Jennings' Folly

by Thomas C. Stone

  Toby and I sat on the floor and I spread out toy blocks, the kind with letters on the sides, and Toby began inspecting them.

  I could hear Papaw breathing hard and Uncle Pat urging him to hurry. “There’s one right behind me,” came Papaw’s voice and a second later the blast of a Vimbacher’s lower barrel filled the air.

  I ran to the stairs and peeked down at the monitor in time to see Uncle Pat shoot the second kitzloc coming out of the hole. Meat, gristle and bone flew in micro-fragments as Pat hit his target with a headshot. Papaw had fallen and was lying on his backside, remote in hand, pressing the INITIATE button for the gas. Mere meters in front of him lay the remains of two of the creatures.

  Grandpaw scrambled away from the underground entrance like a crab at the beach. When he had three meters between himself and the opening, he rested on one knee, like Pat, and aimed his Vimbacher at the fissure. Seconds passed but no other lizards came out.

  Papaw looked at Pat and noted that he’d pulled a mask over his mouth and nose to secure himself against stray traces of neurotoxin. Papaw had forgotten his, but if he’d sniffed just a tiny bit of that gas, so said Liza, he’d buy the farm.

  Chapter 7

  “Buy the farm?” I repeated, not understanding what Liza meant.

  “It’s an expression,” said Liza, as if that explained it.

  “What’s an expression?” I asked.

  “It’s just something people say. And what are you doing down here again? Where’s Toby?”

  “Toby’s playing. I needed a glass of water,” I lied. “How’s Papaw and Uncle Pat?”

  Aunt Liza looked back to the two displays. Both showed two similar perspectives as the men waited with drawn weapons, ready to open fire on anything that moved. The carcasses of the two kitzloc lay just outside; one with its head blown away and the other with fist-sized holes in its chest and belly. “I think they’re going to be all right.”

  I was relieved to hear that because to my four year old ears, what I heard was “they’ll be home soon.”

  “Go see what Toby’s into,” she instructed and I went back upstairs to find Toby still playing with my blocks. He was also wearing a pink western hat with a rhinestone hatband. On the front was a picture of a duck, some cartoon character from another era. The hat was too big for Toby, so he’d pushed it back on his head and pulled the drawstring tight under his chin.

  I looked at the empty spot on the top shelf where the hat had been and marveled at Toby’s ability to retrieve it. The shelves were built onto the wall and were at the head of the single bed. Next to the bed was a chest of drawers. I could imagine Toby climbing first, the bed, then from the bed onto the top of the dresser where he must have stepped onto the lowest shelf so he could reach the hat.

  “You monkey,” I said to him.

  Toby looked up and handed me a block. The hat slipped down, eventually sliding down his nose and covering his face. He struggled with it for a frustrating moment before asking for help. He called me Nana because he couldn’t say Amanda.

  As I loosened the string under his chin, he wagged his head back and forth in a failing effort to shake the hat loose. It did fall off, but only after the string fell free. He kicked it away and returned to the blocks.

  I snatched the pink cowboy hat in a moment of goodwill and climbed upon the bed and chest in order to replace it. To my memory, the hat had no origin. It was a presumed gift to me at some early point in my life. A mystery only my parents could explain, but they would never have the opportunity because they were dead.

  The fortified window beside the chest offered a view of a portion of the front yard and the barn doors. Tall, overhanging trees full of snow towered over the barn.

  Standing atop the chest, I put the hat in its rightful place. I looked out the window, through the steel mesh, and noticed the barn door was open. Was it open a moment ago? I couldn’t remember.

  A figure moved in the shadows. My four year old mind processed it as the possibility that Papaw and the others were home. Never mind they were hours away. Never mind they were on camera displayed on 3D monitors downstairs. I forgot about watching Toby and ran downstairs, excitedly telling Liza and Kaliis that Papaw had returned.

  “What are you talking about?” replied Liza.

