Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One

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Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One Page 14

by Patrick F. Johnson


  Garret did the math. “So how come you can get shot and not get poisoned? Are you a fucking alien too?

  “No. I'm just a guy. I was picked by a wise, ancient race of aliens to be what they call The Custodian of Earth. Along with the title comes the velocity shield and some other enhancements, for lack of a better term. Because of the shield, I cannot fire a gun, as the shield wouldn't allow a bullet to escape, so I use a sword. That is where Hiro comes in. He is the best swordmaster in the world.”

  “Second best, Frank. Grandfather is the best.”

  Frank smiled. “I stand corrected. But here is what I need you for, Garret. Gladys, please play the footage from the parking garage.”

  The men watched quietly as Frank got his ass kicked.

  “That guy was good,” Garret admitted.

  “Yes, I know. He took a shot at me and my shield deflected it. He hid in the garage so we couldn't lift him into the ship.”

  “The ship?” Garret asked.

  “Well it's more of a landing boat. But we'll get to that later. This guy is a part of a group of people that are aiding the invading species of aliens.”

  “What the fuck?” Jones was outraged.

  “Oh, I know! You believe that shit? We need to find out how deep it goes. And how high up. The guy that took a shot at me in Texas didn't know anything.”

  “So people just been trying to take you out right and left?” Chavez asked.

  “Yeah. They even blew up my van.”

  “Damn, that blows.”

  “Yeah. It was paid off! Anyway, Garret, I'm a carpenter by trade. I've always been able to hold my own and defend myself against, you know, regular people. But these guys are good and I need training.”

  Garret looked around and found a cot to sit down on. He was struggling to process everything. After a short time he stood up and looked Frank straight in the eye. “Frank, I would like to offer you a formal apology.”

  “Accepted,” Frank answered as the two men shook hands.

  Leaning forward, Garret said quietly to Frank, “Can you believe these crazy fuckers, marching in there like that?”

  14.

  For the next several days Frank alternated training between Garret and Hiro. Neither men could train for as long and hard as Frank, so in his down time he set out to build something. Anything. As time went on he could feel himself sliding further over the edge of his sanity, and working with his hands was the only thing he could think of doing to keep his mind at ease. The men had all been begging for a tour and demonstration of the landing boat, so Frank concocted a plan to kill two birds with one stone. Instead of taking a joyride, he had everyone loading building supplies into every spare inch of the boat. Of course the men complained, but after some playful goading they got the job done, and Frank had materials and tools to play with. As a reward, he took them all out for dinner. The boat made most things very easy, and nowhere was too far or out of reach.

  * * *

  There was no privacy to be had on the Main Ship, as Constanthos was everywhere. But Gladosanthos didn't mind. Constanthos was the first being she had ever truly felt comfortable with. Sure, Phildan was a fine friend, but he lacked understanding of the finer aspects of interpersonal relationships.

  “So you've taken to watching him sleep now?” she teased.

  “He so seldom sleeps. And it's never sound. I worry for him.”

  “I like that you still try to sound motherly, even though you know.”

  For a moment, Gladosanthos was confused. “What is it that I know?”

  “You know that I know.”

  * * *

  The dome was dimly lit and everything had a red undertone. Again and again, Frank's blade came down, rending Mingrein flesh from bone. But the horde kept coming, and Frank kept fighting. The floor was littered with corpses. Most of them were Mingrein, but a fair share were human and cow, in various degrees of decomposition. This was a living nightmare, and all Frank could do was fight and kill. The beasts were upon him from all sides, and just then Frank realized he had been biting chunks of the Mingreins' flesh. The laughter came as he chewed and swallowed.

  Frank woke with a start, realizing he was on the couch in the landing boat. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he heard Hiro's voice.

  “You okay, Frank?”

  “Yes, Hiro. Go back to sleep.”

  “You should as well. That is the first time I have seen you stop since we've met.”

  “I'll catch up on sleep when this is all over.” He dropped from the boat and located the shovel he had been using for the past couple days. There's nothing like digging to keep your mind off of things, and Frank really needed his mind elsewhere. His dreams were becoming more and more disturbing and he'd just as soon not sleep, to avoid them. Two more holes needed dug to complete the posts for the platform he was building. He opted for posts as he had no idea how far up the water could reach. Once the platform was complete, he could build whatever he wanted. After a couple of hours, Phildan dropped out of the boat and approached him.

  “How are you holding up, Frank?”

  “Okay, I guess. I'm more worried about everyone else.”

  “I noticed that you tend to put the needs of others before your own. You should really put yourself at a higher priority.”

  “Old habits, Phil. I've noticed you've been laying low the last few days.”

  “The Wrecking Crew are easy to get along with. And Hiro is an exceptional human being. But I feel that Garret is having a hard time dealing with the notion of extra-terrestrials.”

  “Probably. He has enough trouble with terrestrials.”

  Phildan contorted his facial scales into a smile. “I'm going to get back to work on the solar grid. Enjoy your digging.”

  “Will do. Enjoy your solar gridding.”

  * * *

  Shortly after first light, Hiro dropped out of the boat, carrying the usual two bokkens, and walked straight to Frank. “I am ready when you are,” he said in his calm, easy way.

