by Gerald Rice
“Oh no,” Tammy said. “I don’t want you to go.” She threw her arms around the new Jack and sobbed.
“It’s all right,” new Jack said. “Don’t cry, honey.”
All eyes turned to old Jack, including mine.
“What?” he said. “You guys seriously expect me to just climb into that pod out there so this copycat can take my place?”
No one argued. No one spoke. We just kept staring at him. I felt bad for the poor guy, but I had to say, the new Jack was kind of cool. I could see why Tammy was so much happier with him. The old Jack was such a headache and the new Jack seemed, well, nicer. It just seemed a shame that old Jack had to go for new Jack to stay.
“Is that what this party is about?” old Jack said. “This some kind of ‘Welcome to the planet Earth’ party for your new boyfriend?”
That did it. Tammy balled her fists. Everyone looked down at their glass or plate or just at the floor. New Jack and I both cringed.
“Jack,” I said. “It’s Tammy’s birthday.”
“Is it?” old Jack said, genuinely surprised. “Well then, happy birthday, baby.”
But Tammy wasn’t having any of that. “Don’t you happy birthday me, you jackass. We’ve been together for five years and you never remembered my birthday. Ever! I always had to remind you and even then you never got me anything. I have no idea why I stayed with you for so long. I am sick to death of pretending everything is okay. You’re a horrible person, Jack. You’re selfish and filthy and always horny. Loud, obnoxious, rude. You think bacon is a fruit and beer is a substitute for water. And no matter what you keep telling yourself, pornography is not what everyone means when they say chick flick. You’re always smelly and always late and always forgetful and never think of anyone but yourself. Please, just do the right thing for once and get in that pod, Jack Everett Talent!”
After that tirade, I fully expected old Jack to blow his gasket and give Tammy as good as she dished out. But no. Old Jack surprised all of us by nodding.
“Okay,” he said.
Tammy blinked in shock. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“You mean you will?”
“If he makes you happy, then I will get in the pod and let him eat me or absorb me or whatever he needs to do.” Old Jack furrowed his brow at new Jack. “Will it hurt?”
“Not at all,” new Jack said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” old Jack said. “I love you, Tammy. I know you never think I do, but I do. If he is what you want, then okay. I’ll get in the pod. But only if he makes you happy.”
Tammy took new Jack’s hand in her own. “He does. I’m sorry about this, Jack, but he does. This one act of kindness doesn’t erase a lifetime of being a douche.”
“I understand,” old Jack said. “Just give me one more night. Me and Rob will go out for a few drinks and when I come back at sunrise, if he still makes you happy, I will get in the pod.”
“Okay then,” Tammy said. “We will see you in the morning.”
New Jack held out his hand. “Thanks. This is really big of you.”
Old Jack looked down at new Jack’s hand, then up at new Jack. “You can use that hand to go fuck yourself. Come on, Rob.”
On our way out I heard Tammy espousing that Jack’s exit was exactly why she was glad he needed to get in the pod. I leaned the shovel against the door and rushed out to catch up with him.
“What is the plan?” I asked.
“The plan is to get out of here,” Jack said.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I figured you would lull the new Jack into a false sense of security while we sneak out back and destroy the pod or something like that.”
“Nope. Not this time.”
“Are you really going to do this?”
“Sure,” Jack said with a shrug. “If he makes her happy, I’ll go. It’s not like everyone wants me to stay. I see you didn’t stick up for me back there.”
I rubbed at my neck in embarrassment. “Sorry, man. I should’ve said something but I got kind of overwhelmed with what was happening. I mean, a pod person? It’s so weird.”
“Yeah, weird.” He walked on ahead of me toward my Bug.
“You don’t seem very worried.”
“Why worry? I’m a dead man walking. Nothing to worry about anymore.”
We settled into my Bug and I started the engine. “Which bar?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d rather go back to your house and crash. I’m beat.”
“I thought you’d want to spend your last night partying.”
“Nah,” he said with a serene smile. “I want to be sober in the morning when I get back.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I drove us back to my place and we both went to bed right away. I was exhausted anyway and couldn’t wait to get away from Jack. He seemed oddly calm. I had never seen someone shoot right past the other stages of grief and go straight to acceptance. It was weird, but then again Jack was weird so no surprise there. My dreams were filled with pods and plants and multiple Jacks. I woke in a cold sweat and didn’t sleep much after that. Morning came and I found Jack sitting on the couch waiting for me. We drove back to his house with Jack as calm as I had ever seen him. When we pulled up in the driveway and cut the engine, Jack let out a slow exhale.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“Yes,” Jack said, “I do.”
He got out and I followed him. Jack paused on the porch and rang the bell rather than just letting himself in. Tammy answered the door. I started at the sight of her. She looked horrible. Her hair was a mess and mascara streaked her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, proof of hours spent crying.
“Jack,” she said curtly.
