Custodian_Monster of Earth Book One

by Patrick F. Johnson

  “He won't.”

  “You're a good dude, Frank,” Jones said, adding to the conversation.

  “I've seen too many helpers and apprentices abused, needlessly. A lot of potentially good workers end up quitting over that shit.”

  “You really were just a construction worker, weren't you?” Chavez asked.

  “Yeah. And I'm pretty sure I still am. After this is all done, I'll probably just go back to my regular work.”

  “Won't that be strange? I mean, after all this?” Chavez asked.

  “I really am a simple man, Chavez. I understand why I was chosen, but I know I was never cut out for soldiering.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  Phildan made it back with Frank's tablet. He punched the reporter's name into the search engine. He then had to narrow the search as there were several people with that same name. When he finally found the one, all the guys came over to glance at the screen.

  “Damn, she's fine as hell!” Potts said. Phildan and Bett just kinda shrugged at each other, neither one understanding the concept.

  “I suppose. I feel bad for her. I feel like I got her fired,” Frank said.

  “I volunteer to make it up to her,” Potts joked.

  “Enough of that, Potts,” Dave chided. “Frank, what's your play?”

  “I don't know. Maybe we can email it to her? This really isn't my area.”

  “Potts, Chavez. See about tracking down her email address. Frank, you should create a dummy account.”

  “Yeah, Dave. Good idea. I have one that I check every couple months. It's always just people trying to sell me something.”

  “I'll do it, Dave,” Gladosanthos said. “I'm curious about how the whole thing works. And it will simplify the process. If that's okay with you, Frank.”

  “Be my guest. Everyone drink up, for tomorrow we conquer the internet!”

  * * *

  To Frank's surprise, everyone was up early the next morning. He found that he respected the men's work ethic greatly. Even Hiro was up early, preparing breakfast. Bett had acquired a nice morning catch and everyone went about their business as if there had been no alcohol consumed at all. Frank had all the walls stood up and braced when the orb found him.

  “Ms. Blake was more than happy to post the footage on several websites, but I fear we have left ourselves vulnerable.”

  “Vulnerable to what?”

  “To her onslaught of questions. She is quite curious.”

  “That's her job. I would expect nothing less from a reporter.”

  “Frank, may I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you find Ms. Blake attractive?”

  The question caught Frank off guard. He put down his hammer and sat down to answer. “She is pretty, but there is more to attraction than just looks. For me, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Frank laughed. “I fell into that trap before. My ex-wife was very pretty. She left me broken. And broke. I am way pickier now.”

  “Is that why you haven't taken a new mate?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” He felt the memories start to flood in. His brain began to lock up. “I should go practice or something.” Frank excused himself and walked away from the platform to an area he had set up to practice throwing his shuriken. Focusing on hitting the post he had planted deep in the sand, he pushed the memories far into the depths of his mind. One after another, he missed the mark. Hiro walked over too see if he could be of assistance.

  “Like throwing a Frisbee, Frank.”

  “I've never been good at throwing.”

  “And you were never a master swordsman either.”

  “I suppose you're right.”

  “Just because you weren't good at something before doesn't mean you cannot become good at it.”

  “How did you become so wise?” Frank smiled.

  “All credit goes to Grandfather, of course.”

  Frank practiced for hours. His arm never tired, as the implant had him healing as fast as he was straining his muscles. Once he was finally consistently hitting the mark from various distances, he began using his left hand. He had always been somewhat ambidextrous, and was determined to be able to throw with both hands. After several more hours, he was hitting with the left about half the time. He was about to retire from practice for the day to return to his construction project when Phildan approached with a bowl of soup.

  “Frank, you haven't eaten today. I insist that you take a break.”

  “What would I do without you, Phil?”

  “You would forget to eat and sleep.”

