Alien on a Rampage

by Clete Barrett Smith

  “Grandma’s really cracking the whip on you.”

  Amy pushed through the swinging door and opened the refrigerator. “Oh, most of this stuff I set up on my own.” She took a pitcher of iced tea from the top shelf and handed it to me. “In fact, your grandma is always telling me to take some time off and hang out with friends, or do more school things. Normal things.” Amy grabbed a stack of plastic cups from the counter and rolled her eyes. “But who needs boring, normal stuff when you can hang out here, right? Come on.”

  I followed her down the main hallway and up the stairs. She knocked lightly and pushed open the door to 4B.

  There were aliens in this room, too, but they were bigger, and their varying colors were muted. Tinged with gray. Many of them sat in rocking chairs.

  Amy set the cups on a table in the center of the room. Four aliens sat around it playing a card game. She motioned to me, and I placed the pitcher of iced tea beside the cups.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” said one of them, and she reached out and patted Amy on the back with a many-fingered hand.

  “You’re welcome,” Amy said. “Everybody, this is my friend David. His grandma owns the bed-and-breakfast, and he’ll be staying here this summer.”

  Most of the aliens in the room glanced up and gave a quick wave (or nodded, or shook their jowls, or buzzed, depending on the mode of greeting on their home planet) but returned quickly to their games. A few pairs of aliens sat at little tables spread around the room playing checkers or chess, and there was a group sitting in the corner, knitting.

  “Aha! I trump your human queen-person!” A grayish alien with a head so squished it was almost football-shaped slapped a card on the table.

  “Mr. Nikto…” Amy put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

  “What? What did I do?” the gray alien said.

  “When your eyes flash green like that, it means you’re using your X-ray vision, doesn’t it?”

  The other aliens groaned and threw down their cards.

  Amy stepped back to where I was standing by the doorway. “Aren’t they cute?” she whispered.

  “Sure,” I said. “So, is this another, you know, thing you’ve set up?”

  She nodded. “Seniors Night. Twice a week. They aren’t very mobile, so I figured I’d start teaching them some quiet Earth games. Bridge, pinochle, there’s even a shuffleboard court out back. That sort of thing.”

  Amy poured iced tea, handed out refreshments, and made small talk with the elderly aliens.

  I just stared at her. I couldn’t believe she had done all of this. How did she have the time? Or the energy? When I was working here last summer it was all I could do to keep up with the GRADE jobs (that stands for Greeting and Review of Alien’s Disguise for Earth). I felt so exhausted at the end of each day that there’s no way I would have been able to do stuff like this.

  And let’s be honest, even if I had had the time…I never would have thought of setting up activities. I should have known she would be much better at this job than I could ever be.

  Amy finished making her way around the room and said good-bye to the aliens. I followed her into the hall. “I think it’s really cool that you’re doing all of this for them. And for Grandma’s business.”

  “Thanks,” Amy said. We walked down the stairs. “But I’m no saint or anything. I mean, I’m not just doing it for them. It gives me so many chances to talk to a wide variety of aliens. It’s fascinating. We have so much to learn from them.”

  She pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen and washed out the pitcher in the sink. I moved in closer to help, but it was really a one-person job, so I just sort of watched her.

  “You’re probably tired from your long day of travel. And it’s really three hours later for you, right? You must be exhausted.” Amy glanced at me over her shoulder. “Grandma said you’ll be in the same room as last year. I understand if you want to crash. I can see you in the morning.”

  “Actually, I’m more hungry than tired. Does Forest Grove still have that diner that’s open late? Maybe we could walk into town and get something to eat. You know, after you finish up your jobs?”

  “That sounds like fun. Really.” Amy placed the pitcher on the rack and wiped her hands on a towel. “But after the movie I promised the kids I’d read them some bedtime stories. Then I’ll have to clean up the playroom and help the seniors wrap up and get to bed. The diner will probably be closed after all of that.”

