The Saucer Club

by A. J. Gallant

  “Way better,” said Jake.

  “Bigfoot carrying pirate treasure?”

  Sam went for the needle and cleaned in on his pants. “Give me your finger.” Sam picked Randy's finger and the others as well. There were ouches all around as if it was part of the ceremony. They squeezed their fingers to reveal the blood and then and they all touched one another's fingers, mixing everyone's blood. “Repeat after me.”

  “Repeat after me,” said Randy.

  “I promise to never tell anyone what I'm about to hear or see.”

  “I promise to never tell anyone what I'm about to hear or see.”

  “Or I will go straight to hell when I die and the devil will stick his pitchfork right in my anus twenty four hours a day seven days a week, forever.”

  Randy grimaced at the thought of it. “Now that sounds painful. Or I will go straight to hell when I die where the devil will stick his pitchfork right in my anus twenty-four seven.”

  “So help me GOD!”

  “So help me GOD!”

  “Welcome to the Saucer Club.”

  Randy gave all of them the once over as he thought about it. “The Saucer Club? So that's what the S stands for? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Michael pushed Jake. “What do you think Jake? Should we tell him right now?”

  Randy nodded vigorously. “Hey, I'm in the club so you have to tell me. It's the law that I just made up.”

  Johnny stood up. “We've found a flying saucer and that's why we call ourselves the Saucer Club. It's way the hell out in the woods though.”

  Randy's mouth hung open. “You guys found a flying saucer? Like with aliens?”

  “It's stuck in a cliff. Just wait until you see it.” Sam watched Randy's expression of disbelief as he tried hard to imagine it. “We go inside it and camp out. It is so weird in there man.”

  Michael stood up to get a small spider off his shirt. “Sam's the one that found it.”

  Randy laughed. “That's a good one guys. I might not be a genius but I'm not that dumb. So how many aliens in the flying saucer?”

  Jake laughed. “Randy, it's not really a flying saucer.”

  “Yes well I'm not that dumb.”

  Jake put his hand on Randy's shoulder. “I mean it's a real saucer but it can't fly; it stuck in a cliff. It must have crashed there, maybe a hundred years ago. No aliens in it. But there is some activity in it so it must have some power. We really can't explain it to you. You have to see it.”

  Sam peeked out the door and saw Harold driving by on his bike. “Parts of the wall and floor are like liquid metal, just like special effects only real. Sometimes a light turns on in there and a weird screen will appear for like less than a second. I guess it's broken. Guess it didn't survive the crash.”

  Randy laughed. “You guys almost sound like you're not kidding. You are kidding right?”

  Johnny shook his head. “Nope.”

  Randy tried hard to picture all those images in his head but couldn't quite manage it; they had to be putting one over on him. Were they really going to carry him like ten miles into the forest as a joke? That sure seemed like an awful lot of work but with those guys he wouldn't doubt it. He shook his head slightly and had a smirk on his face.

  Sam was hit in the forehead with a pebble and it freaking hurt. Harold was attacking with his slingshot as another rock ricocheted inside the clubhouse. They grabbed their slingshots and climbed down as fast as they could and started chasing Harold down the street as he peddled his bike laughing. Michael got him in the back with a pebble.

  Randy waited patiently for them to return, staring at the naked woman on the wall. “Sure, a flying saucer that doesn't fly?”

  Chapter Three

  Brody and Jayden sat on the park bench across the street from the bank; Brody was humming an unfamiliar song that sounded terrible. Jayden was giving him dirty looks but he wouldn't stop until he was punched hard on the shoulder, and with an ow that hurt he finally stopped. Jayden had a Smith & Wesson compact 9mm handgun in the pocket inside his brown leather jacket, the coat had seen better days, it was coming apart in different areas. Brody had a light blue jacket with a hood that needed to be washed. It was a minute after four and the bank closed at five. They were waiting for a few more customers to come out before hitting the bank.

  Jayden looked at Brody's unkempt brown hair and shook his head. “You need to wash your hair man, it looks like hell.”

