Hispanic; he sounds it, a little. Why would that be a problem?”
“Well, he is actually from a place a bit farther than that…”
“I am not a geography expert, but wherever he is from, it doesn’t really matter, Jayme. He’s still a person, and you still love him. I don’t pretend to understand what is goin’ on with you and him, or how the relationship started. All I know is that you love him, and he appears to love you, too. He kept his word to me…and for that, I feel I can trust him. At least a little bit.”
The waitress returned to hand Jayson his sweet tea.
He’s still a person?… Well, not quite…
“Uh, well, that is where things get a little strange.”
“How so?”
“Jayson, Xzion is…Xzion is from another planet. He is an alien.”
If ‘silence is a virtue’ and ‘bitch stop lyin’ were married, they would have had a child that looked just like Jayson’s face right at that moment. There was no way out of this shit. She’d put it out there, and now the man looked as if he wanted to pull out his phone and call her employer, demanding she have a psych evaluation, STAT.
“Uh, come again?”
“Yes, he is from a planet called Zarkstorm.” She rolled her eyes, more at herself, that she was even admitting this mess, versus his reaction.
“Jayme, you are either fucking with me big time, or you have lost your complete mind! Tell me, is his mother’s name Storm? Is his father Wolverine?”
“Jayson! Come on, it took a lot for me to come out and tell you this. You’re…you’re my best friend, well, besides Xzion. Think about it …” She moved her glass out of the way as their sandwiches were set down in front of them. She waited for the waitress to leave before continuing. “You even said it seemed humanly impossible that he never got caught. Remember all that ice you told me about him eating at your place when he was looking for me? Well, their brains overheat, so they need the ice to cool down. That’s over with though, because they found a cure. Well, Xzion found a cure and it is in Zachary’s blood.” She rambled on and on, unable to stop herself. The look in her brother’s eyes made her feel like a damned fool and then, she realized, she had to find an out, and fast! Things were not going well; it was time to pull the plug.
“Boy, I’m just messin’ with you!” She laughed heartily, forcing the giggles to the max. His face remained stern, and then, his expression finally relaxed.
He burst out laughing and took a bite of his sandwich. “Jayme, I thought I was going to have to call the mental hospital, your job and children’s services on your ass. I was sure you’d flown the chicken coop! Playin’ like that…you need to stop.” He laughed a bit louder, and then took a sip of his tea.
Jayme smiled and took a nervous bite out of her sandwich, chewed it well and good, then tried to swallow the mess she’d made. She conceded this was something she was going to have to take to her grave. She’d tried to tell the man, for more reasons than just needing someone to confide in. Some awful shit was about to go down, she could just feel it, and a part of her wanted him to be prepared, to be aware. But what good was it? He couldn’t even believe the basics, let alone the suggestion there’d be an alien invasion.
What the hell was I thinking?!
“As stated,” Jatorn explained to his guests and constituents as he wrapped up the meeting. “The Earth is divided in segments called countries, what we call kirtalzta. I will give you several kirtalzta, Vex. We can draft up the details later.”
“And your protection of our planet, Maji, is still —”
“Yes. Now, may we proceed?” Jatorn quickly tempered his tone. T
he old, creepy battleaxe was irking him but he knew to be careful. He may appear as a jester of sorts, but Vex was no one to fool around with. Without another word, the man was enveloped in shadows, disappearing back into the corner from which he’d emerged.
“You’ve neglected to address the Zarkstormians’ inability to withstand Earthly climates, Jatorn. Cure or not, I’d imagine this still poses an issue,” Bosi stated as he leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his furry face.
“No, I haven’t.” Jatorn smiled and slid his hand into his pants pocket. “I was just getting to all of the details regarding the Zarkstormians and the humans. Now.” He turned in a circle, then, face forward again, he pointed across the room. “The Zarkstormians, as everyone knows, have over-heating issues. Were it not for that, they’d have slaughtered us all by now for various offenses over the centuries. That problem has been rectified, thanks to Xzion.” He sneered. “However, the Earth atmosphere is uncomfortable and for any of us that have been there, we can understand this dilemma. For my people,” he touched his chest with his fingertips, “we have no problems with their air, earth or water.
