The Tiniest Invaders, Book One Coexistence

by William Bebb

  Orlando looked back briefly at the boy, laying in the water filled ditch, as he climbed the small hill to the parking lot.

  When he was gone from view, her eyes returned to their normal shade of blue. She reached into her shirt, pulled out a roach and dropped it on the curved wall of the culvert. The small insect scurried back into the gloom and within seconds was gone from view. Stooping down low, so Orlando couldn't spot her, Betty ran to Jake's side. She pulled him out of the ditch and laid his body on the weed covered hillside. There was a long bloody gash on his forehead, caused when he fell and hit a rock.

  A few flies seemed to appear like magic and congregated on his face, but the girl ignored them and pulled up his wet and muddy shirt exposing an ugly jagged hole just above and to the right of the boy's belly button. Blood pumped out in time with his heartbeat. She knelt down and inserted two slender fingers deep into the boy's wound. Lifting her head, she stared up the hill toward the parking lot as her eyes changed from blue to a dark red.

  Nearly a minute later, Kenny climbed out of the culvert behind her. He'd left the bags of stolen computers and the fat boy trembled as he moved in jerky steps. His hands were repeatedly clenching and relaxing as he trudged through the muddy water and climbed the hill whimpering softly. He was seemingly oblivious to Jake, the girl, or anything else, as he jerked spasmodically.

  His face had a twitching agonized expression as he climbed. A few times he shuddered and a look of confusion would come over him for a second but then the agonized look came back and he continued on. With the exceptions of the spastic twitches, tormented expression, and a small brown roach wedged nearly all the way inside his left ear, he seemed perfectly normal.

  Orlando was leaning against the van smoking a cigarette. He was impatient to get out of there and thought about yelling for his buddy 'Jabba The Butt' to hurry up. But off in the distance, he saw some kids playing in a field and decided to keep quiet. Fat fart probably had a heart attack fucking that girl. He smiled at the thought and tried to calculate how much he'd make when he sold the laptops to his buddy in Birmingham.

  His lack of skills with higher mathematics made this a difficult endeavor. With the other two bags Kenny was bringing he guessed they might get two thousand dollars altogether. Leaning back against the van, he relaxed and closed his eyes. Stealing is hard work, he thought, feeling the sun shining on his smiling face.

  Kenny walked slowly across the parking lot. His face changed with nearly every step. It was either expressionless or filled with pain. He walked as if in a trance, looking only at Orlando leaning against his van. His thoughts were a mixture of confusion and terror as he realized something was wrong but unable to comprehend what it was. He remembered the bags of computers he was supposed to be carrying and tried to stop and go back for them. A brilliant momentary flash of pain filled his brain. Wobbling slightly, he almost managed to stop walking; almost.

  What the hell is wrong with me? My head hurts and I can't stop walking. It feels like ants are crawling around inside my head. Maybe I bumped my head in that drainage thing or something, he thought frantically, feeling himself involuntarily walking forward.

  As he closed the distance to the van, faint voices he didn't recognize were echoing in his mind. At least he thought they were voices. They sounded distant and he couldn't understand what they were saying. He felt his breathing increase as he walked. His muscles flexed and he felt a tremendous rush of adrenalin flowing through his body as Orlando finally looked up and noticed him.

  “Where the Hell are my computers, lard ass? And what the fuck's up with your eyes?” Orlando asked in frustration, as Kenny came closer.

  The fat boy's pupils were glowing faintly pink as the eyes themselves shuttled rapidly back and forth. Kenny stopped a few feet away. “I have a problem.” He managed to gasp out the words. “My head is full of... I feel... I feel... I can't-” His eyes cleared momentarily and he screamed.

  It was the loudest sound he'd ever made in his life. He felt something ripping in his throat, but continued to scream and ran at Orlando; slamming him against the van. Wrapping his large meaty hands around Orlando's neck, he pinned him to the van and squeezed.

