Frankentown

by Aleksandar Vujovic

  Another search revealed that if symptoms were in fact as such, his dosage may not yet have been lethal. Several articles listed ways to help relieve the short-term effects.

  He picked up the phone and called Allen.

  “This is the Curtis residence,“ said a little voice on the other end of the line, “Tommy Curtis speaking.”

  Tommy was Allen’s younger son.

  “Hey… hi - Tommy. This is Frank.“

  “Hi Frank, you want to talk to dad?”

  “Yes please.”

  It took only a little beyond a ten-seconds of explaining for Allen to start sounding squirrely, worried and agitated in exactly that order.

  “Have you taken off your clothes?”

  Frank was silently struck by the question, but decided to give Allen the benefit of the doubt. Allen interjected.

  “No, I mean, you should’ve taken the clothes you had on when you got sick and put them in a plastic bag. If you got radiation poisoning, they are probably contaminated too.

  I’m gonna bring you some pills to make you feel better. Be there in 15 minutes.”

  Before Frank could react, Allen already hung up and was on his way. There was no way to call it off.

  That was kind of a good thing.

  But- Allen could see this.

  All the nonsense he had lined up for the kitchen alien autopsy were still conspicuously lined up on the counter, and the sheet of plastic that once used to be a bag were now growing some manner of a bizarre fungus.

  He managed to put it all away before Allen arrived.

  What a crap friend am I?

  Sure enough, Allen arrived twelve minutes later.

  On his way up to the house he picked up a little white envelope from behind the windshield of Frank’s car.

  “You look like hell!” was Allen’s greeting when Frank opened the front door.

  “I feel like hell, too.” He concurred.

  “I brought you some iodine pills we had from our earthquake box, and some iodine heavy protein bars. And some terracotta.”

  “Hey-you really are a good friend.

  Thanks for-“

  Allen cut in by placing a curled up brown paper bag in his hand, which had Frank lost for words. When he unrolled it, he started smelling its contents and immediately knew.

  “You brought pot? What the hell for? I’m not going to prom, I have radiation poisoning.” He shot Allen a mocking but subversive look. Allen took off his shoes.

  “Jen’s nana had cancer…she smoked it after her radiation treatment to relieve the symptoms. Frank was in disbelief of Allen’s shamelessness, but his college-born curiosity got the best of him. This was where they usually got together and drank a row of shots before going out on nights like these. Allen made for the kitchen.

  “Don’t go there! I think that’s where the—”

  Allen quickly turned on his heel and ran toward the living room. There he took the iodine pills he brought out of a plastic bag and handed two to Frank to drink down. As he did, he pulled out a stereotypical joint out of a film canister and went outside.

  “Where’s the radiation from?”

  “Allen, I…”

  “Yes?” AllenAllen was ecstatically eagle-eyed.

  “…..I wasn’t being careful in the Lab last night.”

  They sat on an old bench behind the house. Allen lit the skewedly rolled cone and handed it to Frank.

  “You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

  Frank looked at him with a guilty smirk while holding his breath, trying not to burst out with laughter over the absurdity of it all.

  “I do. But let’s wait a few minutes.”

  The smoke struck them without warning.

  The best thing to do was to break it to Allen easy. Now that Allen facilitated such an option, he felt he could tell him everything.

  “Do you believe in the possibility of extraterrestrial life? He toked a several more times and handed it to Allen.

  “Well…what…like…ET?”

  The both looked to the sky, expecting a UFO. All they saw was one bright star that stood out on its own, low in the sky.

  “Yeah, basically.” Frank agreed after a while.

  “You know… it might be a planet.

  It’s pretty bright.” Allen said.

  The star started flashing and they both sighed, disappointed. Frank bore the bad news.

  “It’s just a plane.”

  “Too bad.”

  The ‘plane’ moved sideways quickly, then faded and sped off upwards, then vanished.

  They both sat, all frozen, mouths open.

  There was no point in hiding it all from Allen.

  “Okay, so where do I begin?”

  Fifteen minutes later, when Allen had heard all Frank had to say without saying so much as a word himself he finally pronounced his thoughts.

  “You WHAT? You had the fucking alien in your coat the whole way from the beach?”

  His voice went from surprise to coarse disbelief.

  “…Then how come “I” didn’t get sick?”

  “It was wrapped in a coat. That might’ve shielded the radiation from getting too far out.”

  Allen was starting to get a bit annoyed.

  “What, do you have a lead coat?”

  When Frank looked him in the eyes

  they could only burst out laughing.

  Little did they know that when new Lab equipment came in, the suits that arrived were dark gray. The company just sent a replacement free of charge.

  Frank ’borrowed’ the lead coat from the lab home without anyone’s particular permission or intention of returning it, and started wearing it around as his downtown-jacket, which afforded him a shield from the rays from his cellphone in a dose of healthy paranoia.

  “By the way, Steve called me this morning.

  He sounded fine.”

  This sentence brought some relief.

  At least he was the only one who was sick.

