Sleepers and Scouts

by Phillip Murrell

  “Would you tell me more about the Gudz?”

  “Absolutely. I was hoping you’d ask. What questions do you have?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Currently, just outside of Colberton.”

  “I mean before that.”

  “I spent some time in Sierra Leone.”

  “I meant before you lived on Earth.”

  “I know what you meant. I thought humans enjoyed sibling rivalry.”

  “It’s more like sibling torment. At least, if you’re the younger one.”

  “What you’re really asking is what’s the name of my home world?”

  “I am.”

  “It’s called Coelum. It’s far from here. It took a long time to find the place where my parents crashed, and I made sure to make it difficult for Gudz or Malignant to follow me.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “I do, but not as much as I miss my parents. I like living on Earth. I hear stories of them and some of my other friends. Sure, they’ve been misinterpreted in many cases, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “What’s Coelum like?”

  “It’s magnificent. It has all the climates you find here and different ones as well. There are floating islands and bodies of water.”

  “That sounds fascinating.”

  “It is. I remember swimming in a floating lake to its very bottom, then falling into the lake below it as a boy. No better place to grow up.”

  “You’re not tempted to go back with the Malignant? Wouldn’t that save Earth?”

  “Not likely. The Malignant are stubborn. They live by a strict set of rules. One of which is that only authorized species may live on specific planets. They’ll see the advanced humans here as against the natural order.”

  “The natural order?”

  “Think about it. Humans are at the top of all food chains, but they really shouldn’t be. There are more powerful animals. An older species interbred with Gudz and led to modern man. The Malignant will want to reset the planet and force nature to follow their guidelines.”

  “If the Malignant agreed to leave if you went with them, would you?”

  “I prefer not to commit myself to a decision from a hypothetical. We’ll see what happens. That’s the beauty of life. The unexpectedness of it. That’s why you truly need to live in the moment. Or, perhaps the next one.”

  “Is that your way of asking about my date with Carlos?”

  “Did I say that? Since you brought it up, what do you plan on doing tonight?”

  “It’s Easter, so he closed the bar to let his staff enjoy the day. He said he wanted to take the morning and afternoon to finish some paperwork, but I suspect he’s getting the place set up for a special date night.”

  “A bar all to yourself. How very . . . American.”

  Karen laughs at the surprising comment.

  “Was that a joke?”

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys this. I’m a normal person. I have emotions. I enjoy life. So, yes, that was a joke.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Does this mean I may see a ring on your finger when you come back?”

  Karen blushes. She hadn’t thought of that possibility.

  “Do you think he would ask?” Karen wonders.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t met him.”

  Realization dawns on Karen.

  “You haven’t, have you? Why not?”

  “I try not to impose.”

  “Not good enough. You’re coming to the bar for at least a night.”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  “Just make sure you age yourself a bit. We don’t need you getting carded every ten seconds.”

  “Sure. Give me some time first, though.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to set the stage for me. Casually mention me a few times, how I’m coming to visit in June or something. I can be the neighbor kid who used to live near you and wants to become a cop or something.”

  “That sounds a bit elaborate.”

  “Trust me. It’s hard for humans to think on their feet for something like my introduction apparently. If you rehearse your lines over the next two months, I’ll be able to just step right in.”

  “Okay, Abel. Okay, Brother.”

  Abel beams at the label. “Perhaps you’ll have a lovely engagement ring, too. That’ll make my presence a bit easier to explain.”

  “Don’t jinx it.”

  “It appears to be our turn.”

  Karen looks up and sees that the family has finally moved on to the fourth hole. She and Abel are now the holdouts as a couple behind them patiently waits for them to take their turn.

  OP browses the menu at an outdoor café in Milan. He rubs the area outside his metal eye patch to relieve the tension. The lights are on as Italian couples enjoy each other’s company. OP ignores them as he tries to decide on the menu. The waitress approaches him to take his order. She reaches his table and rests a hand on his shoulder, but before he can give her an answer, he hears a pop and a scream. The waitress, now bleeding from the arm that touched him, runs away while holding the wound. OP instinctively stands and looks for the source of the danger. He sees a small explosion right in front of his chest. The source of the detonation is a small, marble-sized object. Soon, two more equally diminutive explosions light up his face. Shocked diners slowly back away, but with the same confusion that OP has.

  “Just take him!” a man shouts.

  Four men jump from their seats at the café and pull out automatic pistols. All four aim at OP and begin firing. The sound of gunfire eliminates any further confusion among the bystanders, and they panic. Chairs and tables are turned over as the people attempt to preserve their lives. The assassins are clearly not concerned with any of these people. They concentrate their fire on OP. OP finally understands what’s happening as each bullet turns into a mini, and harmless to him, explosion just before it penetrates his skin.

  “Big mistake!” OP announces his challenge.

  OP points his right hand at the four known targets. Three seconds later, each explodes and rains viscera down on the formerly pristine establishment. Satisfied that the immediate killers are dead, OP searches the rooftops.