“Nor did the few Lyalts that have travelled there, from historical reports, and it is rather obvious that the Morphitians suffer not one smidgen. The Morphitians have been on Earth almost as long as the Earthlings; many of them live there now but as Vex stated, they are in secrecy. That is another reason why you two are so ideal for dealing with the Zarkstormians and Earthlings. The Lyalts can live under water and underground for extended periods of time. The Morphitians can survive for long periods of time without sustenance. The list is endless but…” He lifted his finger in the air and narrowed his gaze. “The Zarkstormians may be uncomfortable, but they are still able to make a large dent in a short period of time.”
Jatorn sighed, then continued. “That has always been the problem when it comes to them. They are fast. They are heavy handed. They are ruthless. They are cold. They do not discuss matters once their minds are made up. They do not negotiate. They ask for nothing, because they have everything. Like my people, they appear human from a physical standpoint, and can easily blend into an Earthly environment. Morphitians cannot, unless they are in a morph state. For their part, Lyalts cannot, under any circumstances, walk the streets of France or Kenya. That is why the Lyalts will only be brought in if, and only if, a war is called.” His eyes closed in on Bosi. “The likelihood of that is high.”
Jatorn slowly paced the room, his lip slightly twitching. “You all have been wondering about the missing piece to this. You know the Zarkstormians have the cure. You know Xzion created it. What you don’t know, is how.” He paused.“Do you want to know why the cold, heartless Zarkstormians would protect the Earth?”
Several heads nodded.
“I will tell you why. They have a vested interest.”
“We know why.” A Morphitian spoke up, his quaking voice interrupting Jatorn’s flow. “They’ve been coming to Earth for decades to find a cure for their over-heating. Everyone knows this. It is in the humans’ blood. The Zarkstormians now must protect the source of their cure or they will perish again, along with their future generations.”
“Not quite.” Jatorn corrected.
But the outspoken man continued, not seeming to care for or notice Jatorn’s statement. “We’ve seen their mayhem. We stay out of their way. We recognize one another, and now, we will be starting a war … over what?” The unconvinced Morphician looked at his commander. “For a playground!”
An uproar commenced; voices roared on top of each other until Jatorn’s shrill scream brought everyone to a stone-cold silence as sure as the world was his oyster.
“Gertu!” Vex yelled, his poignant voice wrapped in thick layers of hot warning. “Let’s hear what Jatorn has to say, shall we?” The voice vibrated from the corner, unseen, but definitely heard.
This was not going as Jatorn planned. He was prepared to explain he didn’t know the exact cause of the Zarkstormian presence on Earth, but had discovered Xzion was living with a human, or the human living with him; which way it went, he wasn’t certain. He wanted to delve deeper into that, but decided to keep the information to himself. Initially, he was going to let them all know and solicit the Morphitians to find out the missing pieces, but then he’d be in debt to them, and he had no intentions of racking up a bill with the slick con-artists. No, Gertu’s interruption saved him from a possible faux pas, despite the bastard’s repeated history of questioning Jatorn’s authority.
Gertu was a highly respected Morphitian officer and he hated that the man was sitting there, glaring at him with cloudy, indigo eyes under dark gray hoods. He was a bit different from his ilk, didn’t seem to take much pleasure in frightening others. He was more like the Lyalt, Bosi, and he found that reprehensible. Despite that, he came from a royal blood line, just as Jatorn had, so for that, he respected him to some slippery slither of a degree.
“Gertu, what can I do to please you? It is apparent that you feel that this deal isn’t fair.” Jatorn leaned onto the table and sucked his bottom lip as his brows dipped in angst. “Let’s strike a bargain, shall we?” Jatorn’s fangs threatened to emerge. They didn’t. He brushed his palm against the side of his face and grinned.
