Alien on a Rampage Page 15

  “Tate!” Grandma cried. “You don’t need to—”

  “No time! Move!” he yelled.

  The crowd bottlenecked at the backdoor, the aliens muttering protests. Tate cursed and scanned the sky while the Tourists filtered through the doorway. He pushed the last one into the house a second or two before the helicopter zipped by. It was white with KING-TV on the side in big blue letters. A man leaned out the cockpit door with a video camera mounted on one shoulder. The helicopter skimmed the tops of the trees, flying so low I could make out the Seattle Seahawks logo on the cameraman’s cap.

  But he wasn’t interested in the B&B. The helicopter cruised over the house, then came to a hovering midair halt over the park. The cameraman placed one foot on the landing skids and leaned even further out of the helicopter.

  Great. The whole world was about to get a look at the frozen river. That pukey, panicked feeling rushed back, stronger than ever.

  Grandma stepped back out of the house. “I realize the circumstances are dire, Tate, but that doesn’t mean you need to strong-arm my customers.”

  Tate planted his hands on his hips. “Would you rather nurse a couple of bruised alien egos, or have your little business turn up on the evening news?” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the helicopter.

  “Well, that doesn’t excuse—”

  “Please stop arguing, you guys,” Amy said. “Please. I can’t take it right now.” She stepped out from the side of the house, where we had been watching, and wiped at her eyes.

  “Kids!” Grandma and Tate rushed down the stairs. They hugged us hard enough to cut off the air supply, studied our faces with concerned eyes, and generally made a big fuss.

  “We was mighty worried when we couldn’t find you this morning and then—”

  “—so unlike both of you to just disappear like—”

  “—this crazy thing with the river spooked us when—”

  “—the whole town is in a tizzy because of the—”

  “Whoa, whoa, okay.” I held up both hands to quiet them down.

  “We’re really sorry,” Amy said. Her words tumbled out in a rush. “We didn’t mean to freak you guys out or anything, but it was just such a nice day, and we haven’t had much of a chance to hang out together yet, then the freaky thing happened with the river, and now everything’s messed up.” She caught her breath. “We’re really sorry.” Tate pulled Amy close and rubbed her back.

  Grandma shook her head. “I don’t understand any of this,” she said. There were worry lines raked across her forehead and bunched up around her eyes. She looked way older.

  Tate scowled and watched the helicopter. “I understand one thing. There’s gonna be a lot of unwanted attention paid to this area. A whole dang heap of it, trust me.”

  My mouth went desert dry. This was going to be a very painful confession. But if I was going down, then I was taking a certain skull-faced alien with me. I opened up my mouth to launch into my story when—

  The sound of helicopter blades chopping the air fired up again, much louder than before.

  There were two this time, clearly military-grade, both of them bulky and painted in that nondescript armed-forces green. They buzzed right over the house, so close that the windows rattled in their frames. The choppers circled over the park twice, then zoomed upriver and out of sight.

  “Oh, what next?” Tate muttered. Then he herded us up the stairs.

  We filed into the house and sat at the dining table. Grandma sighed heavily and looked around at all of us. “Well, Team Intergalactic, looks like it’s time for a powwow. We have some serious planning to do to get through this one undetected.”

  My heart sped up, and the queasiness washed through me again. “Actually, Grandma, I need to say something first.” If I waited any longer it was just going to be tougher to spit it out.

  “What is it, David?” Grandma said.

  I looked at Amy. She grabbed my hand and squeezed.

  “I know what happened to the river,” I said.

  “You do?” Tate moved close and stuck his face right in front of mine. His eyes were wide. “What was it? Why didn’t you say something? How could you possibly—”

  “Oh, for the Creator’s sake, give him some air,” Grandma said. She elbowed Tate out of the way and put her hands on my shoulders. “What is it, dear?”

  “Well, I know what happened to the river…because I did it.”

  Grandma and Tate were shocked into silence. The door swung open, and we all turned to see Scratchull walk through and plant himself in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Well, well. I would be most interested in hearing this little story.”

  My instincts told my entire body to get ready for a fight. The rational part of my brain was not invited to participate in the decision.

  Every muscle in my body stiffened. My hands balled themselves up into fists.

  My eyes flicked over to the steak knives on the counter, and I judged how many lunging steps it would take to be able to grab a few.

  I sized up Tate as an ally. His bulky frame and pent-up aggression were going to be on my side once the alien-vs.-human battle started.

  Finally, I mentally mapped out an escape route for Grandma and Amy. When Scratchull attacked, hopefully Tate and I could tie him up him long enough for them to dash out the back.

  But what would they do then, call 9-1-1? What would they say?

  I pushed that thought out of my mind. It was no longer time to worry about the consequences of anyone finding out we had aliens here. The only thing that mattered was protecting the Earth and everyone on it. If more humans had to get involved, then so be it.

  I shifted my weight so I was standing on the balls of my feet, ready to lunge if needed.

  “It’s his fault!” I cried out. “He’s the reason the river is frozen. Scratchull’s responsible for the helicopters and the crowd at the park and all the rest of it!”

