Quantum Cheeseburger

by Jeremy Michelson

  “Hi sweetie,” she said, “Did you miss me?”

  She racked a round into the chamber and aimed the laser sight right between my eyes.

  “Wait! Don’t kill him!” Kincaid shouted.

  She didn’t move. “Why not?”

  Kincaid came into view. There was blood spattered on his coat and cheek. He’d been standing near me. I wondered if it was my blood or his.

  “Because the fucking thing is inside him,” Kincaid said.

  Julie dropped her stance and turned to him. “What! How did that happen? And why didn’t you tell us on the ship?”

  Kincaid gave her a sour look. “You didn’t exactly give me the chance to, did you? You threw us in the box and went off to crack Bey Jodo’s nut before I could say anything.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to break cover,” she said.

  I lay there listening, absorbing yet another twist in this situation. Were there any good guys in this whole thing? Every time I turned around it seemed like someone else was coming out as a villain.

  My body tingled, warmth spread over my back. The pain suddenly decreased. I hoped it meant my little alien buddies were fixing things.

  Kincaid kicked me in the ribs. I grunted and folded over.

  “My cover’s safe,” Kincaid said, “None of these fuckers is ever going to see the light of day again, right?”

  “You want me to kill the old man and the chick?” Julie asked.

  Across the room, Clair cradled her grandfather as they leaned up against the metal cabinet. The side of the old man’s face was covered in blood. Clair’s expression wasn’t one of shock. She looked stern, determined.

  “No, the old man said he had another piece of the wreck,” Kincaid said, “I want it.”

  “We need to get moving,” Julie said, “This place isn’t secure. Dum dum here can still be tracked, you know.”

  She waved the rifle at me when she said dum dum. I took that to mean she was talking about me. Really, what did I ever see in that woman?

  “I’m not so sure,” Kincaid said, “I think the other thing is blocking the makers.”

  “How did he do those things anyway?” Julie said, “I thought the makers were supposed to blow him up?”

  Kincaid shrugged. “Something got fucked up. Bey Jodo’s people will have to figure that one out.”

  Kincaid crouched by me and grabbed a fist full of my hair. He yanked and I hissed with pain.

  “How do we get that thing out of you?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer him. My mind still reeled from the revelation that he and Julie were working together.

  Kincaid slammed my head against the floor. I blacked out for a moment.

  “You think we can’t kill you?” he said, “I bet we can. What if we chop off your head. Or maybe throw you in a fire? I bet one of those would do it.”

  I had an image flash in my mind. The tall, ebony-skinned alien burning in the wreckage on the mountain. The object had been inside him. Somehow it survived, but it couldn't protect the alien from the violence of the crash. Kincaid wasn't far off the mark when it came to fire. I was sure a big enough, hot enough fire would kill me nice and dead.

  Kincaid let go of my hair. My head thumped on the floor. I felt strong enough to get up, but I waited. Kincaid stood and waddled over to the old man. Julie stayed near me, the rifle pointed at my face. She was just out of reach. She’d be able to pump a couple rounds into me before I could do more than sit up.

  “Hey, doc, let’s hurry this up, okay?” she said.

  “Where’s that idiot husband of yours?” Kincaid asked, “He better have taken care of those other two bitches.”

  Bitches? How low did Kincaid go?

  “He’ll be here soon,” Julie said.

  Kincaid crouched by Clair’s grandfather. Both Clair and the old man glared at him.

  “Okay, gramps, what else did you take from the wreck?” he asked.

  “It ain’t none of your business,” the old man said.

  Kincaid’s hand flashed out, striking the old man’s face.

  “I don’t have time for games,” Kincaid said, “Where is it?”

  “You can go to hell,” the old man said.

  Kincaid sighed. “Fine.” He stood up and snapped his fingers. “Julie, start putting holes in chickie here until gramps starts talking.”

  “Don’t you touch her!” the old man cried.

  Julie gave me a narrow-eyed look and slowly went over to Kincaid's side. Clair stood up and moved in front of her grandfather. He tried to push her aside, but she wouldn't budge.

