by Dann Gershon
1
Cha p te r
A
Day Seven — 2:17 P.M. ll of the campers had been moved to the barn and impris-oned in three separate cages. The cages were cramped and uncomfortable, with barely enough room to move. The camp-ers complained bitterly. Bucky and Nurse Knockwurst stood in front of the vampire cage, discussing which group to cocoon first. All three groups volunteered. Anything was better than being packed like a can of sardines, especially given the heat. Greeley was inside Curly’s body, listening to every word, while Roxie and Einstein watched from a safe distance.
“What are those things?” Einstein asked.
“Glokas,” Roxie whispered.
The glokas were hopping up and down, confined in their
own separate cages. As soon as they saw Curly, the five furry creatures clambered to the front of the reinforced Plexiglas and began to beg for food. They stood on their back legs, yelp-ing like little puppy dogs.
“Cute little guys, aren’t they?” Einstein whispered to Roxie. “Not for long,” she replied as Nurse Knockwurst gave Curly the order to turn on the shower.
“Which button is it?” Greeley asked, staring at the remote. He may have possessed Curly’s mind and body, but he didn’t possess his knowledge. Greeley had no idea how to work this contraption. There were literally dozens of different buttons on the device, all of them labeled in an alien language that was impossible to decipher.
“It’s the red one, you idiot!” Nurse Knockwurst shouted. “The green button activates the protective field around the cages. What’s wrong with you, Curly?”
“I’m not myself today,” Greeley cackled as he pushed the red button.
Water poured down into the cages like rain, drenching the furry little babies. Their transformation from infants to adults was as quick as it was startling. The eight stubby legs hidden beneath their long shaggy coats sprouted instantaneously, growing longer and more muscular. Their soft fur was replaced with thick slimy scales, like an oily coat of armor. All ten of their large button eyes exploded at once. Immediately they were replaced with ten black and bulbous new eyes that re-sembled giant Tootsie Pops attached to the tips of octopus- like tentacles. Einstein felt a chill run down his spine as two large metallic fangs emerged amid several rows of sharp teeth. The adult glokas opened their mouths and roared, the sound echoing through the barn like thunder.
“Yikes!” Einstein gasped.
“You should see the females.” Roxie waved her arms at Greeley and tried to get his attention, but he was facing the other direction and couldn’t see her. “I could use some help here, Fleet.”
Einstein took out his peashooter and loaded it with a mar-
1 10 ble. He took a deep breath and aimed. The marble sailed across the barn and hit Greeley in the butt. The ghost turned around and glared at Einstein. When he did, Roxie motioned for him to come closer. Greeley started toward them, but didn’t get very far.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky shouted. “Nature calls,” Greeley replied without turning around, his eyes glued to Roxie.
“Push the yellow button,” she mouthed silently.
“Your mind turn into Jell-O?” Bucky said, pointing at the glokas. “You forgot to turn on the force field.”
“Did you say yellow?” Greeley asked, turning around.
“Are you crazy, fool?” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “You want to bring down the ship? Push the green one.”
Greeley pushed the yellow button instead. “Oops.”
A spaceship came crashing down through the roof. A giant dust cloud filled the barn. When it cleared, the ship was sit-ting in the exact spot where the six cages had been moments before, and the glokas were gone. All that remained was a solitary Tootsie Pop eye, peeking out from beneath the hull of the ship.
Einstein’s jaw dropped at the sight of the spaceship. He stared at Roxie in disbelief. “You and I need to have a little talk,” he whispered.
“Not here,” Roxie said. “Let’s go back to the cottage.”
“What about Greeley?” Einstein asked.
“Don’t worry about Greeley,” Roxie replied. “They can’t do anything to him that they haven’t done already.”
Cha p te r
0
C
Day Seven — 2:43 P.M. hief Chester had heard more than his share of far-fetched sto-ries, but this one was a real doozy. The portly policeman had chosen the desert community because of its peaceful nature, far removed from the hustle and bustle of big-city life and big-city crazies. Now two of those crazies were sitting five feet across from his desk and refused to budge. The chief opened his desk drawer and fished out a doughnut. It may be his job to listen to this drivel, but it didn’t mean that he had to starve to death while doing it. “How did you hear about this alleged camp?”
