by Peter Nelson
“G’Day! Headed up to the park, then?”
Alex locked eyes with FRANK-LIN. “Citizen! The fate of the entire planet lies in your hands! I’m looking for a sidekick to partner up with me and help save the world!”
FRANK-LIN blinked at Alex for a moment. “Oh. Well, thanks for asking, but I like my job here.”
“What? No—I need you to get me to the moon as quickly as possible, so I can locate my partner!”
“Ah! That I can do!” FRANK-LIN began clickety-clacking at a million keys on the console in front of him. “All righty. I found you a seat at the front of the shuttle,” he said sweetly. “Technically, you’ll arrive one one-hundreth of a millisecond before everyone else. How’s that sound?”
Alex looked behind him. The entire line of ticket buyers was staring at him. He nodded to the grinning G’Dalien.
“Great!” FRANK-LIN smiled. “One round trippy, then?”
“Yes, please.” Alex thought for a second. “And an extra one-way ticket back.”
Clickety-clickety-clack! FRANK-LIN’s tentacles danced over the keys of his console. Ding! Two tiny tickets popped out and he handed them to Alex. “G’Day! Next!”
Alex boarded the shuttle and sat down in the front seat. His mask was itchy, his underpants were bunching up, and the other passengers were staring at him. Tough it out, Libre, he thought to himself. You’ve chosen your destiny. These are the sacrifices that come with being a lone superhero.
Hummmmm…The shuttle gently lifted from the launching platform. Alex looked out his window at the city below him. He wondered how much time he had before the Klapthorians attacked.
I sure hope this works, he thought.
The trip to the moon took exactly seven and a quarter minutes. It began with a great WHOOSH!, which kicked in as soon as the shuttle cleared the tops of Merwinsville’s tallest buildings. As it broke through the Earth’s atmosphere, the momentum of the soaring shuttle struck a soothing balance with the dropping gravity level inside the cabin. It caused an odd but pleasant sensation in Alex’s belly, like the feeling he got in the backseat of his mom’s car when she’d drive a little too fast over a rise in the road. He smiled as he thought of those little “belly tickle flips,” as he and his mom used to call them.
Snap out of it! Your mommy’s not here, Libre!
He shook off the memory and looked out the window just as the Lunar Shuttle was docking in the station on the moon.
Alex got up and pushed his way to the shuttle doors as they whooshed open. The park-goers gathered their pets, picnic baskets, blankets, and Frisbees, blissfully unaware of him. They’d experienced minutes on end of belly tickle flips as well, and were now in the perfect mood for a day at the LunaPark. It was a feeling Alex shared, but fought off.
Something he couldn’t control were the effects of lunar low gravity, which hit him as soon as he stepped off the shuttle and into the moon’s atmosphere. He took a deep breath and gulped a lungful of the cleanest air he’d ever tasted. Thanks to the oxygen-producing organic air pods the G’Daliens had injected into the moon’s topsoil years ago, the air here was even purer than on Earth. Breathing it in only added to the calm, mellow experience of an afternoon at LunaPark. Alex exhaled and tried to ignore the urge to just lie down, relax, and stare up at the stars.
Bounding down the walkway leading away from the shuttle station, Alex’s steps across the moon’s surface were slower, but his leaps ten times as long. He had to fight the urge to do flips and spins in the air like a happy space dolphin as he focused on a sign at an intersection in the walkway.
The sign had two arrows. One said LUNAPARK and pointed off toward a charming, white picketed path made of glistening, polished moon rocks. It led to a large field lying within an enormous valley. In the distance, Alex could see visitors leaping around in the low-gravity atmosphere, building moon-dust castles, lying on picnic blankets, and soaking up moonbeams. Spotting a fun-looking Frisbee-golf game, he felt himself take a step toward it, then stopped.
SMACK! Alex slapped himself in the face. He turned his focus to the other arrow on the sign, which read, DARK SIDE OF THE MOON. It pointed down a craggy and rubbly path that, after about five feet, was completely engulfed in darkness.
Alex took one more deep, delicious breath, turned toward the wall of blackness, walked past the “KEEP OUT!” sign, and entered the dark side of the moon.
