CHAPTER 28
FREAKY CHICKS AND PULLETS
This particular layer farm didn’t have a hatchery. But with the aid of Melchior (aka Mel), the veterinary student working part time in the farm, Berto was able to make the few of these rejected undersized eggs hatch. He was successful in patiently nurturing some of the little chicks into pullets, but because he wanted to raise these poultry cage-free, he let these fifteen-week-old hens roam the grounds of the farm.
It was a big mistake.
He suspected that some dishonest workers took the opportunity to turn those tender avians into a native delicacy called adobong manok (chicken cooked in soy sauce and vinegar).
Anita took pity when she saw Berto during one of his futile attempts to find his missing young hens. She confided to the poor teen that somebody had been going to the kitchen when the cafeteria was closed to “borrow” a deep fryer, returning it after a few days all dirtied, oily, and had a faint smell of fried chicken meat. This news made the usually jovial farm worker mad.
He said, “Bastards turned my pullets into KFC fried chicken!”
The only one that got spared was the two-headed hen, definitely because of the novelty of it. But Berto was anxious to show JT and Mark a couple of his two-week-old chicklets. Not wanting others to avail of free food ever again at his expense, he decided to raise his poultry in cages. Berto excitedly pointed out to his two friends, as he grabbed hold of a couple of the small chicks.
The one on his left hand was an adorable three-legged chick and his right hand cradled a tiny three-winged one. JT was especially dumbstruck, as he had taken a college course that taught statistics. Even though he got just a B for that course, he knew of the statistical improbability of finding three freaks of nature in one small chicken farm. He surmised that there is something weird happening. He postulated that something from the air, water, or soil was causing the mutations; the starter feeds were the culprit; some cosmic rays were emitting DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid)-altering beams on the farm; or some unknown radioactive source from nearby was causing all these weirdness.
He wasn’t sure about the last hypothesis, since he had keenly observed that none of the workers had three legs, three arms, or two heads. He made a mental note to check with the barrio doctor, who did his rounds once a week, about the symptoms of radiation sickness or whether an increased cases of cancer-like episodes were being observed or complained about by workers in the chicken farm.
JT didn’t know if it was one of Berto’s tall tales, but this fatty young farm worker swore that he once raised a layer that had two anuses. He further recounted that it was hilarious to watch when eggs came out of the anuses in an alternating fashion. But the thing that might be more credible was the story about the workers hearing weird noises coming from the egg layer house closest to the back gate. These workers claimed that nocturnal creatures were doing crazy stuff in that henhouse late at night. A few who were brave enough to look inside could only see blurred images of unusually tall humanoids moving about and making rustling noises. It was such a weird, eerie, and hair-raising scary experience for the workers that they stopped going there to investigate.
This made sense to JT. It would explain the yolk-less egg. Somehow, these “aliens” were siphoning off the egg yolk, probably occurring in a way that the remaining egg white got denatured and turned into something rock-solid.
Mark nudged Jake toward the direction of the orphanage, reminding him of the program at 6:00 p.m. that night. But curiosity got the best of the soon-to-be college junior, so he told his friend Mark to go ahead, promising to follow in a little bit. Jake walked Mark to the front gate, nonchalantly waving as his orphanage friend faded into the distance.
CHAPTER 29
JT, THE HYBRID ALIEN
Chapters 29 to 33 are dedicated to the memory of Eugene Wesley Roddenberry, sci-fi writer extraordinaire.
Gene,
You “live long and prosper!” You are always in the mind and soul of each and every die-hard Trekkie.
Jake went directly to the henhouse adjacent to the back gate. Karte, the security guard, saw him and motioned the college kid to come toward him. So JT grudgingly approached the sun-beaten man. After exchanging greetings, JT inquired about the old guard’s knowledge of rumors of giant alien sightings inside the egg-layer house. The guard let out a laugh, stating assertively that those were just old wives‘ tales. Unconvinced, the handsome teenager went inside the henhouse to investigate. He found no alien, giant or otherwise.
