Nemesis Alien Hybrid

by C. S Luis

  Now the being was reading me, reading my emotions, reading my thoughts and my hatred, feeding on it like a hungry animal.

  “John Slater, my god, it’s so nice to see you again!” Mr. Claypool said, coming out of the cafeteria.

  He and Mr. Vasquez appeared from the cafeteria. Mr. Vasquez waved at me. He was a lanky man an inch taller than me, but very unfashionable in appearance. His eyes were large and hazel, and he wore an ugly green suit, with a black tie.

  I reached to shake his hand when Mr. Claypool offered it. And then Mr. Vasquez. It had been a long time indeed since I had left Milton. In fact, I had forgotten how long I had been absent until I saw Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez coming out of the cafeteria, and realized I hadn’t spoken to the others.

  “It’s been a long time,” Mr. Claypool said reaching, forward to hug me. I was still trying to get used to all the manly hugs I was receiving. I wasn’t used to the idea of having so many male friends.

  They had come into the hallway to find out what was going on after seeing the display inside the cafeteria. I couldn’t help feeling slightly embarrassed.

  I was worried about Claudia’s fleeing and her sudden uneasiness toward me.

  “Is that thing real?” Mr. Vasquez asked, pointing to the gun in the side holster on the inside of my suit. It was poking from under my jacket. I blinked, suddenly realizing what Mr. Vasquez was indicating. I subconsciously pushed it back.

  “Yes, it is Richard,” I felt I had to say, a little embarrassed once more.

  They looked over at me like they had just met me. In fact, that couldn’t be closer to the truth; they didn’t actually know the real John Slater. They had never seen the real me. They had been spared the display and battle with Quentin. I believed they knew only the information Michael and Claudia had revealed. How were they quick to accept an alien here in Milton? They seemed to be a very close set of friends and I envied that a lot.

  “I’ve never seen one up close,” Mr. Vasquez said in a very silly manner to me.

  I tried to smile but I felt the man wanted a reason to get a closer look at the gun. I didn’t take him up on his invitation.

  “Have you returned to resume your position?” Mr. Claypool asked, brushing away Mr. Vasquez’s silly attempt to see the gun.

  He looked excited about the possibility of me returning to Milton and resuming my position. He awaited my answer with anticipation.

  I smirked; I wasn’t even sure myself about that. Or whether Michael would actually want me after he heard the news I had brought. And well, now with the news that I wasn’t staying, and taking Claudia with me. I didn’t want to say anything to Mr. Claypool regarding that, maybe it was best said by Michael.

  “I’m not sure, James, you’d have to ask Michael about that.”

  "Where is Michael? I saw him run off after Claudia, is everything okay?" Mr. Claypool asked.

  I waved his efforts away, assuring the men there was indeed nothing to worry about.

  "Relax, gentlemen. Everything is fine," I said, trying to regain my composure. They accepted me at my word.

  "So, where have you been all this time, John?” Mr. Claypool asked, trying to start a conversation with me. I glanced over at him.

  "Give me a moment..." I managed, not feeling like myself suddenly. Trying to gather my thoughts, I glanced over at the young man who was staring at me curiously.

  I caught sight of Quentin's ghostly pale face smirking back. My skull began to pound, I lost my balance for a moment as a pain shot through the inside of my head. Immediately, I moved away, trying to focus, shaking my head as I walked forward.

  "John? What's wrong—” Mr. Claypool asked, following alongside me.

  I pushed him aside, uttering words that hadn't even made sense to me. The ringing in my head grew louder and I realized Quentin was inside my brain.

  “Liar…she knows…” I heard Quentin's voice say. I stumbled, fighting to stay focused while nearly losing my balance again. I pulled away from Mr. Claypool, hoping to escape before I lost my mind, before I went mad.

  "John—Where are you going?" Mr. Claypool's worried eyes blinked over at me.

  "Out of here..." I gasped in a breath and took a step forward, stumbling away like a drunken man staggering out of a bar.

  I hurried away with a hand over my head in the direction I walked in, with Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez staring after me as I did.