  I braced myself for action. Now that Scratchull had been outed as a fiend and backed into a corner, I knew that things would get ugly. “It’s his fault,” I said again, pointing right at his chalky face.

  But after I accused him…he just stood there. And was he smiling?

  I noticed that Grandma and Tate were not paying the slightest bit of attention to Scratchull. They were staring at me, clearly confused.

  “Whatever do you mean, David?” Grandma said.

  Okay, so I guess I was going to have to do a little more to convince them. I probably should have thought of that before.

  “He’s trying to destroy the planet. Really. I heard him talking about it and everything.” The adults were still staring at me, frowning thoughtfully. “He wants to, like, melt the entire thing down.” Still staring. “You know, Earth. The whole planet.”

  “Boy, just what in the Sam Hill are you talking about?” Tate said.

  “I can prove it. He built a machine that has the power to destroy an entire planet.” I reached into my pocket and carefully withdrew the little black device, then held it up for all to see.

  “That little thing?” Tate said.

  “Okay, I know it doesn’t look like much, but it works. Trust me. I just touched it to the river for one second, and it froze the whole thing.”

  “Where did you find that?” Grandma asked.

  “And just why were you sticking it into the river, anyway?” Tate asked.

  “Did you know it was that dangerous?” Grandma said.

  “Wait—were you the one trying to destroy the planet?” Tate’s face was going red.

  I swallowed. Why were they still looking at me instead of Scratchull, asking all of these stupid questions? “I was trying to save Amy. We were swimming in a creek, and then she was on top of this dam, and I thought it was going to fall down, so I pulled…”

  I noticed—too late—Amy shaking her head at me.

  Tate turned to his daughter. “You were at that dang swimming hole? After who knows how many times I’ve told you to stay awa
y from there?”

  Amy opened her mouth to say something, then slowly closed it.

  “That’s not the point,” I said, trying to deflect attention away from her. “We need to—”

  “I’ll tell you what the point is.” Tate took his toothpick out of his mouth and jabbed it at me. “You’re expecting us to believe some story about the transporter repairman destroying the Earth with a little plastic gizmo, when we can’t trust either of you to even follow a simple rule. How can you expect us—”

  “The real point is that we’re all in danger!” I shouted. Why could no one understand that? I pointed at Scratchull again. “Terrible danger!”

  We all looked at Scratchull, still just standing there on the white kitchen tile. He did not, I had to admit, look terribly dangerous at the moment. His hands were clasped formally together and his smile was actually getting bigger.

  He covered his mouth with his fingertips in a dainty little gesture. And then he laughed—an imitation of a slightly amused human giggle, not the hideous steak-knife-screeching sound I knew was his real laugh.

  “My apologies for the unseemly display of mirth. I realize you are all upset,” he said. “But I must admit I find this very amusing.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s so funny about it? Huh?” As soon as the words left my mouth I knew how stupid they sounded. Did I think I was on a kindergarten playground? Man, I was going to have to be way more on top of my game to go up against this guy.

  Grandma gestured to the little black device in my hand. “Scratchull, does this belong to you? And is it really capable of freezing that entire river out there?”

  Scratchull sighed heavily. “I had so wanted it to be a surprise. But it appears as if this eager young boy has forced my hand a bit.”

  He held out his smooth white palm for the device. I shook my head and pulled it closer to my chest. Scratchull chuckled. “Very well. You may hold on to it for the time being if that makes you feel better. But, please—for all of our sakes—be very careful. We wouldn’t want you to cause any more disasters than you already have.”

  Scratchull stepped forward and walked through the middle of our little group. I instinctively recoiled and pressed myself against the wall, but the others just let him pass. He stepped through the doorway and onto the back porch, then looked at us over his shoulder. “If you would be good enough to follow me, please.”

  I exchanged a glance with Amy, but I couldn’t read her facial expression at all. Tate and Grandma looked at me strangely, then they all filed out the back door. I had no choice but to go after them.

  Scratchull led us down the steps and across the backyard, talking the whole way. “I realize that I have only been here a short time. But I am already so enamored of the human race.” He nodded at Grandma. “You have been so welcoming and kind. And, Mr. Tate, you have provided a classic case study of competence and leadership as you manage your resources to protect this establishment.” He spread his hands out and looked up at the blue sky and surrounding trees. “This is all the very definition of natural beauty. And the good citizens in town have been so hospitable.” He took a deep breath and let it out in an aaahhhh. “You could say I’ve fallen in love with Earth and her people.”

  Oh, please. Where could he possibly be going with this?

  We neared the place where the backyard ended and the forest began. Scratchull turned to face us, his back to the wilderness. “So, naturally, I was greatly distressed when I read about some of the struggles plaguing your planet. Particularly with food production and distribution. Droughts, floods, famine. Millions of humans going to bed hungry every night.” He used a knuckle to dab at a nonexistent tear in the corner of his eye. “And the worst part was thinking about the children…so many human children in need….” He actually bent his head and lifted one finger in the Just-give-me-a-moment-to-compose-myself gesture. Sickening.

  Finally he cleared his throat and straightened up, smoothing his coveralls with both hands. “When I realized it was within my power to help the humans, I didn’t hesitate.