  Frank laughed. Phildan's sense of humor was beginning to line up more with Frank's. It must be difficult to learn jokes in a foreign language. But the more Frank thought about it, the more he realized his own comm chip had him still thinking in English even as he was speaking some other language. He made a mental note to discuss the finer points of comm chips sometime soon. But now he wanted to focus on getting the tiki bar enclosed. He ate a little faster than usual, thanked Phildan, and headed back to the platform. Just as he was rekindling the vision in his head of the building, Jones walked up.

  “Afternoon, Jones”

  “Hey Frank. Is it cool if I help out?”

  “That would be very cool. You ever work construction?”

  “A little, but I'm good at following orders.”

  “Good. I actually prefer my help to have no experience. That way no one else had a chance to ruin them.” They worked until they ran out of light. Then they stood and talked about Frank's ideas for the platform. Jones was really taking to the concepts that Frank was explaining, and Frank was being careful to not overwhelm him.

  “I was thinking about re-enlisting after my tour is up, but maybe I should come work for you instead. You did say you'd probably just go back to your old job once this was over.”

  “I'd be happy to have you, Robert.”

  With Jones' help, Frank had the roof framed and decked within the next couple of days. Frank knew how to lay shingles although in the past it was really uncomfortable, due to his feet. But this roof had a simple layout and the job went by with relative ease. Then to preserve the theme, he hid the shingles under thick layers of fronds. They took only a short few moments to admire their work before they decided to go ahead with the door installations. Frank opted for a double set of barn doors, so they could be opened to view the sunsets. Just as they had the last one hung and adjusted, it began to rain. Everyone congregated inside the newly finished structure as Frank and Jones were finishing up for the day.

  “This is an impressive bit of work, Frank,” Dave said.

  “Thanks. Jones really sped up the process. Tomorrow, we're going to build the bar and shelves. I'll get with my guy about ordering in some tables and chairs. This is going to be the best secret base in the Pacific.” They spent the rest of the evening having some beers, and enjoying the moment.

  The next morning everyone woke up as usual to discover that Frank had the bar mostly done. He explained that he had the vision of it in his head, and since he wasn't feeling too tired, he decided to just go ahead and start.

  “I think it's safe to go ahead and stock this place,” Chavez joked.

  Frank laughed. “Start making a list. All I really want for myself is endless margaritas. I don't think that's too much to ask for.”

  “Margaritas and senoritas, eh Enrique?” Potts added.

  “More like margaritas and a hammock,” Dave said.

  After they all shared a laugh Frank said, “All right guys, clear out so I can get something done. Don't forget your sunscreen.”

  But Phildan wasn't having it. “Frank, may I have a word?”

  “Sure thing, Phil.” They paused as the other men and Bett all departed. “What's up?”

  “You need to get some rest. It's been a few days now.”

  Frank thought about it. “Yeah, I guess it has. I'll go lay down in the boat.”

  * *
*

  For the next hour or so, Frank struggled to catch a nap. Every time he started to drift off to sleep, disturbing images filled his mind. After a third failed attempt, he dropped back out of the boat and headed toward the platform. That is when the orb found him.

  “Frank, we have a Mingrein freighter inbound. Descending over North America.”

  “Just one?”

  “Yes. It's one of the big ones. Like from Texas.”

  “Must be a raiding party. I knew it was just a matter of time with all those ships showing up.” He alerted the Crew to gear up. In less than five minutes they were aboard Frank's landing boat. Only Bett remained on the island, with an orb to keep him company.

  “Where are they heading?” Dave asked Gladosanthos directly.

  “Phildan, if you would please,” she answered.

  Phildan was looking at his pad as he walked over. Not speaking he pointed to a spot on the map she was projecting. He then returned to his work.

  “Pennsylvania?” Dave asked.

  “It looks like a remote area. Would there be a farm or ranch in that area?” Frank asked.

  “I've driven through that region once. Nothing but hills and forest. I remember thinking that if a man ever wanted to disappear, that would be a good place to do it,” Dave mused.

  “That doesn't add up. We better go see what they want.” Frank loaded his pouches with shuriken, strapped one sword over his shoulder, and carried another one.