  “They’re out in the barn!” I hopped on the empty chair by the window and drew the curtain aside. The barn door was open and I pointed out the fact to Liza. She rose and joined me at the window.

  “What are you going on about, child?” She looked out the window with me and murmured that “Sure enough, barn door’s open again. Wind blew it open.”

  “No,” I insisted, “I saw someone.”

  Liza and I watched the barn as we talked. The afternoon sun had dropped far enough to shine in the open door. There were tracks in the snow as well and I pointed it out to Liza.

  “Those are Pat’s tracks and Gary’s. They were…”

  She cut short whatever she was saying because at that moment a lizard came out of the shadows. It carried itself high and walked on its hind legs, giving it a height greater than the tallest man I’d ever seen, which was Papaw. It paused at the open door, poking its head forth and craning its neck at the gray sky. Its sides inflated as it inhaled and it dropped its elongated head until it looked at the house. A long, slender tongue darted from its mouth, testing the air.

  Liza straightened and told me to get away from the window. I informed Liza the lizard couldn’t get in because of the steel mesh over the windows, but she just told me to get away from the window again.

  Realizing danger was outside, Kaliis rose from his position on the couch and asked if there was anything he could do. “Keep Riley from rolling off the couch. Amanda, get back upstairs and bring Toby down.”

  Liza’s firearms were in the kitchen because that’s where she’d dropped her things. She didn’t have a fancy Vimbacher like Papaw and Uncle Pat, but she did have a recoilless blaster and an old-fashioned, modified Remington twelve gauge shotgun.

  Shots were still being fired on the displays, however none of us was watching. I retrieved Toby, as I was told, and put him on the polished rock floor before the fireplace, then took my place beside Liza at the window again.

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  Liza shrugged and told me not to worry about it, but she didn’t sound too convincing. I went and sat next to Kaliis and watched Papaw shoot another lizard on the viddy.

  When the action died down, there were three dead kitzloc and Pat begrudgingly admitted to Papaw that Phineas had come through.

  “Just goes to show you,” said Pat, “looks can be deceiving. I was wrong – so far. Zebra don’t change his stripes, though.”

  “Far as I’m concerned, the boy’s earned a ride.”

  “Another mouth to feed? Are you sure about that?”

  “He’s useful. He’s smart. We’ll need help.”

  Uncharacteristically, Uncle Pat softened and said, “Maybe you’re right.”

  From atop a boulder, Phineas shouted, “Am I still banished?” Pat looked at him and motioned for him to join the two.

  Phineas hopped down and hustled across thirty meters with his gun and pack. His face was flushed and he was eager to take a look at the fallen creatures.

  “What’s next?” said Phineas on arrival.

  “We’re going to make sure they’re all dead.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “We’re going back inside.”

  “But the gas?”

  “It expands rapidly and so it dissipates rapidly too. We’ll wear masks for safety, but the gas is gone by now.” Pat handed the boy a mask.

  “I can go with you?”

  “Just stay behind me,” said Papaw.

  “They’re all dead, right?” asked Phineas.

  “Most likely. But we have to check anyway.”

  The hunters stepped over the bodies of the three dead lizards and entered the cavern. This time, Papaw forgot to place the sign
al router and we lost their feed shortly after they went inside.

  *

  “What happened?” asked Liza, still standing by the window but now with the Remington in hand.

  “It just went away,” I suggested.

  “I believe,” said Kaliis, “the signal was interrupted. We’ll have to wait until they emerge from the grotto.”

  “I wonder how much daylight we have,” said Liza. “Afternoons on Dreidel just seem to go on forever.”

  “We should probably…” Kaliis voice trailed away as Toby rolled over, climbed to his feet and walked across the room to Liza. The boy was a late bloomer when it came to walking and it was the first solo trip of any distance he’d ever taken. Liza applauded his efforts, setting down the shotgun and holding her arms out as a destination for her first son.