  * * *

  The Reminder

  * * *

  Mr. Cortez stepped out of the cafeteria beside Mr. Claypool and the lanky Mr. Vasquez, watching John’s figure slowly move away from them.

  "Hey, wasn’t that— ?” Mr. Cortez whispered. "What was that about?"

  “None of your business.” Mr. Vasquez said, glaring over at him.

  “Jeez, just asking. There’s no reason to get hostile, Vasquez.”

  “It’s Mr.—Vasquez,” Mr. Vasquez corrected him.

  Mr. Cortez wrinkled his brow and uttered a whisper of nonsense under his breath.

  "Shut up, Mr. Cortez. No one cares what you think," Mr. Claypool snapped.

  "Where is he going?" Mr. Cortez asked, frowning slightly that no one was taking him seriously.

  “Not that I seriously care because he did hit me.”

  “And you probably deserved it,” Mr. Claypool sneered, looking over at the man beside him. Mr. Vasquez chuckled and Mr. Cortez couldn’t help but remain quiet. He knew he wasn’t very popular and, of course, he knew why. He made no excuse, he just hated it.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault he doesn’t like me. It’s not my fault any of you don’t like me.”

  “Seriously?” Mr. Claypool’s gaze seemed to say.

  “Although I’m hoping he’s forgotten about that.”

  "I’m sure he hasn’t…” Mr. Vasquez uttered with a smile.

  “You think he’s coming back?” Mr. Vasquez asked Mr. Claypool, gazing down the hallway in the direction John had gone.

  “He'll be back. He's not going anywhere," Mr. Claypool assured him, looking toward the end of the hallway that led to the Milton parking lot.

  Mr. Claypool glanced back; the hallway was eerily silent and empty. There was no sign of Quentin, and he wondered where Michael and Claudia were now and whether the alien was with them. But it was something he didn't want to think about, the alien figure had always sent a chill up his spine and nothing had changed that.

  "I hope it wasn't something I said," Mr. Cortez stated in regards to John’s absence, looking up at Mr. Claypool with an ignorant look on his face. Mr. Claypool frowned at him and said nothing else. And Mr. Vasquez simply rolled his eyes at the silly little man beside them.

  The assistant principals felt certain John would return and wouldn't abandon them. But there was always the possibility he would decide to leave. And he and Mr. Vasquez wondered what news he had brought back with him. Yet they were both certain it was not good. No, it was never good news when it came to John Slater.

  29

  He Knew

  John

  I staggered out of the building and finally onto the gravel of the parking lot, until I was standing alongside my blue Shelby. My hand still covering my eyes, I took a deep breath and collapsed. The pounding in my skull suddenly ceased, and I opened my eyes to the descending sun on the horizon. Behind me, the traffic had lessened on the streets of Broadway, the school parking lot was empty except for my own vehicle and those of the remaining staff.

  My head throbbed, and I felt faint but I had escaped with my sanity. I had trained for this sort of thing. But this was something different. Quentin had nearly cracked my skull digging through my thoughts. He knew, I realized, he knew and if he did, then Claudia did as well. It could be the reason she had acted so peculiar with me.

  Frustration now consumed me, as well as desperation. Would she believe me if I told her I’d done it for her? I doubted it. Now there was no turning back. It had been done.

  I removed the suit jacket, pulled off the tie, and folded
up the sleeves of the silk shirt I wore. I opened the car door and sat down, throwing the jacket and tie on the passenger side. I could go far away, turn my back on this whole thing but it would not change a damn thing. I wasn’t going to leave her again. I loved her.

  Now, on Michael's request, I was one step closer to succeeding. I'd take her far from here if things still went according to plan. It could all work out, or just blow up in my face.

  I slammed my fist on the steering wheel; there was no turning back. It had to work. But would she trust me, discovering the truth of the measures I had taken to have her beside me? Now that she had found it in my eyes, there was no hiding from it, no hiding what I had done. My only stupidity was not hiding it better, and not using the watch to conceal my intentions from her before coming here. Was I that confident in my abilities not to be charmed by such a beauty as the lovely Miss Belle?