  “Your friends are dead!” OP shouts. “Why don’t you come down and take your shot! Less people to split The Enterprise’s reward with now!”

  OP searches again for what he suspects to be the last assassin. He hears sirens faintly in the distance. He affords himself one last look, but doesn’t see anything suspicious. OP runs down the street. He takes random turns at various intersections and alleys, but he always makes sure that any tail will be able to follow.

  OP nears his hotel and is forced to the ground. He looks over his shoulder only to have his face promptly smashed back into the ground by a powerful foe. The attacker pulls out a syringe and tries to jab it into OP’s butt, but then thinks better of it and throws it down the alley. The syringe explodes a moment later, much to OP’s chagrin.

  “I’m getting smarter, auggie piece of shit,” the man whispers into OP’s ear with a snicker.

  OP feels his gloves torn free from both hands. The man stands and shoves them into his pockets. He pulls out a pistol and levels it on OP.

  “Stand up and turn around slowly with your hands up. I’ve got your little toys now.”

  OP does as instructed and faces the assassin. He smiles when he sees the man’s face.

  “You’re with The Enterprise, right?” OP asks.

  “Today I am. Tomorrow, who knows?”

  “So, I guess I have to go back to the States?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Too bad you won’t be coming with me.” OP snickers.

  The man shoots his pistol. The bullets detonate before harmin
g OP. Next, the attacker’s hands and feet also detonate. The assassin falls with stumps at the end of all four limbs. He screams in pain and frustration while OP gloats over him.

  “Let me explain something to you. I don’t need those gloves. They’re more for nostalgic and sentimental reasons now.”

  The man’s knees and elbows explode. This is followed by another round of screams.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to have to pay Julie a visit again. I’d decided to leave her alone after the last time, but your presence means that our fight is inevitable.”

  A small pop is heard, and a pool of blood fills the man’s crotch. His screams turn into soft moans as blood loss and shock take away his awareness.

  “That was the last one,” OP says as he turns, retrieves his gloves, and strolls down the alley. He looks over his shoulder at the dying assassin. “In case you were wondering.”

  Karen enters Miss Ery’s wearing a red, sleeveless dress with pink roses cascading down the front to a lengthy slit over her right leg. Her hair is swept up and styled.

  Carlos leans on his cane in front of her with wonder in his eyes.

  “You look beyond amazing, baby. I really hope you went through all this trouble for me.”

  Karen giggles and looks around Miss Ery’s. As she suspected, the bar is decorated with lights and beautiful flowers of a dozen different and exotic species. She hears instrumental music playing her favorite song and sees a chilled bottle of champagne in a bucket next to an isolated table with two chairs.

  “It looks like you were the one who went through all the trouble. You did this alone?”

  “I’m not broken, Karen.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant that it looks like you did more than the afternoon gave you time for.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. If you would allow me to escort you to your seat.”

  Carlos offers the crook of his elbow and Karen graciously accepts it. Carlos walks her over to the first of the two plush chairs and pulls it out for her. She sits and adjusts herself as Carlos pushes it in for her.

  “I’ll be right back with dinner,” Carlos announces.

  Karen can’t fight the goofy smile on her face. She truly appreciates the great distance that Carlos went for her.

  “What are we having?” she shouts to him.

  “Don’t ruin the surprise!” he screams back.

  Karen fidgets in her seat. She opens her clutch and pulls out her lipstick and mirror for a last-minute adjustment. She wants to look perfect for this moment.

  Carlos emerges from the kitchen carrying a covered silver platter. He hobbles over to Karen and places the tray in front of her. He removes the cover. Karen bathes in the steam. She searches the tray for her surprise. She sees some type of poultry with a crisp brown skin garnished with orange slices and thyme.

  “Am I supposed to eat this whole thing?” Karen jokes.

  “Of course not. This is just the presentation.”

  “What is it exactly?”

  “C’mon, as many times as I joked about you making this for my birthday, you don’t recognize duck a l’orange?”

  Karen nods, impressed by the lengths that Carlos went for her.

  “Anything else?” she asks.

  “If you want to know if this is a multi-course meal, I’m going to have to disappoint you. I didn’t have time to get the salad done. I do have garlic mashed potatoes in the back. I’ll go get them and some plates.”

  “I’ll pour the champagne while I wait.”

  “No, you will not. You’re to be waited on tonight.”

  “Excuse me,” Karen says.

  Carlos rushes off to get the remainder of the meal. Another trip and he returns with the plates and silverware. He cuts a generous portion of duck for Karen and serves her.

  “Dessert first please,” she says while holding her champagne flute.

  “As you wish,” Carlos says.

  He pops the cork and pours a full glass for her. She grabs his tie and pulls him in for a kiss.

  “That was the dessert I meant,” she says.

