Alien on a Rampage

by Clete Barrett Smith

  Tate took a bite and chewed slowly, thoughtfully. After he swallowed he wiped dripping red juice from his mustache with the back of his hand. We watched him, all of us holding our breath. I more than half expected him to keel over dead.

  “That’s the finest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he said solemnly. Tate broke off round clusters of the fruit and handed them to Grandma and Amy.

  Grandma took a bite and squealed like a little girl. “Great galaxies! That would win first prize in the Pioneer Day contest all by itself!”

  And even though I couldn’t believe it, Amy took a bite, too. She raised her eyebrows and gave her dad the thumbs-up. “You’re right, that’s really tasty.”

  The three of them dug into the raspberry. Tate held out a chunk to me, but I shook my head. He glared at me for a moment, then went back to licking the juice from his fingers.

  “How wonderful,” Scratchull said. “Do you realize how many earthlings could be fed in a year, just using this small plot of land alone?”

  “Millions of satisfied human customers served,” Tate said through a mouthful of raspberry. “Better’n McDonald’s.”

  Grandma finished eating. “The possibilities are certainly exciting, Scratchull.” Then her eyebrows bunched up. “But surely you know the rules concerning the use of sophisticated off-world technology on non-Collective planets? In fact,” she said as she wiped the rest of the berry juice from her fingers, “now that my mind has cleared a bit, I have to say this all makes me more than a little nervous. My place could be closed down for good if anyone found out.”

  Scratchull stepped closer to Grandma and took both of her hands in his. I tensed up, that urge to fight and protect stronger than ever. “I would never let something like that happen, I assure you,” Scratchull said. “I have many friends and colleagues in the Collective, and would take full responsibility for this enterprise.” Scratchull looked around at his garden, taking in the rows of enormous food. “Setting this up has caused me to reinterpret a few rules, certainly. But I was only doing what I felt was morally right. I could not stand idly by while so many humans suffered.”

  Tate cleared his throat. “Well, sure, but that won’t—”

  “Did you know that slightly altering the soil in dry regions could turn the barren deserts of Earth into fertile cropland? From wasteland to breadbasket”—Scratchull snapped his fingers—“overnight. Why, it would revolutionize the way the entire planet eats. Just think of it: no more hunger. Humans everywhere could concentrate on far more important endeavors than the mere day-to-day survival of their species.” He glanced at Amy and dropped her a wink. “Important endeavors such as, say, petitioning the Collective for the inclusion of Earth.”

  Amy’s expression was so hopeful that my heart broke a little. And then when she actually returned his smile, it was ripped out of my chest, put in a blender, and poured in a shallow grave.

  Thankfully, Grandma still looked a little skeptical. “That may be…but don’t the leaders of the Collective feel that planets should evolve at their own pace?” she said. “If a race of people gets access to important technology they don’t fully understand, there is the danger they will become overly dependent on whoever supplies that technology. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “My dear woman,” Scratchull said. “These are the types of ethical debates that the Collective leadership engages in all the time.” I wondered what kind of effort it was taking him to pretend like he actually cared about any of this stuff. “Let me give you an example. When a natural disaster devastates an impoverished community, or a terrible drought wipes out the year’s crops for a developing nation, and people are suffering on a most tragic scale…what do the rest of the earthlings do?”

  “We all pitch in, of course,” Grandma said.

  “Sure,” said Tate. “We send food, money, doctors. You name it.”

  “Exactly,” said Scratchull. “You do not stand by and watch while innocents suffer needlessly, do you? Crossing your fingers and merely hoping that they might ‘figure it out for themselves’ over the course of the next hundreds—perhaps thousands—of years. You do what you know is right.”

  Scratchull reached up and plucked a kernel of corn from an ear on a nearby stalk. He took a bite out of it like it was an apple. “There is what’s legally right, and there is what’s morally right. Unfortunately, they are not always the same thing. There are a few misguided individuals in the Collective leadership who are solely interested in consolidating power. Exclusivity is the hammer they clumsily wield.” He finished up the kernel of corn and brushed off his hands. “They care nothing for the human suffering that must take place in order for their arbitrary little rules to be followed.”

  “I know what you mean,” Amy said. Hearing her agree with Scratchull felt like a hard punch to the spleen. “I definitely think the Collective should let Earth in so we can share ideas and stuff. Sure, other civilizations might be more advanced, but I think humans have a lot to offer the interstellar community.”

  “What a clever girl,” Scratchull said. “I certainly could not have phrased it better myself.”

  I glared at Amy, but she wasn’t looking at me. Instead she was focused on the white alien. “Do you mind if I try one of those? They’re my favorite.” Amy pointed to a tree with peaches so large it looked like James and his talking insect friends might come dancing out of one at any second.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks!” Amy said. Scratchull and Tate helped her get a peach down from the tree, so she didn’t end up crushed underneath it, and she scooped out handfuls of fresh fruit.

  Grandma approached Scratchull. “Assuming we are able to produce all of this food safely and secretly, how could we possibly distribute it without letting the entire human race in on our little secret here at the Intergalactic Bed and Breakfast?”

