by Eric Juneau
“No thank you, sir.”
Orn slipped his thick fleece jacket over his sweatshirt and stepped outside. He patted the head of the coon dog lounging by the garbage cans at the next trailer. He walked over to the filling station near the trailer park entrance to see if they had any boiled peanuts left.
¤
Orn drove down the highway, anxious to get to Dixie’s Diner before they ran out of the Wednesday special: country fried steak, stewed tomatoes, and creamed potatoes. Even with the front seat pushed all the way forward, Orn still had to lean a bit to make out the road. The old engine sputtered and strained to make it up the long slow grade of the two-lane switchback road that went into town. When he got his next paycheck he really needed to get that clutch fixed.
Orn yawned. He and the troops had been up until almost sunrise hiding the death ray in the pines and oaks atop Mount Curahee.
The truck yanked to the right. He bumped up and down on the torn vinyl seat. A flat tire.
He pulled over to the edge of the cracked pavement and stepped out to get the spare. Nothing was in the bed but pinecones and a couple of empty bottles of RC. They had removed the spare last night to make room for the death ray.
He was far from any service station. The only possible help was a small brick church that he passed every day on the way to the Tool and Die, Mount Gilead Baptist Church. A group of people sat on long wooden tables on the front lawn. The aroma of fried fish filled the air. All thoughts of Dixie’s Diner fled his mind.
Perhaps someone here might have a spare tire. And, who would it harm if he tasted some fish before he fixed the tire?
Orn walked up to the closest table. “Excuse me. My truck has a flat and I do not have a spare.”
An older bearded man, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, stood up and smiled. He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “I’m Reverend Jack Wheeler, son. If you aren’t in too much of a hurry, maybe you could join the fish fry?”
“Well, I have not had my dinner yet,” Orn said.
Wheeler pointed to the splintered bench beside him. “Have a seat. We’ll get you a plate.”
Orn sat down next to the most beautiful Earth woman he had ever seen. She was not a twig like the starving actresses on television. She was short and full-figured. Her plump features showed she had a healthy appetite. “My name is Orn,” he said.
The woman seemed surprised that Orn was talking to her. “I’m Maggie Wheeler.”
The minister sat back down. “She’s my daughter.”
Maggie laughed “Don’t believe what you hear about preachers’ kids.”
“She was nothing but trouble,” Wheeler said. “Maybe I should find you a better seat, son.”
Maggie gave her father a playful slap on the arm. “Leave him alone, Daddy.” She turned to Orn. “What kind of name is Orn?” She pushed a heaping plate of fried fish, cole slaw, and potatoes across the table to him.
Orn grabbed a bottle of ketchup. He wished that Zuul had some of Earth’s wonderful spices and sauces. Ketchup or red-eye gravy could only improve the bland food of his home world. “My name is a long story, Maggie. It is a nickname really. My little brother could not say Vern. That is my real name. It came out Orn.”
Maggie laughed. “It could have been worse. Who knows what name you might have been saddled with?”
“You are right. I have a friend down at the Tool and Die. His name is Zark.”
“His brother must have hated him.”
Orn grinned. “He probably did. He is not easy to like.”
Maggie cut a big jagged piece of fish in a creamy white sauce. She noticed Orn watching her. “Do you like tartar sauce?”
“I have never had it,” Orn said.
Her eyebrows rose. “You must not be from these parts.”
“I am from Arkansas,” Orn said.
Maggie showed a coy smile. “They don’t have fish in Arkansas?”
“Not where I grew up.”
“And I thought we were in the sticks.” She swished another piece of fish in the tartar sauce and held the forkful out to Orn. “Try it.”
The tangy smooth sauce complemented the crispy peppery fish perfectly. Orn had three helpings and stayed at the fish fry long past dark, until only he, Maggie, and Reverend Wheeler remained. After he found out Maggie attended church every week, he promised the Reverend he would come to the service on Sunday.
¤
Zark drummed his fingers on the railing of the death ray’s small platform. “Sir, I am ready to fire.”
Orn pulled his wool hat low over his ears, but he was still cold. It was past midnight. “Fire one sustained blast on the lowest setting.”
The death ray hummed, but was drowned out by the noise of animals scurrying in the woods. A bird squawked and flew off of the limb of a pine tree.
A crimson beam shot down into the valley. Orn heard a loud crack. Using infrared field glasses he saw a large oak on a darkened peanut farm split in two. A perfect shot and the landowner would assume lightning was to blame.
Zark smiled. “Sir, any other targets?”
“No,” Orn said. “Shut off the death ray.”
“Sir, I think we should try some higher settings. I see a farmhouse.”
“No, Lieutenant.”
“We will not win a war by cutting down trees.”
“You heard my orders, Lieutenant.”
Zark was about to say something when he leaned forward on the railing. He looked through his field glasses. “Sir, there is a vehicle approaching. It is half a mile down the mountain road.”
Orn scampered up the ladder to the platform and looked where Zark pointed. He saw a pickup truck chugging up the road with several people sitting in the bed. It must be teenagers coming to drink. “Don’t use your disrupter, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we have our orders from the General.”
