Space Junk

by Andrew Bixler

  “That sounds like a complicated problem,” Stella says. “But you’re the best problem solver I know. If you keep at it, I know you’ll come up with something.”

  Zok crushes his empty can and asks, “Can I have another beer?” An electronic groan emits from the speakers, and another can pops up in the armrest. Cracking it, he muses, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Stella. The Foreman could never compare.”

  “What do you mean?” Stella asks. “Why would you compare me to her?”

  “Oh,” he says, gulping. “No reason, she just reminds me of you. She’s very… accommodating.”

  “Accommodating, huh? That’s how you think of me?”

  “That’s not what I mean…”

  “In what ways did she accommodate you?”

  “You know, the regular ways,” he says. “With a fancy room and a little gambling money, plus all the prawns I can eat!”

  “Did she hit on you?” Stella asks, plainly.

  “What? No!” Zok says. “No, no… no.”

  “I think you should be careful around her,” Stella says. “She just seems so… fake.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m always careful.” Zok belches and grins. “Speaking of food…”

  “We don’t have any prawns,” she says. “But I bet The Foreman never made you one of these.”

  A hatch in the dash opens to reveal a big, sweaty humanoid burger with tree-nut butter and melty green cheese.

  “Stella, I could kiss you,” Zok says.

  “Stop it,” she giggles. “You’re making me blush.”

  “This is BeerCheese69, TheOneTrueKing, and Tim_Horton,” the little girl says, pointing to the three boys standing behind her. “And I’m princessfluffypants.”

  “Uh, nice to meet you,” Adam says. “This is Daizy.”

  “Eeeee,” the girl suddenly squeals and rushes across the lot. When she gets near enough, she pounces, latching onto Daizy’s back and yanking her ears. “You’re like a real kitty!”

  “Ahh, that hurts!” Daizy yells, ripping the girl off of her.

  “Sor-ry,” princessfluffypants says, pouting.

  Daizy brushes at the clothes Adam gave her, but the dirt is caked on. “What are you guys, a team of superheroes?”

  “I never thought about it like that,” princessfluffypants says. “But now that you mention it, we are kind of like superheroes!”

  “Except you’ve got something we want,” the small pale one, Tim_Horton, says. “To you, that makes us the villains.”

  “That’s right,” TheOneTrueKing says, his belly poking from underneath his grease-stained t-shirt.

  “Shouldn’t your name be BeerCheese?” Adam asks the pudgy boy.

  BeerCheese69 laughs derisively as he wipes his glasses on his dust-caked shirt. “I’m just trolling him.”

  “Wait a minute,” Adam says. “You’re those kids from Scrapper’s Delight. That pink cat of yours almost killed me!”

  Princessfluffypants drags the toe of her pink sneaker through the dirt. “Sorry about that. I got excited.”

  “What do you want from us?” Daizy asks.

  “We want to be friends!” princessfluffypants declares.

  “No,” Tim_Horton says, his scrawny frame swimming in a screen-printed Hamowar t-shirt. “We want the black gold.”

  “Not you too,” Daizy moans.

  “I’m sorry; I feel for you,” Adam says. “Of all the weirdos who are after this thing, you’re probably the most sympathetic.”

  “It’s four of us against two of you,” TheOneTrueKing says.

  Adam glances back at the Asteroid Jones II’s open hatch, but it’s too far away. The kids would be on Daizy and him before they could get anywhere near it.

  “Listen, she’s got my grandpa,” Adam says. “If I don’t bring her the black gold, there’s no telling what she might do. She might kill him. Or worse, force him to sweep the parking lot.”

  “Who’s she?” BeerCheese69 asks, shaking dust from his scruffy brown hair.

  “The Foreman,” Adam says.

  “The Foreman is a girl?” princessfluffypants says.

  “Ugh,” Adam groans. “We don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here.”

  “What do you think, Horton?” TheOneTrueKing asks.

  “I don’t know. They could be lying.” Tim_Horton scrutinizes them. “Plus, now they know what I look like.”

  “I think we should let them go,” princessfluffypants says. “If we have a chance to save somebody’s life, we have to do it.”