He tried to search for clues by inspecting the newly laid eggs. But he didn’t find too many, since most of them had already been collected by 4:00 p.m. The few that he was able to scrutinize looked and felt normal. So, he made a mental note to drop by this poultry house at a time much later in the night. He was convinced that whatever was transpiring and whatever strange things being done on some of the eggs occurred nocturnally. He made a decision to come back in the middle of the night this coming Saturday.
As he exited the red-painted layer house, he distinctly heard a plea: “Help… Help… Help me.” He sensed that the sound came from the grove of mango trees that were about 160 meters from the back gate. But, he reasoned, that wasn’t very possible, since he knew that the range of a human voice couldn’t go that far. He ran toward Karte and asked the guard, “Did you hear that plea for help?”
The old man looked at him quizzically, then he retorted, “You stayed too long cooped up there, now the odious smell of all that chicken shit is making you hallucinate.”
Jake started to believe the guard, that he was just imagining things, but as he started to walk away, he heard the plea for help again. So, he turned around and looked at the security guy, but the old man was going about his business; he didn’t seem to hear anything, and his demeanor indicated that nothing was amiss.
Then it dawned on Jake. The plea for help was done not through sound but, rather, through thought. Someone or something was out there, definitely wounded and pleading for assistance through ESP (extrasensory perception). Mental telepathy! he thought.
The realization suddenly hit him: he possessed nonhuman qualities. He was able to destroy the elevator doors with a leg kick, he vomited gooey slime the color of rose gold, his blood had a shiny sheen, and now a freakish telepathic power!
Jake began to ask questions about himself and his parents. Am I an alien from outer space? Am I a hybrid, a mixed alien? How did it happen? Is my mom the alien who I got these powers from? Is it my dad who is the alien? How come I look like a human? Who is my alien father? Or who is my alien mother? Am I an alien at birth? If not an alien at birth, at what stage of my life did I turn into an alien? So many questions, and no answer at all! Oh, it is so frustrating!
Trying to answer the plea for help, he asked to borrow a first-aid kit from Karte. Holding the kit on his left hand, he opened the back gate with the other hand and hurriedly ran toward the source of the mental request for help. Even in his haste, he still saw that the two-headed chicken also sprinted out of the compound at the same instant he was coming out of the back gate. He wanted to keep going and take care of the poultry freak later (it had decided to enjoy a temporary freedom at the worst possible time), but he recalled Berto’s heightened annoyance whenever one of his pet fowls went missing.
Jake felt that he had no other choice but to try to catch that mischievous avian, or at least shoo it back into the farm through the back gate. He got lucky, in the sense that he was successful in first his attempt to corral the freak and swiftly deposited it back to the compound.
After that, he went running at breakneck speed toward the mango trees. At this instance, he discovered another freakish power that he didn’t know he had—he could run at an incredibly fast clip. He didn’t measure the time it took to get to the spot a hundred meters away, but he felt certain that he easily bested Usain Bolt’s world-record time by at least three seconds.
He was about seventeen meters from reaching the perceived location of th
e wounded alien being when he tripped over something. His tunnel-vision focus on a matter on hand occasionally led up to clumsy mishap such as this. He picked himself up and dusted himself off, and curiously investigated the offending item that caused his fall.
He found a 6.5 inch × 4.5 inch × 3.5 inch rectangular container. The material used to make that container wasn’t familiar to him. It had a black, grainy surface, yet flexible, quite sturdy, and stretchable. It was puzzling, though, that the outsides of the container were so darn cold. But what really shocked him was the symbol adorning the top of the rectangular box: a pink CROSS.
The cross is a universal symbol of the risen Christ. Could this be the reason why the Second Coming of the Son of God seemed to be delayed for so long, to the dismay of some impatient, Earth-based Christians? That the grace of an Omniscient, Almighty Being is also being bestowed to other universes and to nonhuman aliens? That Jesus is tarrying too long because he needed to do some evangelizing elsewhere, too? That Jesus is also spreading the same message of salvation to alien-populated universes?