  *****

  “They only come out around dawn or early in the evening. The ghost balls, that is. I've seen 'em for weeks. First couple of times thought it was my old eyes playing tricksy with me. But me and mister Jackson seen ‘em bout six times altogether,” the old lady said while stroking her obese cat, which was still sitting in the baby carrier.

  The cat's eyes were shut as he purred in contentment.

  Shannon laughed softly, “Your cat is named Michael Jackson?”

  “Yep, he's a great singer and dancer too,” Allison said giggling.

  “Can we keep to the facts, please?” The bored looking deputy asked.

  “Deputy, if you want to, you can leave anytime you-” Mendez started to say. She was interrupted by a long drawn out scream echoing through the still woods.

  The trio fell silent and looked around for its source.

  *****

  Flickering in and out of consciousness, Jake caught brief glimpses of a beautiful girl. She was looking down at him. Behind her, the early morning blue sky offset her long golden blonde hair in a way that seemed like nothing less than magic. It wasn't the cheesy kind of magic he'd seen at birthday parties or even the kind on TV. This was real magic. He felt a growing warmth filling his body. He trembled and the closest he could identify the sensation with was the time he'd stuck his finger in a lamp socket while trying to replace a light bulb. It was like that but there was no pain, only a growing wonderful feeling of warmth. He stared at the girl and struggled to speak. “Are you an angel?” His voice was rough and low but the girl seemed to hear him.

  She looked blankly down at him for several seconds before saying, “No. You have been injured. Please do not move. We will meet again.”

  She tilted her head before dialing 911 with the boy's phone.

  An operator asked what the nature of the emergency was as she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Jake, please say I need help.”

  “I need help,” Jake said hoarsely into the phone, as she held it close to his mouth.

  Betty heard the emergency operator asking questions. She set the phone near his outstretched hand, leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Sleep.”

  Jake struggled valiantly to stay awake. He wanted to see the beautiful girl but felt his eyelids slamming shut as if they weighed several tons. “Who are-” was all he was able to mutter as he felt himself being pulled into a deep slumber.

  She stood and looked toward the parking lot where a long loud scream broke the early morning calm. Her lips barely moved as she said, “The dog.” Turning, she ran back through the culvert as the sounds of fighting drifted through the air.

  Orlando was in trouble. He'd been in countless fights, but this was far different than anything he'd ever dealt with before. Kenny wasn't fighting, he was strangling him. He kicked the fat boy in the balls fully expecting him to keel over in agony.

  Kenny only grunted and squeezed Orlando's neck harder.

  He tried to get his hands off his neck but realized 'Jabba The Butt' seemed to have grown muscles; Very strong ones. His lungs thirsted for air and for the first time in his life he seriously thought he was going to die. He reached for his knife and stabbed blindly at his morbidly obese attacker. Warm blood washed over his hands as he stabbed and sliced, but Kenny wouldn't release his grip.

  Orlando's eyes rolled frantically as he sliced slower. He saw a small brown thing sticking out of the boy's ear. Wondering what it could be, he was knocked to the ground under the fat boy's body as he collapsed on top of him.

  The deputy ran back to his car as the screams continued.

  “Will you be around here later if I have more questions?” Mendez hurriedly asked Allison.

  “Yes ma'am. Was gonna take Mr. Jackson into town for lunch, but we should be back hereabouts this afterno
on. They got free hotdogs down at the car place today. I heard about it at the football game last night. You like hotdogs, Mrs. Mendez?” Allison asked, as the patrol car started slowly down the road with its windows unrolled.

  “Uh sure, I'll try to see you this afternoon,” she said, before running back to her car.

  “You have a nice day!” Allison hollered, as the SUV followed the patrol car.

  She saw the deputy pick up the dashboard microphone and switched on the SUV's police scanner. She pushed the scan button and heard the same dispatcher from the restaurant clearly saying, “We got reports of screams from people living near the high school and also got a call for help. They didn't hang up and we've narrowed the location to the same location as the screams. You want me to roll back-up?”

  Mendez heard the deputy say to hold on back-up while he checked it out. She saw the squad car's lights start to flash as he turned on the siren and sped away. She kept pace with the deputy, while checking her shoulder holster under her jacket and felt the reassuring presence of her gun.