  The kids glance at each other, communicating through subtle nods and facial gestures. Like living portraits of a dying planet, their clothes are ragged, and their skin is stained silent-era gray with dirt.

  “Pants is right,” BeerCheese69 finally says. “We’re not the bad guys.” He glances toward Adam and Daizy. “We won’t stop you.”

  “I know how much you must want the black gold,” Adam says. “So, thanks. Now we just have to hope The Foreman holds up her end.”

  “Maybe we can help you out with that,” TheOneTrueKing says. “We’re a pretty good team.”

  “Yeah, we are,” Tim_Horton says.

  “This is what the adventure is really about, you guys!” princessfluffypants shouts. “Fighting the bad guys, making new friends, and having fun – together.”

  “Yeah, but if you sell the black gold, we still want a cut,” TheOneTrueKing says.

  “It’s a deal.” Adam kneels and holds out his hand. The boys shake it and princessfluffypants latches onto his neck.

  “Okay, okay.” Adam sets the girl down and looks over the ragtag team. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “We’re teaming up with the Asteroid Jones II, you guys,” princessfluffypants announces into her phone. “Can we reach Adam’s grandpa in time? Will we be able to stop The Foreman? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of ‘The Black Gold Saga.’”

  “Why is she talking like that?” Adam asks.

  BeerCheese69 says, “She’s just updating her fans.”

  “O-kay…” Adam says, glancing at Daizy doubtfully.

  “But before we do any of that, it’s almost time for dinner,” TheOneTrueKing says.

  “And we have school,” Tim-Horton reminds them. “We already skipped the first day. We have to be there tomorrow.”

  “Brule! We’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, after school,” BeerCheese69 concludes. “See you then!”

  The kids scamper out of the parking lot, shouting and chasing after each other, and they quickly disappear between the crumbling patchwork buildings across the street.

  “Well that was weird,” Daizy says, pulling out her phone. “Ooh, I’m finally getting some reception. And I have to pee – right now!”

  Adam unlocks the cargo bay door, and she shoves him aside, running across the empty room. When she gets to the top of the steps, she jiggles the doorknob and angrily yells, “Why’d you lock this one?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, trudging up behind her.

  Adam wrenches the door open, and Daizy races to the bathroom, tossing her phone on the couch. He heads to the cockpit for an Ol’ Guard, but when he opens the fridge, the shelves are empty. With a reluctant sigh, he lumbers into the living room and grabs a couple six-packs from behind the couch. On his way back, Daizy’s phone rings, and he yells, “Hey, your phone’s ringing.”

  He carries the beer up to the cockpit, and the annoying jingle quits, but as he’s stocking the fridge, it starts up again.

  Exhausted and out of patience, he storms back into the living room and snatches the buzzing brick of glass from the couch.

  “Hello,” he growls. “Daizy can’t come to the phone. She’s on the space toilet—”

  “Adam Jones,” The Foreman coos. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  “Uh…” Adam gawks at her, struggling to make sense of what’s happening. “Why are you calling Daizy’s phone?”

  “You should ask her that questio
n,” The Foreman says. “Don’t bother putting her on. I assume you got my messages, but just in case you can’t comprehend with that spongy little brain of yours, I have your grandfather. If you want to save him from spending what’s left of his pathetic life cleaning the parking lot, you will bring me the black gold. I so look forward to seeing you again.” She winks, and the call ends.

  Adam lifts his stunned gaze as Daizy returns from the bathroom.

  “Why are you using my phone?” she asks.

  “You were working for her the whole time,” Adam says. “I’m so stupid. I actually believed I just happened to get rescued by a beautiful space girl.”

  Daizy drops her head. “I was working for her. But I didn’t know you then…”

  “I can’t trust anything you say.” Despite his best efforts to suppress his feelings, he can sense the tears welling in his eyes. “You were just after the black gold like everyone else. You had me feeling sorry for you. I’ve always had my suspicions, but now I know – the whole universe really is against me.”

  “I’m not against you,” Daizy says. “I want to help you.”

  “I don’t care.” Adam tosses her phone, and she clumsily catches it. “Just get out of here.”