  “Two swords this time, Frank?” Jones asked.

  “Yeah, in case I lose one. Again.”

  Phildan, still not looking away from his pad, handed Frank his two larger pocketknives. “Freshly sharpened. They didn't need much.”

  “Thanks, Phil. You're the best.” He flipped one open to admire Phildan's work. “Perfection.”

  “May I?” asked Chavez.

  “Sure.” Frank handed him the open knife, handle first.

  “Damn, Frank. This thing's a pocket sword. Very nice.”

  “Funny thing is I never considered them weapons before. I always just used them as tools.” He accepted the knife back and stowed them in his front pockets. His third, smaller knife was rarely used and hadn't needed any attention.

  “Frank,” Dave said, “I want you to wear this.” He handed Frank a headset like the ones the Crew wore during their operations. “It was Kenny's.”

  “I'm honored. I haven't felt like one of 'the guys' in quite a long time.”

  “We just don't want you getting lost again,” Potts joked. The guys shared a brief laugh which was right on time to ease the tension. Phildan, however was growing more tense with each passing second.

  “Phil, what's up?” Frank asked.

  “We ran the computations on their trajectory. It seems we beat them here. I forget how slow their ships are. There is a clearing with two large vehicles parked. Look here.” He pointed to a spot on the screen.

  “Why would two semis be out here in the middle of nowhere?” Frank thought out loud. “I don't like this.” As he was considering the possibilities, the Mingrein freighter arrived and sat down near the back of the semis. It had situated itself so it was back to back to the trucks, which were parked side by side. Armed men appeared but showed no alarm to the alien craft. They were more focused on the surrounding forest. Several Rotinoms, including two backpackers, poured out of the back of the freighter and set up a perimeter of their own. “Holy shit, it's a delivery. We need to disable all three vehicles, kill the Grays, and capture the men.”

  “Just another day at the office,” Jones said.

  “Truck on the north end looks like a livestock trailer. I'm afraid to guess what's in the other one,” Dave added.

  “People most likely,” Frank replied. “Let's get down there. Anyone have an explosive I can use? I have a plan.”

  They dropped into a clearing just to the south, and over a small hill. Dave handed an explosive charge to Frank. “Timer is set for two seconds. Stick it on, press the button, and run. It will stick to almost anything.”

  “Set up on the four corners. I'll be coming in from the east and moving fast. I'll disable the freighter first, then you guys need to take out the semis. If there are people in that other trailer, they might have a hostage situation thing,” Frank said, almost too fast for everyone to keep up. “I'll get into position and wait for everyone to check in.”

  “I'll get the sixty up toward the front of those trucks,” Jones said.

  “Good idea,” said Dave, “Potts, you're the fastest, so get to the far corner. Everyone except Jones, go silent. Jones, after you disable the trucks, switch positions enough to hide yourself, then go silent. We don't need to give our positions away needlessly. We'll need to target the backpackers first.” The men all nodded agreement and trotted off in their directions. Frank was amazed at how silent they could run. Frank ran a wide circle through the dark forest. He didn't trust his own ability to be silent so the wide circle was to prevent himself from being heard. When he found the angle of attack that he was looking for, he crept up near the tree line and waited. So far none of the armed guards, human or Rotinom, seemed to be aware of their presence. They were unloading cattle from the livestock trailer directly into the freighter. All Frank could do now was wait. He turned to the ever present orb that was hanging in the air over his left shoulder.

  “Gladys, get somewhere out of the way so you can get footage of everything. We'll want to study some tape later.”

  “Will do.” Her voice was soft and comforting.

  Dave's voice was first through the headset with a simple, “Check.”

  “Check,” said Chavez, who had the second farthest distance to cover.

  “Check.” It was Jones, who had the heavy load of the M-60 and all it's ammo.

  And finally Potts checked in with a breathless, “Check.”

