Alien Roadkill - Realization

by Steve Zuckerman

  Marvin smiled, clearly proud of his work. “Recycled electronics, E-Bay and Amazon for parts. Crude, but functional.”

  “I’d say so… Now, I reckon, it’s up to me to see if I can figure out how t’ make my Sawbonites stop callin’ home,” JB said, eyeing the continuing activity on the display.

  “Go ahead and take your time. While you work on that, Jansky and I will take a walk into town and get some shopping done. Assuming you’ll be staying for supper, we’ll need a few more groceries,” Marvin said. From his tone of voice, he seemed pleased with the prospect of company. “We won’t be long.”

  “Wait… Here, please take this,” JB said, reaching into the front pocket of his jeans. He pulled out the wad of cash that Colin Trench had handed him before they parted ways. He had only glanced at it before, and now on closer inspection, he was surprised to see the large denominations on many of the bills. He pulled off a fifty and handed it to Marvin. “I owe y’all my life, an’ if this thing works, a whole lot more. Least I can do is t’ pay my own way.”

  Marvin took the money, and his smile became broader. “Thanks, JB. This will help,” he said. As he walked over to fetch his coat off a hook on the wall, JB observed him carefully, watching for any signs of the unexpected personality change he had seen the night before.

  “What are you looking at?” Marvin asked, noting JB’s scrutiny as he retrieved a small wheeled basket from beside the door.

  “Nothin’, I was jus’ thinking about what y’all said. I still got a bunch more questions for y’all, but I’ll wait ‘till you get back.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll see you later,” Marvin said, opening the front door. He turned and called to the dog, who had just finished JB’s contribution to his bowl. “Come on Jansky.” Before he stepped outside on to the porch, he turned back to JB and said, “Which reminds me. When I get back, I’ve got something else to show you. I’m very sure you’ll find it interesting.”

  Jansky followed Marvin out the front door, leaving JB alone in the house. He sat there for a few minutes, staring at the monitor and reflecting on recent events. He knew that his Sawbonites were his biggest advantage, but now the patterns dancing on the screen confirmed that they were also his greatest liability.

  He stared at the monitor for a few minutes before deciding to try the simplest, and most direct approach first. He concentrated hard, issuing an explicit command to his Sawbonites, in effect, ordering them to stop broadcasting. However, the jagged signal persisted unchanged. Just to be sure, he repeated the command several times, but every attempt was met with the same disappointing results.

  Over the next hour, he tried everything he could think of, but the undulating, ragged sweep continued without change on the display. He was about to give up entirely when he was struck with another idea altogether. Perhaps his Sawbonites might not have the ability to turn off their signal, but it occurred to him that they might be able to alter it.

  He thought about how he went about modifying his body parts, initiating those changes with a visualization in his mind’s eye. The problem was that he couldn’t imagine the absence of something. But then, he had an epiphany that was so obvious he was surprised he hadn’t thought of it before. The solution he thought of was simple; he merely visualized a flat, straight line. To his utter amazement, the activity on the monitor screen vanished the second he conceived the thought. Now, instead of the alternating jagged pattern parading across the screen, the display showed only an unbroken straight line. He wasn’t sure if his Sawbonites had stopped broadcasting, or if the signal had changed, but as far as he was concerned, the result was the same. They were no longer transmitting their alien signature.

  He sat for a long while, studying the screen in a state of disbelief, expecting the jagged patterns to resume… But they didn’t. He resisted the temptation to celebrate his victory because questions still remained. While he had managed to change the broadcast, there was no way he could be sure if that were enough to prevent his pursuers from finding him. Even so, he held out hope that it was the breakthrough it seemed to be. But before he went running around outside again, he decided to wait until Marvin and Jansky got back. He would at least get the benefit of the old man’s opinion before putting himself, and maybe everyone else, back into harm’s way.

  The sounds of scratching coming from outside the front door interrupted his reveries. Cautiously, not knowing what to expect, he went to the door and peered out the peephole. It was Jansky, insistently pawing at the door. JB opened it slowly expecting to see Marvin following close behind with his grocery basket, but the dog was alone.

