The Simpleton: An Alien Encounter

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “You can give thanks to the Lord tonight, Kyle,” Momma told him, though he wasn’t paying attention, staring at his brother instead. Irritated, Momma glanced at Cuddy.

  Jackie took it all in. Cuddy’s bowled haircut no longer formed a straight line across his forehead, since he’d moistened it and pushed it off to the side. His multiple injuries—the sutured split lips and cheek, all the bruising—were almost completely healed. How is that possible? Jackie thought back to the day before, seeing him at the hospital, when he looked like he’d been run over by a truck.

  “I think I can say Grace tonight,” Cuddy said, looking over to Momma. She hesitantly nodded and said, “Well … okay …”

  Cuddy swallowed, and then began, “God, we thank you for this food. For rest and home and all things good. For wind and rain and the sun above. But most of all for those we love.” He smiled—looking pleased with himself. “That’s the prayer Momma almost always says. Before, I never remembered the right words to say … before today.”

  Momma stared at Cuddy, speechless for several moments. “That was … beautiful, son. I’m proud of you.” Somewhat unsettled, she reached down for her knife and fork as Kyle did the same, every so often glancing over at his brother.

  Jackie knew Cuddy’s face well, but something seemed different … She took in the two-or-three-day stubble on his cheeks and chin, also his open shirt—now unbuttoned at the neck—exposing a few errant chest hairs. From what she could remember, Cuddy always buttoned his shirts up to the neck. Had that habit changed over recent years? Then she thought back to how he was dressed yesterday. No, he never left buttons unbuttoned. Not thinking some miracle had occurred, nothing like that, but the Cuddy she now sat across from no longer seemed, at least mentally, seven years old.

  * * *

  “I’m beyond starving!” Cuddy said, putting an oversized slice of pork chop into his mouth. As he chewed, he thought about the afternoon he’d spent in the woods, about his promise to the alien man. He really wanted to tell them—Momma, Kyle, and Jackie—all about him. Keeping the secret inside was driving him crazy. He wasn’t upset anymore, and now felt bad about how he’d acted—had overreacted. His brain—his thoughts seemed to have calmed down substantially. Cuddy smiled as he thought about first seeing the white glowing man, standing by the brook, and then his experiences within the … what did he call it? Oh yeah, the wellness chamber. Truth was, they wouldn’t believe him anyway. No way.

  Cuddy looked out, over Jackie’s left shoulder, to the darkness beyond, wondering if the alien was still out there—somewhere—right now, maybe watching them eat their dinner?

  Cuddy noticed Jackie studying him across the table. Her narrowed eyes were searching his face. He smiled at her, noticing how pretty she was. No, she was beautiful.

  “Boy … is everything all right?” Momma asked, her voice almost a whisper.

  “I’m good, Momma. Why?” His mouth full of mashed potatoes, he stared back at her, then asked, “Why are you all staring at me that way? Is something on my face?” Setting his fork down, he swiped at his cheeks with his palms.

  “There’s nothing on your face, Cuddy,” Jackie said. “You just look very handsome tonight.”

  * * *

  Within the confines of the musky-smelling barn—where it was dark and the big horse repeatedly hoofed at the ground—Tow watched the four humans eat their meal.

  Cuddy’s session today, within the wellness chamber, had been brief, but the physical transformation would not go unnoticed by the others. How could it? But Tow was even more concerned with Cuddy’s altered mental state. He didn’t know the human well enough to make a comparison—before, and after, the session. Perhaps the chamber did not affect humans in the same manner.

  Tow closely watched their faces, trying to interpret their expressions. He wondered if Cuddy was acting differently now than what was expected? Acknowledging the AI’s voice in his head, he listened to what it had to say:

  “Looking at the relevant data, human physiology is quite complex. Their brains are larger than the Pashier’s … much of it still not utilized at this point in their evolution.”

  “That sounds encouraging,” Tow said.

  “Yes, but you took a risk … taking this one called Cuddy into the wellness chamber. How he will respond, over time, is indeterminate. You are assuming much. Session times … intensity levels … more testing would have been wise.”