And yet, because of the uniform narrow-mindedness and close-heartedness of the residents of varying and wide-ranging universes, both human and alien, is the Gospel of Christ not only being rejected by an unbelieving Earth-based people but also by many other alien races? And that Jesus is constantly and repeatedly being crucified and rising on the third day in each of the heathen or unbelieving places He visited?
CHAPTER 30
THE ENCOUNTER
It suddenly registered on JT’s mind that the plea for help came from a being not of this Earth, so he placed the first-aid kit inside a rattan basket lying nearby. He intended to pick it up on his way back, but for now, he didn’t need that particular kit. He tucked the alien-aid kit he found underneath his left arm, but feeling the intense cold radiating from it through his skin, he decided it was best to carry it another way.
But curiosity got the best of him. He was wondering how the kit got to be so cold, with no evident electric connection or battery source or dry ice being present. He opened the kit, revealing fourteen slots for vials. But only seven vials were in that container. He lifted the vials one by one—all were almost frozen. Every one of those vials looked identical, except one that was missing a certain part compared to the others. He poked around for the cooling source or a battery or a miniature cooling machine of some sort, but found nothing. He marveled at the advanced alien technology.
Another thing he noticed was a neatly folded smaller version of this highly flexible, highly pliant container, tucked underneath the tray that held the vials. He closed the lid of the kit, wrapped his kerchief around it, and held it with his left hand. It was getting dark and the prevalent practice of Filipino mango growers made the job of finding the wounded alien a tougher chore.
………
These growers believe that by putting a smoking source near the base of the mango trees, it allows the smoke to permeate the air, thereby inducing the trees to flower more. It is believed that this ancient practice yields a crop that is at least forty percent more than the usual harvest. It is postulated that it is the ethylene gas in the smoke that induces more flowering. Commercial growers in the USA do use ethylene gas, but for the purpose of accelerating the ripening process for green mangoes, green bananas, unripe tomatoes, etc.
………
With all the tear-inducing smoke clouding the air, locating the alien was an impossibility. So, Jake took out his iPhone and used it as a flashlight to look around. Not finding the wounded alien, a question popped out of his mind, Where the heck are you?
To his utter amazement, his mind received a reply, saying, Walk eighteen more steps toward the right.
Jake took about ten steps to the right. Seeing or sensing nothing, he began doubt himself. Aloud, he muttered, “To my right or to his right?” But as he tiptoed a couple more steps forward, he could hear the moans of the wounded alien. He used that animalistic, eerie, blood-curling sound as a beacon to pinpoint the exact location of the possibly mortally-wounded creature.
When Jake reached the creature, he saw, silhouetted against the setting sun, a humanoid at least a foot taller than him. Next to the alien, he was a midget.
CHAPTER 31
THE ELIXIR
The alien giant was propped up against a pile of dried bamboo poles, breathing laboriously and in a semiconscious state. Even against the fading light, Jake could see the slow but steady flow of sparkly, viscous brown fluid oozing out of an open cut on its left arm. What concerned Jake the most was the gaping wound just below its right rib cage.
There was a circular hole may be two to three inches in diameter, just a bit above and to the right of the navel, where the alien’s fluids was spurting out. JT removed the kerchief that was acting as his insulation against the ice-cold surface of the alien “first-aid” kit. He then neatly folded it and pressed the cloth on top of the wound, hoping to stop any further loss of alien blood.
The coldness of the kerchief produced an instant but incongruous reaction: the expected reflexive jerking avoidance or withdrawing movement from something really cold versus the soothing effect of the cold cloth pressed on a still-bleeding, very raw wound. The application of this cold compress caused the wounded alien to stir up and move about, and JT could see the enormous effort being exerted by the alien to try to become fully conscious.
