The Simpleton QUEST

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  They entered the cool, wide-open space. Again, certain similarities to Earth were apparent. It was basically a simple warehouse, containing row upon row of towering shelves. When the overhead lights suddenly came on, the space seemed to extend in size by a magnitude of ten.

  A distantly motor-like sound engaged. Several moments passed before Cuddy spotted a vehicle approaching, a hovercraft of some kind—one piloted by Bob. Slowing, it came to a halt, hovering several feet off the floor in front of them, a forklift-type vehicle. In addition, it possessed two metal prongs, protruding in front, along with a set of large securing clamps set behind them—they looked like bug pinchers.

  Cuddy stepped up onto a small metal platform, next to Bob at the controls, getting a firm grip with one hand. “Hold tight here, we’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told the others. He gestured forward with his chin and Bob goosed the throttle—speeding the craft up and away into the bowels of the warehouse.

  The tightly packed shelves flew past them. Passing by the myriad high-tech equipment, Cuddy had no clue what all the various contraptions were used for. As they approached the farthest end of the warehouse, Cuddy became aware that the building’s structure hadn’t gone completely unscathed. Howsh bombing had taken out the front right section. The sharply sloping ceiling had caved-in, toppling shelves in the process. Since much of the overhead lighting was also destroyed, it was difficult to see much of anything.

  The vehicle slowed, then descend nearer to the floor.

  We are looking for row 694; shelf 55; item 12,453, Bob telepathically communicated to Cuddy.

  Cuddy could now make out the green, glowing, symbolic designations beneath every shelf item. As they approached the last, still-standing shelving units, Cuddy worried that what they were looking for might be buried under thousands of pounds of collapsed shelving, and warehouse roofing.

  “Here we go,” Bob said. The AI-orb spun the hovering forklift vehicle around to face directly into the last upright shelves then rose up about ten feet. When the vehicle’s two forward headlights abruptly came on, Cuddy saw what they’d come to retrieve. It was big! So large, in fact, he seriously doubted it would fit within the Evermore’s sub-deck hold. Tow would have taken that into account. Wouldn’t he?

  Although it was under the same layer of dust that coated everything else in the warehouse, its metallic surface still reflected the forklift’s bright headlight beams. Cuddy estimated the thing to be about the size of a medium-sized RV…like the abandoned 1973 Winnebago half-buried in a field back home. Not quite as long perhaps, but certainly as wide.

  Bob used its articulating clawed arms to activate the front forks, moving them forward to disappear into what looked like a containment pallet beneath the unit. Then the large fork pincers came alive, grabbing ahold of item 12,453 and pulling it free from its storage location. Bob backed away from the towering shelving unit. Suddenly, movement.

  Startled, Cuddy yelled, “Bob…stop!”

  Huddled behind where the wellness chamber unit had been positioned only a moment before sat a small Pashier being. Only this was no collection of disconnected bones—or dried-out decomposed flesh—but a living, breathing, alien child…

  Chapter 13

  The child’s movements were frenetic, quickly looking both left then right, perhaps weighing her best escape route. Every muscle on her lithe body was taut—her expression terror-stricken. A good few inches shy of four foot, she had bright-blue eyes and small delicate features. Like all other Pashier, she was hairless and wore no clothing.

  “I think she’s going to bolt,” Cuddy murmured. He spoke to her telepathically—hopefully relaying his earnest, harmless intent. Don’t run. It’s okay…I can help you…I promise. We are not the Howsh. She didn’t acknowledge his words. If possible, she looked now more frightened now.

  My name is Cuddy Perkins. One month ago, I met a Pashier being…his name was Tow. His spacecraft landed on my home planet, Earth. I was a little scared when I first met him, too. But we…me and my friends…now find heritage pods for him then transport them far away to safety. We’re only here to help.

  Recognition flashed in her eyes—if only momentarily—perhaps putting her escape strategy on hold.

  We have no weapons. We simply came here for that big piece of equipment…not for you.

  Finally, she communicated back to him. Am I…the last of my kind? The lone survivor?

  No! Thousands of others, Pashier just like you, now live on another planet.

  Primara? She asked. Her eyes conveying a glimmer of optimism; of hope.

