Alien Roadkill-Dealbreaker

by Steve Zuckerman

  Shaking off his guilt and doubt, he made his way quickly back to the wash, trying to piece together all the conflicting facts. The destruction of the building and everyone in it had to have some connection with the alien corpse. The discovery of an alien life-form on Earth would have been a momentous event. One that would have been extremely valuable, both scientifically and monetarily to whomever discovered it. So the question remained, why destroy it, and why kill everyone else along with it? As he crossed back over the dry wash, he kept asking himself the same things over and over, but he still had no answer.

  He jogged past the playground and climbed up the steep embankment to the road where he found LuAnne pacing nervously beside the truck. When she saw JB, she rushed over to him. He couldn't tell by her expression whether she was relieved or angry.

  “Jesus! I heard this huge explosion and thought you were dead!” she exclaimed, adding, "You shoulda left me the keys!"

  "What, so you could drive off without me?"

  She shrugged her shoulders slightly, but then her features darkened and her eyes narrowed in accusation.

  “So, what the fuck did you do?” she said, only half in jest. But when she saw the look on JB's face, any amusement she might have had in her eyes disappeared.

  His eyes locked with hers and the look in them underscored the intensity in his voice. “I couldn't save them. Nobody got out.”

  “Horrible. I'm sorry,” LuAnne said sincerely.

  “Y'all have no idea. That building was packed with folks who worked there. Them assholes chained and padlocked every door so no one could escape. Then they blew it up. It was mass murder.”

  “Jesus!” she whispered in alarm, “They’re killin' everybody!”

  “Seems that way.”

  Neither of them said anything for several moments until LuAnne asked, “Ya think they might be still lookin' for us?”

  “Don't know,” he replied, becoming aware of the distant sirens. “Maybe we should lay low for a while ‘till we figure this out." He gave her a serious look and added, "Y'all know you’re free to go your own way. Might be a whole bunch safer."

  LuAnne returned his stare and stood quietly, considering his offer.

  “I seriously doubt that,” she replied. "Besides, you need me. I know my way around these parts, and I just thought of a safe place we can get to, an’ maybe get your windshield fixed.”

  She was right. He had only a vague idea of where he was, so for now, he figured it was best to take her advice. He said, “Okay. Let's go.”

  They both got into the truck as the sounds from the emergency vehicles began to grow louder in the distance. It was a given that every fireman, trooper and ambulance in the county would be on scene very shortly.

  "Don't worry," she said, seeing JB's concerned expression. "They're coming up by the main road, not the one we're taking out. We'll get back to the old bypass road, an' that'll take us to Douglass."

  "Douglass? Who's Douglass?"

  "Not who, where. It's a total piece of shit town in the middle of nowhere. Maddie used to date a guy who worked there at the gas station. I think maybe he’ll help us."

  LuAnne was right about the route. They were able to drive back to the bypass road without seeing any troopers or emergency vehicles. Given the circumstances, JB knew they'd all be very busy right now. It would take quite a bit of time for the authorities to put together what had happened at CronLab. He guessed that once they accessed the situation they would send away the ambulances and call for the meat wagons instead. Then their real work would begin.

  If the local troopers had been looking for them before, it was unlikely they would continue to search, at least for now. Once they discovered the explosion was set however, they might cast a larger net, but he knew the real guilty parties were long gone. He was convinced that the crew responsible for the massacre at CronLab were also connected to the men who shot at them the night before. He thought it was no small coincidence that the white SUV he saw fleeing the explosion was identical to the white SUV that had tried to gun them down.

  Soon, they reached a junction where the bypass met up with a paved, two-lane road. Directly in front of them was a green sign with white, reflective lettering that read: "Douglass - 60 miles."

  "I guess we head that way,” JB said, turning onto the road in the direction the sign indicated.