  Jansky looked up at JB and whined, then immediately turned around and headed off the porch, as if he knew JB would follow. JB had a feeling it was important that he catch up to the dog, who was now trotting briskly towards the front of the property.

  A short distance ahead, he saw Marvin, standing on the path that led to the front yard, just beyond the gate. The old man had left his grocery-laden cart abandoned nearby, and was shuffling about aimlessly, muttering to himself incoherently.

  “Marvin, are you all right?” JB asked as he opened the gate.

  The old man turned towards him and stood silent, his eyes wide and unfocused. Long seconds later, when he answered, it was in a voice that was shaky and uncertain. “Jeffrey, is that you? I’m not sure where I am.”

  JB walked over to Marvin and gently took him by the wrist. He said, “Come on, I think y’all need to come inside an’ sit down.”

  “I think you’re right,” Marvin agreed weakly. He allowed JB to lead him through the gate and down the path to his house. “You always did know what to do, Jeffery.”

  JB nodded and led him indoors with Jansky at their heels. After he had managed to get Marvin comfortably seated in his recliner, he stared at the dog, who had laid down next to his master.

  “Y’all are one smart doggie, tell ya that,” he said, mostly for his own benefit. The dog looked back at him impassively, as if JB’s observation had been an apparent fact not worthy of comment. JB thought that if it hadn’t been for Jansky’s impressive actions, Marvin might have still been out there, wandering around in a daze.

  He went out to the front yard to retrieve the grocery cart. When he returned, Marvin was asleep in his chair. JB wrestled with the impulse to leave right then and there, but he couldn’t just abandon the old man. Even during the short time that JB had known him, Marvin was more like a father to him than Willie-Dean had ever been. Right now, Marvin needed him, and until things changed, JB was determined to stay. So, he went about busying himself in the kitchen, putting away the items the old man had brought back from the store. He was relieved to find that the milk and butter were still cold, meaning that Marvin hadn’t been out of it for very long before Jansky had fetched JB to rescue his master.

  He was staring at the stuff in the refrigerator, wondering what he would do next, when his train of thought was interrupted by a series of knocks at the front door. JB was startled, but he was sure it didn’t have anything to do with his alien pursuers. If they had any idea where to find him, they wouldn’t bother to knock politely.

  He looked through the peephole in the front door, but his view of whoever was standing on the porch was blocked by a shiny badge that was held up just inches away.

  “FBI,” said a woman’s voice. Her tone was flat and authoritative. “Can we come in? We’d like to ask you several questions.”

  JB pondered the situation for a few seconds but figured it was ultimately in his best interests to see what they wanted. With that in mind, he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  The woman who had announced herself was still holding out her creds, as did her male colleague standing next to her.

  “I’m agent Samantha Fenneman, and this is agent Alex Cole. We’d like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?”

  Both federal agents were younger than JB would have expected. They appeared to be close to his own age, in their mid-twentie
s. Although they were neatly groomed and formally dressed, their ragged expressions and sunken eyes gave JB the unmistakable impression that they were exhausted. He was also sure that this wasn’t their first stop.

  “If y’all don’t mind, I’d prefer we talk out here,” JB said, closing the door behind him. “My… Uncle ain’t feeling too well. He’s asleep in the front room an’ I’d rather not disturb him.”

  “That’s fine,” agent Fenneman said agreeably. She already had a small notebook and pen in hand. The other agent looked ready to disagree but said nothing as she began the interview.

  “Were you and your uncle aware of the incident on the other side of the island night before last?”

  “Nope. Pretty sure ‘bout that,” JB lied, trying to look as innocent as possible.

  Agent Cole shook his head and glared. “You didn’t hear the explosion?” he snapped. “Everybody else we spoke to did! Some said they even felt the ground shake.”

  “Oh that,” JB replied dismissively. “We all just figured it was an earthquake… Wasn’t it?”