Herbert and Sammi climbed aboard the TransPodium to find Mayor CROM-WELL looking out over the busy Flee-a-seum. He was giving orders and artistic direction to the hundreds of BizzyBots zipping around the grounds, making finishing touches—hanging banners, filling confetti cannons, and polishing benches in the stands where the humans would watch the Great G’Dalien Flee-Festival.
“Just tell him!” Sammi whispered to Herbert. “We have to get out of here and find Alex!”
“Okay, okay, but we need to break it to him gently,” Herbert said. “It doesn’t help anyone if there’s an all-out panic!”
“Who’s doing all that murmuring back there?” Mayor CROM-WELL said, turning around. “Ah, our beloved AlienSlayers!” The mayor did a quick head count. “One, two—where’s the mouthy one with the bad attitude?”
“I wish I knew.” Herbert glanced nervously up at the sky, watching for signs of attack. He eyed a large bird suspiciously.
“Sir, we have something very important to tell you—”
“Of course! Gotta multitask, however! Lots to do, lots to do!” The mayor hit a controller on his TransPodium. Sammi and Herbert stumbled as the giant mobile stage lurched up into the air.
Sammi and Herbert steadied themselves like surfers riding a crazy wave as Mayor CROM-WELL recklessly steered the TransPodium above the field. They careened toward the oblong-shaped storage unit at the end of the Flee-a-seum and came to a jerking stop just inside, facing the InflataTron dutifully chugging away. Herbert nearly went flying into the half-inflated Klapthorian Winged Death Slug parade floatie, until Sammi grabbed his hand and yanked him back on board.
The inflatable Death Slug bobbed up and down on its rear end while its top half slumped over. Its batlike, leathery wings sagged sadly off its plump, mud-colored back.
“Your honor—” Sammi began.
“Isn’t it gloriously hideous?” The mayor looked off and suddenly pondered, “Or is it hideously glorious?” He thought about it, then sighed proudly. “No matter! Either way, tomorrow this inflatable monster will mock chase the entire G’Dalien population into the Flee-a-seum, where the humans will mock welcome us with open arms. We’ll then symbolically release the Death Slug into the sky and watch it harmlessly float away!”
At that moment, the inflatable slug’s head flopped backward, revealing row after row of teeth circling all the way down its seemingly endless lumpy brown throat.
All three of them shuddered at the sight of it.
“Brrrr,” Mayor CROM-WELL said. “Wouldn’t want to meet one of those in the flesh again. I was a little boy, and I still remember the destruction it caused when the Klapthorians set it loose in our city. We fled just in time.”
He turned to a pale-looking Sammi and Herbert. “But now that you AlienSlayers are here to protect us from any invaders, we’ll never have to flee again!”
Sammi shot Herbert a look. He took a step toward the mayor. “Sir, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid—OW!”
Herbert looked at Sammi. She’d stomped on his foot—hard—and now was holding a finger to her lips.
“Shh.”
Herbert watched in pain and befuddlement as Sammi gestured for him to follow her. Then she suddenly ran to the edge of the TransPodium and launched herself into the air. She landed safely on the storage unit floor, rolled to her feet, and ran out the giant steel doors, onto the field.
Herbert looked up at the mayor, who was artistically directing the BizzyBots to add more fake blood to the parade floatie’s fangs. Herbert belly-crawled to the edge of the TransPodium and clumsily dropped to the ground.
&nbs
p; “Ow!” He landed on his stomped foot and hobbled out the warehouse doors, trying to catch up with Sammi.
Mayor CROM-WELL turned around.
“Now then, what is it you have to tell me that’s so important?” He stood staring at an empty TransPodium.
Back at the SlayerLair, Sammi was pacing back and forth. Herbert had his hurt foot soaking in a bright purple smoothie.
“We had a plan,” he said. “What happened to our plan?”
“I know I said we should warn them. But you saw that thing! If that slug monster is what’s coming tomorrow, there’s nothing they can do!”
“Sure there is! They could do what they do best—they could flee, proudly! Besides, there’s nothing we can do, either! Or have you forgotten that WE’RE NOT REALLY ALIENSLAYERS?!”
“I know, I know. Let me think.”