  The screaming stopped by the time Betty arrived where the dog was sprawled in the grass. She squatted next to Frodo's head and felt the tacky blood with her fingertips.

  In the distance, an approaching siren could be heard.

  She placed the palm of her hand over the dog's head as the siren grew louder. A minute later, the dog's tail thumped weakly as it whimpered softly.

  Looking into the dog's eyes, she said, “Jake is hurt. Go to him. I must leave now.”

  She stood and ran behind the concrete buildings by the football field.

  Frodo stared as the girl, who didn't smell like a girl at all, as she ran. She moved very fast. The dog got shakily to his feet. He sniffed the ground and trotted into the dark culvert.

  *****

  Agent Hicks was extremely perturbed.

  After fifteen minutes of waiting at Billy Bob's he tried Mendez's cell phone again. It rang but she didn't answer. He went to the sidewalk heading into town and started walking.

  A few stores were open and people all seemed to be discussing last night’s football game or free hotdogs at some car dealership.

  He stopped an overweight man hobbling down the sidewalk with a cane. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know where the car dealership is?”

  “Headin there right now, young fella. They got free hotdogs today, ya know,” he said, with breath that stunk of sour beer.

  “Where is it?” Hicks impatiently asked.

  “I'll take you there if you're in no hurry. Don't worry though, my son in law works there and he told me they must have a jillion hotdogs cookin. They won't run out.”

  “I don't want any frigging hotdogs! Just tell me where it is!” Hicks screamed at the befuddled man.

  “Two blocks up and hang a left you can't miss it,” the man said clutching his cane tightly for support.

  “Thanks!” Hicks yelled over his shoulder and hurried away.

  “Rude son of a gun,” the overweight man said, wiping the sweat off his forehead, before continuing to hobble down the sidewalk.

  As he ran, Hicks dialed Armstrong's number. On the second ring she answered.

  “Hi Hicks, find anything interesting?”

  He spoke in an almost normal tone of voice as he started moving at almost jogging speed. “Mendez left me stranded at a greasy spoon and won't answer her cell phone. Have you heard anything from her?”

  “Nothing yet. How did you get separated? And why do you sound like you're out of breath?”

  “I'm taking my morning run to a car dealership in town. I don't like being stranded out here. I keep expecting some inbred hillbillies to start playing that dueling banjos song from Deliverance anytime. I want to get a loaner car if you have no objections.”

  “Let me try and get a hold of Mendez before you buy a Corvette. I'll call you back in a few minutes.”

  “Check. Talk to ya later,” he said, swerving around a man dressed in overalls setting up a produce stand. Glancing at the homemade sign he read the words Pumpkins $5. Not a bad price, he thought as he continued to jog.

  *****

  With all the troops and security around Trevor had almost not bothered to bring the stun gun along from the RV, but mainly out of habit he had. He'd had numerous opportunities to use it over the years; usually when hooligans spotted Dr. Anniston and him walking the streets of some city they were visiting and thought the two old men would be easy to rob.

  As recently as five years ago, Trevor would sometimes prefer the use of more physical combat utilizing the skills he received while in the British Security Service; commonly referred to as MI-5 where he served until his arrest in 1976. He served twenty years in prison for murder before he was paroled and employed by Dr. Anniston.

  Even as he pressed the trigger on the stun gun, he felt a strong sense of regret that he wouldn't get an opportunity to kick the big military man's ass.

  Luckily or unluckily, depending on one's perspective, the stun gun hadn't been charged for almost a month. Trevor had meant to do it when he'd been informed of their expedition to the untamed wilds of Alabama but had forgotten.

  The shock was enough to make Colonel Wilcox drop his pistol but not nearly enough to even momentarily incapacitate him. He spun around and pushed the man he'd never seen before back toward the open doorway. “Try to blindside me, will you?! I'll have all of you placed under arrest and shot!”

  Trevor lowered himself slightly and was prepared to tackle the much younger man when Alice ran forward and picked up the colonel's gun. “Stop or I'll shoot. By God, I swear I will,” she said with a strained cracking voice.