  The female agent interjected, not bothering to answer his question. “Did you notice anything unusual before or after what you thought was an earthquake?”

  “Like what?” JB asked innocently.

  “Well, like a bunch of heavily armed men running around?” agent Cole countered impatiently. From his tone of voice, he regarded their conversation with JB as a complete waste of time.

  Agent Fenneman, however, was giving JB the once over. She was a little shorter than JB, and her green eyes were appraising him carefully. The piercing look she was giving JB was making him nervous. It was like she could see right through him. She brushed aside a strand of light brown hair from her forehead. “That night, there was a serious confrontation between an armed militia group and a number of federal agents. Lives were lost.” After pausing for emphasis, she continued. “Any help you can give us… Any information at all would be greatly appreciated.”

  JB rubbed his chin, hoping that he was conveying an appropriate amount of concern as he reflected back on what had actually happened. He had been there, of course… And he knew the death and destruction occurred at the hands, or more correctly, at the tentacles of the alien that had been intent on killing him. The off-worlder had not been concerned in the slightest by the massive collateral damage it had inflicted on those who had interfered in its mission. And while JB also knew that the carnage it caused had been catastrophic, there was no point in saying anything. No one would believe him anyway. Instead, he cleared his throat and replied, “Sorry to hear about that, but I really don’t know how I can be o’ any help t’ y’all.”

  Agent Fenneman gave him a hard look, as if she knew, or at the very least, sensed that he was lying. Her eyes may have been reddened from exhaustion, but they still drilled into JB’s with an intensity that he found uncomfortable and strangely alluring at the same time.

  “Do you have a name? Any ID?” she asked. This time her voice was all business.

  “Name’s Tucker, ma’am. JB Tucker” he replied, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. “This here’s my driver’s license.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew that he just gave himself away.

  The agents looked at each other in muted surprise, and then back at JB. Their faces grew even harder, and some of the exhaustion seemed to lift from their expressions.

  “Are you any relation to a Mr. Terrance Tucker?” agent Cole asked tersely as he took the ID JB held in his hand. He was shorter than JB, and his close-cropped, military-style haircut did little to disguise his early onset baldness. There was no mistake… Judging from his mirthless smile, he had already made the connection.

  JB figured there was no sense denying it, besides he didn’t want them digging any further. “Yes, sir. He’s my cousin.”

  Sir, we need you to come with us to answer a few more questions,” Cole demanded curtly. He didn’t hand back the license.

  “I can’t do that right now,” JB protested. “I’ve got t’ take care of my Uncle Marvin.”

  “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” Cole said. “You can either come willingly, or we can arrest you as a material witness. It doesn’t matter to us.”

  “Tell y’all what,” JB said after a moment’s consideration. “Give me a minute to make sure my uncle’ll be okay. Then I’ll go. No problem.”

  “Alright,” agent Fenneman replied. “But I’m going to need to go in with you… Just to be sure.”

  Agent Cole gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off. “I’ll be fine. He’s not going anywhere,” she assured him. JB noticed she had a hand on the automatic that was holstered discreetly under her suit jacket. Cole nodded curtly.

  JB said, “Come on in, then,” as he opened the front door and entered with agent Fenneman closely behind him. JB tried to shut the door after they were inside, but Cole had stopped it with his foot.

  “It stays open,” Cole commanded. Clearly, he wasn’t taking any chances. JB couldn’t blame him… He knew the feeling himself, all too well.

  Once inside, Fenneman paused to access her surroundings as she had been trained. She noted the tin foil that covered the walls and ceilings, and her expression revealed her surprise and puzzlement. JB, anticipating her question, pointed to the old man fast asleep in his recliner with Jansky at his feet. He explained in a hushed voice, “My uncle is a bit ‘ccentric.” The dog growled softly as they drew near.

  “She’s okay, Jansky… Stay,” JB commanded softly, hoping the dog would listen. To his relief, the dog settled back down to resume his position at Marvin’s feet, but his eyes never left the two of them.