  Liza laughed and grabbed Toby when he came close enough and she hugged him and of course Toby loved it. She let him go and he walked back across the room to his original spot where he dropped to his bottom and then looked up for approval. Liza clapped her hands again and I got caught up in it too. Liza asked Kaliis, “What were you saying?”

  “Well,” said Kaliis, “I was merely making the observation that we should prepare ourselves for a siege that will take us into the evening.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Only that it will be dark before Mr. Jennings returns. Since one of the creatures, perhaps more, has been confirmed on the property…”

  Liza interrupted him. “There’s only one out there, if it’s still there. Don’t be overly concerned. This house is built like a fort; it’s got to be…”

  Liza’s statement was cut short by a sudden blow to the outside door. Kaliis actually jumped over the couch in order to hide behind it. I dropped to the floor and flattened out as Liza staggered from the exterior wall. Riley woke up and started crying and Toby beat him to it by about half a second. I felt like crying too.

  Another loud bang came from the door causing the babies to shriek even louder. Liza shouted at Kaliis and me to take the kids upstairs so I grabbed Toby while Kaliis grabbed Riley and we raced up the stairs to the big bedroom at the end of the hall.

  I heard another bang against the door downstairs.

  Kaliis awkwardly held Riley and asked me if it was all right to put the baby on the bed. I shrugged. “I guess so. Don’t let him roll off.” The alien placed Riley in the middle of the bed and sat next to him.

  Another loud crash sounded from downstairs, but the blows weren’t as loud in that back bedroom so they weren’t nearly as threatening. After a bit, the banging stopped and the babies settled. I stood in the door with Toby hanging off me because he was just too heavy for me to carry around, and I listened. “Aunt Liza?”

  “I’m here.” Her voice floated up the hall and I could tell she was closer than I thought, maybe on the stairs. “You just stay where you are.”

  Without warning, Toby released me and padded down the hall in his diaper. “Mama?” he said.

  I ran behind and caught up with him at the stairs. He struggled to break free as I looked at Aunt Liza. She was sitting on the stairs with the shotgun facing the door as if any moment it might burst open and let the beasties inside. If that happened, Aunt Liza had a point-blank shot, sure to hit whatever came through.

  “Amanda! Get Toby out of here!”

  That’s what I was trying to do, but Toby wanted his mama and wouldn’t be dragged away without complaint. He howled and went limp, feeling like he weighed a ton. I couldn’t pick him up and even if I could, he was now kicking his legs like he was riding a bicycle.

  I took a step toward him and he connected a heel to my shin. Tears came with the accompanying pain causing Toby to take pause in his attack. That’s when I jumped in and grabbed him.

  Liza started yelling at us, at me, mostly, but the sound of her voice was lost in the following explosion that came from the door. Pieces of splintered wood filled the air as the door split in the middle and disintegrated under the rush of an over-sized lizard. It was unlike the carcasses I’d seen. This one was bigger, and stronger, and instead of the gray skin fading to a beige belly, it was coal black.

  The Remington seemed to come to life on its own, bellowing out its distaste for the intruder, belching fire and twelve gauge pellets directly in the face of the charging creature. Liza’s shot hit the kitzloc head on; a tight pattern of steel pellets slamming into flesh and bone. The ugly snake head of the monster snapped back as the first shot from Liza’s Remington removed its snout in a bloody celebration. The second and third shots struck its chest, and the fourth, unnecessary shot, missed altogether because by then the lizard had dropped inches from Aunt Liza.

  With my ears still ringing, Liza fired one last time and blew away what was left of its head. She looked at me and shrugged. “For good measure.”

  Toby was squalling so I picked him halfway up – it was as far as I could get. Aunt Liza got to her feet a little unsteadily and checked the porch for more unwanted visitors.

  From behind, Kaliis asked if everything was all right.

  “Papaw’s not home yet,” I replied.

  I could hear Grandpaw talking to Pat via their broadcast. Our 3D display sets were still running but the buttons had turned over and the lighted projections were cast on the walls and floor and ceiling. Still, I listened to Papaw and gathered they had been successful in their hunt.