  I would be the last to admit that perhaps I was slightly jealous of Quentin. I hated him no doubt, hated him for his handsome stature, and hated him for his abilities and his great wisdom. I hated him for the way Claudia felt about him, and the way she looked at him. I hated him because I feared I would lose her to him.

  I slammed my fist again, visualizing Quentin's face in my thoughts. He seemed to be without flaw, a perfection of some evil demented mind here to torture me and take the woman I love away from me. And for all these things, I hated him, but none more than for stealing my girl's trust and love from me. And for those reasons, I wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't going to lose her to him or anyone else.

  I reached to the back seat and grabbed the suitcase lying on the floor. I pulled it up to the front with me, then got out of the car. I set the suitcase on the hood of the car and opened it. Inside, I found the extra 45 Caliber and box of bullets. I took extra bullets for the Desert Eagle in my holster instead.

  Quickly checking the 45, I put it back in the suitcase and moved to the back of the car to open the trunk. Lying flat on the inside was the 24-gauge shotgun I'd taken from the storage facility. I brought it to the front and set it alongside the suitcase. I loaded the Desert Eagle, putting a round into the chamber and placed it back in the holster. Closing the car door, I picked up the suitcase with one hand and grabbed the shotgun in the other. I faced Milton with a sense of assurance and knew it was time. I began my walk back, disappearing inside.

  30

  Bad News

  A sudden movement from the other end of the hall drew their attention as Thomas came tumbling through the halls right at them. He stopped right in front of Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez, trying to catch his breath. Alarmed, he proved ready for any sort of crisis by reaching for his own handgun. But before he could even lift it completely off the holster, he realized he was a little too late since he couldn't get it out of the holster quickly enough. When had he ever fired a real gun in the first place?

  "Put that thing down, Thomas, before you shoot off your own foot. It's okay. It's only John Slater," Mr. Claypool instructed as Thomas, the security guard, looked around and furrowed his brow when he couldn't find who he was looking for.

  "Oh—okay," he heaved while trying to catch his breath. He would have said more but he could barely breathe and he bent over, waving away offers of help.

  He then put his weapon away and picked up his radio, still gasping for air. Was this the security Michael had envisioned to protect the school or Claudia? Mr. Claypool thought. They wouldn't even stand a chance.

  "Sam—it’s cool, man. It's only Johnny," he let out a deep breath into the radio. Mr. Vasquez wrinkled his brow at the heavy-set security man.

  "Who?" the voice asked from the other end.

  "Slater, you idiot. He's back," Thomas said into the radio.

  Sam could be heard from the other end in the same manner, completely out of breath.

  "Holy cow. That's awesome! I'm on my way!" He yelled so that everyone could clearly hear the raspy voice coming through the radio. Thomas smiled big.

  "Thomas, you and Sam are in charge of protecting Claudia," Mr. Claypool turned to look at the clumsy security guard. Mr. Vasquez appeared slightly surprised by the announcement.

  Thomas, with his ridiculous smile and towering height, could easily intimidate anyone that attempted to take the girl. While Sam was silly and boyish, by his height could also instill fear in the bravest student that was tardy to class. But could the two of them stand up to an organization specially trained to take down forces beyond their understanding?

  "Tell Sam he's on duty," Mr. Claypool instructed Thomas.

  "Surely you can do better than that," Mr. Cortez stated, staring at Thomas's ridiculous goofy face. Thomas wrinkled an eyebrow at him. “Do better than them?” Even Mr. Vasquez seemed to be in agreement although he hated to admit it since it was a suggestion posed by Mr. Cortez.

  "I agree," John suddenly answered over Mr. Cortez's voice as he stepped forward. No one had even noticed him return from the parking lot. He carried with him a large briefcase and a large shotgun. He had stripped off the suit and tie, and was now wearing a long-sleeved white silk shirt, which he had rolled up to the elbow.

  Mr. Cortez noticed John’s well-defined muscular arms. In fact, it was something that couldn’t be missed. John was fit, his body structured like that of a chiseled god. He was handsome; with a well-defined strong jaw, a fearsome glare, and bold, piercing green eyes. A man that belonged more on the runaway, or a TV show like the Bachelor, than behind a principal’s desk.