Zark was right, but there had to be another way. Then Orn had a thought. He swung the death ray around so it faced the road. He twisted dials and entered coordinates and fired.
The death ray shot out another bolt of crimson. There were several loud booms that sounded like a monstrous version of the press down at the Tool and Die. The noise echoed across the mountain.
Zark heard the squealing of tires.
Orn looked through his binoculars. A group of teenagers stood beside the pickup truck and gawked at several pine trees that now blocked their way. After a few minutes they jumped back in their vehicle and headed back down the mountain.
Zark glared at Orn. “Sir, that was not what the General ordered.”
Orn shrugged. “So, file a report with the Royal Council.”
It took Zark and Orn until daylight to move the fallen pine trees off the road.
¤
Orn stared at the Styrofoam plate heaped with fried chicken, collards, and pinto beans, and wished Reverend Wheeler would finish his sermon. His mind wandered away from the story Jesus told of the workers in the vineyard. The Mount Gilead Baptist church’s community center was filled for the Wednesday night sermon and church social.
He sat under the basketball goal at a long folding table. The cinderblock walls were covered with bright posters of the charities the church supported.
Reverend Wheeler stood behind a podium on the small stage with the simple set of the youth group’s upcoming Halloween play. Wheeler coughed and said “Amen.”
Orn reached for his plate.
Maggie’s hand clasped his. “Not so fast,” she whispered. “Daddy has to say the blessing.”
Orn sighed and leaned back in the card-table chair.
Maggie squeezed his hand tight. “You only have to hear his blessings on Wednesday. I had to hear him every night when I was a kid. Mama asked if he could just say one blessing when she bought the groceries.”
When Reverend Wheeler said amen a second time, Orn reached for a crispy chicken leg.
Maggie smiled. “Wait a second, honey. Daddy will want to sit down and say a bl
essing just for us.”
Orn put down the leg. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“I’m joking.”
Wheeler sat down beside his daughter. “Hello, Orn.”
“That was a great sermon, Reverend,” Orn said.
“Thanks, son.” Wheeler doused his collards with hot sauce. “Looks like Carter’s gonna pull it out against that actor.”
“Daddy’s a yellow dog Democrat,” Maggie said in a stage whisper.
Wheeler took a sip of sweet tea. “Jimmy’s a Baptist, you know.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Yes, daddy. I know.”
Orn felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see an elderly woman who worked in the church office. He could never remember her name.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said in a quiet polite voice. “You have a phone call in the church office. The gentleman’s name is Zark.”
“He must be the guy whose brother hated him,” Maggie said.
After munching a couple of pieces of chicken on the way to the office, Orn picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Sir, I am certain that you are gathering valuable intelligence from the Earth woman,” Zark said.
Orn looked around the tiny room and made sure nobody was listening. “I don’t like your tone, Lieutenant. I fulfill all my duties.”
“And the Earth woman? What duty is that?”
There was the noise of traffic in the background. A voice asked, “You about done with the payphone, bossman?”
“I will be done in a minute!” Zark snapped.
“Maggie is none of your concern. Did you interrupt me just to insult me, Lieutenant?” Orn asked.
Zark let out a harsh laugh. “The General called. We must tend to the death ray immediately.”
“Another test?”
“Perhaps. We will get further instructions on top of Mount Currahee.” There was a loud banging in the background. “I will be just a minute! Captain, I have a situation with a human.”
“Come on, bossman, I really need to use the phone,” somebody said.
“I will be done in a moment.”
“Can’t you call them back?” the voice asked Zark. “I just need to get a ride down to the Dixie Diner. Unless you can give me one? I’ll buy you a ham biscuit.”
Zark’s voice was firm. “I do not want a ham biscuit.”
“Chicken pastry?”
“I will not give you a ride.”
There was a note of excitement in the human’s voice. “Bossman, where did you get that gun? Bradley’s Bait and Ammo?”
“I did not get the dis—the gun around here. And I suggest that you wait over there.”
“Just asking, bossman. Put that thing away. I’m leavin’”
There was a moment’s silence and then Zark returned to the phone. “I apologize, sir.”
Months ago it was Orn’s goal to attack the Earth, but now the idea sickened him. He hoped the Royal Council had not set the invasion for tonight. “Why was I not informed of this earlier?”
“I am informing you of it now, Captain. Perhaps if you were not so busy at church, you might have learned earlier. Meet us at the summit of Mount Currahee.”
¤
Wearing his silver metallic military uniform, Zark stood by the El Camino. The giant radio was strapped in the car’s bed with frayed bungee cords.
Orn slammed the truck door. It bounced back out. He leaned into it and it clicked shut. He hoped it would hold. “Why are you in uniform?”
“There is a priority message coming from the General. We are to wait here by the death ray.”
Orn looked down into the valley. As the sun set, the trees were ablaze with brilliant reds and yellow and oranges. Soon Toccoa might burn with a different kind of fire.
Zark yawned. “You know, Captain, this mountain once had a military purpose for the humans.”
Orn’s mind flooded with thoughts of Maggie. “Yes, I heard that at the Tool and Die,” he whispered.