“We got a brochure in the mail,” Norman replied. “Can I see it?” the chief asked.
Shirley looked at her husband and rolled her eyes. “He left
it at home.”
Chief Chester leaned back in his swivel chair and smiled. “I know the whole thing sounds crazy,” Norman sighed. “You think?” the chief replied. He took a large bite out of
the jelly doughnut and then wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve. “Do you want to file a missing persons report?” “Haven’t you been listening to a word of this?” Shirley screamed at the chief. “Our son has been kidnapped! He’s
1 probably rotting in a hole somewhere while you sit on your rump eating that doughnut.”
“Are you folks on drugs?”
Norman took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “We’re not on drugs or any type of medication. We’re just concerned parents, trying to find our son. He wrote to tell us that he was in trouble, but we didn’t listen. If you don’t be-lieve me, read his last letter.” He handed the white envelope to Chief Chester.
The chief noticed that it did not have a stamp, confirm-ing his suspicion that this was some type of prank. Either the kid was at home or the Fleets had penned it themselves. It was possible that the boy didn’t even exist. Nonetheless, he went through the motions and read the letter inside. Taking no chances, he held t
he paper in one hand and fingered the gun in his holster with the other and started to read. The letter was even crazier than the two people sitting in his office, but if nothing else, at least it was good for a chuckle. He handed the letter back to Shirley, leaned back in his seat, and took another bite of his doughnut.
“Well, what do you think now?” Norman asked.
“Real chip off the old block, isn’t he?” the chief replied through a mouthful of jelly. “Have you folks ever considered family counseling?”
“We’re not crazy!” Norman shouted. “Just call the old guy out at the convenience store. He knows all about Greeley and Sleepy Time.”
“Listen, folks,” the chief began, eyeballing the Fleets like a couple of small-time criminals in a police lineup. “Saugus may be a small town and we may be just a bunch of redneck yahoos to you, but we know a big-city prank when we see one. Now, if you’ve had your fun, I’d like to get home and watch a rerun of The Dukes of Hazard with the rest of the rubes.”
Before Norman could say another word, the phone rang. Chief Chester leaned over and picked it up. “Speak of the devil,” he said, covering the mouthpiece. “It’s Jim Warner.”
As the chief spoke to the man who owned the convenience store, Norman whispered to his wife. “At last we’re getting somewhere,” he said with confidence.
After a brief conversation, Chief Chester hung up the phone and pulled out his gun. “You’re both under arrest.”
“What for?” Norman growled at the cop.
“They may be giving away free gas in the city,” the chief replied calmly, “but around these parts we expect folks to pay for it. Get up against the wall and assume the position.”
Five minutes later, the Fleets found themselves in a small but private cell, spending the night in jail courtesy of one angry redneck sheriff. Shirley was curled up on a cot in the fetal po-sition, crying like a baby. Norman was pacing back and forth across the cell like a caged tiger. “Just wait until I get my lawyer on the phone. Just you wait!”
“Just shut up, Norman!” Shirley wailed.
1
Cha p te r
1
W
Day Seven — 3:07 P.M.
e’re being abducted by aliens and sold to an intergalactic monster zoo?” Einstein gasped, staring at Roxie in disbe-lief. He repeated the information over and over again, as if doing so would make it less true, then bent over and placed his hands on his knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
According to Roxie, Big Al and the others were extrater-restrial gangsters masquerading as counselors, with rap sheets a mile long. They worked for Mucho Fahn, an intergalactic wheeler-dealer who had built a criminal empire that spanned two galaxies. No one had ever seen Mucho Fahn and very lit-tle was known about him, but his ruthlessness was legendary. Roxie was part of a task force that had been specially commis-sioned to track Mucho Fahn down and bring him to justice. IMPS had been after him and his gang for years. They had followed his trail from one planet to the next, with the same result. Mucho Fahn remained one step ahead of them every step of the way.