  Julie cocked her head to one side. “I can do a lot of damage to you without killing you,” she said. “Permanent damage.”

  “You’re going to kill us anyway,” Clair said.

  Julie shrugged. “Yeah, but what we’re talking about is how you get there,” she said, “Quick, or slow and in agony.”

  “It’s in the god damned cabinet!” the old man shouted.

  Kincaid laughed and clapped his hands. “Good boy, now move aside old timer.”

  Clair dragged her grandfather out of the way. Kincaid stepped up to the cabinet.

  “Wait,” Julie said.

  He yanked open the door. A red spray blasted his face.

  Julie leapt back, but it got her too. They both went down, coughing and gagging.

  Forty-Seven

  The air in the cabin had an eye-watering chili pepper miasma. Clair moved fast. Before the red mist settled, she grabbed her guitar and smashed it against Julie’s exposed face.

  Julie screamed and dropped the rifle. Clair snatched it up. Shoved Julie with her foot. Julie fell over with a clatter on the wood floor. She moaned and coughed, her hands clawing at her face.

  Kincaid writhed on the floor, hands over his face, screaming obscenities. The old man sprung up. He grabbed stuff out of the metal cabinet.

  Guns. Lots of guns.

  He strapped a couple pistols around his waist and slung two bandoliers of shotgun shells over his chest. To that, he added a pistol grip pump action shotgun. He tossed a couple of holstered pistols to Clair. She caught them and slung them over her shoulder. To that, he added yet another bandolier. This one looked like it had grenades on it.

  Apparently, Claire's grandpa had been anticipating a war.

  I stood up, my body shaking. Clair rushed over, guns clanking against each other. She smelled spicy. Like her hair was spun from chili peppers. She put her hand on my cheek. Her skin was soft except for her fingertips. Those were hard, calloused.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  For the first time I noticed how green her eyes were. Green like a sunlit meadow. Her lips parted, pink and inviting. Suddenly I wanted to kiss her.

  So I did.

  Amazingly, she didn’t pull away and punch me in the face.

  “Come on you two, let’s git,” her grandpa said.

  I let go and she smiled at me. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

  “I used to be normal,” I said.

  “I doubt that.”

  She took a quick look at my back. “It looks like raw hamburger back there, does it hurt?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “A little, but it’s getting better.”

  “You two don’t git here right now, you can stay with robobitch and her friend,” her grandfather said.

  He clomped over to the wall to wall bookcase. He tied a red bandana around his forehead. For an old guy, he sure looked badass. He pushed the bookcase and it pivoted. Revealed a dark opening.

  He disappeared into it. Claire pulled at my hand. “Come on, gramps has been ready for this.”

  I followed her. “Yeah, I get that impression.”

  I spared a backward glance at Kincaid and Julie. Kincaid still rolled on the floor, moaning and crying. Julie was on her knees, gagging, trying to clear her eyes. In her black armor she looked like some kind of giant insect. I shuddered, thinking how I used to share a bed with her.

  We
ll, sometimes. She said I snored and made me sleep on the couch a lot.

  I shook my head and went through the bookcase doorway. Why had I been so stupid? Whatever she had offered me, it wasn’t love.

  The bookcase closed behind us. It clicked with a solid metallic ring. There was a scent of gunpowder and something else. Cinnamon. A light flicked on. I stumbled back, a scream stuck in my throat.

  A Stickman stood in front of me.

  Forty-Eight

  I shrank back against the wooden door. A string of lights stretched off into the distance in the stone tunnel. Gunpowder and cinnamon scents mixed in unholy matrimony in my terrified mind.

  The Stickman in front of us had six appendages, all reaching toward us out of its alien shape. The bundles of thin bands that made up its body looked strange. They looked...dusty.

  I realized it wasn’t moving.

  Claire put her hand on my arm. “Relax, it’s dead,” she said.

  Gramps clomped past the Stickman down the lighted tunnel. “Think it’s dead. Never figured out for sure,” he said.