  After they continued on for a few more miles, the landscape began to change as they approached the flatlands. The trees that lined the road on either side became thinner and further apart as they followed the road into farm country. Soon afterwards, they found themselves driving through a patchwork of open fields. The fields were dotted with groves of oaks and fruit trees and criss-crossed by long lines of fences made from a mixture of various materials and construction.

  Most of the farms and fields they drove past were too busy to take notice of anything other than their routine morning activities, and JB took a small measure of comfort from his observations that a few of the farm trucks looked to be in worse shape than Ol' Blue; blown windows and all. For the first time in a long while, JB found he was finally able to relax a bit. At least here… And for now, they were blending right in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Douglass

  DOUGLASS OR, MORE correctly what remained of it, was located several miles beyond where the densely wooded hills began and the cultivated fields of the valley ended. Douglass had long ceased to be a small town when ten or fifteen years back a fire ravaged most of the city’s eight blocks and the landscape around it. What had started as a spark from a welding torch erupted into conflagration of heat and flame. Every man, woman, and child in town had joined with firefighters in a valiant effort to keep it from spreading. Unfortunately, it had been a dry year, and the fire had spread quickly; ferociously consuming everything in its path. When it was all over, the only buildings left standing in Douglass were the town diner and its attendant gas station and service garage… Saved only by virtue of their location on the outskirts of town.

  Over the years, much of the vegetation had returned and stretches of green growth crowded around the blackened bones of the few trees that still remained standing. The mixture of those earthy colors contrasted greatly with the nearby buildings. The bright lavender color of the diner and the service garage were designed to be intentionally jarring. The garish paint scheme successfully insured that the businesses had high visibility from the road. However, the most noteworthy feature was the enormous junkyard that sat a short distance beyond the buildings behind a six-foot high, chain-link fence. All of the spaces between the links were woven with strips of faded blue and white vinyl which did little to block the rows of neatly stacked automotive salvage from view.

  JB rolled the truck past all of this and parked in front of the service garage. LuAnne had mentioned her aunt used to date a man who was a mechanic here, and she suggested that he might repair the window glass on the cheap. JB only had about two hundred and fifty dollars in cash and he knew that wasn’t going to take him very far. Since his first priority had been all about staying alive, he hadn’t focused much on his dwindling funds until now.

  As they drove up, a heavyset, balding man with a broad smile walked out of the garage to greet them. He was dressed in mechanic’s overalls and he wore a baseball cap with a silk-screened picture of an old model-T and the words, “Roy's Auto and Salvage".

  "Uh, Oh," LuAnne whispered to JB. "That's not the guy Maddie dated."

  JB nodded and said softly, "Okay. But maybe this guy can still help us. Let’s see what he can do."

  JB and LuAnne both got out of the truck and walked over to meet the man, presumably named Roy.

  “Hello there," the man said in a friendly voice. “Are you're lookin' to sell your truck for scrap? Make ya a fair deal!"

  "Nope," JB replied, smiling back. “I’m keeping the truck, but I do need to see 'bout the front windshield.”

  The other man nodded and began appraising the car. As he went around t
o the back, JB said, “I’m okay with the back window the way it is."

  “Okay,” the man replied as he took note of the bullet holes that peppered the truck.

  "Damn idiot kids used my truck for target practice!” JB offered, reacting to the other’s questioning look. He hoped his smile looked genuine.

  The mechanic made no comment, but when he rounded to the front he commented on the large front push plate. "Ain't seen a front bumper like the one you got there."

  JB, eager to change the topic of conversation asked, "Y'all are the mechanic?"

  "Yep. Name's Roy," the man said as he extended his beefy and oily hand.

  JB shook it, introducing himself and LuAnne. Then he asked, "Well, Roy, do ya think y'all can replace the glass?” He quickly added, “For a reasonable price?"

  Roy considered himself a natural born salesman. His out-of-the-way location had proved to be a goldmine, as the locals preferred his inflated prices to wasting a day traveling to the next nearby town. When he replied in his thick southern drawl, there was a sly twinkle in his eyes.