  Scratchull nodded. “An excellent question. I have been studying that challenge myself, madam. And while I would love to share my ideas with you, I think we have far more pressing matters to discuss at the moment.”

  Tate jerked his thumb in my direction and harrumphed. “You mean like David accusing you of global destruction?”

  Scratchull smiled. “Well, yes, we should probably chat about that, shouldn’t we? But I was thinking rather more of all the recent attention being paid to the area.” He pointed at the sky and twirled his finger to indicate the helicopters.

  Tate’s face paled. “Good lord. I was so amazed by all this, I nearly forgot. Let’s get back to the house.” He grabbed Grandma by the hand and pulled her away from the garden and through the forest.

  Amy tossed back the last few pieces of fruit and trotted after her dad.

  That left Scratchull and me alone at the edge of the garden. I stared hard at him. I’m sure my fear was still there somewhere, but at the moment it was being suffocated by anger.

  Scratchull swept his long arm in the direction of the house in an after you gesture. But I held my ground and glared at him.

  Scratchull smiled. “Just look at you,” he said. “Blood rushing to the cheeks, increased breathing rate, hands balled into fists—your body has chosen to revert to its animal state, and you just let it happen. I can practically watch you devolving right before my eyes.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” I said.

  “Oh, but I already am getting away with it, my dear boy.” His smile died. Those red pinpricks of light flared up in the middle of his eyes again. “Such a pity you won’t be around to see how it all turns out.”

  The fear came flooding back. Was he going to try something now, right here? I turned and ran through the forest, but the only thing following was the screechy sound of alien laughter.

  “These disturbing images are being brought to you live, courtesy of KING-TV of Seattle.” The CNN anchorwoman’s voice cut over the bird’s-eye-view video of the frozen river snaking its way through the forest. “Confirmed details are scarce at the moment, but we do know that at aro
und one p.m. today, Pacific Daylight Time, the entire length of the Nooksack River, located in the northwest corner of Washington State, froze solid. According to several eyewitness accounts, this unexplained phenomenon happened instantaneously. Apparently an unprecedented force of nature is at work here.”

  The scrolling banner underneath the video read climate change gone crazy?

  I was sweaty all over, my clothes clinging to my skin, but at the same time I felt so cold—almost like I was coming down with the flu. But instead of a virus, this was caused by all of the stress and worry about what I was going to do and what could possibly happen next.

  I glanced up at Amy, Grandma, and Tate staring at the breaking news report, and their pale faces told me they were feeling the same way. Why did seeing something on TV make it seem more real?

  “The river is frozen from its source, a series of glaciers in the Cascade mountain range near Mount Baker, all the way down to Bellingham Bay. The salt water there appears to be unaffected.” The new video showed people lining the banks of the river. They were staring at the place where the frozen river ended in a block of ice at the edge of the calm water of the bay.

  “We hope to provide more information soon. Our field reporters are gathering on site and efforting to obtain interviews with members of both the armed forces and the scientific community, who are converging on the area.”

  The video switched to a caravan of vehicles—plain white civilian trucks mixed in with military rigs—climbing up the mountain road. My throat constricted, making it harder to breathe. I swear I could feel all of those outside people and their prying eyes getting closer.

  I leaned over to Amy, sitting on the other end of the couch, and whispered, “Don’t tell me you actually believe him.”

  She answered quietly, out the side of her mouth. “I’m just going to hear him out, okay?” She turned her head slightly and looked at me for the first time since we found the garden. “You don’t think it’s at all possible you made some kind of mistake?”

  I bulged my eyes at her and mouthed NO! She turned her attention back to the TV.

  The onscreen footage went back to the sweeping aerial shot of the river as the helicopter flew toward Mount Baker. For a long stretch the icy Nooksack was surrounded on both sides by uninterrupted forest. But then the trees cleared and the town of Forest Grove popped into view. The people in the crowd at Riverside Park turned their faces up toward the camera. Some of the kids waved.

  And then the Intergalactic Bed & Breakfast appeared. It wasn’t much, just a blip in the corner of the screen as the chopper passed over, but still…How many millions of people were going to see this footage before the day was through? How many of them would remember the day last summer when the B&B made an appearance on the nightly news? How many conspiracy theorists would it take to connect the dots?

  CNN cut back to the studio to show the somber anchorwoman at her desk.

  “There has been no official word from the White House, but officials at the Pentagon have stated that the possibility of terrorism has not been ruled out at this point. When they determine exactly how this—”

  Scratchull hit the power button, then stood in front of the TV and faced us. “It would appear that we need to make haste in deciding how to handle this.”

  Grandma held her head in both hands and let out a long, shaky sigh. “I hate to admit it, but I don’t have the first notion about what we should do.”

  Scratchull inclined his head deferentially toward Tate. “Does our head of security have any ideas?”

  Tate frowned and waved a hand at the dark TV screen. “Terrorism? Seriously?” He sounded exhausted. “If they’re using the T-word, then this whole region will get the fine-tooth-comb treatment.” He reached over and patted Grandma on the hand. “I know it’ll pain you, but I think the best thing would be to shut ’er down. The whole operation. No guests until everything blows over for good.” He shook his head slowly. “And I fear that might be one lo-o-ong time comin’.”