  “I asked a scientist friend of mine to bring me a mechanism that he has been working on.” Scratchull gestured to the black device I was still clutching with both hands. “He had described its powers to transform planetary landscapes, and it sounded almost miraculous. I knew I must conduct experiments that might be useful to the humans.” He made a sweeping gesture at the forest behind him. “If you would follow me, please, I would like to show you the results of those experiments.” He ducked underneath some branches and disappeared into the woods.

  The rest of us looked at each other. Grandma seemed very worried, but I couldn’t tell if she was nervous about following Scratchull or upset because she was convinced her only grandson had gone crazy. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go in there with him,” I said.

  “Horsefeathers,” Tate said. He marched toward the trees and yanked aside a couple of branches.

  “Well…be careful, at least.”

  Tate turned and sneered at me. “Sounds like you’re the one who needs to be careful with that little gizmo.” Then he walked into the forest and out of sight.

  Grandma raised her eyebrows and tried to give me a sympathetic smile, but it just looked like pity. I thought she might say something, but she turned and followed Tate.

  I looked at Amy. “You still believe me.” No reaction. “Right?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. I just—I mean, I don’t know what to think after everything that’s happened today.” She gestured toward the woods. “But we should probably go hear what he’s telling them.”

  “In the wilderness? With no witnesses? I don’t think so. What if he melts a big hole in the ground and pushes me in?”

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that. At least right now.”

  “See?” I said. “I knew you didn’t believe me.”

  “No, I just meant I don’t think he’ll try anything in front of Dad or your grandma.”

  “Amy, listen. Didn’t I tell you what he wants to do? Destroy. The. Planet. You think he cares about what those two think? He’ll push them in the hole next!”

  “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m some confused first-grader. It’s just that I thought maybe you misunderstood him or something. He’s acting so normal and innocent, maybe this is all part of the report he’s going to give to the Collective about—”

  “He is not normal and innocent.”

  “Fine, but then why—”

  Suddenly we heard Grandma, but her voice was very faint. “Oh my goodness!”

  “Hey, now!” That was Tate, louder.

  Amy and I shared a wide-eyed look before we plunged into the woods, pushing through a thicket of undergrowth.

  The light was dimmer under the canopy of entwined branches, but I caught a colorful glimpse of Grandma’s blouse, half hidden behind some trees. Amy and I sprinted toward her.

  We rounded a patch of ferns and stopped short. I shook my head to clear the image, but when I looked again it was still there before me. No matter how many weird scenes I’ve come across at Grandma’s place, that surreal quality of seeing something my brain refuses to believe always knocks the wind out of me a little.

  “What is this?” Tate breathed.

  Scratchull spread out his hands, capturing the entire scene. “I call it my Garden of Earthly Delights.”

  At first the huge, unnatural scar slashed into the landscape reminded me of the soupy mess that almost swallowed me whole. But this was different. The ground was firm, and running down the middle, in orderly rows, was a garden that looked like it belonged to a giant farmer in some fairy tale.

  The corn stalks stretched all the way up to the midpoint of the surrounding hundred-foot cedar trees. The ears of corn were as long as broomsticks and very thick. Each kernel gleamed like a fat, golden marble.

  The next row was strawberries, each one as big as a pumpkin, and a perfectly ripe red.

  The far corner was given over to a wate
rmelon patch. I would need a running start and a stepladder to be able to climb up on top of one of those things.

  There were other enormous fruits and veggies—baseball bat bananas, basketball oranges—too many to take in all at once. I remembered what Scratchull had told Greenie: I can create a little oasis of land that is stable enough to allow me to ride out the storm of destruction. And I have already seen to it that there will be plenty of food provisions, as well.

  All of us humans looked at each other, then back at the garden, and finally at Scratchull.

  “But how can this…I mean, why did you…” It was pretty unusual for Grandma, who had definitely seen it all, to be speechless.

  Scratchull smiled broadly. “You like it, then? I’m so pleased.” He gestured toward the device I was still holding. “This mechanism has all sorts of wonderful properties.” The white alien looked right at me, and I caught a glimpse of the fury he was hiding under that mask of friendliness. “When it’s not being used rashly and improperly to freeze rivers, that is.”

  Scrathull’s half-hidden rage disappeared, and he slapped another hideous smile on his face. He walked between the rows of monster fruit, and we followed in stunned silence. “This entire garden flourished in just a few days’ time. If we picked it all right now, every last bit, the soil would yield another bumper crop before the week is up. And this is all in the deep shade of the forest. Imagine what could be produced under optimal sunlit conditions.”

  Scratchull used both hands to pluck a hefty raspberry from a bush. He handed it to Tate. “Enjoy a taste test, Mr. Chief of Security.”

  Tate glanced around at us humans. He was no doubt contemplating the effects of alien germs and microbes and who-knows-whatnot.

  “It’s perfectly natural, I assure you, my good man,” Scratchull said. “The technology that enabled its growth is alien, to be certain, but isn’t that just another way of saying ‘slightly more advanced’? And of course the soil and its nutrients are purely Earthbound. They have merely been tweaked in order to operate more efficiently. No different, really, than the agricultural enhancements that humans have been making for the last several centuries.”