  “Yeah well you don't look so pretty yourself there Jayden.” He looked at his friend's torn jeans and dirty brown shirt with a guitar on it that was faded. His short blond hair was sticking up in places that it shouldn't have been. “When we go in I'm gonna hold my hand in my pocket like I have a gun too.”

  Jayden nodded. “We need to get in and out of there fast.”

  “I hope we get like a million dollars man.” said Brody. “Shit bird these black flies are annoying; he tried to swat them away but it didn't work. If I had a shotgun I'd blow them all away.”

  Jayden ever so slowly turned his head toward Brody. “That's quite an image. You running around with a shotgun shooting blackflies. It's a small bank. We're not going to get a million dollars.”

  “Half a million?”

  “No.”

  “Two hundred thousand?” Brody anxiously waited for an answer; he was looking forward to buying a fancy car because he wanted to be able to drive it two hundred miles an hour. Even when he was ten he had wanted to drive two hundred miles an hour.

  “Probably less than fifty grand. I'd be happy to get fifty grand.”

  Brody got a stupid look on his face as he tried to figure it out. “Shit bird! That's like twenty grand each man.” Brody was expecting to get a lot more than twenty thousand. “How the hell am I going to buy a Ferrari with twenty grand? Do they rent Ferrari's?”

  “You don't need a Ferrari.”

  “I don't need a Ferrari? How the hell am I going to drive two hundred miles an hour without a Ferrari?” Brody had been so looking forward to waxing his new red Ferrari just before driving two hundred miles an hour in it. “I want to wax it and polish it and kiss it?

  “You want to kiss your car?”

  “Sure, why not? It would be so beautiful.”

  Jayden stared at Brody for a time, deciding that if his mind ran with gears there would definitely be some teeth missing because they sure weren't meshing. “Brody, why don't you get yourself a nice Toyota. Nice and dependable. Excellent car.” Jayden was waiting patiently for his reaction, knowing that he probably wouldn't agree to a Toyota.

  “A Toyota? Man, that won't do two hundred. And my father had a 25-year-old Toyota that didn't run very good. He did get into like three, five, seven accidents. He always said that a yellow light meant go like hell.” Brody imagined himself on the highway in his red Ferrari leaving the cops in his dust. “Imagine the looks on the cops faces when I zip by at two hundred miles per hours.”

  Jayden shook his head. “Your parents have any kids that lived?”

  Brody thought hard on it. “Ah, yeah, I have a brother in England.”

  “What's he doing way over there in England?”

  “Walking around I imagine.”

  Jayden shook his head. “Don't you think it might be because the car was 25-years-old? I mean that it wasn't running too good. And imagine the look on your face when you're in a coffin after driving two hundred miles an hour.”

  “Like this?” And Brody showed him a funny face, all twisted. “When I die I'm going to get them to stick a fork in my forehead so people won't be so sad.”

  Jayden checked his watch and the time to rob the bank was getting closer. A police car flew by, obviously on an emergency call. “Ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes for what man?”

  “Until we rob the bank you doofus.”

  “Hey, I don't call you doofus. I spit in your cereal sometimes when you're not looking but that's about it.” Brody thought about running out of the bank with a bag
full of money and that made him smile. “You know we should have slashed all the police tires and that way they would have been busy with that.”

  Jayden nodded and looked impressed. “I can't believe you actually had a good idea but it's too late now.”

  “Can I count the money?”

  “Brody, you are not counting the money.”

  “Shit bird. Why the hell not?”

  “Because you can't count too good.”

  Brody considered that he just might have a point there. “Jayden, if I get shot will you carry me? You won't leave me in the woods to be eaten by bears will you?”

  “I'll carry you to the nearest cliff and throw you off.” Jayden smiled.

  Brody nodded. “You'll come back for me later?”

  “I'll come back with a fork. Remember, death doesn't hurt. Getting there can hurt like hell though, but once you're there you won't feel a thing. You can cut a ghost right in two and he don't care man.”