  Grandma took off her glasses and wiped at her eyes. Tate put an arm around her shoulder. Amy kept looking at the blank TV as if the pictures of my epic mistake were still dancing across the screen. I couldn’t help but notice that no one would look in my direction.

  This was so unfair.

  “None of this would be happening if not for him,” I said, leveling my finger at Scratchull. “He’s the one trying to—”

  “Oh, give it a rest, boy,” Tate said. “We’ve already heard your little conspiracy theory.”

  “It’s not a theory.” My voice was rising now, but Tate just turned away, totally dismissing me. “And it’s not little, either. I told you already, he wants to melt down the whole planet.”

  Tate, still facing away from me, just shook his head in disgust.

  “You’re the one who’s always so suspicious around here even when there’s nothing to worry about.” I gestured at Scratchull who was watching all of this from the corner of the room, a little grin on his face. “And you let the biggest threat of all walk around right under your nose.”

  Tate crossed his arms over his chest but still ignored me. I had never been so mad in my entire life. “No wonder you’re not sheriff of this town anymore.”

  Tate slowly turned his head. The look he gave me would have been terrifying if I didn’t have Scratchull’s burning-eyed stare to compare it with. Amy faced me now too, and she was glaring. Grandma’s head was buried in her hands.

  Tate stood up slowly. He approached my chair and loomed over me.

  “That’s a mighty big accusation you’re making against Scratchull.” His kept his voice low. “Are you certain of these allegations, boy?”

  I nodded quickly.

  “One hundred percent?” he asked.

  “A thousand,” I said.

  “Like you were certain about Scratchull’s construction tool being some sort of a weapon?”

  “No, that was—”

  “Like you were certain that the human couple leaving the B-and-B were aliens in need of your guidance?”

  “But he was the one who—”

  “Like you were certain about all of that crazy quicksand destroying the trees? Some big forest-eating monstrosity that seemed to disappear overnight?”

  I just looked at the floor.

  Tate leaned in further and I could feel his breath on the top of my head. “Like you were certain that you knew how to use that device and not bring the scrutiny of the whole dang country down on our heads?”

  “Tate,” Grandma said, her voice thick with tears, “David did not do any of these things with a mean spirit. There must be some other explanation for everything.”

  Tate scoffed. “Scratchull’s given me all the explanation I need.” He finally moved away from me and sat on the armrest of his chair. “There’s an old adage in police work: when faced with a mysterious set of circumstances, go with the most likely solution. Now what seems more likely here: that Scratchull was trying to destroy the entire planet, even though he still happens to be on it, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Tate directed this last part straight at me. Then he turned back to the others. “Or that Scratchull had something else in mind, and David made a whopper of an error in judgment?” Silence from Grandma and Amy. “Pardon me, I meant another whopper of an error in judgment?”

  More silence from the ladies. Tate plopped back down into his chair. “That’s what I thought. You all saw that garden out there. Scratchull’s been trying to help us.”

  Scratchull cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Take heart, friends. I believe I may be able to help you once more.”

  “How’s that?” Tate said.

  “I have become quite adept at using this helpful little gadget.” He pointed to me. “And if David would stop grasping it as if it were a toddler’s security blanket, I could put it to good use.”

  Tate tugged at his mustache. “What do you mean?”

  “The device froze the river in an instant, correct?” Ta
te nodded. “Well, I could set it flowing again just as quickly.”

  “You could?” Grandma said, lifting her head. Seeing Scratchull bring a look of such renewed hope to her eyes twisted the knife of shame deeper into my belly.

  “Of course. It’s merely a reversal of the mechanism’s basic function. I assure you, if it can produce the amazing garden you have recently witnessed, certainly I could coax it into returning the river to its natural state. Immediately.”

  “Well, why didn’t you tell us that earlier?” Tate said.

  “I was under serious accusations from David. He has been employed here longer than I have and is related by blood to the proprietor.” Scratchull put out his hands, palms up, just an innocent alien in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was infuriating. “In all honesty, I felt like I needed to show you the garden in order to absolve myself first.”

  Tate nodded slowly. “Makes sense. But does unfreezing the river really solve the problem, though? You can’t make all of those busybodies disappear with that thing, can you?” Tate said.

  “That’s exactly what he wants to do with that thing,” I muttered. “Make them disappear forever.”

  Tate turned and pointed a thick finger at me. “Enough.”

  “My study of earthlings is admittedly incomplete,” Scratchull continued as if I had not said anything at all. “But I have learned enough to know that when there is nothing left to take pictures of for the television, the humans will disperse.”

  Tate nodded. “You got a point there.”

  “A few of them may linger and poke around. But I don’t imagine that would last long when they come up empty. And I see no reason why they should come here. Especially if we get things cleared up forthwith.”

  “Oh, can you do it right now, Scratchull?” Grandma said. “The sooner this place quiets down, the better I’ll feel.”

  “Certainly.” Scratchull made a big show of turning his whole body and facing in my direction. “That is, of course, unless you would like David to try it first.”