  She must have seen the disappointed expression on my face, because she stepped closer and kind of patted me on the shoulder. It was a little awkward. “I’m sorry you got here on such a busy night, David. But we’ll have all summer to hang out. Okay?”

  “Sure.” We just looked at each other for a minute. “Well, I guess I’ll head up to my room.”

  “All right. I’m going to get a few things ready in here for the breakfast rush tomorrow.”

  I turned to walk out of the kitchen but stopped at the swinging door and looked back at her. “Hey, about this new guy. The one that fixes the transporters or something?”

  “Oh, you mean Scratchull.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with him?”

  “He got here a few weeks ago. And just in time, too. Three of the transporters didn’t work at all, and one of them kept short-circuiting and bringing in Tourists that were trying to go somewhere else. It was a mess.”

  I shrugged. “That’s good, I guess. But—”

  “And he doesn’t use a translator chip. Isn’t that amazing? Already speaks perfect English. Apparently he knows thousands of languages. He’s crazy smart.”

  “Okay…but isn’t he a little…?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I got a weird vibe from him.”

  Amy waved away my concerns. “Oh, he might not be as bubbly as some of the customers, but he’s fine. And I know your grandma is glad that he’s here.”

  “All right. Well…good night.”

  “’Night. See you in the morning.”

  I left the kitchen and plodded my way up the staircase.

  My room was chilly. I had forgotten how quickly the air cooled down in the Pacific Northwest after the sun went down. Back home in Florida it stays warm all night, especially in the summer.

  I went to close the window but paused for a minute, looking out at the first stars showing in the darkening sky over Forest Grove.

  It’s good to be back, I told myself. Really. Now I just had to figure out how I’d fit in around here this summer.

  A thumping sound woke me up way too early in the morning. Someone at the door? My feet untangled themselves from the quilt, and I shuffled across the room. I eased the door open. The hallway was empty.

  Thump! Thump! Thumpthumpthump! Ka-chunk!

  What the…? It sounded so close. I crossed the hall and peeked into the alien bathroom. Also empty.

  Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I went back into my room.

  A blue light, the size of a dinner plate and set in the center of the transporter door, glowed brightly. That usually meant a new arrival.

  Had Scratchull missed this transporter repair on his rounds? I like hanging out with most of the aliens, but I definitely did not need them randomly showing up in my room at the crack of dawn.

  I walked over and put my ear to the door.

  Thump! Thumpthumpthump!

  Whoa. Definitely coming from in there. But what kind of alien could be making all that noise? And why didn’t they just open the door—were they trying to bust their way out?

  “Hello?” I called. The sounds cut out completely for a couple of seconds, then started up again double time. The heavy door shuddered in its frame.

  I took a couple of steps backward. Staring at the door, I remembered how nervous I was last summer to meet my first alien Tourists. That had turned out all right, but this seemed…different. Whatever was in there sounded pretty agitated.

  I considered going to get Tate, but only for about h
alf a second. Admitting to him that I was scared and needed his help was not a good way to start off the summer. And it’s not like I would ask Grandma or Amy to do something I wouldn’t do.

  So I gripped the metal handle, counted to ten, and tugged the door open.

  All I could see was a blur of purple. After a moment my eyes adjusted to the rush of motion, and I could make out a roundish mass, about the size of a beach ball, ricocheting crazily from wall to ceiling to wall to floor. Thump! Thumpthumpthump!

  I was about to slam the door shut when the ball launched out of the room and smacked me in the sternum. The force of the blow knocked me flat on my back, my head banging off the wooden floorboards. Something slimy slurped across my face.

  The purple beach ball stood on my chest, balancing on six little legs. Its tail was going a million miles an hour, but it wasn’t exactly wagging. More like twirling. Its eyes were wide and green and only a few inches from my face. And its whole body bounced up and down as it panted, a long tongue slipping in and out of its mouth.

  Slorch! That tongue dragged across my face again. I reached up to wipe the slimy trail from my cheeks when the beach ball shot off my chest and scampered around the room.