  “You are right. But there is no more time. The Howsh are here.”

  “Their scans may not detect the Evermore’s whereabouts, at least not for some time,” the AI said.

  Strobing blue and red lights were approaching in the near distance—two internal combustion vehicles. Tow watched as first one, then the other, turned into the driveway and headed toward the human’s domicile. After coming to a stop, with the engines turned off, the bright lights continued to flash.

  Chapter 14

  “What the hell do they want?” Kyle asked, getting to his feet.

  Momma and Cuddy came around the table to peer out the window. They watched as Sheriff Dale Bone climbed out of his four-door Crown Vic while Officer Plumkin Richards, simultaneously, climbed out of his SUV. Both vehicles had large italicized blue letters—POLICE—stenciled across their sides.

  Jackie said, “Ugh, I knew plumpy Plumkin back in high school. He was always a bit creepy … always the tough guy. Maybe it’s something to do with his height.” She looked over to Kyle, “Don’t police departments have a height requirement?”

  Kyle shrugged. “If they don’t they should.”

  “Yeah, I mean, don’t they have a strong image to project?” she added.

  Cuddy watched the two policemen come around their vehicles to speak to one another. The voice of a woman dispatcher could be heard, coming from inside both patrol cars.

  “Sheriff … third call tonight. Ruby Johnson insists she’s seen a UFO. Wants to know when you can send a car over.”

  Plumkin tipped his head sideways and spoke into his shoulder mic: “Gale, we’re on important police business here. Just tell Ruby to cool her jets. Unless little green men are coming through her doors and windows, it might be morning before we can get back to her.”

  “Ten Four … I’ll let her know.”

  Momma looked at Kyle accusingly. “Why are they here? What’s this about?”

  Kyle said, “How the hell should I know? I’ve been here since I got out of bed this morning. You know … I’m not always up to no good …”

  Three heavy knocks pounded on the door.

  “Stay right there. Let me deal with this,” Momma said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders—exchanging her irritated expression for one of innocent bewilderment. She then walked out of the kitchen.

  Cuddy heard the screen door open and Momma say, “Sheriff? Plumkin? What brings you two out this time of night?”

  “Ma’am … sorry for the late hour. I need to ask, is your son here?”

  “Cuddy? Of course he’s here. Been here all day.”

  “No, I mean Kyle, ma’am.”

  “Well, he’s here too. But I don’t understand what you’d want him …”

  “Mrs. Perkins, I’m sorry, but we’re here to take Kyle in for questioning. Into custody. Please call him to come on out, we’re not looking for trouble. This can go as easy as he makes it.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on, Dale,” Momma demanded.

  “Another car’s been stolen,” the sheriff said.

  “ … A sixty-five Mustang. Same make and model Kyle snitched from Dr. Howard over a year ago. That’s a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?” Plumkin asked.

  “I don’t know anything about cars. Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”

  “Sure … for a minute, Mrs. Perkins, but we’re taking Kyle into custody. Please go get him. We really don’t want any trouble,” the sheriff said.

  Still seated at the table, Cuddy and Kyle exch
anged a questioning glance. Jackie said, “I’ve got an idea!”

  Both looked at her, somewhat startled. Kyle shook his head. “What are you going to do?” he whispered, with a sideways expression, attempting to look menacing.

  Jackie hurried over to the sink, wetting down her hair under the faucet. She pointed to Kyle and mouthed the words: “Hurry … get your hair wet. You too, Cuddy, and maybe button up your shirt.”

  * * *

  Hair wet, Cuddy came around the corner into the foyer, wearing his most engaging smile, and enthusiastically waved at both the sheriff and Officer Plumkin. The sheriff, as tall as Cuddy, though fifty pounds heavier and forty years older, did a poor job hiding his annoyance.

  “Kyle and I went to Hollow Pond today, Sheriff,” Cuddy said. “Taught me how to do the dog paddle. Ya know, like a dog does when it swims. Have you ever been to Hollow Pond, Sheriff? Do you like to swim? Have you swung on the rope with the stick tied on the end?”

