by Brian Bakos
another!” Quentin yells.
Quentin fires again. Kintz One shoots forward like a cannon ball and tackles the guard.
“That’s it,” Quentin cheers, “stomp him!”
He tries to join the fight, but Tommy holds him back.
“Stay out of the fireworks, Quentin!”
Kintz One and the guard tumble away in an explosion of crackling light. For an instant, everything is bright as day. What had seemed to be an empty void now looks to be jammed with strange machinery, pipes, and cables. From the corner of my eye, I think I can see Eddie crouching among the tangle.
That traitor!
Then the fight draws my full attention. We all stand transfixed by the crackles, jolts, and electrified explosions.
“It’s like the Fourth of July!” Melissa shouts. “Get him, Kintz One!”
But it’s an unequal battle. The guard soon overcomes his surprise and, with a great blast of power, tosses Kintz One aside like a rag doll.
“Oh, no!” we all wail.
Kintz One lies battered and stunned; his white hair sticks out like porcupine needles.
The guard stands up and turns his frightful gaze our direction. The full, cold power of his anger washes over us. We cling together like terrified sheep. Then –
“Geronimo!”
Quentin jumps on the Basitch man, knocking him over again.
“Come on!” Tommy shouts.
The rest of us join in, but our attack is doomed before it starts. One second I have a hold on the guard’s leg, the next I am in the middle of a gigantic flash –
Then we were all laid out flat on our backs with our hair fried and our bodies vibrating like guitar strings.
“This is definitely a bad hair day,” Melissa groans.
The guard rises and towers over us with his hands on his hips. Triumph flashes in his eyes. His hat is gone now, and his bald head throws off a dull gleam. He barks something in the Kintz language, our alien friends all begin crying.
Then he snatches up the fallen communicator and speaks into it. Harsh English words assault our ears.
“Earth Americans,” he bellows, “you are all very brave, but also very stupid!”
“Yeah?” Quentin says. “Shut off the fireworks and see how stupid we are.”
The Basitch thug seems to understand, somehow. He grins, the way a cobra might just before it chomps somebody.
“You wish me to toss aside my advantage,” he says, “for what purpose?”
“To show that you’re not a lousy coward,” Quentin says.
The guard stares at Quentin with pure hatred in his red eyes.
“You are a lousy coward, aren’t you?” Quentin says.
The guard snarls, but some of the arrogance has gone out of him. Quentin’s taunt has crossed the language barrier and hit home.
“I admire your bravery,” the guard says, “so I will grant you Earth Americans a favor. I shall kill you all now, so that you will not have to endure the horrors of a spacewalk as the others before you did.”
Tremendous energy starts building up in him. His eyes blaze and the atmosphere crackles. A smell like 4th of July sparklers fills the air.
I try to move. If I could just attack him again and go out fighting!
28. Heroic Confrontation
Mayor Lazar and the four police officers broke from the greenery and stood before the tire giant. All of their jaws dropped.
“My God!” Lazar cried. “What is that thing?”
The douse in the creek had renewed his anger and given him enough courage to scramble up the bank. The appearance of the two extra patrolmen had bucked him up for a final push, but now it was over. Every shred of his bravery was gone.
He stumbled back, wide-eyed. His double chin quivered. The tire giant rumbled and hissed before him – its gray, swirling center shot out gigantic sparks like bolts of lightning. The fringe of hair on Lazar’s bald head bristled.
“Don’t panic, men!” Bascomb cried, but he sounded on the verge of panic himself.
A thick fog had descended, covering the top half of the tire giant, making the horrible thing look even more mysterious and huge. The five men crept backwards on rubbery legs toward the trees and underbrush. Suddenly, a whining boom came from the tire giant, and it rocked on its foundation.
“Ahhhhh!” the men all howled together.
Officer Jenkins tripped and fell over backwards. His shotgun discharged sending a deadly blast right by Lazar’s ear. The mayor fell to his knees, holding his head in agony.
“Watch out, you idiot!” Bascomb shouted.
“S-sorry, Boss,” Jenkins said.
But he could not control his terrified spasms. His finger jerked against the trigger again, and the second barrel discharged straight into the air. Lead pellets showered down on the terrified men.
Lazar staggered back to his feet and took off for the underbrush. The others quickly followed.
