Quantum Cheeseburger

by Jeremy Michelson

  The ship thrust up and I tumbled from my precarious seat. My fingers slipped and I fell toward the other end of the ship.

  “Yeeeehaaaawwww!” the old man yelled.

  My head thumped on the wall. I watched the screen at the other end. The circle got bigger and bigger. It enveloped the screen and I flinched.

  Nothing happened. No crash. No rending of alien material. No broken bodies scattered on the top of the mountain. At least not any from inside the ship. Safe in her little depression, Claire strummed her tune on the ukelele.

  “Don’t forget Liz and Amber, grampa,” she said.

  The old man waved a hand at her. “Yeah, yeah. Let me put the thingy hat on.”

  Thingy hat?

  The old man turned knobs and flipped switches. The ship leveled out and stopped. On the screen, I could see the green and brown form of the mountain. I got up, body aching. It seemed like I was living my life between bouts of intense pain. You know, like after people beat the crap out of me or killed me.

  There had to be an end to this someplace.

  I had a sudden horrible thought. What if I couldn’t be killed? At all. Ever. What if they just kept killing me and killing me and killing me? Forever.

  I pushed the thought aside. Maybe I could convince the old man to let me borrow the ship. I could drive it into the heart of the sun. Surely that would end my suffering.

  I realized it was a sad state to be in when I considered death to be a better option than anything else I had at the moment.

  The old man took off his beat-up cowboy hat. The top of his head was shiny bald, surrounded by a coarse fringe of long, gray hair. He took a wire mesh hanging from one of the boxes and stuck it on his head. A thin cable ran from the mesh to the box. He flipped some switches. Little blue sparks shot out from the mesh.

  “Ow, dangit. Hate that thing,” he said.

  I sat beside Claire again. “What’s going on?” I asked, “And please give me some kind of real answer.”

  Claire strummed the ukelele. “Grampa is interfacing with the ship’s sensors. He always complains it gives him a headache.”

  “Dang right it does,” gramps said, “Damn Stickmen don’t see things like we do. I had to kajigger the hell out of this thing to get anything useful out of it.” He paused, a faraway look in his eye. “Okay, think I’m gettin’ something now. Claire, need you to take over flyin’ this heap, honeybun.”

  Claire stopped strumming. She put the ukelele to the side and ran her fingers along the rim of the depression. The surface shifted color slightly and she stood up. Was that the trick to getting out of those things? I still wasn’t going to get in one if I could help it.

  She went up front with the old man and put her fingers on the dials and buttons. How did they control they ship? It didn’t make any sense.

  “Okay grampa,” she said.

  The old man settled to the floor, sitting cross-legged. I was more impressed by that than the ship. I couldn't sit like that and I was young.

  He adjusted the mesh on his head and closed his eyes. The scent of ozone made me want to sneeze.

  “All right, got a fix on them,” he said, “Take it down to where the Johnson road forks to the south.”

  “Got it,” Claire said.

  She watched the screen and fiddled with the dials and buttons. The ship lurched into motion. The scene on the view screen changed. It closed in the on the mountain, until I could see individual trees. They rushed by in a blur. They opened up to a dirt road. The ship followed it.

  “Coming up, three...two...one–stop!” the old man said.

  Claire slapped the controls and the ship juddered to a stop. A small explosion made the hull shudder.

  “Taking fire,” the old man said.

  Claire moved to another control. “How many?” she asked.

  “One. Looks like he has a big ass plasma cannon,” gramps said.

  I took a wild guess and figured that was Julie’s husband. I peered at the screen. There was a black object in the center of it. Smoke rose from it. It looked like the Grum, laying on its side. Something flashed from the trees. The ship shook with another explosion.

  “Return fire?” Claire asked.

  “Negative,” gramps said, “We’ll set the whole dang mountain aflame. Surprised the dang fool hasn’t done it already.”

  “Liz and Amber have got him pinned,” Claire said, “We could finish him off pretty easy.”

  “No,” the old man said.