  The sheriff held up his palms. “Cuddy … we’re here on police business. Maybe best if you go to your room for a while. We’re here for your brother Kyle.”

  Kyle chose that moment to come around the corner, with Jackie right behind him. Both heads of hair were dripping wet, though she was drying hers with a towel.

  “Oh … hi there, Sheriff and hi, Plumkin,” Jackie said, giving an easy smile. Her wet shirt revealed the outline of her breasts and two erect nipples. Innocently, she raised her brow, “What’s all the hubbub about?”

  The sheriff averted his eyes while Officer Plumkin stared unabashedly at her chest. It seemed the sheriff, finally, was getting it: Pointing his finger at Kyle like a pistol—his thumb straight up and his forefinger extended—he asked, “What? You’re telling me you were all together this afternoon?”

  Cuddy, portraying only simplest innocence, watched Kyle and Jackie give Oscar-worthy performances. Momma, who Cuddy couldn’t remember ever being anything but totally honest, simply stared at the Sheriff—not taking a stand either way. By the way he tilted his head and pursed his lips, Cuddy could tell Officer Plumkin wasn’t buying it.

  Plumkin pulled a set of handcuffs from the back of his utility belt and said, “Look, we have zero doubt you had something to do with this, Kyle. You’ve been spotted out and about joyriding in the missing car. Add to the fact, the last time a car got stolen around here was when you nabbed it. Today, another car, the exact same make and model …”

  Momma jumped right in and said, “I don’t care what kind of car was stolen, Kyle had nothing to do with it. What in God’s name do you have against my family?” she asked indignantly. “First my youngest son is accused of something and now my eldest. Sheriff … Dale … My family, seems clear to me, is being harassed by your department. I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree. And let me tell you this … we live in a real small town where everyone knows everyone else. We stick together, Dale, and if I’m not mistaken, the Canyon County Sheriff is an elected position. Isn’t that right?”

  Deflated some, the sheriff then steadied his gaze on Jackie. “Miss, you willing to make an official statement down at the station that Kyle was with you today, between the hours of 1:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m.?”

  “Sure. Can I do that tomorrow?”

  “That’ll be fine,” the sheriff said.

  “Sheriff … I think they’re lying. This is a cock-and-bull story if ever I heard one. We should take Kyle into—”

  The sheriff turned on Plumkin. “You see this star here, Officer?” pointing to the tin badge on his chest.

  Plumkin reluctantly nodded.

  “Then put a sock in it and go get the dog. We’ve taken up enough of this family’s time.”

  “Dog?” Cuddy asked. Coming from outside, he heard Rufus’s familiar bark.

  Chapter 15

  The good news for Tow was that he hadn’t gotten much worse. Physically, he was at least managing the disease, though emotionally his life was a different story. He had lapsed into a funk—an emotional, constricting struggle that continued to weigh heavily on his shoulders. As a Pashier, he was a pacifist. It was the way of his people. It was why no weapons would be found on the Evermore. Evolution of the Pashier race, over countless generations, had taught them violence only begot violence. He silently cursed himself for manipulating the young human. Tow reflected back several days to his wellness chamber session with Cuddy. In a sense, that too was a violent act; a conscious decision to alter the course of another being’s life. What right did he have to do that? No one individual—no race of people—withstands the ravages of time indefinitely. In the end … there must be an end. Tow thought about the many thousands of individual essences constrained within the heritage pod below deck. What would they think of him now for his actions? He briefly wondered if that single act of selfishness was done more for his own gain, or for theirs. Did it even matter?

  Sitting within the confines of the bridge, Tow turned in his chair and looked at the viewscape display. “Is this updated?” he asked.

  The AI orb silently hovered around into view. “Yes, of course it is.”