  “Let me get a drink real quick.” Frank walked over to one of the coolers and grabbed a bottled water. “Want one?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Hiro, I can't get over how well mannered you are. Most people your age in The States aren't nearly as civilized.”

  “Grandfather always said that manners are the lubrication of civilization.”

  “He's a wise man. Shall we?”

  Training with Hiro was the polar opposite of training with Garret. Both men were extremely good at their fields of expertise, but Hiro's manner was more one of a gentleman, while Garret was basically a bully. And no one wants to take a solid hit from a bokken. Frank spent most of the time copying movements and drills from Hiro, then they'd round out each session with some half-speed sparring.

  “Frank, you are learning so fast that I'm having a difficult time teaching!”

  “You're being kind. I feel like a dumbass most of the time out here.”

  “Nonsense. Your form is nearly flawless.”

  “Well, do me a favor then.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to come at me full speed.”

  “I don't think that's a good idea. Frank, I am very good.”

  “I know you are. You're the best. But I have to test my defense for real. Don't worry. I'll heal.”

  After a moment of thought Hiro finally answered, “As you wish.”

  By this time, the Wrecking Crew, as well as Garret, were all milling about, searching for coffee and something to eat. The guttural shouts first caught their attention, followed by the sounds of wooden bokken slamming together. Frank dodged, deflected, and spun himself out of trouble. But with every escape, Hiro was back on him again, trying to gain some ground, to press for some advantage he couldn't seem to find. After some time, Hiro stopped.

  “I count ten.”

  “Ten what?”

  “Ten times you could have ended me, Frank. I'm afraid I have very little left to teach you. One word of
advice though. Spinning is never good. Although you do spin extremely fast, it's never a good idea to open your backside to your opponent.”

  “Noted. Thank you, Hiro.” Frank offered a deep bow, which Hiro returned.

  “That was some real poetry in motion guys!” Chavez shouted over from the tent. The men all came together at the corner of the work site.

  “As you all know, our friends put an implant in my head. Two actually. One, as a few of you know, is in the part of my brain that controls healing. A side affect seems to be enhanced reflexes. And I can't seem to forget anything.”

  “Yeah, we kinda noticed that already,” Potts said, “but what's the other implant do?”

  “They called it a comm chip. It processes whatever language I hear into English, so I can understand it. It's custom.”

  “Sweet,” said Chavez.

  “Oh, and it somehow allows me to speak in whatever language back.”

  “That's amazing,” Kenny added, “I can't even fathom how that would be possible.”

  “The Sessik are ancient and wise. Gladys is a notable scientist on their world. She might be able to explain it. I probably wouldn't be able to keep up with her explanation. But she's always been generous with her knowledge.”

  “What's she look like, Frank?” Jones asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Her voice though, wow!” he added.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Suddenly, Dave remembered that he was supposed to be the serious one of the bunch. In an all-business tone he asked, “Frank, have you given any more thought to strategy?”

  “Actually yes. Let's just go ahead and call this a strategy meeting. Everyone grab some coffee and make yourselves comfortable. Gladys? Hey Phil, got a minute?” Phildan trotted over as the orb appeared. “Alright everyone. I figure the Mingrein will try to take a major city first. We don't know how good their intel is, but if I had to guess, I'd say either D.C., as its where the leadership is perceived to be, or somewhere like New York City, for the dense population. They'll try to establish a beachhead. And I think they'll be prepared to hold some ground. As for the general military, until we find out more about the enemy, we should travel by tunnels and sewers. Those Rotinoms somehow see through the fog. We can't, and that's our biggest hurdle right now.”

  “And they're deadly accurate.” Kenny added.

  “Yeah, they had all twelve of us down before we ever even seen them,” said Chavez.

  Frank rubbed his chin. “Gladys, check with Bett to see if they are using some kind of heat sensing equipment, pretty please.”

  “Just a moment...”

  “Who is Bett?” Dave asked.

  “He's a Mingrein defector.” Frank answered.

  “You have a Mingrein and you didn't report it?” Dave was serious.

  “We granted him asylum. Interrogation wasn't necessary, as he shares information freely, so far.”

  “Is it Slim, from the other island?” Jones asked.

  “Yes. They actually sent him down to die. They don't like his views. He was unarmed and not aggressive.”

  “Frank, what happens when he gets hungry and decides to eat some passing fisherman or something?” Dave wasn't afraid to show his concern.

  “Dave, the reason they banished him is because he doesn't believe in eating other sentient beings. He is a science officer. He was the official Adviser to their leader, Groll, until some new, unknown being took over. To the rest of the Mingrein, we're just food. Bett just wants to live and let live. His full name is Bett, the Fisher. He prefers to eat fish over anything mammalian.”

  “Look, I trust you, Frank. But once the higher ups catch wind of this, they're going to freak.”

  Gladosanthos interrupted, “Bett confirms the current generation of Rotinoms have heat sensing abilities. These are exponentially more advanced than those we encountered during the war. However, the Mingrein can simply smell you.”

  “That stands to reason. They are reptiles after all,” Frank replied.