  He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he got either of them sick.

  “Wait. So you have an alien in your fridge.” Allen, momentarily forgetting that his friend has radiation sickness, sounded like a boy who’s just discovered frogs for the first time.

  Frank didn’t dare speak, but nodded.

  “But it’s radioactive…?” Allen continued. Frank nodded again.

  They both burst out in laughter.

  “This is so surreal.” Allen understood why Frank hadn’t told them about it. He still thought Frank was an idiot for taking on the risk himself.

  “It’s getting a little chilly, do you wanna go back inside?”

  “Inside with the alien?”

  ”I’m cold.”

  His nausea had not subsided but he did feel like he could deal with it.

  Soon it started diminishing.

  Allen felt around in his jacket’s hand-warmer pockets and discovered the small white envelope he found on his car.

  “Hey, this was on your windshield.”

  He handed the envelope to Frank.

  “Oh yeah, a bullshit ticket. If I survive this, I’ll call the police department.” Frank brawled exclusively over the phone.

  “No, I don’t think this is a ticket-“

  “Well what is it?”

  The envelope felt slightly too thick for a ticket.

  “Something round.”

  Frank took the envelope from Allen and opened it. Indeed, there was a note and two blue capsules in a blister pack. He unfolded the note.

  This should help with the radiation.

  Frank ducked as if he was being watched.

  “Somebody saw me.

  Somebody must have seen me.”

  “Relax, relax.

  Is there a phone number or something?”

  Frank searched the note and the envelope and found a blank business card with a handwritten number on it. Then he inspected the blister pack.

  It read ‘Prussian Blue’
on the back.

  “Oh yeah, those help flush radiation out your system. You should totally take those."

  Frank did as he was told.

  "Anyone see you while you were on campus?”

  “Weiss…" Weiss was where the list began and ended.

  He only saw a few students and a few drunken as hell freshmen, who were trying to 'keep it cool'.

  Just like when he was a kid.

  "You have his number?” Frank asked.

  Allen pointed to the card.

  “No, but you might.”

  Frank picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card. A deep, masculine and crackly voice picked up.

  “I was expecting your call a bit sooner.”

  “Hey.

  Is this Weiss?

  Who is this??

  Hector?”

  “So, this is Cabella Jr!

  Great to finally talk to you.

  I hear you have radiation poisoning?”

  wait--- “Bingo."

  How did he know? "What clued you in?”

  “Can we cut through the anonymity rituals?

  Frank was getting a little annoyed with the anonymity and the voice didn’t sound quite as mysterious as irritatingly british.

  “The University has more than students and teachers on campus. There are other interested parties in the research done in your labs. I am one of the interested parties.”

  Had Frank not been under the influence of Jen’s nana’s peaceful pot, he might’ve thrown a few uncalled-for curses at the man.

  “Listen; I don’t know who you think you--“

  “Meet me at Remillard park on Poppy Lane in 20 minutes. I’ll answer all your questions then.”

  Frank was lost for words.

  He was just about to tell the guy go get screwed

  “And drink those Prussian Blue tablets, Frank;

  if you want to survive----

  Which is completely up to you.”

  Dial Tone.

  Frank got dressed while Allen patiently waited in the hallway. He had wanted to see the remains of the alien almost as badly as he was afraid of radiation poisoning.

  Frank finally came out of his bedroom.

  “Dressed to kill……………sorry.”

  Allen didn’t mean the pun, but he was stoned. Frank observed him longingly staring down the fridge, as though he could see through it, if only it let him.

  “It’s no use pal, it looks like soggy blue cornflakes anyway.” This explanation was enough to satisfy Allen’s curiosity for the time being.

  Frank initially wanted to walk to the park, but Allen insisted on driving.

  Even though the nausea’s calmed down

  ,he argued with himself,

  I’m still not in any condition to go out for a trek up the hill.

  They arrived at the park with time to spare. The few street lamps that covered the playground with light weren’t enough to light the huge rock that the surrounding residents were so fond of climbing.

  Time came and went and the person they were to meet was nowhere to be seen, so they waited additional twenty minutes before Frank thought to call the number on the card again.

  “Number you have dialed has been disconnected.” the evil phone kept saying.

  “Screw this, let’s go back.

  I’m freezing my ass off.”

  Frank ran out of patience.

  When they pulled up to the house again, Frank noticed that the kitchen light was on. When they left, it was definitely off.

  “Let’s call the cops.” Allen suggested.

  “No. The molten alien is still in the fridge.

  I told you it’s basically liquified human DNA.”

  Allen started silently snickering at him.

  “It wouldn’t look good on my resume.”

  “You said yourself it looks like corn flakes. Are they really going to sequence a sample from your fridge?

  “Stay in the car.”

  He did, while Allen slowly walked up the steps, listening for every sound.

  Someone was inside.

  Maybe it was the guy from the card,

  maybe it was just a robber.

  Or had they forgotten to lock when they left?

  After several minutes of not having heard a thing except the wind hitting the trees, Allen took a deep breath and entered the house.

