The Last Mile Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  “No.” Mas shook his head. “Interrupt will I not.”

  “You’re not interrupting.”

  “Am but I.” Mas held up a finger. “Taught me did Nick to say correct.” He paused. “Glorious day …. To you. Glorious. Con … grat…” he grunted in frustration. “Cong rat shoe …”

  “Congratulations?”

  Mas nodded “Yes. Yes. Congratulations to you. Glorious day. Embrace.” He smiled and walked away.

  “Thanks.” Robi called out of the door and then closed it. “Wow, that was weird.”

  “What was?” Jeb asked as he returned to the room.

  “Mas was here. Brought me a latte.”

  “Where’s mine?”

  She shrugged. “Anyhow, he …”

  “A latte? Really? That is strange.”

  “That’s not the strange part. He congratulated me and said it was a glorious day for me.”

  “Hmm.” Jeb stared in thought. “Maybe he meant congratulations for doing a great job on Bishop.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Glorious day meaning, he’ll survive.”

  “You’re right. Probably.” She sipped her latte then set it down. “I’m gonna go check on Martha.”

  “OK. Weird isn’t it? She isn’t crying.”

  “I know. Maybe she finally got through her crying when she wakes ritual.”

  “Or maybe she is sleeping longer.”

  “We’ll see.” Robi reached for the adjoining door. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “It’s stuck.”

  “Stuck or locked?”

  Robi tried the knob. “Locked.”

  “You have the key?”

  “No, but I know I left the other door unlocked in case someone else heard her before I did. I put that latch in the door so it wouldn’t close all the way.” Robi walked to the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “Good thing we didn’t have to rush over there.”

  “Tell me about it.” Robi walked out. As she turned right, she saw she was correct, the door was slightly ajar. Summoning her pleasant voice, Robi called out as she opened the door. “Hey Martha how …” She stopped. Literally froze for a second, then backed up, closed the door and walked back to the next room.

  “Everything OK?” Jeb asked. “Still sleeping?”

  “Can you … can you come here?” Robi walked back out.

  “What’s wrong?” Jeb flew out with her.

  “Take a breath.”

  “Why? Did she shit badly?”

  Robi ignored that remark and pushed the door open. It swung wide and stayed that way.

  Martha giggled.

  “Fuck me,” Jeb gasped out.

  The crib set center of the room and indeed Martha was in there. Bright, wide-awake and happy. But Martha was no longer a six-month-old baby. She was about the size of a three year old. Her blonde hair was gone, completely gone. Martha stood in the crib. The diaper was the only article of clothing she had on and it was hanging from her left leg.

  “Mummy!” Martha held out her hand. “Duddy!’ She giggled again.

  Both Jeb and Robi looked at each other and said the same thing out loud, “Mas.”

  <><><><>

  “Aliens,” Doc grumbled peering into the crib. “Told ya. I told ya. She’s an alien. So is the little guy, right there.” He pointed at Mas who sat on the bed.

  Tate peered into the crib. What looked like a skin suit was there, along with a pile of hair and tattered clothes. He touched the skin, and then rubbed his fingers. “It’s her skin. You know when Mas said she was gonna change, I thought he meant her diaper.”

  Jeb replied, “We all did.”

  Mas seemed oblivious to everything; he was happy watching Martha run about the room.

  She wore one of Robi’s shirts, which hung to her feet. She was upbeat and happy, giggling and running. Doing the same thing repeatedly. “Mummy.” She hugged Robi’s leg tightly. “Dudday!” She then gripped Jeb’s legs, squeezing on and embracing as if she loved his leg as much as him.

  Jeb lifted his leg some, moving it back and forth and around, Martha clung tight, giggling. “This is fucked up.”

  “No, this …” Tate pointed to the crib, “is fucked up. Wait until Nick wakes up and sees her. She morphed.”

  Mas stood. “Morphed?”

  “Morphed,” Tate explained. “Changed.”

  “Ah, yes.” Mas nodded. “Expect to be. Usual. Of this I told.”

  “Will she change again?” Robi asked.