29. A Spike in Time
From out of the far distance, from another world, comes a muffled blasting sound – like a gun going off, or a super large firecracker exploding. Then a second blast.
The guard looks away from us toward the noise. Then –
“Yaaa!”
Eddie charges out of the darkness like a maniac, waving his railroad spike. The guard spins toward him and points a long finger.
TA ZAPP!
A blast of power shoots out. Eddie ducks under it and slides into the guard’s legs like a base runner diving into second. He swings his arm down and stabs the spike into the Basitch man’s foot.
“Take that, Dog Face!” Eddie shouts.
The guard screams – a terrifying howl only partly on the level of actual hearing, but loud enough to nearly burst my eardrums.
“Doesn’t that sound sweet?” Tommy says.
The Basitch man jerks and gyrates violently, as if he’s invented some savage new dance. His screams rip the air. He tries to yank his foot free, but Eddie holds on as if his life depends on it – which it surely does.
The rest of us wobble back up on our trembling legs. My ears ring and my hair stands on end like a picker bush, but I don’t care. That thug’s agony is giving us all new strength.
“Hang on, Eddie,” Quentin says, “we’re coming.”
A bolt of energy shoots up from the spiked foot. It travels right up through the guard’s body and bursts out of his head. Then:
KA-BOOM!
it explodes in the darkness above like an atomic bomb.
I slap my hands over my ears just in time, but the shock wave almost knocks me over. Melissa falls against me, and we brace each other up.
The guard collapses into a heap of groans.
“Dang,” Eddie says, “I shorted out his circuits.”
Thunk! Ka-thunk! Ka-thunk!
A half dozen stunned robots rain down around us like coconuts dropping out of a palm tree. I dodge just in time to avoid getting brained.
“Let’s get him!” Quentin yells.
He jumps on the fallen enemy, fists and elbows flying. The rest of us pin down the guard’s arms and legs or crowd in for stomping rights. Quentin pounds away on the guard’s head until he can scarcely move his arms anymore.
“My turn,” Tommy says.
He takes Quentin’s place, landing punch after punch. Then Kintz One has a go at it. The guard’s frantic struggles weaken, then stop. Quentin finally calls a halt to the massacre.
“That’s enough, everybody. He’s out cold.”
“Lousy dirt bag!” Eddie lands a final kick. “Not such a big shot now, are you?”
30. Preparations
We all stand over the beaten guard like a pack of wolves that has brought down a moose. Ordinarily, I’m the sympathetic type, but I feel absolutely no pity for this creature.
Eddie brandishes his spike.
“Let’s shred him, like he was gonna do to us.”
Kintz One retrieves the communicator. It’s all bent and bashed in, like the g
uard, but it still works.
“That is a great temptation, Lord Eddie,” he says, “but we do not favor unnecessary violence. The authorities back home will know what to do with him.”
“Okay ... whatever,” Eddie says, disappointed.
So, it’s Lord Eddie now? The Kintz sure hand out a lot of promotions. Quentin wraps an arm over Eddie’s shoulder.
“Nice work, pal,” he says. “And we all thought you’d run out on us.”
Eddie beams. Suddenly, he looks much younger, like a normal kid almost.
“No offense, Quentin,” he says, “but I figured anything you tried wouldn’t work too well. So, I planned my own sneak attack.”
Melissa pipes up. “Looks like you’ve got competition for the ‘brains of the outfit’ title, eh Amanda.”
Was that a dig or a compliment? You never know with Melissa. But I don’t care; Lord Eddie is the absolute most fantastic kid on the whole planet!
We all congratulated him, and each other, for the great victory we have won. There are nine of us standing around in what has to be the strangest gathering in history – a real mutual admiration society.
I think of the old saying: “A stitch in time saves nine.”
Only now, it was a railroad spike that did the sewing. Tommy nudges the defeated guard with his foot.
“We’d better tie up this bum before he starts more trouble,” he says.
“I know!” Quentin says, “we’ll use Old Reliable’s tires and inner tubes. What a great finish for him.”
“There’re tools in my kitbag,” Melissa says, “and a couple of extra tubes.”
“Kitbag?” Quentin asks.
“Yes, that’s the proper British term for what you’d call a ‘bike bag,’” Melissa says.
“Oh, give it a rest already, Melissa,” I say.
Quentin gets to work on the bikes while the rest of us keep watch on the former guard. Eddie stands by hefting his spike, just