  That’s right! Cuddy figured every Pashier, from a young age on up, probably knew about that mythical refuge world. Still, he could tell the child was smart.

  Pashier is where we just came from, he informed her.

  Instinctively, Cuddy knew they were at an important juncture. He was sure pressuring her wouldn’t garner positive results. Only frighten her more—push her away.

  What is your name?

  It took a while for her to answer. Haffan…my name is Haffan.

  Good to meet you, Haffan. Okay, we’re going to leave now. We have much to do before we head back to Primara. I wish the very best for you. Good luck.

  Bob initiated the forklift’s backing-out process. Cuddy kept his eyes on the young alien. A new expression of fear was registered on her face.

  Hesitantly, Haffan reached out a hand. You’re going to leave me here?”

  Cuddy gave Bob the signal to stop. Are you hungry?

  Gazing up at Cuddy, innocent pleading in her eyes, Bob readjusted the controls and the forklift moved closer to the shelf space that Haffan stood upon.

  Um…there’s limited room on this thing, but I can scooch over a bit. Cuddy held out a hand, Come on, hop on over.

  She jumped across the gap with zero hesitation. Apparently, once the young Pashier decided to trust him, she was all in. Cuddy verbally spoke aloud to her for the first time. “Can I ask…how old are you, Haffan?”

  She looked up at him with a quizzical expression, as if the tone of his actual voice didn’t match what she’d expected to hear. “I am thirty-five.”

  That took Cuddy by surprise.

  Bob informed him, “Note, Pashier years are not the same as years on Earth. In human years…Haffan would be seven years old.

  “You’re just a little kid,” Cuddy said, more to himself than her, speaking in English instead of her native language.

  What’s a kid?

  He looked at her with a sideways glance, “You understood my words?”

  She screwed up her face and shook her head. No. You tele-speak and talk at the same time. It’s really annoying.

  Once Bob put the vehicle into forward gear, they rapidly moved toward the front of the warehouse.

  “No way, do I really do that! I mean…do I do that? Cuddy asked, making sure he didn’t actually speak the words and use telepathy at the same time.

  For the first time, the Pashier child smiled.

  How in the world did she survive alone here? Cuddy wondered. The irony that she was the same as he’d been, when he fell from that hayloft years ago, struck him.

  Now studying the child, her small hand still grasped in his—her Pashier glow was almost non-existent. How had she survived the elements? Had she somehow found food and water here? What about the Dirth? How had she survived?

  “Where are we going?” she asked, in her native tongue.

  “We’re heading back to the rest of the team…to my friends,” Cuddy replied in her native Pashier language. At this point, since his heritage pod transformation, languages came easy to Cuddy. “We’ll take you to the ship first, then see what we can rustle up for you to eat. How does that sound?”

  She shrugged a surprisingly Earth-like gesture. “Ever had a grilled-cheese and bacon sandwich?” he asked, this time conveying a mental image of the food.

  She nodded with an all-knowing expression. “All the time. Grilled cheek is one of my favorites.”
>
  “It’s called grilled cheese, not grilled cheeks.”

  “I know that. You heard me wrong.”

  Bob slowed, descending to the concrete-like floor where light poured in through the three open bay doors.

  “Where are your friends?” Haffan asked, her words faint and most of her weight pressed against Cuddy’s leg. Heavy-lidded, she seemed to be fading fast. In one swift motion, he stepped from the forklift, taking her into his arms. Haffan’s eyes were closed—sound asleep.

  Cuddy spotted Tony, a quarter of the way down an adjacent row of shelving. He was putting something into a bright-orange tote bag.

  “Who have you got there?” a voice asked from behind.

  Cuddy turned, seeing Kyle and Jackie heading his way. He didn’t want to think about where they’d been—what they’d been doing.

  “This is Haffan…a survivor.”

  “A miracle is what she is,” Jackie exclaimed astonished. “Oh my God, she’s just a child…a baby.”

  “I’m thirty-five,” a faint voice proclaimed.

  Jackie stepped forward, reaching her hand toward the young Pashier. Haffan, squirming, turned away—burying her face into Cuddy’s chest—Jackie’s well-intentioned gesture, rebuffed.