  “So that’s it?” Daizy says. “You’re just going to leave me here? Where am I supposed to go? I have nothing. You destroyed my home, remember?”

  Adam steps toward her and grabs her wrist, but she rips it away.

  “Give me your hand,” he says.

  She reluctantly sticks out her arm, and Adam turns it over. He taps at her phone a couple times and presses his thumb onto the screen.

  “That’s half of what I owe you,” he says. “I need the rest to get back to Scrapper’s Delight.”

  “Let me go with you,” she pleads. “I promise – I’m on your side.”

  They share a long moment of silence, and Daizy finally turns and slinks back to the cargo hold. Looking into her sad eyes as the hatch grinds open, Adam starts to have second thoughts about making her go. But before he can figure out a face-saving way to stop her, she’s stepping out into the lot, her baggy t-shirt and dark hair flapping in the dusty wind. The door begins to shut, and Adam turns to the controls to stop it. But when he looks back, she’s already gone.

  The ship turns quiet, and Adam stomps up to the cockpit. He rips the fridge open and chugs an Ol’ Guard, dribbling it all over himself. As he stares out at Earth’s barren landscape, watching the gray sun disappear behind the horizon, all he can think about is Daizy.

  Pushing her out of his mind, he sets his ship’s autopilot for the nearest starline, and the Asteroid Jones II ascends into the dead planet’s drab sky. The silence is deafening as he plunges into the dark, so he pulls up his movie library on the window and picks a title at random. But before the opening credits begin to roll, he turns it off.

  “Huhhh,” he sighs.

  Feeling spectacularly sorry for himself, he grabs another beer from the fridge and lets the static sky lull him into a starry-eyed daze.

  “Yup, he stopp’t ‘em all in the ent,” Tobi says. “And alls he got fer it was a lousy ‘lectric toat.”

  Leaning against the dash of the grimy cargo ship, Spez tiredly glances at his jabbering companion. Over the past few hours, he’s caught only bits and pieces of Tobi’s endless string of old stories between long stretches of starry-eyed inertia.

  Tobi turns his eyestalks toward the driver’s seat. “So what ‘bout it?”

  “What ‘bout what?” Spez says.

  “What’re yuh goin’ tuh Earth fer?”

  “I’m haulin’ a bunch a stuff fer that show,” Spez says. “What’s it call’t? Pink Squat, er somethin’?”

  “Yuh mean Pants Team Pink?” Tobi squeals. “That’s my favorite show. Yuh ever seen it?”

  “Yeah, I like it aright,” Spez says.

  “That The One cracks me up, the way he’s always givin’ Beer a hart time,” Tobi says. “Makes me laugh jist thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

  “Speakin’ of,” Spez says, smacking his dry lips. “Grab me a cold one, wit yuh, Tob?”

  “They was a part of that fight we seen out at Scrapper’s Delight.” Reaching behind the seat, Tobi snatches a couple cans of Ol’ Guard from the fridge and tosses one across the cabin.

  “That was somethin’,” Spez says, cracking his can.

  The Earth glows dull gray in the distance. As they pass the planet’s sole crummy satellite, Tobi points at the mounds of trash scattered across its craggy surface and filling its giant craters.

  “Ther use tuh be a clone farm on that moon,” he says. “In fact, I hert—”

  “Come on, Tob. Wer almost ther. We ain’t got time fer any more stories.”

  “Eh,” Tobi scoffs and swats the air.

  Vast swaths of debris clog the exosphere – dead satellites, deserted space stations, bundles of old newspapers, and all the other garbage a primitive planet can collect over a few centuries of negligent space exploration. As they make their approach, a beat-up gray junker crashes through the rubble, knocking a bunch of trash out of orbit and into clean space.

  Tobi presses his eyes to the window and gawks at the ship as it speeds past. “Dit yuh see that?”

  “What, that crutty ship?” Spez asks.

  “I think it set Asteroit Jones,” Tobi says.

  Spez glances in his rearview but all he can make out is the light blue flare of the ship’s exhaust.

  “That’s the ship they been talkin’ ‘bout on Pants Team Pink.” Tobi’s bright eyes stretch wide and twist around to look at Spez.