Encouraged, the UCSD student opened up the small cartoon of coconut juice that he was carrying and forced some of the liquid down the slight opening at the edge of the alien’s mouth.
It was an asinine move.
The alien’s reaction was part comedic and part frightening. The first movement was akin to that of burning charcoal being rammed down a person’s pants. The frightening part was the alien’s allergic reaction to the foreign liquid—red rashes, itchy hives, and nasty boils breaking out, as well as sneezing, wheezing, shortness of breath, coughing, and vomiting.
The extraterrestrial spat out the coco water and mentally telegraphed JT an inquiring question. Are you trying to kill me?
Jake was mortified. He apologized profusely for his ignorance. At that point, he noticed another anatomical difference in this alien. There was an orifice atop the left shoulder that opened up whenever there was a sudden need for a quick supply of oxygen. He observed the hole opening up when the giant visitor from outer space was experiencing shortness of breath and was gasping for air.
The only positive that came out of his unintentional food poisoning of the giant was that it catapulted this gentle humanoid back to the realm of full consciousness. Now fully aware of the severity of his wounds, the space traveler instructed the helpful teen to hand him one of the seven vials.
Jake estimated that each vial contained about 10 mℓ. The wounded alien first warmed the cold vial by holding it tight in his left hand for a few seconds, then turned over the vial so that the bottom of the container was up. He opened the tiny hidden lid at the bottom of the vial, pouring its 6 mℓ contents on the wounds on his left arm and stomach. The action of this healing liquid on the wounds was miraculous. There was this fizzling, bubbling, and cauterizing effect, followed by an incredible, instantaneous healing of the wounds. But what happened next is nothing short of magic.
This 6 mℓ of wound-healing solution was, in reality, contained in the outer chamber of the vial. But look hard and inspect carefully, and one would find—hidden in an opaque, nearly indiscernible inner chamber—the other 4 mℓ of the wonder drug, the miracle elixir.
The alien flipped or pressed something on the top end of the vial, and out flowed 4 mℓ of the precious elixir—which were previously hidden in the inner chamber—into his open, waiting mouth. The magical effect is instantaneous.
The alien seemed so alive and strong again. A complete, instantaneous rejuvenation, and any visible signs of either arm or stomach wounds were erased. JT thought, I will definitely ask the dude for a free sample.
CHAPTER 32
THE GIFT
/> Once the giant alien was able to catch his breath and got rested, he thanked the young man immensely. He told JT that the six remaining vials were his gift to him, tokens of his appreciation for saving his life.
The visitor from outer space also told him that the subzero temperatures inside the container will maintain the potency of the elixirs for many years. Once any vial was taken out of the cold kit, however, the effectiveness of the liquid elixir inside that particular vial loses its potency unless refrozen within four hours or cryogenically stored. The alien also mentioned that there was a smaller folded case under the tray of vials that could also keep these elixirs at subzero temperatures.
Jake was curious as to why there was one vial that had no inner chamber, so the alien told him that he carried that particular vial in case of possible “life or death” situations. Better to give up a vial full of cleansing/healing solution rather than give up a vial that had 4 mℓ of the miracle rejuvenating solution.
The alien also confided to JT that since these elixirs were made by alien scientists, the healing and rejuvenating effects were not as instantaneous or dramatic as what the youngster witnessed as compared when used for humans. The healing effects needed a longer time to kick in; the rejuvenating effect took longer to become effective; and its effect might, in some cases, be temporary.
But there were also two other very important differences when these alien-manufactured medicines were used by humans. Even the alien scientists working on these miracle drugs were amazed and impressed by their findings. They found out about the incredible effects when these were used on some of the human guinea pigs.
(Note: much of Book Two of the six-part series will focus on the stupefying results of this wonder drug on humans—and all the good and bad things that might result as a consequence of the relative availability of these elixirs.)
Elixir Page 9