  When it hit the corner it scaled straight up the wall, then dashed to the middle of the ceiling. It hung there, upside down and panting, scanning the room with those wide eyes.

  Suddenly it dropped from the ceiling, hit the floor on its back and bounced in the air, then flipped over and landed on all six feet. I caught a glimpse of a double row of sharp teeth as it panted some more. Then it was swarming around the room again like a cyclone, rebounding off the walls, the bed, the chest of drawers.

  I inched along the wall to get closer to the door and make my escape. Now I didn’t feel too embarrassed about finding Tate. He could earn his paycheck this morning.

  But as I eased the door open I paused and studied the thing. If it kept zooming around the room like that, sooner or later it was going to smash right into the window. Right through the window, probably. It could get hurt, I suppose, but that was the least of my worries. I could imagine that thing rocketing down the street into downtown Forest Grove. Not good. Keeping Grandma’s secret about her customers was the only way to keep her in business…and the rest of us out of jail. Or out of a super-secret-military science lab a mile underground somewhere.

  “Hey,” I called. “Settle down.”

  The little purple alien stopped short. He was standing on the wall above the headboard of my bed. There was a smattering of light blue dots on his back, near his tail. Their coloring was so bright, the dots almost seemed to sparkle.

  The thing looked down at me, his round body pulsating with his heavy panting.

  “Do you speak English?” I said. He cocked his head and regarded me curiously. “Do you speak anything?” His tongue slipped in and out of his mouth in time with his heavy breathing. I could almost swear he was smiling.

  I dropped to one knee and snapped my fingers near the floor. “Come here, boy. Right over here.” I felt a little embarrassed, talking in that high-pitched voice that people use with puppies. But it seemed right. And what else could I do?

  The alien tilted his head from one side to the other, studying me. “That’s right, boy,” I said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Hopefully the feeling was mutual. Who was to say the thing didn’t have a set of retractable tusks and a taste for raw earthling flesh?

  Although, somehow I wasn’t too worried about that. As weird as the little guy seemed, there was something about him that was…well, I might call it cute, if that was a word I ever used. But I don’t.

  The purple beach ball shuffled its feet down the wall, gazing at me the whole time, and then hopped onto the top of the headboard. “Good job,” I half whispered. “That’s a good boy. Now, come right on down here.” He studied me for another minute, then fell sideways off the headboard, bounced off the mattress, and landed on all sixes on the floor a few feet away.

  “That’s it.” I eased forward. Slowly. Just as slowly, the alien shambled backward.

  I stopped. He stopped.

  I patted the floor in front of me. He did the same with one of his front feet.

  “Come on, now. Don’t play games with me.” Every time I inched forward, he backed up the same amount. We made a full circle of the room that way.

  Time to try something different. I stood and walked to my suitcase. He took that as his cue to zoom all over the room again.

  I looked at the candy-bar selection in my bag. Which would be most enticing for a nonverbal, hyperactive mini-alien? I unwrapped a chocolate bar, a nut roll, and a pack of licorice. He could decide.

  I knelt down again and held up the treats. The alien froze in place on top of the chest of drawers. A small cave opened up underneath his green eyes, and a few wispy tendrils snaked out and danced in the air, making a sniffing noise. Then they sucked back into his face, and he hopped down on the floor.

  He crept toward me, very slowly, head tilted toward the ground but eyes looking up. I held out the treats. I tensed up my muscles, ready to grab him when he was close enough.

  But before I had time to blink, he darted forward, inhaled all three candy offerings, jumped up, used my forehead as a springboard, and did a backflip onto the bed.

  He sat still for a moment and we stared at each other. Gulp! He swallowed the food. Then he shook all over, took a run at the headboard, bounced off of it, and did a double backflip. Then he was racing all over the walls and ceiling again.

  Enough with the bribes and sweet talk. Time for a more direct approach.

  I crawled over, tugged the quilt off the bed, gathered it up in my hands, and knelt on the floor in a sprinter’s crouch. Watching the little alien zoom around the room, I tried to make out a pattern in his chaotic path.