  He said, “Well, ya know, there’s a glass guy a couple of towns over. You can give him a call an’ get him out here, maybe in a day or so… Or you can make the trip y'self, but either way, he's gonna charge y'all an arm and a leg.” Roy paused for dramatic effect before he continued. "But, as it turns out, I’ve got some salvaged glass that I think’ll fit jus’ fine. An' it'll be a whole lot cheaper. Whole lot.”

  “So, what are we talkin'?” asked JB. “Bottom line.”

  “One hundred dollars, cash, installed. Now, mind ya, the glass might have a couple of small cracks round the edges here n' there, but otherwise, it’ll be good as new. Definitely keep the bugs out of your mugs!” Roy laughed at his own joke.

  JB checked his nearly irresistible urge to rub his face and said, “How long do y’all think it’ll take ya?”

  “It’s a slow morning, so I can get started right away. If nothing out of the ordinary happens, I might be able to have it for ya in a couple hours, maybe less. Why don’t y'all wait over at the diner. They have some mighty fine breakfast and lunch over there. I’ll come by an’ get ya when it’s done.”

  “Alright,” JB replied. “Go ahead and get started. We’ll be in the diner.”

  The mechanic hardly inspired confidence, but for a hundred bucks even a crappy windshield was better than none at all… JB figured that Roy probably owned the diner too.

  Roy, still smiling, held out his hand and said, “That'll be fifty now. That there's for the glass. The other fifty is for my labor, payable when I'm done.”

  JB counted out the money from the dwindling roll he kept in his front pocket and returned to where LuAnne was waiting by the truck. The day was becoming hot and humid, JB argued that even if the food sucked, the diner was air-conditioned.

  “We’ll be safe enough," he assured her. "Nobody’ll try anything in public. Human or otherwise." He just hoped he was right.

  They walked the short distance over to the diner and pushed open the heavily tinted glass door. In contrast to the garish exterior, the interior walls of the diner were painted a dull yellow. There was no wainscoting, but where it would have been were scratches and scars from the hodgepodge of mismatched tables and chairs. Safely above that were the various, unlit beer signs and the occasional signed celebrity photo. More predominantly featured were the dozens of framed black and white photographs of Douglass in its heyday, before the fire.

  There was a large archway which separated the restaurant and counter area from the bar and lounge. The lounge was outfitted with the usual amenities that included several pool tables and an ancient rear projection TV. There was no one sitting in the dining area, but there was a sizable group of people sitting at and around the bar.

  The long, wooden bar was at the far end of room, and while JB wasn't surprised to see folks drinking there at this early hour of the day, he was impressed by the number of them, considering the location of this place. It appeared to him that the barstools were likely filled with locals who, at least on this morning, had nothing better to do. In this part of the state, seasonal unemployment was a fact of life.

  When he and LuAnne entered, there was a brief pause in the buzz of conversation coming from the bar. The hubbub resumed as they seated themselves at a table near the middle of the diner.

  JB positioned his chair so he could see both the front door and the bar. "I think I could sure use me some breakfast,” he declared. “Y’all hungry?”

  LuAnne glanced at the grimy menu card that she had disdainfully pushed aside. “No thanks. I don’t think I can eat anything they serve here.”

  A few minutes later, the bartender, wandered over to take their order. He was a tall, serious-looking man in his forties with a full head of black hair and a thick beard, streaked with grey. The light brown apron that he was wearing was liberally spotted with coffee and tomato sauce.

  JB ordered a couple of fried eggs, coffee and a bottled water for LuAnne. The bartender told him that he was working both rooms by himself and asked JB if he would mind coming over to the bar to get the coffee and water.

  He followed the bartender back over to the bar where all eight bar stools were occupied by men of various ages shooting the breeze and throwing back beers. Another ten or so were drinking at the pool tables and sitting around tables in the lounge area. Everyone seemed well acquainted with one another. JB knew from his own experience that strangers were usually regarded as an unwelcome distraction, so he was determined to attract as little attention as possible.