  Mas nodded.

  “When?” Robi asked. “Cause we certainly don’t want any more surprises.”

  Mas shook his head. “A while.” He brought his finger to his lips and tapped, then snapped. “Years of yours …. Change will she …. Fifty.”

  Jeb’s eyes widened. “She’ll be a child for fifty years? Like this?”

  “Yes,” Mas nodded. “Absorb much. Intelligent much. Teach you should the language. Knows of some already.”

  “Yeah.” Jeb nodded. “She knows how to say Mom and Dad.”

  Tate asked, “I wonder what else?”

  Robi shrugged. “We can ask.” She crouched down and pulled Martha from Jeb’s leg. “Martha.”

  “Mummy.” She embraced Robi happily, and then kissed her on the cheek. After a single kiss, she then kissed her again, and again, really fast, peck like.

  Robi snickered. “Bishop does that to her.”

  “Bishop!” Martha smiled. “Uncle Bishop!”

  Robi gazed up to Jeb. “He refers to himself as Uncle Bishop.”

  Jeb rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me she learned everything from Bishop.”

  Then Martha blurted out a happy, “Jack!” Martha said. “Shot of Jack!”

  Jeb gave a nod Robi’s way, “We know what she learned from you.”

  “Man,” Tate said. “You guys are turning her into a miniature sailor.”

  Mas rose and walked their way. “Much to teach. Time to do. Martha fast she learns. No worries. But protection she needs.” He rested his hand on Martha’s baldhead. “Instinct has she, born with. Fellowship found …”

  Jeb interrupted. “Fellowship?”

  Mas held up his hand, paused, thought then replied. “My people. People of mine, instinct of Martha combined. Suitable parent protectors sought and found. Robi-bee, Jeb.” He motioned a hand their way.

  “Wait,” Tate intervened. “Are you saying she was left with us on purpose because your people knew we would protect her?”

  “Goddamn aliens, those bastards,” Doc said.

  Mas ignored him. “Yes.”

  Robi snickered. “She was left with you two. Maybe you were supposed to be the mother, Tate.”

  “No,” Mas shook his head. “Path of Robi determined. Jeb to meet. Martha await.”

  Tate talked his thoughts out loud, “Wow, this is a lot. Your people found the best parents to protect her. Protect her. You mean nourish, love, care …”

  “Protect.” Mas repeated. “From danger of all. Special she is. With all protect you must.” He looked at Robi and Jeb stern. “You must.” He crouched down to Martha. “Power of her enemy fears. Strong. Enemy can she defeat by … death defied.” Grabbing her little left hand, he turned it palms up. “Death defied for many. Power of light.” As he raised her hand a blue light emerged from her palm, it glowed warmly. “The healer.”

  <><><><>

  Her tiny hand rested just above Bishop’s wound and all of them watched as the sutures popped out of the immediately healing gash.

  Jeb pointed. “That’s going to come in handy.”

  Robi whispered in awe. “This is why she is dangerous. If she can heal wounds, a lot of people won’t die, meaning they can’t just kill us.”

  Tate added, “They can send in bugs.”

  Robi nodded. “True.”

  Martha pulled back her hand, got on her knees and with a smile, kissed Bishop. Loudly yawning, she scurried from the bed, walked to the other, climbed on top of the
covers, curled up, and went fast asleep.

  Curiously, Robi looked at Martha. “She wears out.” She turned to Mas. “She wears out, fast.”

  Mas nodded. “Sure she will, when lilacs of steady diet she does not get.”

  “Lilacs,” Robi whispered. “What about other seasons? Can she not heal if she doesn’t get lilacs?”

  “Heal she can. Just tires. Lilacs, no tire.”

  Jeb asked, “Can she consume any other flowers as a substitute?”

  Mas shook his head. “Lilacs.”

  “Fuck.”

  Robi looked at him. “We can green house them.” She quickly turned her head when Bishop groaned. “He’s waking up.” She neared him.

  Again, he groaned.

  “I’d be careful,” Tate said. “Maybe he’s a zombie.