  “He’s your uncle?” Fenneman said quietly, evaluating the black man asleep in the chair.

  “By marriage,” JB replied, not missing a beat. “He ain’t well, though. Will y’all need me long?”

  “Depends,” she said. “No promises. Especially since you weren’t honest with us.”

  “I had my reasons,” he said defensively. “But, I ain’t lying ‘bout Marvin. I’m worried that he’ll wake up confused an’ won’t be able to help his self.”

  “We’ll send medical help if you’re detained for any length of time,” she said, continuing to look around the room. “What’s with all this?” she pressed, gesturing at the piles of strange gear lining the walls.

  JB shot a glance at the monitor and was relieved to see it was displaying an unbroken line. Not that he had any doubts, but the screen verified that she was human and that his Sawbonites were still cooperating. Although, after they took him out of the house, he’d learn very quickly if his efforts to remain undetected were working or not. He hoped for everybody’s sake that he had been successful. Otherwise, they probably wouldn’t survive long enough to make the trip to where ever they were taking him.

  “My uncle is an electronics buff. Likes t’ make stuff outta junk,” JB explained.

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she motioned towards the front door where Cole was standing and observing. JB grabbed his jean jacket off the couch and made sure that Marvin was still asleep in the chair before he and agent Fenneman exited quietly through the front door.

  “This way,” she said, motioning towards the black sedan parked at the end of the property line, well beyond the fence. JB noted as he followed her over to the car that agent Cole was right behind him, hand on his service weapon. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was thoroughly screwed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Infiltrator

  THE INFILTRATOR MADE his way through the small business district near the waterfront. It was a stretch of the Ocracoke highway that was highly favored by tourists for its specialty shops and eateries. However, the infiltrator wasn’t there to shop or eat. It had been sent on a specific mission, chosen for its ability to transform itself so could appear to be a native inhabitant. It was also trained to quickly absorb languages and cultural mores. Those attributes allowed it to blend in unnotic
ed on the many worlds where it had been previously deployed. On this planet, it was no different, and as it walked among them, the native inhabitants it encountered took no notice of the tall, nondescript man in their midst. It even waved a silent greeting to several locals as it passed them by. Although there hadn’t been enough time for it to pick up much of the language, the gesture it employed seemed to be universal among many of the bipedal races it had encountered over the course of its many missions. It was in fact, both expert and highly experienced in matters related to its work.

  On this morning, there was only minimal traffic since most of the shops were closed. The local authorities had recently limited access to the island, intending to finish collecting evidence and to erase all trace of the massacre at the Trent Family Estate. The public explanation was that a primary power line connecting Ocracoke Island to the mainland had been severed during construction activities. This gave the authorities a credible excuse to close down the two ferry routes to the island in the name of public safety. The businesses and people that relied on the tourist trade were irate, of course, but they had no voice in the decision and were hoping normalcy would soon be restored.

  In any event, none of this made any difference to the infiltrator, nor was it aware that there was anything unusual going on. Its mission was simple and straightforward enough, and that remained its only focus. It had been sent to locate the primitive with the stolen medical protocols, and then to report its position to other members of its team. Those members were far more qualified than it was to destroy the being they knew as the Abomination.

  It stopped walking briefly to consult the large screen that it wore on its wrist. The device was designed to appear like those worn by many of the natives, so it attracted no undue notice. However, it showed that there was still no indication that its quarry was close at hand. The leadership of Har-Kankar, the off-world faction that had sent it, were extremely dismayed by the failure of their recent attempts to kill the primitive. The last hunter who had confronted the Abomination had revealed itself to many of the natives, and in so doing attracted too much attention. Attention was the last thing the Har wanted, as it threatened the larger scale strategy that they planned to implement. The hunter who had revealed its presence to the natives was far better off dead. Even if it had been successful in accomplishing its mission, and managed to return alive with a sample from its quarry, it would not have survived long after. The covenants of the Har were strict and unforgiving.