“Thinking is my department,” Herbert said. “And I think we have to focus on finding Alex. If only because I can’t wait to personally thank that nitwit for creating this whole mess.”
Sammi looked at Herbert. Her face lit up.
“That’s it,” she said. “Herbert, you’re a genius!”
“Well, duh.” He pulled his dripping, purple foot out of the smoothie and studied it.
Sammi spun around. “SarcasmaTron! Show me the clip of Alex acting like a nitwit!”
“You’ll have to be waaay more specific.”
“The Klapthorian crank call from yesterday! Quickly!”
SarcasmaTron’s HoloScreen beamed Alex’s face into the center of the room, taunting the alien captain. Suddenly, GOR-DONNA leaned into the picture and spoke: “I believe he said, ‘space shrimp.’”
“Right there!” Sammi yelled. “Freeze image!”
“Who’s she?” Herbert asked.
“The one who helped, maybe even tricked Alex into starting all of this,” she said. “SarcasmaTron, enhance.”
“Oh yes, by all means let’s get a closer look at the beauty queen.”
He zoomed in. GOR-DONNA’s ridiculously large, overly made-up face suddenly filled the room. Sammi squinted at it.
“Hey, I know that evil grin. SarcasmaTron, baldify.”
The computer did as asked. GOR-DONNA’s hair disappeared, revealing a bald, even more freakish-looking GOR-DONNA. Sammi peered closer.
“Okay. Now de-makeup. Replace with a nice, healthy G’Dalien grayish-green, please.”
The enhancement revealed a bald, makeup-less G’Dalien. It was GOR-DON, in all his olivey-evil glory.
“That GOR-DON creep?!” Herbert exclaimed. “He’s behind this?”
“Shocker,” SarcasmaTron said.
Sammi turned to Herbert. “GOR-DON is the key to stopping the attack and finding Alex. C’mon. He couldn’t have gone far.”
“Not in those shoes,” SarcasmaTron said.
Alex felt like he’d been walking through the blackness for hours. His eyes had adjusted as much as they could to the near-total lack of light on the dark side of the moon, but he could still only make out the vague shapes of the mountains, craters, and canyons as he trudged along.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see where he was going, because he didn’t know where he was going anyway. But he could feel where he was going—and the feeling grew stronger with every step. Something out there in the darkness was guiding him in the right direction.
Hopefully.
Exhausted, he sat down on a moon rock and took a rest.
“Ow!”
Alex jumped up. Something had jabbed his fanny. He picked up a small, pointy stick. But it wasn’t just any stick. Alex gave it a sniff. He smiled. He knew that smell anywhere.
“It’s a SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick stick!”
He jumped up and peered into the darkness, trying to see if there were more. There was barely enough light to see his hand in front of his face, never mind a small wooden skewer on the ground.
Sniff! Alex smelled the air. He sniffed again. Then he ran between two larger boulders, stopped, and crouched down. He picked up another SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick stick, sniffed again, and began running full speed into a valley full of moon boulders.
WHUMP!
Alex slammed into something and bounced back, landing flat on his tighty-whiteys. He sat up and tried to focus on what he’d hit. It wasn’t a moon boulder, or his head would hurt a lot more than it did. No, this was soft. And quite squishy.
And it spoke.
“You shouldn’t be out here. You shouldn’t be here at all.” The raspy voice came from a shadowy, pear-shaped blob looming directly over him.
A terrifying SQUEEEEAL suddenly echoed through the cold air. Alex felt something big flutter overhead. “What was that?” he asked.
“Giant LunarMoths,” the voice said. “Don’t worry, they’re not dangerous.”
An even more terrifying noise echoed even louder. Something even bigger flapped past Alex’s face, grabbed the LunarMoth out of midair, and flew off with it. “What was that?” Alex exclaimed.
“Giant MoonBat. They feed on the LunarMoths. Those are very dangerous. Come with me—if you want to live.”
Wanting to live, Alex followed the pear-shaped figure, trying not to stumble on the rocky moon soil.
As they ran together, Alex heard squeals and shrieks all around him. He looked up. Every few seconds he could make out large, fluttering objects getting plucked out of the air by even larger flapping objects.
“Okay. We’re here.”