  The icon-based representation of Earth also provided evidence of the encircling three Howsh warships, leaving little doubt they were closing in on a specific southern section of North America—the area where the Evermore had landed. The same three vessels had already traversed the planet numerous times. Their long- and short-range sensor scans had disrupted the planet’s electrical fields. One effect—the atmosphere at dawn and dusk had blossomed into a kaleidoscope of beautiful colors. UFO sightings were becoming more and more commonplace. The alien vessels were mostly invisible to Earth humans’ rudimentary technology, but when one of the Howsh ships swooped down low toward the surface—to investigate and make possible verifications—they were very much, albeit momentarily, visible to the naked eye.

  Today, Tow planned to power up the ship and begin repairs on the damaged drive, aware he would have to deal with repercussions from his decision one way or another.

  “Captain Tow?”

  “Go ahead, AI.”

  “I have a suggestion … a temporary accommodation.”

  “Accommodation?”

  “It may provide you with more time.”

  “Just tell me what you are referring to?” Tow said, his patience running thin.

  “There are several nuclear power generating facilities in relatively close proximity to our current location. My suggestion is to instigate an emergency radioactive vent into the atmosphere. I can do that by interfacing directly with their Internet network.”

  “That sounds dangerous. No, I am not going to jeopardize the lives—”

  “Captain Tow, the amount of radiation dispersed would be insignificant … miniscule; just enough to thwart the Howsh’s sensor readings. Health risks to the population should not be a concern.”

  “I will consider the option. Basically, you are suggesting camouflaging the Evermore’s drive power signatures long enough for me to make repairs … to bring them back into balance.”

  “Yes, that is correct, Captain Tow.”

  Tow closed his eyes. More manipulations, with the possibility of harming local humans. He knew there was no way the AI orb could safely guarantee the non-effect of fallout long term. Yet there was still a bigger threat he had purposely avoided considering—the threat of Howsh ships attacking the planet the way they had Mahli—relentless plasma strikes; dispersion of the Dirth. No, he had to risk it—take the orb’s suggestion, then leave this planet quickly, if only to save it.

  Tow’s musings were interrupted by the Evermore’s proximity alarm. Looking out the bridge observation window, he noted movement outside.

  * * *

  Rufus ran ahead into the clearing, barking nonstop upon seeing the spacecraft. The yellow Lab ran from one end of the vessel to the other, then back again. Cuddy called out to him but the dog kept barking.

  “No! Rufus … stop that!”

  Cuddy stepped away from the trees and i
nto the morning sunlight, his eyes focused on the rectangular shape he knew to be the closed hatchway he’d entered the day before. Rufus, finally tiring of barking, joined Cuddy’s side and sat down. “So, what do you think of that, boy?”

  The gangway began to extend as the hatch door slid open. Cuddy watched, waiting for the glowing man to appear, and then there he was, waving back.

  Cuddy approached the ship, stopping after several paces to look back. Rufus hadn’t moved—was staring intently at Tow.

  “It’s okay, boy … he’s a friend. Come on …” Rufus then joined Cuddy, staying close by his side.

  Tow waited for them at the bottom of the gangway. Cuddy took in Tow’s face—his reaction to Rufus and to himself—so much had changed in such a short time.

  Rufus, keeping low, edged forward and began sniffing Tow’s feet.

  Cuddy smiled. “It’s okay—you should pet him; let him know you’re not going to hurt him.”

  “Pet him?”

  “Yeah … like this,” Cuddy gave Rufus a couple of firm pats on his flank then petted his head.

  Tow slowly moved his hand toward the dog, giving him the same combination of pats and pets. Rufus enthusiastically licked Tow’s fingers.

  “He likes you. You can tell by his wagging tail.”

  Rufus darted off to the right to grab a stick off the ground, then came back with it, dropping it at Tow’s feet. Tow looked from the stick to the dog.

  “He wants you to throw it.”

  “Throw it where?”

  “I don’t know … wherever you want. It’s called go fetch.”

  Tow picked up the saliva-covered stick and tossed it twenty feet away. Rufus chased after it, grabbing it in his jaws, then ran back and dropped it at Tow’s feet barking twice. Tow looked at Cuddy with a questioning expression.