“You’re telling me that our government has the ability to track criminals from one planet to another?” Einstein snick-ered. “We can barely get a space probe to Mars.”
“IMPS isn’t part of your government,” Roxie replied. “It’s extraterrestrial.”
“Extraterrestrial?” Einstein took the news like a sucker punch to the belly. If IMPS was alien, it stood to reason that all of the agents that worked for the organization were too. “You’re joking, right?”
Roxie shook her head.
“You’re an alien?” Einstein uttered in disbelief.
“I wanted to tell you, but I thought you’d freak out.”
“Freak out?” he mumbled to himself. Einstein’s breathing grew rapid and labored. He began to hyperventilate. “I’ve got two friends in the world—one lives in another dimension and the other lives in another galaxy. Why would I freak out?”
“I’m sorry,” Roxie said softly. “I should have told you sooner. This is a lot to absorb all at one time.”
It was hard to tell if Einstein was listening. He muttered “I can’t believe you’re an alien” several times and keeled over, falling face-first onto the floor.
Roxie bent over and cradled his head in her arms. She picked up the canteen and splashed some fresh water on his face. A few minutes later, Einstein opened his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, rubbing his head.
“You fainted,” she said. Roxie handed him the canteen and instructed him to take a couple of short sips. Einstein eyed her suspiciously. “Relax, Fleet. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I can’t believe you’re an alien,” he repeated.
“I’m a friend,” Roxie replied. “If we’re going to survive this, we’re going to have to trust each other and work as a team.”
Einstein knew that she was right. He needed Roxie, human
15 or not. On his own, Einstein didn’t stand a chance. He took a long swig from the canteen.
“Where is this zoo?” Einstein asked.
“No one knows except for Mucho Fahn,” explained Roxie. “The location is a well-guarded secret. As an added precaution, it’s rumored that he moves the zoo constantly. Even the pay-ing guests don’t know the location until the very last minute. IMPS tried to infiltrate his operation once. Two of our agents posed as guests. Neither of them was ever heard from again. Once Big Al is ready to go, he will make contact and Mucho Fahn will provide him with the coordinates for the current lo-cation. After that, the ship will transport the campers through a wormhole to the zoo.”
“A wormhole?” he repeated. In theory, a wormhole was a way to travel through vast distances of space without the pas-sage of time. The idea of being jettisoned through millions of miles of space at the speed of light made his stomach roll. “I hope they have barf bags aboard.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you were partially right about the involvement of both the government and several major conglomerates.”
“Excuse me?”
“After the crash a
t Roswell, the government made a deal to trade advanced alien technology in exchange for the right to abduct a limited number of human beings. The government received detailed plans that allowed them to build stealth fighters, cloaking devices, cell phones, plasma televisions, and a whole slew of other worthless things. All of this stuff is primi-tive by alien standards, but the right to abduct humans was priceless to Mucho Fahn.”
“Back up for a second,” Einstein said. “Are you saying that the government made a deal with an intergalactic criminal?”
“They didn’t know that Mucho Fahn was a criminal,” Roxie replied. “They thought that he represented a peaceful federa-tion of alien planets. The truth of the matter is that travel to this planet was banned over a thousand years ago. Alien tour-ists used to love to come here and party. Unfortunately, it got out of hand and was stopped after a few bad apples pretended they were gods and ruined it for everyone.”
Einstein took his notebook out and opened it. “Were the humans used like lab rats for medical experiments or sold as slaves to work on third-world planets?” Einstein asked, jotting down a few notes. “Interested bloggers are dying to know.”
“Neither,” Roxie replied. “The humans are placed on exhibi-tion in his zoo. Mucho Fahn charges a fortune for the cost of admission, which doesn’t even include the tickets for the rides. Since he has a captive audience, he’s able to demand outra-geous prices for the rooms in the hotel. The concession stands are an even bigger rip-off. And the licensing of merchandise is a real gold mine. Mucho has made a fortune. Think about it, Fleet. How much would you pay to see a zoo full of aliens?”