They stopped. “Here” seemed to be a huge rock wall. Alex could make out a round boulder about the size of a beanbag chair sticking out of it. The figure pushed the round rock and it disappeared into a black beanbag-size hole in the wall.
“Climb in—quickly!” the figure said.
The two of them scrambled through the hole.
BOOM! Alex heard the round boulder slam back into the hole, plugging up the entrance.
If outside the rock wall was dark, this was something else. This was complete and utter blackness.
CRASH! “Ow!” He heard the voice on one side of him. “Who put that there?! Oh, yeah. Probably me.”
SMASH! “Dangit!”
Alex stood perfectly still in the dark, listening to the stranger bang around his cave, wondering what would happen next.
Then there was light.
Tiny flames sputtered to life from small holes in the walls all over what Alex now saw was a cozy cave. Like hundreds of birthday candles, one flame seemed to ignite the next, until the entire rock room had a warm, orange, twinkly glow to it.
Alex turned around and took in the small, rock-carved room. He saw the beanbag boulder, tied with a rope and suspended from the ceiling, snugly plugging the circular entrance. He saw furniture, all carved out of moon rock, throughout the room.
Finally, he saw the mysterious pear-shaped man standing a few feet away from him.
Alex gasped.
The wrinkly old man had bushy hair on the sides of his head and a few scraggly strands combed over the bald part in the middle. His eyes were wide, and they looked familiar. Alex knew those eyes. He tried to think of where he’d seen them before.
Then it hit him—he’d seen them in his mirror.
This was Alex’s 110-year-old self.
They stared at each other with mouths hanging open.
“There’s something weirdly familiar about this,” both Alexes said at the exact same time.
Old Man Alex’s cave was almost exactly the same as Alex’s bedroom back home. Except instead of furniture, most everything was carved out of moon rock. In the spot where Alex’s bed should’ve been was a flat stone with a small boulder pillow.
Directly across from that, where Alex’s desk would be, Old Man Alex had a squared-off rock desk and chair. And where Alex had his bedroom closet, Old Man Alex had carved a closet-size hole in the rock wall. It was cluttered with a bunch of junk, so you could hardly go in it, just like Alex’s.
“This is so weird,” Alex said.
“You
’re telling me!” Old Man Alex blurted. “I’ve never had a houseguest before.”
“No, I mean you’ve made this place just like my bedroom.”
The older Alex looked around his cluttered home. “Really? It kind of reminds me of my old bedroom—at least, I think it does. I can’t really remember.”
Alex’s older self didn’t seem very grown-up, especially for a guy who was 110 years old. By the looks of him and the way he spoke, Alex guessed he’d been alone in this cave for a long, long time. And by the size of his belly, Alex had a good guess who’d eaten all those SuperCheezyFranksOnnaStick.
“Hey—” Alex pulled the sticks out of his pocket. “I found these outside. They couldn’t possibly be—”
“SuperCheezyFranksOnnaStick!” Old Man Alex exclaimed. He ran over to a small, shiny metal machine. It looked totally out of place amid all the rock-carved stuff in the cave. Engraved on the side of the slick, futuristic contraption was a logo:
SUPERCHEEZYFRANKONNASTICKERATOR 3000
“You want one? I can make tons!”
“No way!” Alex exclaimed.
“Oh. Okay. I thought maybe you were hungry, is all. You didn’t have to yell at me.”
“No, I didn’t mean ‘No way, I don’t want one!’ I meant, ‘No way! A machine that makes SuperCheezyFranksOnnaStick!’ Hook me up, old-guy-me! And don’t skimp on the double-goopy SuperCheeze!”
Old Man Alex grinned as he excitedly slammed a button on the machine. The shiny box began to hum, and Alex smelled the deliciously familiar aroma of hot dog meat, goopy SuperCheeze, fresh-baked bread, and lightly toasted stick.
Ding! A fresh, hot SuperCheezyFrankOnnaStick popped out of the top, dripping with bright orange liquid cheese. Alex grabbed it and sunk his teeth in.
“Oh, yeah…” He grinned. “That’s the stuff.”
Old Man Alex beamed at his happy, younger self. His eyes lit up as he thought of something else.
“Ooh! Check this out—you’re gonna love this!”