  Cuddy noticed the hurt look on Jackie’s face, which she quickly hid behind a forced smile.

  Kyle said, “What are you going to do with it?”

  “It?” Jackie asked.

  “Okay…her. What are you going to do with her?” Kyle clarified.

  “She’s coming with us. We’ll take her back to Primara…right after the mission,” Cuddy told them.

  “I want my grilled cheeks.” Both Kyle and Jackie, puzzled, looked to Cuddy.

  “She means grilled cheese,” Bob explained.

  Without turning around, Cuddy said, “Put everything back where it was.” He then turned to face Tony, now approaching them.

  Tony’s guilty expression said it all. “Nobody’s left here…who’s around to miss this stuff?” His attention then locked onto the child.

  “Does that stuff belong to you?” Cuddy asked.

  “Oh, come on! Are you serious?”

  “Just put it back, Tony. It’s not worth getting into an argument about,” Jackie said.

  Tony let out a groan. Then, allowing the strap to slide off his shoulder, the tote dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Whatever was inside was heavy. He used the side of his boot to slide the tote, and its contents, back in the direction he’d just come from. “So, what’s with the curtain-climber?” he asked.

  “This is Haffan,” Cuddy said, clearly still irritated Tony hadn’t fully done what he’d asked.

  * * *

  Gathered together in the kitchen, Cuddy and Haffan sat at the suspended glass table, while Jackie, Kyle and Tony stood around them and watched her eat. The AI orb did the honors—programmed the food replicator, then delivered the hot grilled-cheese sandwich, with two strips of perfectly cooked bacon peeking out the sides.

  As she ate, Haffan muttered little sounds of bliss. She’d eaten all but the sandwich’s outer crust. Forcing the last bite into an already overstuffed mouth, she asked, “Is this everyone?”

  The others were still just in the beginning stages of learning the Pashier language—they looked to Cuddy for clarification. Until that very moment, Cuddy hadn’t thought about Brian, who once again had drifted off from the team to do his own thing. “No, there is one more of us. His name is—”

  Brian’s voice resounded behind Tony’s shoulder: “My name is Brian.”

  Haffan stared at the latest arrival into the kitchen with wide-eyes. Cuddy felt her breathing constrict. Brian, by no means as awful looking as before, was still odd-looking. His features seemed to have settled into a perpetual snarl.

  Brian brushed past Tony and, without hesitation, sat on the bench seat next to her and held out his right hand and spoke in her native tongue. “Nice to meet you, Haffan.” She stared at his extended hand like it was a bug.

  Brian, using his other hand, took ahold of hers and showed her how to shake hands. “That’s how Earthlings greet each other, kiddo…its called shaking hands.” Letting go of her hand, he looked down at the assortment of crust and crumbs left on her plate. “Bob…how ‘bout you make me one of those too?” He then looked at Haffan with a raised brow. He said, “I’m getting a clear message…she wants another one…and extra bacon, huh?”

  Haffan, trying to hide her smile, tried to match Brian’s snarl. It wasn’t working. But who would have thought, Cuddy pondered, Brian could almost be human sometimes.

  Jackie, arms crossed over her chest, watched them in silence. Cuddy knew that expression. The way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she felt unsettled. She let out a breath then said, “Well I have work to do.”

  Haffan watched her leave the kitchen, then looked at Cuddy with a new expression— he couldn’t quite read.

  Chapter 14

  Seven years earlier… Woodbury, Tennessee

  Even in the shade of the low overhanging porch it was still stifling hot out.

  “You know, there really are some bad people out and about; people who’ll take advantage of someone who lacks good sense. The problem is…Cuddy trusts people. He doesn’t see that side…the dark side…of anyone.”

  At twelve, Jackie was aware of such things, though she didn’t like to think about them. Mamma Perkins was beyond mad. She was beside herself and Kyle was in big trouble.

  Twice they’d gone out to look for him and twice they’d returned, hoping Cuddy had found his own way back home. In the distance, Jackie could see Rufus running back and forth along the fence line. Every so often, he stopped to stare out into the grassy fields beyond—ears twitching—his attention pulled this way and that at the slightest sound.