  However, when he approached the bar to pick up the drinks the bartender had placed there, all conversation stopped again as he awkwardly wedged himself between two men on barstools so he could reach the bar. He felt as though the entire room was watching silently as he got his cup of coffee and the bottle of water from the bartender.

  "Water?! Coffee?! Pauugh!" joked one of the men in a friendly voice. He was sitting on the barstool to JB’s left. He looked to be in his early fifties and wore a stained wife-beater T-shirt that hardly covered the bottom of his ample belly. What little hair remained on his head was trimmed short and slicked down with shiny dressing that kept it all glued in place.

  "Ya know what Ben Franklin said? In beer there is freedom… In water… There is bacteria!” A few others seated nearby joined him in laughter.

  JB managed a polite laugh and replied in an equally friendly tone, "I used to like beer, but lately it don't do nothin' for me."

  He turned to leave, but the man on the bar stool tugged playfully at his sleeve and announced loudly, "I can tell you, this is my fourth beer and it is definitely doin' something for me!"

  Most everyone else at the bar laughed at their friend's remark, made all the more amusing by JB’s comment. The man sitting on the bar stool to JB’s right, was wearing a torn, “John Deere” T-shirt, and appeared even more plowed than his friend. He was slurring every other word as he got in JB's face.

  "Beer don't do nothin' for ya?" he said belligerently as he stood up. "That's total bullshit!"

  JB tried to disengage with an apology and said, "Hey there, I didn't mean t' offend y'all. I was just sayin'…"

  "Yeah? You was just sayin' beer don't have no effect on ya. And I say that's bullshit!" he sneered, making it sound as if he was personally offended.

  JB replied as politely as he could manage as he stepped away from the bar. “Honest, Mister, didn’t mean anything by it, but I could drink a whole bunch of that beer an' not feel a thing."

  He made his escape from the lounge and brought the drinks back to the table where he had left LuAnne. She was studying her aunt's cell phone.

  "Hey," she said, as he sat down. "I was checking out Maddie's cell again," she said, holding up the phone. "Guess what? Her cellular data was turned off!”

  JB wasn't sure what that meant, but he kept quiet as she made a motion on the screen. Less than two seconds later, the phone made an alert sound.

 
"Email," said LuAnne, who, ignoring the water JB had set in front of her, was pressing more buttons on the screen. When she finally looked back at up him she had a somber look on her face. ”Shit! This is completely fucked up."

  "What do y'all mean?" he asked. JB had never sent nor received an email and wasn’t quite sure what it was. His old flip phone had died months ago.

  “This email just downloaded, but it was sent yesterday. It was addressed to Aunt Maddie and CC'd to every employee at CronLab."

  "What’s a CC?" he asked.

  LuAnne gave him a look of exasperation and said, “Really?”

  When JB returned her expression with a blank stare, she gave him a sigh of resignation before she explained.

  "It means carbon copy, meaning the same email was sent to a lot of people. And, it's a notification to attend a mandatory meeting at 7:00 A.M. this morning at CronLab. Failure to attend…" she inhaled sharply before she finished the sentence. "Will result in immediate termination."

  "That's why all them folks were there so early this morning,” said JB, moving aside so that the bartender could set down the plate of fried eggs he was delivering. The eggs were overdone and swimming in grease but he still dug right in.

  "Hell yeah. It was a trap!” said LuAnne gravely.

  “Sure was. Somebody wanted to get rid of everybody who worked there,” agreed JB as he reached for the salt.

  "I think Maddie’s video has something to do with this,” LuAnne said, twisting the cap off of her bottled water. ”CronLab, or maybe even the government, killed all those people to keep that alien thing secret."

  “Kinda looks that way, don't it?" said JB, his mouth full of egg.

  "That's what I've been…"

  "Hey, you!”

  The rude interruption came from the man in the torn John Deere T-shirt who had left his bar stool to come over to their table.