  Frank got a little worried when he heard a gasp from inside, and started imagining worst case scenarios.

  Alas, the gasp was the sound of the door closing with the wind, and within a few seconds Allen emerged back out from inside.

  “It’s gone. It’s all gone.”

  Frank sought hope.

  “All of it?”

  “NOW can we call the cops?”

  “And an ambulance.”

  Chapter Eight

  "Recovery"

  It had now been four weeks since the alien incident and Frank was beginning to start looking like his old self again. Both him and Allen agreed to keep what happened only between the two of them. There was no way to tell who was behind the phantom phone number or who stole the alien remains, though the question never quite faded from Frank’s mind.

  He wasn’t really all that eager to find out, either. He was just glad to be rid of it and on his way to recovery with proper medical care, from what seemed like certain death at one point.

  The MD examining him was content with the explanation that Frank had improperly used the DNA sequencer and was exposed to radioactivity for longer than is healthy without any further explanation. Frank begged him to keep it to himself out of fear of a committee hearing and possibly losing his tenure due to ‘gross incompetence’. Not only had the MD assured Frank that all medical records were strictly confidential, he suggested Frank to become a medical marijuana patient.

  “This,” the MD said, “statistics show significantly reduces the risk of tumors forming.”

  It was a young, smiley MD.

  “All I’m saying is, I’d rather medicate than get cancer.”

  From then on he’d worry about a potential tumor, though his worries quickly faded once he filled his prescription that afternoon.

  The MD had warned him that extended use of marihuana may have negative side effects, but by that afternoon he’d already forgotten all about it.

  In the two weeks since, Frank had significantly cut down on alcohol intake. The way he saw it, he may have had a drinking problem, but more importantly, had he not been so drunk, he would have left the alien there in the first place. Or at least so he thought.

  Whenever outside, he was convinced that wherever he went, security guards appeared.

  And each time, he could’ve sworn they were talking about him. Almost every sentence had the indefinite directive- “he”.

  Right before his next lecture, as he was about to walk into a classroom full of students, he stopped at the door. Frank suddenly wasn’t very fond of crowds.

  He literally had to get places before everyone else and leave either before or after everyone else.

  He became a recluse.

  Always leaving work late.

  Allen and Steve were guessing whether he had a new girlfriend, or if he’s running home to meet with Kathy. This got him to start grocery shopping at night.

  Once on his way to buy yoghurt and bake-at-home bread, he saw a large pickup with the county security badge. Three tall men, cloaked by the shadow of the juniper tree above, were parked mere two cool spaces over. The bored security guards were just making smalltalk to pass the time.

  “He came in to get groceries.”

  “What else did you think he was gonna do?”

  At times like that, Frank couldn’t help himself not anticipate getting taken away.

  They were after him.

  And they weren’t subtle: they’d follow him everywhere.

  There was no way to decipher what had happened a month ago. Could he had been a witness to the answer to all the countless movies, boo
ks, comics and whatever else concerned itself with the UFO phenomena?

  The body sure didn’t appear human, nor has he ever heard of a body decomposing so quickly under such mild conditions. There was no denying that there was much more to the picture that Frank had not had the time or opportunity to actually observe.

  When Frank returned to work, two weeks after the ‘incident’, news of his condition and its radical treatment had already been murmured around the class. Though he always showed up to work sober, students would swear he wasn’t and actually weren’t entirely mistaken. Effects were usually entirely prominent after 8 hours, but given the mellow status of their teacher’s mood of late, that might’ve not been the case.

  Everything was kind of a blur. Memory were a mess.

  As with everything else in his life, Frank blamed somebody else for that; the MD.

  He might’ve mentioned to him that cannabis clubs don’t require specific strain prescriptions from the doctor. Actual dosage was a mystery.

  He only asked what was good and he didn’t understand what was available.

  ‘Sativa’ medicated and didn’t leave him drained of energy, it also excited him to be proactive and raised his heart rate and induced delusional paranoia, but that wasn’t part of the sales pitch.

  Frank’s great aunt was diagnosed with cancer, though he has only heard about her from his dad when he was a kid and never actually met her. She died before he was born.

  In the evenings, the internet had helped him familiarize himself with the UFO phenomenon.

  He had seen hundreds of videos, but only a few of them even remotely resembled what Frank had seen. In fact, despite the assurance of authenticity by some strange man, most of them were proven fakes.

  One rainy November afternoon, about a week and half later, there was a report of UFOs on the news. Having a sorry time deciphering his student’s tests, Frank had missed the first reports, but there it was on the news.

  He was just short of ripping his hair out when he finally found his keys. The PBJ news channel had just reported large glowing objects above Oakland Docks, when Allen’s name appeared on Frank’s phone. Frank wished he could’ve hung up the phone before he heard about the fucking apocalypse. Allen went on and on about the how the end of thew world is coming. Frank stayed quite cool. Would today be the day he would meet the other species and maybe be the first; shaking hands, greetings, intergalactic hug?