  He seemed to be passing by my side of the bed every three or four laps, although that wasn’t exact. I was going to need a little luck.

  I coiled the muscles in my legs. The purple blur hit the ceiling, then the wall over the headboard, then bounced on my side of the bed—

  I pounced, throwing the quilt over him like a net. Got him! A round lump shot up in the middle of the quilt, and I tackled it, scooping up the alien in a wriggling ball underneath the cloth. I hoped this wasn’t the part where some horrible alien defense mechanism kicked in and things got ugly.

  Finally the alien stopped struggling and settled down. Slowly, keeping a tight grip on him, I pulled back some of the quilt until his little face poked out. He started making a whistling noise and short bursts of high-pitched sound. However—and this might seem weird—they sounded like happy whistles. His tongue shot out of his mouth and gave me a big slurp on the cheek again. It was a little gross, but it was better than hydrochloric acid shooting out of his eyes or something.

  I relaxed my grip. I didn’t want to hurt the little guy. Keeping him wrapped up in the quilt and holding him to my chest, I nudged the door open with my foot and stepped out into the hall. Time to show him to the others. Hopefully somebody would know what to do.

  Grandma was in the kitchen when I made my way downstairs with the wriggling lump of quilt-covered alien. She was pulling something out of the oven, and it actually smelled really good. If you know anything about Grandma’s organic-tofu-centric cooking skills, then you know how surprising that was.

  “Ah, you’re awake. A pleasant new day to you, David,” Grandma said. “And what do you have there?” She crossed the kitchen, holding a steaming pie in two oven-mitted hands.

  I kept a firm grip on the alien, pinning him to my side with one arm while I used my free hand to pull back a corner of the quilt. The little guy peered out from underneath with those wide green eyes. “He was banging away on the transporter walls in my room this morning,” I said. “I opened the door and he spazzed out. He doesn’t talk and I think he might be, like, somebody’s pet or something. But he was all alone.”

  Grandma moved closer, bent down, and peered in at
him. “Well, my stars and comets. He’s a cute little creature, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so.”

  A few of those wispy tendrils snuck out of the blanket and sniffed the air. I barely had time to notice how close that pie was before a long tongue shot out, wrapped itself around the dessert, pie tin and all, and sucked it back inside the quilt. Furious chomping sounds came from underneath while the whole quilt shivered, and then the pie tin flew back out and clattered on the kitchen tile.

  “Sorry, Grandma. I should have been more careful—he did the same thing with some of my candy bars.” I peered inside the quilt and tried to look stern. “Bad…thing! You hear me? Bad!” It was hard to scold him with a straight face, though. He was slurping pie filling off his purple lips and not even pretending to try to look ashamed of himself.

  “Actually, that’s a good sign. I’m flattered he liked it so much,” Grandma said. “It means I must be one step closer to winning the big contest!”

  “Contest?”

  “Oh, I forgot, you haven’t been here. The whole town has been getting ready for weeks.” Grandma picked up the pie tin and brought it to the sink. “The annual Pioneer Day Festival is a bigger deal than usual this summer. Forest Grove is celebrating its centennial.”

  Wow. A hundred years of Forest Grove. Maybe in another century or so they’d get a second stoplight in this town. Or if they dreamed big, some cell-phone service.

  Grandma ran soap and water over the pie tin while she scrubbed it. “They hold a baking contest every year. It was Tate’s idea that I sign up to compete this time—fairly forced me to do it. Claims I need to be a more active part of the community. The human community, that is. After…well, after what happened last summer…with everyone showing up and almost storming the front—”

  “I remember.” My face got hot. Yes, the whole thing had been my fault, but did it have to keep coming up? It had turned out all right in the end, hadn’t it?

  Grandma cleared her throat and finished quickly. “Anyway, he thinks maintaining friendly relations with the townsfolk is the first line of defense in keeping our little secret.”