  “Yeah. What?” Brody's thought hard about what Jayden had said but then decided to leave it alone. He watched as Jayden pulled a nylon stocking over his head and then he did the same. “How do I look?”

  “You look a hell of a lot better than you did before.”

  “Thanks man.”

  “All right, let's do this thing!” Jayden stood up, his adrenalin pumping, both scared and excited. He hoped he didn't get shot.

  “Yeah man let's do this thing!”

  Chapter Four

  HAROLD, TOMOTHY AND ROLLAND screeched their bikes to a halt. Harold stared into the forest at the location where Sam and the others had pitched their tent last summer, it was across the street at the start of the forest trail, figuring that in a day or two they would be back there. He was trying hard to think up a nasty surprise for them but so far he had nothing.

  Rolland finished his chocolate milk and tossed the empty container on the street. “What are we doing here?”

  “This is where Sam and the other bozos are going to set up their tent. If I had magic I'd male an invisible catapult appear under them and fling them far into the forest as soon as they got into their stupid tent. When it's up we should come back with some spray paint and paint it sissy pink.” Harold nodded at his own bright idea.

  Tim thought it was a great idea. “Yeah, and while they're trying to sleep we can throw rocks at it!”

  “Yeah and when they go for their little walk in the woods we can pee in it!” Rolland gave Harold a high five. “Yeah, imagine their faces when they get back! We could all pee in it at the same time.”

  Rolland laughed and laughed. “When do you think they'll put it up?”

  Harold shrugged. “I don't know, maybe tomorrow. Come on; let's go egg the old man's house. He's so funny when he comes out waving his cane around.”

  Old man Neville was on his back porch of his white house watching chickadees take turns in his feeder that hung from the birch tree. He was 80-years-old last week and was enjoying what he had left of his long life, rocking in the same rocking chair that his mother had sat in all those years ago. He lived alone and liked it that way although he did continue to miss his wife; she had been gone just over three years now. Neville had been many things in his life, a decorated war hero, a mechanic; a father to three girls that now lived more than a thousand miles away. Most people now saw him as an old man, nothing more nothing less. Somewhere along the line he had transformed from a person to a senior and he didn't like it.

  He heard the eggs hitting his front window, thump thump thump. He knew who was doing it but he couldn't do anything about it. Neville had talked to their parents but they were all unreasonable, and he imagined that's why their kids were the way they were. They had no discipline and no guidance and would probably get married and would most likely father other little brats just like them. He would have to get the hose out before it dried on the window, otherwise he wouldn't have the strength to scrub it off. It seemed that the older one got the weaker.

  When Sam drove by on his bike he saw Neville struggling with the hose so he stopped to help him. “Let me help you with that Mister Neville.”

  Neville sat on his front steps winded; he watched as the boy washed his window for him. “What a waste of food. They should be eating those eggs instead of throwing them at my window. If I had the strength I'd throw some in their windows and see how they like it.”

  Sam thought about volunteering to throw eggs in their windows but decided against it. All their parents were aggressive maniacs. They were always looking for a fight and that would just aggravate them even more. It didn't matter what their kids did. “What do you think they're going to be like when they grow up?”

  Neville was listening to the sound of the water hitting his front window. “I don't know. Probably bank robbers and drug dealers I would imagine. If there's someone out there willing to hire them as egg throwers they'll have it made. Thank the lord I'll be gone by then. Maybe my ghost will come back and toss eggs in their windows. Or maybe I'll put my ghost foot right in their arses.”

  “That should just about do it,” said Sam.

  “Thank you so much young fella. It does my heart good to know that all kids are not hoodlums.”

  “Your ghost could wait until they're sleeping and scare the hell out of them.” Sam finished the job and put the hose away and then took off on his bike.