  Cold air was pouring into the house through the broken doorway. I had no idea what to do about it but Aunt Liza and Kaliis took tools from the barn and boarded up the passage after pushing, pulling, and dragging the lizard out of the house and onto the porch.

  By then, Liza had told Papaw what had happened. Papaw got pretty excited for a bit but calmed down when he learned Liza had handled it. Uncle Pat asked about the boys and me. Kaliis told him we were fine except that, “the kitchen door is broken and we’ve had to utilize carpentry skills.”

  “Any sign of the creatures?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “We’ve got to teach you how to handle a shotgun, Kaliis.”

  “Yes, sir, I can see where a skill with firearms could be handy.”

  After dark, Liza put Riley in a cradle upstairs and Toby crashed early in the same room. The boys had a tough day. Kaliis volunteered to watch them which meant he was also ready to go to sleep. That left Aunt Liza and me downstairs waiting for Papaw, Pat, and Phineas.

  We watched them trudge back over the snowy fields, following the same course Phineas had led them, but now they walked together as equals, discussing their successful campaign against the kitzloc. Their snowshoes swung in cadence as they talked and walked, sometimes bringing Liza or me into the conversation to remind themselves they weren’t alone in the wilderness.

  They walked in the dark but stopped when they saw lights moving in a diagonal line that bisected their path. As the lights came closer, we could see a convoy of three extremely large, horse-drawn wagons, full of people, lumber, and equipment. They had outriders on horses, as well, and it was those outriders who first saw Papaw.

  A shout went up from their side and the little wagon train halted.

  Papaw motioned for Pat and Phineas to take a few steps away from each other. “Spread out a little,” he said. “Give ‘em a harder target.” Papaw asked Phineas if he knew who they were.

  Phineas pulled his hood tighter and adjusted his goggles. He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so. They’re out cutting wood.”

  “Firewood?” suggested Uncle Pat.

  “No, not firewood. Prize woods. Off-planet dealers pay top dollar for Dreidel exotic hard woods. That’s what they call them – exotic hard woods.”

  Two men on horses rode toward Papaw. Seeing as how Papaw had his Vimbacher prominently displayed, the two men rode slowly. They stopped a full ten meters in front of Papaw.

  “Evening,” one of the men said.

  “Good evening to you,” responded Papaw.

  “W
here you headed?” asked the stranger.

  “Where you headed?” retorted Papaw.

  The man gave Papaw a long look before answering. “We’re woodjackers from Calgary.”

  Papaw softened a little. “You’re a long ways from home.”

  “We have a temporary camp a couple of miles to the west. If I may ask, what’s your business on this winter’s night?”

  Papaw’s Vimbacher was set into the crook of his crossed arms. Pat and Phineas kept their weapons pointed at the ground.

  “We’re hunting,” Papaw finally said.

  “Oh? Any luck?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I don’t see any game,” said the man from Calgary, “What have you been hunting?”

  “Lizards,” said Papaw.

  The man slowly nodded. “I see. Just the three of you?”

  “You ask a lot of questions,” said Uncle Pat.

  “Yes, well, forgive me for that. Sometimes we run into scofflaws in these evenings.”

  “We ain’t no scofflaws,” growled Pat. “We’re hunters.”

  Papaw half-turned to Pat. “Let me take care of this, Pat.”

  Uncle Pat didn’t say anything.

  Another rider was slowly making his way up behind the first two.

  “What’s your name?” asked the first rider.

  “Jennings.”

  The third rider recognized Papaw. “Say, aren’t you Eugene’s father? You passed through Calgary a year ago, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  The first rider was apparently the man in charge. He said, “Sorry to hear about your son.”

  Papaw nodded but said nothing. A moment’s silence passed. Finally, the wood-chopper on the lead horse admitted that they needed to be on their way. He added that it was “good to know somebody was hunting these parts. If you’re any good at it and provided, of course, you don’t get yourself killed, the Council at Calgary would pay for you to hunt in the area around the town.”