  “I have a suggestion,” Phildan offered.

  “Whatcha got, buddy?”

  “Varitherm suits should shield most of your body heat from their sensors. They won't mask your smell though.”

  “You've been trying to get me into one of those suits for a while. I guess now is as good a time as any. How many can you make?”

  “Yours has been ready for some time. I can definitely make and program suits for the entire Wrecking Crew, and possibly for Mr. Garret, if he is so inclined.”

  Mike Garret slowly stood and moved to where everyone could easily see him. He wore a troubled expression, and he was struggling to find the right words. Finally he spoke. “I was brought here to teach Frank how to fight. So far he's been the most proficient student I have ever seen. I gotta say, I've learned just as much from him. The truth is... I'm a terrible soldier. The only reason they even keep me around is because I can fight so good. To be honest, I am terrible with a gun, and I don't follow orders well. I've been demoted just as often as I've been promoted, and I really don't have the stomach for real combat. And these aliens scare the shit outta me.”

  “So yes, there will be plenty of suits to go around,” Phildan responded flatly.

  “I appreciate your honesty, Garret,” Frank said, trying to sound sympathetic without being condescending.

  “I'd like to add that you're all a bunch of crazy bastards, and I wish you the best of luck.” Garret was trying to regain some of his dignity. No one could really blame him. The Crew knew what they were signing up for. “I think my work here is done. Frank could kick my ass easily now.”

  “Thanks for everything, Garret.”

  “Thank you, Frank. Now call me a chopper.” Everyone laughed.

  “It would be faster and cheaper if we just dropped you off somewhere.”

  “Potts, get on the horn and see where they want Garret,” Dave ordered.

  “On it,” Potts replied.

  Frank continued with the meeting, “Okay so we're all in suits, and the rest of the military is underground. Any questions?”

  Chavez couldn't resist asking, “Yeah, why does Phil sound British?”

  * * *

  Frank returned to his work while they awaited word on where to drop off Garret. Phildan pulled off of his work on the solar grid to run a routine inspection of the landing boat. He dropped the reflective array for a short time and the men took the opportunity to marvel over the true appearance of the boat. Hiro was hanging back, more interested in what Frank was doing.

  “So this is what you did before you met them?”

  “Yes. I'm actually a pretty simple man. I've been working with my hands since I was a kid. I tried college, but it wasn't for me.”

  “I'm actually studying to be a chef. There isn't much demand for swordsmen these days.”

  “Well, I'm glad you were available. So do you have any more lessons to teach me?”

  “I'm afraid not. You have surpassed me. I guess I am no longer the greatest swordsman. Grandfather might be disappointed.”

  “To me, you will always be the greatest. If this all goes well, you will have been instrumental in saving the world. I'm sure that will please your grandfather.”

  “To bring honor to your family is the wish of every warrior. Do you have a family, Frank?”

  “I never met my father, but I'm the last living member from my mother's side. I probably have a bunch of brothers and sisters though, judging from the stories I've heard about the man.”

  “I see. Is that a common thing in the West?”

  “It's not quite an epidemic, but it is present.”

  “How old are you? You look barely older than I am, but you carry yourself with much more wisdom and class.”

  “Thank you. I'm forty-five years old. This implant is making me look younger.”

  “Fascinating. In theory, you're immortal.”

  “In theory, yes. But this job description doesn't come with a happy ending, I'm afraid.�
��

  “I was wondering about that. But what if we do prevail?”

  “I assume they'll remove the implant, and I'll return to my old, regular life.”

  After a few moments of silence Hiro asked, “Are you afraid of death?”

  Frank looked up from his work and made sure no one else was within earshot. “To be honest, I felt like I died the day my wife left me. All that was left was the ceremony.”

  “I'm very sorry to hear that, Frank. You are the most amazing person I have had the pleasure of meeting. I wish I could do something to ease your considerable burden.”

  “I've been in a vacuum for the last seven years. All I do is work. But now, finally, I have friends again. Gladys, Phil, and now you, Hiro.”

  “We're going to win, Frank. Somehow, some way, we'll win.”

  15.

  Potts came through with the coordinates of an aircraft carrier that was about fifteen hundred miles away, and Garret gladly packed up his belongings and boarded the landing boat. He admitted to Frank that he had been feeling very apprehensive, having learned the fate of the original island. Frank decided that he couldn't hardly blame him for his fears. Hiro asked to ride along and the three men, along with Phildan, flew off to find the carrier.

  Phildan was still steering clear of Garret and was quite surprised when just after locating the drop point, Garret made an effort to find him and shake his hand.

  “Good luck with these nut-jobs,” was all Garret said to him, but he said it with a genuine smile.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Hiro had gained an odd respect for the man. “It was a pleasure watching you work, Garret,” he said with a deep bow.

  “The feeling is mutual, Hiro. You're a real badass.”

  “Garret,” Frank said, “you have my number if you change your mind about joining us.”

  “I wouldn't even be good for moral support. Am I supposed to keep this all hush-hush?”

  “The President doesn't want to cause a panic. But I feel people should know everything so they can be somewhat prepared. So tell anyone you want. The hard part will be getting them to believe you.”

 

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