  Who were these people? Neo-hippies and mountain men they weren't. There was a hardcore military streak running through them. My feeling of unease was growing all the time.

  “Set it down between him and the truck,” gramps said, “Plasma fire won’t hurt the hull unless he runs up and puts the muzzle right to it.”

  “Ok,” Claire said. Was that disappointment I heard in her voice? Did I have a knack for attracting bloodthirsty woman, or was it just a coincidence?

  She slapped the dials and buttons and switches. The ship lurched downward. The hull rocked with more explosions. The goon must have been firing rapidly now. The ship thumped to the ground. The old man stood up and flipped some more switches.

  The side of the ship spinchtered open. Liz and Amber were waiting. They jumped inside. Liz’s cheek was smudged with dirt, her hair tousled. Her eyes were bright, a grin stretched across her face.

  “Hey gramps, you finally decide to get the old jalopy out of the garage?” she asked.

  Amber looked around. “Where’s Houston?”

  Claire gave her a sad look. “Sorry, honey, he turned out to be one of the bad guys.”

  Amber’s face fell. “Awww, wouldn’t you just know it.”

  “Dang it, save your woman crap for later, get us out of here,” gramps said.

  Claire slapped the controls and the ship lurched into the air. Amber and Liz hopped into the depressions. They seemed very familiar with the whole process.

  “So what happened?” Liz asked, “Why’d you get old Sticky out? It wasn’t to help us I hope. We had that asshole cornered. A few more minutes and he’d be singing soprano with the angels.”

  “Gramps wouldn’t let me open fire on him,” Claire said.

  Gramps adjusted the mesh cap. It sparked and he swore.

  “You don’t need to be burnin’ down the mountain,” he said, “Now get ready, I’m picking up some bogies.”

  “Alien or human?” Claire asked.

  “Human,” gramps said.

  “So I can’t shoot them down?” she asked.

  “No. Now set a course due west,” he said, “We can–”

  A massive shockwave hit the ship, like a slap from a giant hand. I was thrown against the wall. I heard bones crunch. Pain shot through my arm and leg. The crunching bones were mine.

  A woman was screaming. It sounded like Liz. Or maybe it was Amber.

  The ship fell. I looked toward the controls. The boxes were smeared with red. I couldn’t see Claire. I couldn’t see the old man, either.

  The ship hit the ground hard. The hull crunched and groaned. More of my bones broke. The pain crested in waves. I smelled blood and cinnamon. My vision wavered.

  Someone was crying. The hull started to roll. The crying turned into a scream.

  My body flopped over, then over again as the ship turned. The pains blended into a background buzz and became meaningless. My heart thumped, laboring to sustain a beat.

  After an eternity of confusion and pain, the ship came to a stop. My body settled on its back. My head seemed to be at an odd angle to the rest of me. I tried to move, but none of my limbs would obey.

  An explosion rocked the ship. Bits of debris pelted my face. Light flooded the interior. Scents of fresh air and hot plasma washed over me. Someone dropped to the floor beside me. A pair of black boots and black jeans. The person kneeled, leaning on a very large plasma rifle.

  “Well, you look good and fucked up, cupcake,” the goon said. He flashed a toothy grin at me.


  I closed my eyes and died.

  Forty-Nine

  My back was cold. Really cold.

  I opened my eyes. Which didn’t do me any good. I was either blind, or in some place that was totally dark and had a somewhat antiseptic odor to it.

  Had they finally given up and buried me?

  Not that I could blame them. My whole life had spun out of control. I wanted to feel sorry for myself about it. But that seemed pointless. It wasn’t going to get me out of this coffin. Assuming it was a coffin.

  I thought back to my last moments…Body broken. Julie’s goon of a husband grinning down at me. I hadn’t been able to move. I had a moment of panic. Was I still paralyzed?

  My body jerked. Feet kicked out, hands slapped against the side of the coffin. Okay. Not paralyzed then. A good start.