  Frank whispered, “I will disable the ship and take out the backpacker to the north. Watch for hostages.” Before they could respond, Frank took one deep breath, and took off in full sprint. The front of the freighter had a large, sloped window. Frank decided to roll the dice and pressed the button on the charge before he jumped. He leaped hands first, planted the charge, and continued to cartwheel up toward the roof of the ship. Up close, he could see the confused faces of the two Mingrein pilots inside the sealed cockpit. He faced the Rotinom to the north and began to jump in that direction, letting the explosion of the charge push him in the right direction. He landed just short of his mark, but as he rolled through to soften the blow, he bounced back to his feet in a perfect position to slice the backpacker in half. As the bullets and projectiles began to bounce off his shield, he couldn't help but to smile when he heard the sixty start up.

  “Semis are out. Backpacker is out.” Jones dropped his big gun and moved to a different position per orders from Dave. Potts and Chavez were picking off guards with considerable ease and precision while Dave held down the Southeast corner.

  Frank was slicing up more Rotinoms when he heard Dave's voice come through the headset. “We have a runner. You're closest, Frank.” Frank turned to see a man fleeing in the direction that he himself had entered from. Sheathing his sword, he took off in pursuit. He covered the ground quickly and overtook the runner before he could reach the tree line. Having misjudged his own speed, the tackle sent Frank and the man rolling for several feet before they both sprang to their feet to face each other. Frank found himself staring down two Berettas.

  “Jason Reed, we meet again,” he said with mild amusement at the look of shock on Reed's face as he unloaded his pistols.

  “That didn't work last time either, dumbass,” Frank said, taunting Reed.

  Reed dropped his pistols and pulled his knife. “I'll just have to cut you into little pieces this time. See if you can come back from that.” He charged Frank, who sidestepped him just like he did in the parking garage, but Reed was ready for the chop and turned with a slash. Frank caught his wrist, totally stopping his momentum, and delivered a d
evastating sidekick to Reed's face, knocking him unconscious.

  “Ah, guess who it is?” he asked into his headset.

  “Reed? No way! Good job, Frank!” Dave said excitedly.

  “He's down for the count. Where do you need me, Dave?”

  “We have some grays at the rear of the semis. I'm afraid to open up on them in case there are people in there.”

  “I'm on it.” Frank covered the distance in seconds and hacked six Rotinoms to pieces before they knew what hit them. “All clear. What's our status?” Before he could listen for a response, he noticed several bullets bouncing off of the lower part of his shield. “Hold up, we got some guys up under the livestock trailer.”

  “Want me to get the sixty and light them up?” Jones asked.

  “Negative,” Dave answered, “we don't want to risk hitting anything in that other trailer.”

  Frank got down on his hands and knees to peer up under the trailer. His gaze was met with an onslaught of flying lead. “Don't make me come in there after you!” he yelled. The livestock trailer was much lower to the ground than a standard semi trailer. Several men had belly crawled to safety when the shooting started. “Either you drop your weapons and come out, or I come in there and kill your ass!”

  “Okay, we're coming out.” A couple of men made their way to the edge and stood up with their arms raised. One of them had a knife hidden in his palm, with the blade toward his sleeve, behind his wrist. He tried to make a move on Frank. But Frank saw it coming and answered with redirecting chop to the man's forearm, followed by a straight punch to the throat.

  “Anyone else want a shot? I'll be here all night.” Knowing they were beaten, the rest of the men crawled out and surrendered.

  “Jones, get the sixty and cover us,” Dave said. “Potts, Chavez, sweep the area.”

  “Dave, I suppose we oughtta tie these guys up or something,” Frank said. “I'll be right back. I'm gonna go drag Reed over here. As he turned to walk away, a random Rotinom was rounding the corner from between the trailers to fire on them. In one smooth motion, Frank unsheathed his sword and took the little gray alien's hand off at the wrist. His hand, still clutching his gun, fell to the ground. The Rotinom stood his ground though, pointing his bloody stump at the men as if he was still firing at them.