The assassin moved slowly, keeping to the cover of the shadows as he came closer to verify that he had successfully taken down his prey. It was only when he was yards away from the trailer did he venture out from the tree line and into the clearing. Looking from side to side, he moved his weapon in tandem with his gaze as he advanced towards the trailer.
JB remained still, watching as the man cautiously ventured closer. He knew his timing had to be almost perfect, or he’d lose the element of surprise. Then, suddenly the man froze in his tracks and looked straight in JB's direction. As hard as it was, JB resisted the impulse to move. A heartbeat later, a large rat ran away from the pile of rubbish that had slid or fallen to the bottom of the "V" and disappeared into the brush. The man waited a bit more before he warily resumed his careful approach.
He was less than six feet away when JB threw himself as hard as he could at the trailer’s interior wall, striking it at the highest point he could reach. The impact toppled over the already off-balanced half-trailer from its now useless foundation and into a sideways roll. The resulting avalanche of aluminum and wood framing caught the man by surprise, knocking him down and burying him under the twisted remains of the trailer.
JB was able to crawl out through a tear in the wreckage and sprinted towards where he had parked Ol’ Blue. Behind him, the man was also working his way out from under the debris. After pushing away the pieces of plywood and aluminum paneling he had regained his feet. JB had reached his truck and was opening the door when the man spotted him. Realizing he wasn’t holding his weapon, the man began to scour through the wreckage at his feet searching for it. JB instantly accessed the situation in a single glance. It told him everything he needed to know. He still had a chance.
He fired up Ol' Blue and punched the accelerator. He red-lined his engine in first gear before he shifted into second, aiming the truck directly at the man who was now beginning to flicker like a broken fluorescent bulb. The oversized truck wheels ripped up chunks of the beer can pavement as it hurtled forward. The flickering around the man had abruptly stopped and revealed an all too familiar shape, just as one of the alien’s tentacles had managed to retrieve what it was searching for. It raised the weapon into firing position and activated it.
With a wet, sickening crunch, the big Ford collided with the alien as it fired. Its weapon discharged, but the pulse went wild, slicing through a grove of old oaks, felling two and leaving several more smoldering. Impaled on Ol' Blue's steel spikes, the off-worlder struggled like a pinned moth, but its efforts only caused it to become even more mangled. By virtue of its own weight and Earth's gravity, the flailing alien completely tore itself apart on the sharp and narrowly spaced spikes.
JB stood over the alien’s ruined carcass and watched as the off-worlder’s own medical protocols fled their dead host. It had damaged itself well beyond their abilities to repair and now its Sawbonites would be heading towards him. JB had begun to doubt that the alien critters were attracted to him somehow. Instead, he suspected that his Sawbonites were communicating with them by some means. While he didn’t know whether they were broadcasting an invitation or a command, the result had always been the same.
The hundreds of millions of incredibly small robots that rose from the gore of the alien's shredded remains became visible only after they coalesced into a ragged, iridescent cloud, like a glowing swarm of bees. They rapidly reached JB, enveloping him and penetrating his body, slipping between the spaces in the molecules of his skin.
At that exact moment, his cell phone rang again. The caller ID read: "T. Tucker", but JB didn't bother to look, he knew who it was. Waiting until all of the Sawbonites had been completely absorbed, he answered on the fourth ring, and was prepared to have his ears chewed off.
“Damn it, JB, don’cha ever return your phone calls? You haven't even set up your voice mail!” yelled the angry voice on the other end.
“Jeez, Terry, I totally forgot,” JB said sheepishly. "Got kinda busy… You know how it is."
“You? Busy? Bullshit! More likely you was off on another bender. I dunno why I expected ya to call me back!” scolded his cousin in a softer tone. With a laugh he added, “Same ol’ JB!”
JB waited a second before he decided what to say. He wanted to tell Terry he had saved his life yet again with his unanswered phone call, along with a million other things. But instead he said, “I ain't exactly the same, actually. Which, is something I wanna talk to y'all about, see I…”
“Hell! Again?” interrupted Terry. “It's always somethin' with ya, Cuz! What? Are you out of meth?”
"No, Terr, this is different. I've changed, likely in more ways than y'all can imagine. I don't drink or do drugs no more.”
JB didn't have to see Terry's face as his skepticism in his voice was loud and clear. “Shit! You? On the wagon? That I gotta see!"
"Honest, swear it's true.”
“Well glad to hear it. I didn’t save you from your pappy just for you to kill y’self with that shit.”
“There’s a mess more, Terr, that I gotta tell ya. I need t’ get down to see y'all while there’s still time.”
Terry's tone changed abruptly to one of concern. He asked, "What the hell are you talking about, Cuz, you sick or something?"
"No, no," JB protested, "Nothin' like that."
"Well, if you’re comin’ down for a visit, ya couldn’t have timed it better. Shit, that’s why I called ya in the first place. Wanted to invite ya down for our annual pig-pull."
“Really? Are you an’ Colin still into the Righteous Sons thing?”
Terry chuckled and said, “Hell yeah! The cause is stronger than ever! So, are you bullshitting me about coming down, or can I count on seein' ya?“
"No Bullshit. I'm on my way down tonight. Jus' got back to Pappy's trailer an' found out it got trashed when I was away."
"Damn! Sorry to hear ‘bout that, but it's about time you moved on. Really, I don't know how ya stayed there as long as you did." There was a long pause before he added, "Not a lot of happy memories."
"True enough, Terr. You're right. Time to move on," JB agreed.
“Hell, you know you can stay with us as long as you like, Cuz. We'd love to have ya,” offered Terry.
"Thanks, Terr. Don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay, but I’ll see y'all real soon."
As he ended the call, he thought about how he was going to explain everything to his cousin. Terry wasn't exactly someone who had a lot of imagination. In fact, JB thought it was more likely that his cousin would never believe him anyways. Even so, he owed his cousin Terry a debt he could never repay. If his days were numbered, then he needed to tell his story and say goodbye while he still had the chance.
About the Author
Steve Zuckerman has had a long career as a music composer, orchestrator and author. He began his musical career at nineteen, writing and creating the soundtracks for many “Sesame Street” animated shorts. He has also scored films ranging from the uber-campy “Spawn of the Slithis” to the super-sweet “Winnie the Pooh and a Day for Eyeore”. Additionally, he’s created literally hundreds of television commercials and has published numerous short stories and several novels. He and his wife make their home in California, and spend much of their time traveling and visiting family in Arizona and Alaska.
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