  I raised my hands to my face, rubbed my cheeks. I had a couple days worth of stubble. Either I hadn’t been dead for long, or I’d stopped growing hair. I noticed something else.

  Nothing was hurting.

  I was chilled from whatever I lay on, but nothing hurt. My broken bones and battered body must have healed while I was out.

  More potentially good news.

  The only part of this I wasn’t liking was the whole stuck in a coffin-like box thing. I really didn’t like that at all.

  I reached out and ran my fingers along the walls of my coffin. The were cold and smooth like metal. The ceiling and floor of my tiny prison were the same. I reached up over my head. More cold metal.

  It definitely seemed like a coffin. I wondered if this would be a good time to start screaming and crying in panic.

  Probably not. It would just waste whatever precious oxygen I had left. I sniffed the air. It had a sharp medicinal quality to it that seemed very non coffin-like. I remembered going to my grandfather’s funeral. Standing over his corpse, he smelled like the chemicals they preserved him with.

  I took this as another good sign. No one had bothered to embalm me. Not yet anyway.

  I heard a muffled click and something started humming. The metal plate I lay on vibrated slightly. As far as I knew, coffins didn’t vibrate. So where did that leave me? The answer came to me quickly enough. I was in a refrigerated drawer in a morgue someplace.

  Which still seemed better than being buried in a coffin.

  But led me to my next problem. How was I going to get out of there? I ran my fingers over the walls and tried to think this through. If I was in a drawer, then at some point someone was going to open the drawer. A which point I would scare the living crap out of that person.

  I didn’t have a problem with that part.

  The alternative was getting out on my own. I preferred that. Maybe I could escape all the crazy people who kept killing me.

  Probably not, but it was worth a try.

  I tried pushing on the panel above my head. Nothing. I tried pushing with my feet. Again, nothing. I sighed and rubbed my face again.

  “I could sure use a light,” I said.

  Something amazing happened.

  I felt a tickle in my eyes and suddenly there was blue light in twin circles on the metal in front of my face. I moved my eyes and the little spotlights moved with them. I put my hand in front of my face. The hand was dirty, the nails were rough and torn. But it was illuminated.

  I closed one eye and one of the spotlights dimmed. I opened the eye back up and the light came back.

  My body tingled and a blue glow lit up the entire box. I looked at my hand. Tiny, glowing blue dots covered my skin. I angled my head up and looked down at my body. The first thing I noticed was that I was naked. The next was that I was completely covered in glowing dots.

  I wasn’t sure if it was completely awesome or totally creepy. I decided awesome. Though I would have preferred to have some pants on.

  Pants would have to come later. I needed to get the hell out of here first. I turned my attention to my box. There were troughs running along the sides on the plate I was laying on. I assumed that was because I was laying on a table that slid out one direction or the other. Was my head at the opening, or were my feet?

  I looked up, there seemed to be a rubber seal around the end where my head was. I tried to work my fingers up between it. The gap was too tight. The thing didn’t want to budge.

  I scooched down and put my feet against the wall. I gripped the metal plate I lay on and pushed hard with my legs. The metal creaked a little, but nothing moved. I gave up after a couple minutes, breathing hard. Did they lock these damn things? Were they afraid someone was going to escape?

  Like I was trying to escape.

  I flopped back on the cold metal. "Well, now what do I do?" I asked.

  A chill went over me as I realized I might have company in the corpse rack. How many of us were in this box? I decided it was one of those things I was better off not thinking of. Much better.

  “I wish I still had my Hulk powers,” I said, “I could rip my way out of here in half a second.”

  I slammed my fist against the side of the coffin. A metallic boom shuddered through it.

  “What the hell was that?” a muffled voice cried out.

  Oops. Apparently, I wasn't alone.

  I heard footsteps approach. Boots on concrete.

  “It came from in there,” the voice said. Male, sounding nervous.

  I heard another voice, but couldn’t make out the words.

  “Then what the hell was it?” the man asked.

  More muffled words from the other voice.

  “I don’t want to open the drawers, you open the drawers,” the man said. There were more words from the other man. They had the snap of authority to them.