“They trained soldiers here for a great war across the sea many years ago. That is why there is a dead end road to the top of a mountain.”
“Those people were expecting war,” Orn said. “They are not prepared today.”
“Captain, if we have to use the death ray, it will save lives. When the town is vaporized, many across this planet will surrender rather than fight. You are helping the humans.”
And Orn knew there was a better way to help the humans. He drew his ion disrupter and fired at the death ray’s power source. With a loud pop, the anti-matter core vaporized. The death ray was useless.
Something smashed the back of Orn’s skull. He collapsed to the ground.
He rubbed his head and looked up to see Zark holstering his disrupter. The enlisted men had their weapons drawn.
“I thought you might do something foolish,” Zark said. “I was expecting cowardice, but not sabotage. You are under arrest, Captain Orn.”
The men looked confused. “He must have had a good reason for what he did, Lieutenant,” one said.
Zark sneered. “Like what, Private?”
“I do not know,” the enlisted man muttered.
“Put him in restraints,” Zark ordered.
The men hesitated. Before Zark could bark out another order the radio beeped.
Zark hopped on the back of the El Camino and adjusted the radio. Nothing happened. He cursed and kicked it hard. The radio wheezed to life.
“Captain Orn?” the voice of the General asked.
“Sir, he is not here. This is Lieutenant Zark.”
“Lieutenant, the mission is canceled. Prepare for the landing of the base ship, for evacuation of the ground troops back to Zuul.”
Zark looked like he wanted to pound the radio to smithereens. “Sir, why has the mission been—”
The General interrupted Zark. He sounded annoyed. “The Royal Council has made their decision. The budget does not allow the luxury of an occupying army. We are to return to Zuul immediately.”
Zark threw up his hands.
“Prepare for our landing. Stay clear of the death ray. We will disable it,” the General continued.
“Why is the invasion being canceled, sir?”
“The invasion is being postponed, Lieutenant. The Royal Council wants to review all of your reports.”
Zark flipped the radio off and looked at Orn. “Captain, where are your reports?”
“I left them back at my trailer. Nobody told me to bring them tonight.”
Zark massaged his forehead. He looked like he was getting a headache. “I know, Captain.” He flipped the radio back on. Nothing happened. He kicked it, perhaps a bit too hard, and it sputtered back on. “General, we do not have the reports. We were not told we were evacuating.”
The General’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Thank you, Lieutenant. The Royal Council will be unable to evaluate the mission without those reports. But, you know that.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we were told to remain planetside for the duration of the mission. We had no way to deliver the reports to you. Tonight we were told to only bring the radio and await further instructions. Why would we bring the reports to the death ray?”
“Don’t argue with me, soldier,” the General said, but his voice sounded more tired than angry. “I am following the dictates of the Royal Council. Prepare for our arrival, son.”
Zark shut off the radio.
“Are you going to arrest me?” Orn asked.
Zark did not reply. He focused at the sky.
Orn looked up and saw the metal saucer of the Zuul ship slowly descend to the mountain top. When it was barely above the trees, it shot out a flickering purple beam that melted the death ray into useless clumps of metal. The ship continued its descent, crushing the trees until it reached the ground. The gangway hemmed and hawed its way to the ground.
Zark pointed to the El Camino. “We’d all be safer going into space in that. The dogs in the Royal Council probably haven’t even allocated the funds fo
r fuel for our trip back.”
“Are you going to arrest me?” Orn asked for the second time.
Zark snorted. “The Royal Council will say it’s too expensive to arrest you.” He paused. “Do you want to stay here, Orn?”
“What are you talking about?”
Zark smiled. “I’ll give you a choice. I doubt the Royal Council will send any more troops to this world. They are too busy lining their own pockets. You may return to Zuul and let the Royal Council figure out what to do with you or you can remain here.”
Orn did not look forward to six months of space rations. “I’ll stay. Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s just say that my promotion is much more likely if there are not any loose ends, like a disgraced captain who could bring my actions on this world into question. I cannot take the risk that you might… How does this world say it? That you might throw me under the bus to save yourself?”
Zark stepped onto the gangway. “Captain, get off the mountain and get some of that food you like so much.”
Orn watched the ship take off. He was finally out of reach of his ex-wife’s attorneys. He gunned the engine and sped off down the dirt road.
¤
Orn and Maggie stood under a magnolia tree as Reverend Wheeler opened the door. It was the hottest day all spring. Orn was hungry and ready for the Sunday afternoon cookout. But he did not want to go inside into the air conditioning. He wished they could sit on the rocking chairs on Wheeler’s spacious front porch.
Orn shook Wheeler’s hand and smiled. “Sir, did you keep us in church late for a reason? Did you have to thaw out the steaks or something?”
Maggie gave Orn’s antennae a light caress with her fingers. “Stop it, honey.”
Wheeler laughed. “I didn’t keep y’all that long.”
Maggie stepped onto the front hallway. “Most everybody’s been saved three or four times. Maybe you should just skip the altar call. You made that poor organist play Amazing Grace three times.”
“Some folks have only been saved twice,” Wheeler said.
Maggie saw her mom in the kitchen and squealed. She ran up to her and the two began talking excitedly at once.