  Claire pulled my arm and we followed the old man past the immobile–but still terrifying–Stickman. The curved walls of the tunnel were smooth, like they’d been like they’d been sliced out of the rock with a hot knife. The floor was flat and also smooth. It seemed to be sloping down. Bright LED lights were embedded in the ceiling every six feet.

  I didn’t look like anything a mountain man hermit would be capable of doing. Even one with a lot of time on his hands.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” she said.

  “If that bitch brought a plasma rifle, we only have a few minutes before they break through,” Gramps called back, “We need to get to the ship.”

  “Ship? Your gramps has a ship?” I asked.

  Claire shrugged. “It’s kind of been his hobby since the government took his claim.”

  I looked at the smooth walls again. The sophisticated lighting. The floor that seemed to be taking us in a downward spiral. I hurried to catch up with the old man.

  “Sir, pardon my asking, but why is there a dead Stickman in your tunnel?”

  The old man didn't look at me but clomped on in his sturdy work boots.

  “Did say it was dead,” he said, “Said it might be dead.”

  “But how did it get there?” I asked.

  He gave me a narrow-eyed glance. "Got too nosy, that's what," he said, "Things get too nosy, puttin' themselves where they don't belong, might have unpleasant things happen to then. Know what I mean?"

  I did. Oh, how did I know.

  I dropped back to Claire.

  “Do you want a gun?” she asked. “We have lots.”

  She held out one of the holstered pistols gramps had tossed her. I shook my head.

  “No thanks, I’ve never liked guns,” I said, “I like them even less these days.”

  Now that everyone and their dog seemed to be shooting at me.

  “Guns are okay,” Claire said, “They’re just tools.”

  Yeah, murderous tools. We continued on in silence, except for the sound of our footsteps echoing down the tunnel.

  After another hundred feet the tunnel widened out. We came to a large metal door set into the wall. It had a squat, solid look to it that reminded me of blast doors on the old nuclear installations.

  The old man stopped and pressed his palm against the metal. The spot seemed random, but it must not have been because I heard bolts clank back inside the door. Slowly, it slid upwards. Gramps ducked under it and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

  Claire took my hand and pulled. A sense of foreboding washed over me. Something told me I should turn back. I should run and take my chances with Julie and Kincaid. Claire noticed my reluctance. She smiled at me.

  “Come on, everything’s cool,” she said.

  I let her lead me inside.

  Lights flicked on. We were in a huge, domed cavern. The walls of it were as smooth as the tunnel we had walked down. On the center of the floor sat a familiar, cylindrical shape.

  I stopped. “That’s a Stickman ship,” I said.

  “Yeah, grampa captured it,” Claire said.

  I contemplated the old man clomping toward the ship. I tried to imagine a scenario where an old miner captured a highly advanced alien vessel. Maybe he lassoed it out of the sky? No, he was a miner, not a cowboy. Unless lassoing was his hobby. In which case...

  I still had no idea how he did it.

  “How did your grandfather capture a Stickman vessel?” I asked.

  Claire giggled. “You’ll have to ask him,” she said, “He tells the story better.”

  I had a sinking feeling in my gut that told me I was getting into even deeper trouble. Another parted of me sneered, asking how was that even possible.

  Oh, I don’t know, how about colluding with a dude who stole an intergalactic cop car?

  Said the dude who trashed one in a fit of Hulk rage.

  The old man put his hand on the side of the ship. A round door sphinctered open. Lights flickered on inside the vessel. He turned his head to us.

  “Git a move on,” he said, “This thing warms up quick.”

  I sighed. Deeply. What the hell, why not?

  I followed Claire inside. The thing gave me the creeps. It smelled of cinnamon and looked mostly the same at the other Stickman vessel I had been in. There were depressions all over the curving walls. I avoided those, remembering their sticky qualities.

  Up at the end, where I thought the controls were, was a hodgepodge of electronic gear. The metal and plastic boxes of equipment had been crudely bolted to the walls. Wires ran every which way. A huge and ancient cathode ray television tube was nestled in the nose.