  Robi stepped back.

  Bishop opened his eyes.

  Silence.

  “What’s going on?” Bishop asked. “Why’s everyone standing around?”

  Tate called out, “Shoot him. He’s one of them.”

  Jeb raised his weapon.

  “No!” Bishop held out his hand. “I’m talking. Zombies don’t talk.”

  Laughing, Jeb put his gun away. “We’re kidding. You look good. Are you feeling better?”

  “Sick humor. But, yeah, I am, thanks.” He sat up all the way, and then paused. “Who … who is the kid?” he pointed at Martha.

  Robi answered, “Martha.”

  “Martha?” Bishop asked. “You’re kidding.”

  Tate shook his head. “Nope. You’ve been asleep for about two years. Coma.”

  “Oh, my God.” Bishop’s mouth dropped. “Two years.”

  Robi rolled her eyes. “No, you haven’t been out two years. They’re teasing. Martha ... she … she morphed.”

  “Morphed?”

  “Morphed.” Robi nodded.

  Bishop looked at her. “She still sleeps a lot.”

  Robi replied, “When she heals she sleeps. She healed you.”

  Bishop looked down at his leg. “Dude, it’s better.”

  The door to the room burst open and Nick flew in. “What’s going on? Is everything OK?”

  “Oh, hi, honey.” Robi smiled. “We were just watching Bishop.”

  “Oh.” Nick rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes. “I woke up, everyone was gone. I was worried and who’s the bald kid?”

  Robi answered, “Martha.”

  “Martha?” Nick asked. “What happened to her? She grew.”

  “She morphed,” Robi said.

  “Cool,” Nick said.

  “Wait,” Tate held up his hand. “We’re like, all engrossed in Martha. We find out, she’s valuable, she’s a healer and … most importantly, she’s not from this world or at least earth. But none of us are stopping to think ….if she’s an extra terrestrial, then what about him?” He pointed at Mas.

  “Goddamn aliens,” Doc snapped.

  With Bishop wide awake, feeling better and alert, along with mostly everyone but Greek and Manny there, they grouped around Mas to hear his tale.

  In translation.

  He hadn’t a clue about his home planet. He was only a baby when his parents left on a pilgrimage to a new planet. Due to over population, the government asked for volunteers. His father, a great teacher Mas said, packed up the family and left.

  There were three solar systems that they could have chosen. Three mother ships set course.

  Theirs ended up on earth.

  Even though they were millions of years from their home planet, they still had communication with the home planet. The only problem, communication from the home planet took five earth years to reach Mas.

  And although travel through the galaxies was simpler to them, a trip from their galaxy took as long as twenty earth years.

  This worked both in earth’s favor and to her disadvantage. Mas’ people were sending help. They left many earth years before, but possibly wouldn’t arrive for another year.

  Mas told of how his family arrived in America at a time when many immigrants arrived, so they blended in. Although both his parents were highly intelligent, far superior to anyone on earth, they took jobs at the home of a university president as head house people. They had a house, food, and didn’t starve during the great depression.

  Mas recalled his father befriending a scientist and even helping him solve his atomic energy dilemma. Mas didn’t recall the name, but said the scientist had frightening hair.

  Twenty some years earlier, Mas’ father received a radio call from the home planet telling them about the Mazcheks.

  They were a mogul race of savages, heartless people. Their planet had lost all resources and they had to colonize. They had to find a new home comparable to their own and they picked Earth.

  But Earth was already over populated, so they had to clean house.

  Three waves.

  First a virus. Something to wipe out 99 percent of the world. A second wave would come in three forms, what they were, Mas wasn’t sure. The second wave would clean house even more, and any who remained would be taken care of when the third and final wave arrived. They were soldiers.

  That wave would arrive about two years of so before the pilgrims.

  Mas knew if that third wave could be beaten, the pilgrims would be forced to turn around.

  Mas’ father had devised a plan.

  He knew which virus would be used and developed an immunization to protect people. If they failed in saving enough people, then those like Mas had to scatter about to help bring together those who beat the drop to fight the third wave.