“Tammy,” old Jack said. He looked through the open door. “Where is your boyfriend?”
Tammy’s lower lip quivered. “Gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone. We had a huge fight about, you know, stuff. He took his pod and his ship and he left. He said the human race could go to hell as far as he was concerned.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
She opened the door wider. “Looks like you win.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” He looked at me. “Thanks for the ride, man. I’ll see you later.”
I was more confused than ever. What in the hell was going on?
As Jack walked through the door, she grabbed his arm. “How . . . how did you know?”
He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
Tammy smiled. “I’ll go and get cleaned up and we can . . .” She paused to flick a glance at me then back to Jack before she finished. “We can talk. About stuff.”
“I’d like that.” He grabbed her around the waist and growled at her. “I’d like to talk with you for a good, long, slow time.” Jack smacked Tammy on the ass as she disappeared into the house, then he turned to me. “Thank God that’s over.”
I stood in the open doorway, mouth agape. “What just happened? I thought he was so much better than you? Why did she make him leave?”
Jack chuckled. “Tammy might be a bitch but she is right about one thing—I am a selfish lover.” He smiled wide. “Except for one day a year.”
I smiled with him. “Her birthday.”
“Yup. Sure, she has to remind me, but she reminds me for a reason. I might have never bought her anything, but you can’t buy that kind of satisfaction.”
“You son of a bitch. You have got to be kidding me.”
“No joke. You wanna know why she has stayed with me for so long? Every man has a talent, my friend. And mine happens to be in the bedroom, if you get my meaning.”
I laughed aloud. “I do, man. I do.”
“I mean, I ride her like a four-wheeler in a mud pit on a hot summer’s—”
I held up my hands. “Jack, seriously, I get it. You don’t have to tell me the details.”
“Okay. Suit yourself.” With that, he shut the door in my face.
> Typical Jack.
As I climbed back into my Bug, I wondered how different things would’ve been if the new Jack and his people had really integrated with us. I also wondered what their idea of happiness was. After all, if they couldn’t satisfy one of our women, what hope did they have of satisfying the entire human race?
The Rider
* * *
* * *
Jake Bible
The flames licked the sky and I danced!
I watched as my house, and all the houses, the perfect little houses, went up in smoke, and all I could do was dance like I’d scored in the Super Bowl. I was free. I had beaten them! They couldn’t stop me, they couldn’t keep me from telling the truth, they couldn’t hold me with their balloons and cookies and business cards!
I had scorched the earth they wanted so badly! Scorched it, cleansed it, obliterated any trace of them! They messed with the wrong Broncos fan!
Then . . . then I heard the cries. I heard the screams. I heard the calls for help.
The calls for me to help.
“Daddy! Daddy, help us! DADDY!”
Oh God, what did I do? What did I do?
* * *
* * *
“Anthony? Are you listening to me?”
“What? Oh, yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.”
“What were you thinking about? Was it the fire?”
“Yes . . . maybe . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Would you care to talk about the fire?”
“Do I have to? I know you want me to, but do I have to?”
“The court has mandated that you remain in this facility until I can ascertain your mental state. If you want to leave here then you’ll have to show me you are mentally fit to stand trial, Anthony. The only way I can know that is if you talk to me and specifically talk to me about the fire.”
“But, the girls . . .”
“Yes, I know how distressing the memories must be for you. I once—”
“YOU KNOW NOTHING! YOU KNOW ONLY WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE! THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHERE! YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR NEIGHBORS! EVEN YOUR FAMILY! EVERYWHERE! AND THEY WILL NOT GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT! THEY TAKE! THEY TAKE AND TAKE AND TAKE! THEY TOOK IT ALL FROM ME!”
“Calm down, Anthony. Please, calm down. No one can get you here, okay? You are in a safe place. This room is a safe place. I am here to help you, okay? Please, let me help you. Can you do that? Can you calm down and let me help you?”
“I don’t . . . Yes . . . I can calm down and let you help me.”
“Good. Good. Now, tell me about these people that are everywhere. What do they look like?”
“They aren’t people, Dr. Chalmers. They are Realators.”
“I think you mean realtors.”
“No, Doctor, I mean Realators. REALATORS!”
* * *
* * *
“The Berglands have a FOR SALE sign in their yard,” Maura said. “Has Chip said anything to you about selling?”
“What?” I asked, not really paying attention to what my wife said because . . . well . . . the football game. “I haven’t seen Chip in a week.”
“I know that,” Maura replied. “But the last time you saw him, did he say they were selling?”
“Selling? Selling what?” I asked. “The boat? I don’t blame them. That’s a money pit and the HOA is tired of it being in their driveway.”
“No, Tony, they are selling their house, dammit!” Maura shouted. “Pay attention, please!”
“What? Crap, sorry, baby. The Vikings just scored and—hey! Turn that back on!”
“I will not,” Maura growled. “I want you to answer my question.”