  Chapter Five

  THE TWO AMERICAN SOLDIERS walked quietly with their Springfield rifles at the ready. The scent of fresh baked bread was on the air. The only sound in the area was two birds answering one another. They had chased the German captain through the countryside on the outskirts of an unknown French village, but he had run faster than both of them, their bullets having missed him and now they were in danger of an ambush. The grass was tall and golden under the bright morning sun, an excellent place for a surprise attack. Both had a bad feeling as they slowed and listened, desperately hoping that a sound would give away his location. If either of them were in the German's sights it would be game over.

  The German watched their approach from high up in an oak tree, waiting for just the right moment to shoot. He looked down the barrel of his Mauser carbine model 98K waiting for the right moment. It was a tense time as he waited and watched; his heart hadn't yet recovered from running so fast. He knew he could get one of them for sure but would the other one get him? He was in desperate need of a drink of water but that would have to wait. Should he let them pass under him and then get them from behind? Or should he let them pass and continue on their way? The branch that he was sitting on could easily crack causing them to look up. It didn't matter how good one's aim was, once under fire anything could happen. Shooting at a target was one thing but at a person was altogether different because targets couldn't return the fire. He took careful aim as he considered the possible consequences.

  A crow flew over and cawed making them both look up. Suddenly, Harold was hit in the forehead with a rock. The tree slingshots were pulled taut as they unleashed a barrage of small rocks.

  “Hey, hey, no shooting in the face!” Rolland shouted up into the tree.

  Harold climbed down, finally letting himself fall from the branch. “It's your own damn fault, you ducked! Not my fault if you duck. If I shoot at your chest and you duck it's your own fault. If you lose an eye you lose an eye.”

  Rolland wiped the blood off his forehead. The small cut burned from the dirt off the rock. It was only a small cut but it could have been a lot more serious had he been hit in the eye. “I'm bleeding thanks to you! Not funny Harold!”

  Harold laughed. “You'd still have one left. With a patch you'd look just like a pirate.”

  Timothy agreed. “Yeah, how cool would that be? A pirate or a one-eyed Cyclops.”

  “That is not funny you little bastard!” The more they talked the angrier Rolland was getting.

  Harold pushed Rolland. “Yes it is!”

  It turned into a three-way wresting match as they all tried hard to get one another
on the ground. When it was all over a few punches to their shoulders had been exchanged and they laughed it off and went home for lunch.

  Chapter Six

  RANDY ROLLED AROUND IN HIS CHAIR on the school basketball court as Sam took a shot and sunk it. Sam threw the ball to Randy and he sunk it too, although it did take a lot more effort being in a wheelchair. They were waiting patiently for the others to show up while keeping an eye on the sidewalk. There was a misting rain but comfortable enough and the sun would soon burn it off. Two large crows lit on the wire fence and commenced to scold them with their loud caws.

  Randy went over to the crows and watched as they flew off. “Sam, you gotta know that I feel bad enough. I mean I ran in front of that stupid car and now I'm crippled. I'm supposed to let you guys carry me like ten miles into the forest on a stretcher like a sack of potatoes? What if you guys get too tired to carry me back? Not only is it a bad idea but it sounds like the worst idea.”

  Sam dribbled the ball like the sound of a slow drum. “Randy, you worry too much. We're strong so that's not gonna happen. You can't be in the club unless you get inside the saucer. What's the point of being in the Saucer Club without seeing the saucer? You might as well be in the No Saucer Club.” He took a shot and missed and had to run for the ball.

  “I'm already in the club.” Randy laughed as Sam wasn't paying attention and almost fell over the ball. “If I get stuck out there I'll have to live in the woods and eat squirrels.”

  Sam laughed. “That's not gonna happen either. Squirrels would be too fast for you. You'd probably have to eat tree bark. The cops would have to carry you out. But I promise that's not gonna happen.”

  “Better not.” Randy looked around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear what he was going to say next. “Sam, come on be serious. You guys don't really have a saucer out there? A ship built by aliens? Come on!”

  Sam also looked around to make sure that no one was in hearing range. “We are serious. You'll see. If you told me that you had a doubloon from pirate's treasure I wouldn't believe it until you showed it to me.”