  Carlos prepares himself a plate and sits opposite of Karen. He maintains a radiant smile throughout. A new song begins to play in the background. Karen smiles upon hearing the romantic duet.

  “How appropriate.”

  Carlos raises his glass and toasts. “To friends becoming lovers.”

  Karen giggles. “Clever.”

  “I thought so.”

  “I’m impressed,” Karen says after sipping her champagne. “You put a lot of effort into tonight.”

  “You’re always worth it,” Carlos says.

  “As long as you remember that. I feel the same about you.”

  “So, how was your day?” Carlos asks.

  Karen laughs. “I would have said great, but then what do I call this?”

  “Decadent?”

  Karen takes a bite of her duck. Her eyes roll back into her head.

  “This is so good,” she compliments.

  “Thank you. I’ve been practicing in the back for a few weeks. I guess now that I’ve perfected it, Mitch will have to buy his own dinner again. Again, how was your day?”

  “I just ran some errands. I spoke to an old friend on the phone.”

  “Who?”

  “Abel Cain.”

  “Abel Cain? His parents named him Abel Cain?”

  “Always the name snob.”

  “I own that. I’m definitely a name snob. I just can’t help it; a boy’s name shouldn’t rhyme with maiden and a girl’s name shouldn’t have son in the suffix. Don’t even get me started on those morons who invent jacked up ways to spell common names.”

  “And?”

  “And parents shouldn’t name their kids after people they don’t know, fictional or otherwise.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

  “I don’t recognize that name. How do you know him?”

  “He’s my childhood friend’s son. You remember me talking about Samantha?”

  “Sure, sure, from when you were kids.”

  Karen smiles. She caught Carlos in a lie, but she isn’t exactly in a place to criticize.

  “Well, her son wants to become a cop. She suggested he call me about the job.”

  “Always nice to hear of new blood wanting to join the force, especially in these times.”

  “He’s graduating this May with a degree in criminal psychology. He asked if he could come out to visit sometime after, maybe in June.”

  “Sure, make sure you bring him by the bar. Out of town money is just as good as local money.”

  “How very noble of you.”

  “So you’re old enough to have a friend with a college graduate for a son,” Carlos jokes.

  Karen grimaces. That hadn’t occurred to her. She quickly does the math in her head.

  “Well, Samantha had him young. She was just eighteen.”

  “I’m not criticizing; I’m just calling you old.”

  “Watch it, buddy. Don’t make me change my opinion of you.”

  “Relax, you’re still good. You aren’t really old until you turn sixty.”

  Karen leans in. “Why sixty?”

  “Because everyone expects to live to be old. We’ve all heard of people making it to one hundred and fifteen or so, so we can lie to ourselves that we’ll make it that long, too. Despite how many beers we drink or how little we exercise. However, nobody has made it to one twenty yet. Therefore, we know that once we hit sixty, we’re officially over the hill.”

  Karen thinks of Abel and his age. The contradiction produces a bigger laugh than she expected. It seems to intrigue Carlos.

  “It wasn’t that funny,” he admits.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Karen agrees. �
�But let’s go back to the whole kids thing.”

  Carlos chokes a bit on his meal at the sudden pivot.

  “What do you mean, go back?”

  “You brought it up. Don’t get scared. We aren’t married yet.”

  Carlos lifts an eyebrow. “I like the sound of yet.”

  “Good. How many would you like to have?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it,” Carlos admits.

  He looks at the ceiling and sucks on his teeth.

  “I guess,” he starts, “that I’d like three. Two boys, then a baby girl. That way I can feel like a king.”

  “How does that make you a king?”

  “I’ll have the heir, the spare, and the girl to marry off for alliances.”

  Karen snorts laughter. She has to look away from Carlos. His deadpanned delivery of the joke and serious face make it hard for her to look at him and not laugh.

  “You finished?” he asks.

  “I love you,” she says.

  “I love you, too.”

  Carlos goes back to eating his dinner. Karen’s eyes constantly focus on the kitchen. She wills herself to be patient for his real presentation.

  Mr. Polite walks to the top left section of a movie theater auditorium. He has a medium popcorn and beverage, but no companion. He sits on the end of the aisle and scans the audience to see what type of movie goers are with him.

  Since his selected film is the most recent animated adventure, many of the patrons have young children with them. They wear colorful shirts depicting the food-themed characters that will soon come to life on the big screen. Two rows in front of him is a muscular man with a wireless headpiece hanging off his right ear. The headpiece has a constant blue flash, made more annoying by the man’s decision to have a conversation with someone while the slides show advertisements for local businesses.

  He’ll end it when the movie starts, Mr. Polite thinks.

  The auditorium darkens, and the trailers begin to cheers of delight from the children. Mr. Polite is pleased when he sees the gentleman end his conversation. Unfortunately, he realizes that the blue flash is constant regardless of whether the owner is in a conversation. The blink, every three seconds exactly, is maddening to Mr. Polite.