“Okay,” I smiled. “Uh . . . what was the question?”
“You’re an ass,” Maura snorted. “Watch the girls. I’m going over there to talk with Lizzy.”
“Can I turn the game back on?” I asked. The door slamming enough to make the glasses in the kitchen clink was my answer.
I wish I could take all of that back. As God as my witness, I would have listened and handled it better. I would have gone over with her. I would have told her not to worry about it.
I would have been involved. But I wasn’t. It was all my fault. But, you know, the football game.
* * *
* * *
“Do you believe your being here is your fault?”
“My fault? How the hell is it my fault? I didn’t start taking over people’s lives! I didn’t brainwash them and turn them against their neighbors! I didn’t plot the domination of the world!”
“Then what did you do?”
“I . . . uh . . . did nothing.”
* * *
* * *
“I’m going over to the Lancasters’ open house, Tony,” Maura said. “The girls are staying here. Please keep an ear out for them since they are in the backyard playing.”
“Mmm . . .”
“Tony!” she shouted.
“What?!” I shouted back.
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re going into the backyard to play house with the girls. Got it,” I replied.
“You are hopeless,” she snapped. “What are you watching? More football?”
“This is college,” I replied. “Thursday was NFL.”
“You’re not going to watch football all day, are you? The front yard needs to be mowed.”
“Sure, right, front yard. On it.”
“Whatever,” she huffed as she left the house.
I went and found some Doritos.
* * *
* * *
“Did you end up mowing the front yard?”
“What?”
“The front yard. Did you end up mowing it?”
“Well . . . no. USC was in overtime and then I switched to the Michigan game and after that was the Oregon game. I just forgot.”
“So if you were so preoccupied with football then how did you start to notice the differences in your wife? That’s what you said, correct? That your wife began to act differently after the open house at the Lancasters?”
“Do I have to talk about this, Dr. Chalmers? I really don’t want to.”
“Yes, you have to talk, Anthony. It is for your own good and for the good of the victims’ families. There has to be closure.”
“Closure . . .”
“Yes, closure.”
* * *
* * *
“Uh, babe, what are you doing? It’s three in the morning?” I asked as I came down the stairs to see my wife hurrying back and forth from the living room to the dining room and then back to the living room.
“Eggshell,” she said. “Or Morning Fog. Maybe Cappuccino? No, no, too dark. Keep it neutral. Neutral is how you draw them in and keep them. Don’t let them see what’s behind the paint. Don’t let them see . . .”
“Maura? Sugar? Are those paint samples? Why the hell are you comparing paint samples at three in the morning?” I asked, rather alarmed since there was no way I was painting the house. Screw that.
“The Berglands just closed,” Maura said without looking at me. She had the sample of Sauteed Mushroom in a Delicate Cream Sauce against the molding around the dining room door. “The Lancasters are about to close and from what Dorie Villanova has said, she and her husband aren’t far behind. We can’t be left, Tony. If we don’t sell then we’ll be left. We can’t be left.”
“Um, babe, we aren’t selling the house,” I replied.
Yeah, that didn’t go over well.
“Yes. We. Are,” Maura snarled. “We have to. I already scheduled the open house.”
“Wait. You what? Sugar, we aren’t selling the house.”
“YES. WE. ARE!” she roared.
“Daddy?” Bessie said from the top of the stairs. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” I replied. “Mommy has just lost her sh—.”
“We’re selling the house, Bessie. Isn’t that great? It’s all in the location, you know, and ou
r location is the best. The best. No better in the neighborhood. Once they see that then we’ll be allowed to go with them. Can’t stay here. No, no, no. Can’t stay here. All in the location.”
“We’re selling the house?” Allison asked as she joined her sister. “Cool.”
“Not cool,” I said. “We are not selling. Now go to bed, girls. It’s late.”
They walked off and I turned back to my crazy wife. “I’m going back to bed too. We aren’t selling.”
“Yes, we are,” she replied as she taped all of the paint samples to the living room wall then sat down and stared at them.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” I yawned. “Come to bed when you’re done there. Or not. Whatever.”
* * *
* * *
“If I’m reading this transcript right, you say that your neighbors started selling their houses one after the other, with open houses happening almost daily. Is that correct?”
“Yeah.”
“But—and here’s the problem, Anthony—there are no records of any sales. No one on your block has sold a house. Not a single one.”
“It’s because of the Realators. They don’t buy them with money and they sure as hell don’t register it with city hall.”
“What do they buy them with then?”
“Promises.”
“Promises? What kind of promises?”
“Promises that you’ll be spared when the Big Sale comes.”
“The Big Sale? Hold on, hold on, let me see . . . Oh, yes, here it is. You say the Big Sale is when the Realators finally take possession of the Earth and those that sold live and those that refused die. Correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you believe this, Anthony? That there are beings called Realators looking to buy up all the property on Earth with promises?”