  Wilcox backed up, keeping an eye on Trevor and saw the woman pointing his gun at him.

  “It seems we have reached a bit of an impasse, colonel. I sincerely doubt you wished things to get so out of hand, so let us think a moment,” Dr. Anniston said, adjusting his tweed jacket and cringing slightly as he massaged his throbbing shoulder. “What say, you depart and when you're feeling more in control of your emotions we discuss your concerns then?”

  Wilcox trembled in barely checked rage as he glared at the old man. “You. You and your Geriatric Breakfast Club have five minutes to be off of this base of operations,” he said, sidling toward the exit. “If you three aren't gone by that time, I swear I'll have you all executed.”

  “As you wish, colonel,” Anniston said, with a slight bow. “Mrs. Weinstein will leave your sidearm with a sentry as we leave.”

  Trevor looked alert as he backed away from the doorway for the colonel to leave.

  The gun shook in Alice's trembling hands as Wilcox went through the doorway. “Five minutes. Not one minute more. Understood?” The colonel asked.

  “Yes, quite so,” Anniston said grimly.

  The colonel stormed through the door and slammed it shut after him.

  “Alice, quickly gather your things together. Trevor, go get the RV started. We'll be along very shortly,” the old man said, looking on the floor at the smashed items as if seeking something in particular.

  Trevor relieved Alice of the pistol and stood in confusion for a moment before hurrying out.

  “We're leaving?” Alice asked in a small shocked tone of voice.

  “Immediately, yes. Now, please hurry and get your things. I fear that colonel has gone quite mad and time is short. Please hurry,” Anniston said and bent down to pick up the photograph of his dead wife as Alice grabbed her purse and backpack that contained her personal computer. Carrying them, she quickly ran down the trailer hallway where her small bedroom was.

  A minute later she met Anniston at the stairs of the trailer and they hurried over to the rumbling RV. Trevor sat behind the wheel and waved for them to hurry with one hand while in the other he held in his lap, impossible to see from the outside, a Heckler-Koch machine gun. He had no idea what was happening, but upon return to the RV his first action was to retrieve it from the gun safe. Stepping on the gas and revving the engine he watched as they climbe
d aboard.

  “Sit down, time's short,” Trevor called out as he put the vehicle in gear and stomped on the gas pedal.

  The RV picked up speed as it tore across the supermarket parking lot. Trevor sounded the air horn, which played the first several notes from Rule Britannia, as he drove faster through confused groups of soldiers and researchers. He put the RV in second gear as he ran a red light and headed for the checkpoint they'd come through only the day before.

  Dr. Anniston and Alice buckled their seat belts as the vehicle bounced and shimmied.

  Trevor opened his window and yelled at a soldier standing near the barricade without slowing down.

  “Sentry, please return this to Wilcox! Thanks!” He threw the colonel's gun in the grass by the stunned soldier's feet and slid his window shut. They reached a highway heading into Birmingham and after checking the RV's rear view mirrors Trevor started breathing again.

  “We're clear James. Where do we go now?” Trevor asked as he got the big vehicle up to the speed limit.

  “Just keep going. I'm still a bit muzzy headed. That chap was stark raving mad, wasn't he?” Dr. Anniston said softly from his chair.

  Alice was crying and shaking as the RV headed south toward Birmingham.

  “Keep it steady, Trevor. I think three small glasses of brandy are in order. And after I finish them I might get one for both of you as well,” Anniston said, crossing shakily to the liquor cabinet.

  *****

  Deputy Fulton drove straight toward the van in the high school parking lot as agent Mendez drove around the perimeter. Over the police scanner she heard the deputy calling the dispatcher to send backup and an ambulance. She saw movement on the far side of the football field and stared in disbelief as what looked like a young girl ran and leaped over the fence before running into the woods. Stopping the SUV by the patrol car, she got out and saw something disturbing. It looked like two dead young men. One was a very fat teenage boy laying on top of a skinny young man who was clutching a bloody hunting knife in one hand.