  The old man walked up to the mess and started flipping switches. A wire sparked and he swore. He flipped more switches and turned dials. Ozone started to overpower the scent of cinnamon.

  I approached him. With caution.

  “Did you rig this up yourself?” I asked.

  He cast a narrow-eyed look my way. "It works," he said, answering my unspoken question.

  “You’ve flown this ship before?” I asked.

  “Not outside,” he said. He flipped more switches. A low hum filled the air. “Just around the hanger a bit.”

  I heard a plinking sound. Claire sat in one of the depressions toward the center of the ship. She had a ukulele in her lap and was tuning it. I almost asked her where she got it. There didn't seem to be any point, though. The answer wouldn't make any more sense than the rest of this surreal event would.

  The ship lurched and I nearly fell.

  “There she goes!” gramps said. He turned to me, dark eyes measuring me from under his bushy eyebrows. He dug into his pocket and pressed something into my hand. “Here. You might be able to do something with this.”

  I looked at it. I was a smooth gold circle, tapered thin at the edges. Sadness washed over me. My eyes stung with tears. I shook my head and the feeling passed. Where the hell had that come from?

  “What is it? A coin?” I asked.

  “I ain’t got no idea,” he said, “But I figure you’ll know what to do with it at some point. Now go sit your ass down.”

  I stuck the gold coin in my pocket and went over to Clair and sat. Not in the depression, though. She plucked out a little tune on the ukelele and smiled at me.

  “I don’t understand anything that’s happened to me,” I said, “I wish all of this would stop and I could just go home.”

  “Home is wherever you are,” Claire said.

  I shook my head. “No. Home is definitely not in a stolen alien spaceship inside a mountain.”

  “It ain’t stolen,” gramps said, “I captured it. Fair and square.”

  I almost asked him what his definition of fair and square was. And did it include whatever happened to the (possibly) dead stickman in the tunnel? A better question popped to mind.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

/>   Claire strummed a cheery tune on the ukelele. She looked up at the old man. “Grandpa, can we pick up Liz and Amber before we go?”

  The old man snorted. “You think they’re gonna let me wander around looking for your friends in this thing? Them fuckers are going to be arming their photon torpedoes at me the second I clear this bitch from the mountain,” he said. He flipped some more switches and the old TV tube flared to life.

  “Grandpa...” Claire said. She batted her eyes at him.

  The old man huffed. “All right, but they better be close by, hear?”

  “Thank you grampy.”

  Claire kept strumming a happy Hawaiian tune. Something I’d heard on TV about a million times. It seemed wrong to be hearing here in a Stickman ship. Wrong. Surreal. Just damned odd.

  The ship lurched and the old man swore. Sparks flew from one of the boxes on the wall. My stomach did flip flops.

  “Don’t worry,” Claire said, “Grampa knows what he’s doing. He’s handy.”

  The ship started a slow spin. The old man cursed and jabbed at the buttons and switches on his makeshift controls. The ship didn’t feel like it was in good hands.

  Much like the ship, I felt like my life was out of control. Spinning around uselessly from place to place. Punctuated by attempts on my life. Successful attempts on my life.

  It didn’t seem fair. I wanted to ask what I’d done to deserve all this, but that was a question that was beyond stupid. I existed, and I happened to be at that place at that particular time. The universe poked me in the eye with its crusty finger and had a good giggle at my pain. That’s the way it goes.

  “You okay?” Claire asked, “You seem a little down.”

  It was an open invitation to pour my heart out. To drown my sorrows in her deep, green eyes. I opened my mouth to speak.

  “I–”

  “Hang on!” gramps yelled, “Here we go!”

  The ship stopped spinning. The floor suddenly angled up and I grabbed on the edge of the depression to keep from falling over. The ship wobbled. I caught a glimpse of the TV screen. A circular light was growing on it. I realized it was an opening in the top of the dome. I hoped it was larger than it looked on the screen. The way the ship was wobbling, I didn't trust the old man's aim.