  “Yes sir,” the first man said.

  I heard a thunk and the sound of rollers. I guessed the man opened one of the drawers.

  “Empty,” the man said. The other man said something. The first man slid the drawer shut. “All right. Which ones are occupied then?”

  Footsteps, moving directly ahead of me. A lock thunked by my head. The table lurched into motion, then slid smoothly out.

  "What the–" the man said. He was a young, round-faced man with a tan Space Corps uniform.

  “Hi,” I said, “Can you show me where the bathroom is? I really have to go.”

  The guy’s eyes fluttered and he fell. He hit the floor with a thud. I sat up and swung my legs off the table. Across the room anther man fumbled for a radio on his belt, terror etched on his face. Like he’d seen a dead guy with glowing eyes sit up in a corpse drawer. He couldn’t take his eyes off me long enough to get a hold of the radio.

  I jumped off the table and ran over to him. I swatted the radio off his belt and smashed it on the floor. I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him to his feet.

  “Where am I?” I asked. He stammered something. I shook him. “Where!”

  “A-a-area 53,” he said.

  “What? What’s Area 53?” I asked.

  His eyes were so wide I thought his eyeballs were going to fall out of his head.

  “S-s-secret base, west of Holloman,” he said.

  Poop. Right, that Area 53. I brought the guy close to my face. The glow from my eyes and skin washed over him. “Is this Mattany’s base?” I asked.

  The guy nodded vigorously. “General Mattany is in charge.”

  How the hell did I get back here? The last thing I remembered was the goon. I had assumed that he and his buddies had knocked us out of the sky. Could it have been Mattany’s troops instead?

  “How did I get here?” I asked.

  “I-I-I don’t know,” the man said, “They just wheeled you in here and said to put you in the freezer.”

  “Who brought me in?”

  “I don’t know, just some Marines. I don’t know their names,” he said.

  I shoved the guy back down to his chair. This wasn’t helping. I looked him up and down. He was about the right size.

  "Take off your clothes," I said.

  Fifty


  The soldier's clothes fit well. Really well. For the first time in a couple days, I felt good. I had pants and a shirt and a pair of boots. The boots were a little loose, but I could live with that.

  The Area 53 morgue they had stashed my dead body as wasn’t fancy. Just a wall of stainless steel drawers, and a metal desk with a couple rolling office chairs in one corner. A medical type area took up the middle of the room. The place had a stink of rubbing alcohol and industrial cleaner. And a hint of decay. It didn’t leave me with pleasant associations.

  I started to toss my ripped and bloody clothes aside. I stopped and fished through the pants pocket. My fingers closed around a warm circle. I brought it out. The gold coin-like object Claire’s grandpa gave me. Looking at it gave me a fleeting sense of sadness and loss. It seemed so familiar.

  There wasn’t time to worry over it now. I stuck the coin in my spiffy new uniform pocket.

  I found some thick twine in the desk drawer and tied up the terrified soldiers as best I could. I wasn’t terribly sure my knots would hold them very long. Knots and tying up prisoners wasn’t one of my areas of expertise. I put a gag on the one who was still passed out. Probably not necessary. He’d woken briefly, then passed out again as soon as he saw me in his buddy’s uniform.

  I propped the other guy up on a chair. “When did they bring me in?” I asked.

  He swallowed hard. “They brought all of you in yesterday.”

  My stomach did flip flops. “All of us? There were others?”

  He nodded his head toward the stainless steel corpse case. “Yeah, they’re in there,” he was sweating now. “They’re not going to come out, are they?”

  I stood. My legs trembled. The refrigerator had six drawers in it, three in one row, three below it.

  “Which ones,” I said.

  “The two to the right of, um, where you were,” he said.

  I went over to the refrigerator. I felt like I was wading through icy water. My limbs didn’t want to take me there. After a million miles I finally stood in front of it. I put my hand on the cold metal handle. It had a button on it that unlatched the drawer. I pushed it, then pulled the drawer out.