  John noticed Mr. Cortez’s beady eyes regard him, “Hey, you’re back,” Mr. Cortez remarked and he seemed to make an effort to reach forward to shake John’s hand.

  John dropped the briefcase beside him on the ground and tossed the shotgun to Thomas, who fortunately caught it.

  Then he turned around and landed a clean, clear blow on Mr. Cortez’s face. The assistant principal dropped to the floor on his ass.

  Mr. Cortez looked confused; blood was starting to trickle down his nose. He flinched when John stepped over; everyone else was caught off guard.

  “I warned you never to come back here! Didn’t I? That was for Claudia!” He snarled.

  Apparently, John hadn’t been aware of Mr. Cortez’ return.

  John reached down and lifted the tiny man by his tie to his feet.

  “What are you doing here?!” He yelled.

  “McClellan said I could stay here!”

  John wrinkled his eyes at him and lifted a fist again to strike him.

  “It’s true,” Mr. Claypool reluctantly offered. John glared at him, confused.

  “He threatened to expose what happened. Threatened to go to the people you know. Michael had no choice but to give in to his wishes for now.” John turned back to look at Mr. Cortez, the man was shaking in his grip.

  “You know nothing,” John angrily growled at him, smirking.

  “I know enough—and what I know they’ll want to hear and it will be enough for them!” Mr. Cortez had the nerve to say.

  John swung again, hitting Mr. Cortez in the face once more, the man dropped, backsliding down the side of the wall on his ass. John angrily leaned over him, pointing a long finger at him.

  “I don’t know what your intentions are, but you can’t touch Claudia’s inheritance. And if you go near her I will break you!” John growled.

  Mr. Claypool and Mr. Vasquez tried to hold their laughter; no one said anything in Mr. Cortez’s defense. It was time someone taught the man a lesson.

  Mr. Cortez dragged his wounded figure up and struggled to his feet, wiping at his nose.

  “You are so screwed!”

  John spun around and grabbed him by the collar, pushing him against the wall. He came nose to nose with Mr. Cortez.

  “You have a lot of nerve, threatening me. We both know you have nothing to hide behind. Michael’s been more than generous allowing you to remain, but that ends. You’re lucky I have more impending matters to deal with, or I would take care of you right now for threatening my girl. And with that
being said, I’d advise you to stay out of my way because next time, I won’t just break your nose!” John snarled. “I’m back now, so if I were you I’d keep my mouth shut!”

  The man’s lips quivered and he couldn’t answer. He was afraid of John Slater and hated admitting the fact.

  John pushed him aside, Mr. Cortez staggered back, moving towards the entrance of the cafeteria. He hated that little brat. Everything was always about her. He spat blood into a handkerchief as he sneered at those around.

  "Nice to have you back, Johnny!" Thomas exclaimed with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, trying to break the silence. John had certainly left an impression on him and Sam.

  "Thanks, Tommy—know how to use that thing?" John asked, arching a brow at him, the issue of his greeting with Mr. Cortez a faded memory. Thomas marveled at the deadly piece in his hand with wide-eyes. Had he ever held a gun in his hands before?

  "You have used a shotgun before?" John asked.

  "Sure, of course," Thomas foolishly smirked.

  "Well, that's the dangerous end and we don't point that end at ourselves or anyone else. Only the bad guys. Got it?"

  "Right," Thomas answered and lowered the shotgun. John shook his head and hoped he would still have both his feet when this was all over.

  "Thanks for coming back, John," Mr. Claypool said in relief. Mr. Vasquez smiled and gave John the thumbs up. John had a feeling they both liked the way he had dealt with Mr. Cortez.

  John flashed him a grin.

  "Of course—I had no intention of leaving. I promised Michael I would help," John proclaimed as Mr. Claypool stepped away from Thomas.

  "Besides, who else are you going to depend on—them?" he said referring to Thomas and Sam.

  "No offense, Tommy," He immediately said to the tall black man holding the shotgun.

  "Oh, none taken." Thomas blinked with a stupid smile on his face. He was way too busy examining the shotgun John had given him. And it was making John slightly nervous.