  “How could you?” Momma demanded, not waiting for an answer as she paced the rickety front porch for the hundredth time. She then stopped, just long enough to glare at the youngsters sitting together on the top step. “What did I say to you right before you left?”

  “To watch out for Cuddy,” Kyle admitted, one notch above a whisper.

  “So, what the hell happened?”

  Jackie had never heard Momma swear before and felt uncomfortable, to the point she wondered if she should leave. The only problem was she’d have to ask Momma to use the phone to call her dad—right now didn’t seem like a good time to ask Momma for anything. So she just sat quietly next to Kyle, doing her best to shrink down into the wood-planked steps.

  Kyle glanced at Jackie, and then up to Momma. “He was so slow…kept getting distracted. One minute we were running through the field, you know…just goofing and laughing and then…I don’t know…Cuddy was gone.”

  Jackie nodded. She’d been vaguely aware he’d fallen behind them once again. A few times they slowed—calling out for him to hurry and catch up. But then, suddenly he was gone—nowhere in sight.

  The screen door slammed shut. A moment later, they heard Momma on the phone. Jackie heard the concern in her voice as she spoke to somebody on the other end of the line.

  “Sorry, Kyle. I should have been watching out for him too,” Jackie said.

  “Why are you sorry? He’s my brother, not yours.”

  “Because I’ve always been the one to watch out for him,” she replied, with more indignation in her voice than she intended. But it was true. Maybe because she’d always felt responsible—at least partially—for what had happened to Cuddy five years earlier. Was that day much different from today? Hadn’t she and Kyle gotten so involved with each other that Cuddy got pushed aside—pushed right off the hayloft? She’d had to live with the certainty that she’d also been responsible for nearly killing her best childhood friend. Had contributed to his brain injury, being mentally handicapped the rest of his life?

  They sat in silence for what seemed like an hour. Momma continued to pace, while Rufus continued his vigil at the fence.

  Now seeing the sheriff’s cruiser slowing
, then pull into the driveway only accentuated the seriousness of the situation. The police weren’t notified unless a possible crime had taken place. Jackie wondered if Momma could be right. Did some backwoods perv get ahold of Cuddy and was doing bad things to him right now? She felt sick to her stomach as she looked across the field—past the worried dog. Would they find his buried bones fifty years from now and never know whom they belonged to?

  Jackie flinched at the sound of the police car door slamming. Sheriff Bone, tall and imposing, placed his cap atop his bald dome and headed their way. Momma came out of the house, wringing her hands on a floral-patterned dish towel.

  “Dotty…kids…” he greeted them, touching the brim of his cap.

  “Two hours, Dale! Tell me…was there some other Woodbury emergency that took priority over a missing child?”

  The sheriff didn’t reply, obviously not about to be goaded into an argument with Momma. Instead, he turned toward the open field, seeming preoccupied with the dog. Finally, he said, “Dotty…let’s take a walk.”

  His words froze Momma where she stood. Why didn’t the sheriff want the kids to hear what he had to say? Right then, Jackie knew things had gone from bad to worse. Cuddy had been found—lying in a ditch, or tied to a tree, or floating face down in Gilby Creek. Or maybe some other God-awful thing had happened, brain injury or not, to the best friend she’d ever have. Jackie found it difficult to swallow.

  Chapter 15

  Cuddy was dreaming of Woodbury. Of a simpler time when Rufus was still a puppy and the kitchen floor was covered with open, spread around newspapers. Both he and the three-week-old yellow lab were playing beneath the kitchen table as Momma moved back and forth between the stove, the refrigerator, the sink, then back to the stove. The air was filled with rich smells—of vanilla and cookie dough—while in the background, the constant droning of an old Sunbeam Mixmaster whirled away atop the kitchen counter.

  Haffan screamed, waking up Cuddy. Disoriented, he looked about the Evermore’s dimly-lit portside sleeping compartment. Rolling out of his berth, he made his way to the young alien, who was tossing and turning in her bunk. Her lips were moving—either speaking or yelling something as she slept. Cuddy wondered if she was reliving some terrible past event in a dream. Perhaps re-witnessing the loss of her parents or a sibling. She hadn’t spoken of such disturbing things yet. Perhaps she never would.