“I need nothing from you.” The crude looking creature glanced over his pointy shoulder, his back bowed in a gruesome arch as he hitched his sight on Vex who waited in the dim wings of his black corner. “We need nothing from you. Vex,” Gertu stated. “This is not a good idea. Our past dealings with the Zarkstormians haven’t been fruitful, although they are not an enemy. We should try to keep it that way. To declare war on them for a promised piece of Earth and three spells of protection is lunacy.”
Vex emerged ever so slightly from his position, his skeletal hand extended as if offering a coin.
“Please continue, Jatorn. Gertu, do not speak another word.”
No more needed to be said. Gertu swung back around, clearly irritated. His eyes transformed from the cloudy bluish-snot color that rolled over his glossy pupils to a flame hue, as though filled with dancing fire. His nostrils — reminiscent of two skinny black slashes in his thinly stretched skin — flared and the cut in his face that was his mouth ran from side to side like a rubbery black line, drooping ever so slightly at the ends in disdain.
“Now that we’re back on track, let me explain a few things to all of you.” Jatorn took his seat, folded his hands behind his head. He was well aware he looked haughty, but he couldn’t help it. Gertu had been told a thing or two and Vex understood the power of the deal. He had the Morphitians, of that he was certain. One down, two to go…
“One thing that all of us have over the Zarkstormians is passionate drive. We are adamant and forthright about our positions. We express ourselves, and this brings forth creativity, brainstorming and entrepreneurship. The Zarkstormians are just like their favorite snack: icy.” He chuckled. “They will never be able to fully understand human beings, despite their similar physical appearance. That is how you maintain control over a human being!” He flicked his forehead emphatically with his fingers as he leaned forward, one arm curled onto the wing of the chair. “You control their minds. You make them lose their grasp on reality. That is how you turn warriors into weaklings, sanctified damsels into whores, and meek children into natural born killers. It’s the brain…the careful cultivation of it. You date and woo it, you use the emotions, your words, to coax the world they know into the world you want it to be.
“Morphitians are excellent at helping foster such a situation,” he smiled admirably at the ones that dotted the room, “and human beings are naturally afraid. They were trained and bred to be. They scare easily. Their own religious texts are based in fear. Their religious doctrine is used to institutionalize them, turn them to sheep, to provoke fright and control their populations. It has been their downfall. Their pious beliefs have allowed the Morphitians to take full advantage of this, by feasting on their fear of the paranormal,
as they call it. Most of the humans are idiots. This will be, as they say, ‘a piece of cake.’. You see, brethren, human beings are volatile. They live in an unsafe place. It doesn’t take much to push them over the edge because they are reactive, not proactive. Unlike myself.” He pointed at himself proudly. “The majority of them live in poverty and as their great scholar Aristotle stated, ‘Poverty is the parent to revolution and crime.’ This is what makes them volatile. This is what makes them so easy to manipulate because one tiny little push…” He smirked. “…One small nudge in the wrong direction can have a domino effect.
“They are easily led. They are conformists. They are devoid of leaders, full of followers and people simply wanting to fit in and belong. There is a great chasm between the rich and the destitute. As far as I’m concerned, these people need for me to take over their land. They have no real leadership! The powers that be are nothing more than puppets and scavengers. They are a sorry bunch, a helpless lot. We will be saving them from themselves…”
“How do you plan to implement the take-over?” Bosi questioned while reaching into his black sling pocket with shiny bronze bullets lining the fronts and sides of the damn thing. He pulled out a tightly rolled cigar and lit it, causing ghastly green smoke, pungent with the stench of wet, rotting soil, to fill the room as he puffed long and hard.
“First, as we’ve started this mission, we conducted sporadic murders. There was a purpose to it.” He shot Vex, still embedded in the corner, a harsh glare. “This tends to send them in a frenzy once they detect a pattern. Humans are so self-absorbed however, it will be each man for himself once we really get the ball rolling, and that makes it even easier. There will be no need to divide and conquer; they’ll do the work for us. We need to take over America first, though of course that wasn’t in my original plan. The reason being is that Xzion is set up there. It is best that we de-power him first, before going much further into other territories to obtain what we need. If we don’t, he will simply travel wherever we are located and try to wipe us out.”
The Tale of the Blood Diamond Page 9