  Mas’ communication with his people across the world was cut when his belongings were destroyed, along with his people on that truck.

  They had a town. They were organizing. They were making progress.

  Then the mad men showed up.

  Mas’ father, mother, wife, and child were all killed in that massacre.

  But Mas had a mission he had to complete.

  He had to pull together survivors, locate a healing child, and band them with others in one strong location.

  So-Cal.

  But all communication with So-Cal was lost. Mas hoped they had heeded his advice and shut down communications, if they hadn’t, their silence could indicate that a second wave hit them.

  There were many, last Mas heard, in So-Cal.

  Mas also cleared up the immunity factor to the drop.

  Unlike what was said on the news, it wasn’t hereditary. It wasn’t gene related.

  It was instant noodle related.

  When the governments failed to listen to the warnings of impending attack, or take serious Mas’ father’s immunization, Mas’ people took it upon themselves to find another way to inoculate.

  Taint the food supply.

  But they had to do so within a year of the expected drop.

  After many meetings to determine which food would be consumed by the most people, they decided.

  There was a food that was consumed in massive amounts, especially by the young and college age students. Young fit soldiers in the battle would be needed.

  They decided on Ramen Noodles.

  Perfect.

  Mas and several others secured a job in the factory. They would pick one week and taint all the seasoning packets of noodles with the anti-toxin.

  Millions of packets they figured. Millions and millions of survivors.

  Unfortunately, the dry batch of seasoning they tainted didn’t belong to Ramen; it belonged to the Chick Chang Chow Mien noodles, a new instant noodle meal.

  The Chick Chang's didn’t sell very well and were discontinued. After several months, the remaining packets were destroyed.

  Suffice to say, when Mas mentioned Chick Change Chow Mien noodles, everyone in the room, including Doc, proclaimed their love for the noodles and their sadness that they were discontinued.

  Chick Chang Chow Mien Noodles.

  “Wait,” Robi chuckled and said, “We’re all alive becaus
e we have weird tastes in food?”

  Mas nodded. “Yes.”

  Robi had to sit down on that one. “How bizarre is that? How much did we have to eat to get immune?”

  “One helping.”

  Robi fluttered her lips. “I had enough immunity for my whole street.”

  Jeb said, “Me, too.”

  Before the conversation continued, a horn beep came from outside followed by Manny’s voice calling, “Hey, everyone.”

  All those in the room stood up.

  Footsteps. Running. Closer.

  The door opened

  “Hey.” Manny stepped inside out of breath. “Check out what … what …” he looked at the bed. “Who’s the kid?”

  Robi I answered, “Martha. She changed.”

  “Oh.” Manny nodded. “Come see what I got.” He flew out of the room then came right back in. “She morphed?”

  <><><><>

  Tony the Tiger’s eyes had flickering lights. An indication of power and, when the light was steady, a signal.

  Greek couldn’t get over how strange it was to see lights on the front of the Frosted Flake box. Nor could he get over speaking into the tiger’s mouth, while calling out for someone.

  He knew it was getting close to ‘leaving time,’ especially with Bishop up and moving. So he wanted to look for survivors, or call out to them. The radio was enemy safe and Greek slipped away right after the good part of Mas’ story to work with the radio.

  “Alpha Two-three-nine,” Bishop spoke into the cereal box giving the simple coded message Mas said to state. “Can you read me? Broadcasting from Oklahoma. Anyone there.” He pulled back, looked; Tony’s eyes were flickering. No signal. He waited. Nothing.

  He moved the dial on the side of the box. The lights weren't steady. “Alpha two-three-nine. Can you read me? Broadcasting from Oklahoma. Anyone there?”

  Nothing.

  Next one. Next steady light.

  “Alpha two-three nine. Can you read me? Broadcasting from Oklahoma. Is anyone there?”

  Again, nothing. Greek reached for the dial.

  Hiss. Static.

  <><><><>

  Everyone groaned when Jeb did it— raised his hand as he stood on the bus step and made everyone wait outside the bus while he and Robi went aboard.