  Spez shrugs. “Wow, the famous Asteroit Jones…”

  “Lit’s go after it,” Tobi suggests.

  Spez checks to make sure Tobi’s brains aren’t leaking out of his ear sockets, and says, “What are yuh talkin’ ‘bout?”

  “It’s right ther.” Tobi slides to the edge of his seat. “Erryboty in the universe is lookin’ fer it. Lit’s follow it.”

  “Jist fergit it,” Spez says.

  “Come on,” Tobi pleads. “I thought yuh like’t gittin’ close tuh the action.”

  “I like gittin’ close tuh it,” Spez says. “I’m not tryin’ tuh be a part of it.”

  Tobi belches and, frowning, suggests, “We kin at least see wer it’s goin’.”

  “It’s jist gon’ be trouble. Besites, I got a shipment tuh d’liver.”

  “That never stop’t yuh afer.”

  Small fragments of trash clink against the hull as Spez swerves around the mangled remnants of an ancient war machine. “Hey, I like skippin’ work as much as the next fishin’ guy. But it ain’t worth it. Trust me on this one, Tob.”

  “Well, yer usely right ‘bout this stuff,” Tobi finally relents, slumping down in his seat.

  Flames lick the windows and the craft trembles as it plunges into the atmosphere. When the tremors cease, Spez guides the ship down through gray sky, toward the outskirts of the last Earth city, and the travelers disembark onto the dimming planet as the setting sun casts a final hazy glow over the parking lot.

  While Tobi pays the meter, Spez heads back to the cargo hold and piles a dozen big boxes onto the hover-lift. Once the shipment is loaded, he presses a button on the machine’s handle, and the entire stack floats up off the ground. He and Tobi push the precarious load through the dirt lot, across the street, and into a maze of plastic high-rises, snaking through the alleyways until they reach the bustling market at the heart of the city. They use the lift to wedge their way through the mob, and Spez soon spots the raspberry-blowing USU logo installed outside their destination.

  As they approach the House of Todd, an Earth man with straggly black hair and glasses appears in the doorway gnawing on a stick of fake meat covered in brown sauce. “Bring it around back,” he says between sloppy bites and disappears inside the store.

  They guide the lift down the adjacent alley, and a metal shutter attached to the side of the building clatters open.

  “You Tot?”
Spez asks.

  “Yeah, just push it in here,” Todd directs them, wiping his greasy fingers on his shirt.

  “This is a lot a stuff,” Tobi says.

  “Yeah man,” Todd says as he searches through a box of tools. “You ever hear of Pants Team Pink? Well I happen to know them personally, and they put me in charge of their merch.”

  “No way!” Tobi cries.

  “Yes way,” Todd says. “It took a few hours, but the first shipment is finally here.” Using his In-Xacto Saber, he opens one of the boxes and starts digging through it.

  “It’s my favorite show,” Tobi says. “I’d love tuh meet the team.”

  “You and everyone else in space,” Todd says as he emerges from the box with a pink doll that looks like the Pants character and squeezes its hand.

  “The treasure belongs to Pants Team Pink!” the doll cries. “Stay tuned, you guys!”

  “These are so brule!” Todd says, holding up three more dolls, one for each character on the show. “I can’t wait to add them to my collection.”

  As Tobi hauls a tall box off the lift, he says, “Dit yuh see the one win they was fightin’ The Ferman and the Ears?”

  Todd scoffs. “Of course I saw that one. I’ve seen ‘em all. I have almost every episode. There’s still a couple early ones I’m having trouble tracking down, though,” he grumbles.

  “Oh yeah?” Tobi says. “Well we was actually ther – saw it with are own eyes.”

  “You gotta be fishin’ kidding me,” Todd says. “How close were you? What was it like to see the team in action? You gotta tell me all about it.”

  “We will,” Spez says. “But I gotta have yuh pay fer this stuff first.”

  “Oh, right,” Todd says, pressing his finger to Spez’s phone.

  “Ahem,” Spez says, wiggling the glass.

  “I’ll give you guys something better than a tip.” Todd rummages through one of the boxes and pulls out two neon pink hats with the word ‘PANTS!’ printed in cartoon letters over the brim.