Alien Roadkill-Homecoming Page 5

  Without stopping, he turned back and caught a glimpse of the alien illuminated by the blaze, relentlessly pressing its tactical advantage. It could travel much faster in the water than on land. JB, looking further ahead, realized his short-term strategy wouldn’t be useful much longer. He was running out of trees. A few more yards in front of him, the grove progressively thinned until it became a wide stretch of open water. There, he saw what he was hoping to find and began thrashing in the waist-high water even more forcefully. A second later, he was rewarded with a sound that any Southerner would instantly recognize. When he reached the last tree in the grove, he scrambled up it as fast as he could.

  The bellowing roar JB had heard had come from a group of alligators he had seen floating in the open water. One of them, evidently attracted by JB’s loud thrashing, made straight for the spot where he had been moments before. The animal drew closer, which prompted JB to climb even higher in the branches. He had a healthy respect for these predators, and more than once he had seen alligators climb trees to get to their prey, especially if they were hungry and aggressive. The one that was swiftly snaking its way through the water was easily ten feet long, and it was reasonable to think that the unseasonably hot weather had stoked the fires of its metabolism. That meant the big reptile that was coming on like a freight train was probably very hungry, and very aggressive.

  There was another blast, and several nearby tree limbs exploded into smoldering splinters. From his vantage point up in the tree, JB could see that the alligator had ignored him, and was continuing to swim past his position. At the moment though, he was too busy dodging the alien’s barrage to note that the lead alligator was also being joined by several more of its fellow reptiles. With their sharp eyes, they had spotted something in the water that looked like easy prey.

  High up in the branches, JB kept moving as the alien kept firing its weapon repeatedly, blasting away branches and parts of the trunk. So far, he had managed to avoid being hit, but the weapon was doing wholesale damage to the tree, parts of which were ablaze. Even though the thick smoke provided extra cover, soon there wasn’t going to be enough of the tree left for him to hide in.

  Suddenly the assault on the tree ended, and though the sounds of the alien weapon being fired continued, it was apparent that they were not directed at him anymore. Then abruptly, the firing stopped amid a slew of loud and angry roars. He had a good idea of what had happened, but out of an abundance of caution, JB maneuvered to where he could get a better look at what was happening below him.

  Although the smoke from the burning tree partially obscured his vision, JB could make out several pieces of what had been two large alligators floating motionless on top of the bloody water, but there was no sign of his pursuer. That mystery was solved when he saw two other alligators churning the water, fighting over the alien carcass they were ripping to pieces in the process. He had been right in assuming that alligators would eat anything and he had counted on his guess that the alien, ignorant of the native wildlife, wouldn’t be aware of the danger until it was too late.

  While the alligators were distracted by their kill, JB decided it would be an excellent time to make his escape. He was hoping his luck would hold out as he hustled down the tree. Giving the alligators a wide berth, he waded as quietly as he could manage back in the direction of the roadway.

  He didn’t want to be around when the alien meat began to dissolve into nothingness in their bellies. They’d be hungry again and probably mad as hell. He was right. The alligators began to bellow and hiss in confusion as their dinner began to vanish from between their jaws. JB had wondered what would happen if they were actually able to swallow any of the alien’s Sawbonites.

  His answer came in a huge bellow of pain and surprise. He turned back to see that the largest of the surviving alligators cough up a dark, vaporous cloud. As it floated away, it became more and more iridescent, growing in size and brightness and accelerating with surprising speed as it drifted above the water in JB’s direction. He knew it was the alien’s Sawbonites, hundreds of millions of them, leaving their dead host. The alligators, their hunger unsated, had now turned their full attention and appetite on their slain brethren while JB watched the cloud of tiny robots approaching. He noted that the cloud had thinned considerably, diminishing over the distance it had traveled to reach him. When they finally did, the medical protocols became quickly absorbed into his bloodstream, slipping between the molecules of his skin. He took a deep breath, although he felt no sensation whatsoever, something that used to strike him as being odd. However, nowadays it was just part of his new normal.

  JB made it back to his truck without any further incident and immediately set about changing the melted tire. As he tightened the last nut onto the wheel, he was trying to decide which was more upsetting; losing a pricey tire, or mistakenly assuming that his pursuers wouldn’t attack him again so soon. Right now, he told himself, all he could do was change into his last set of dry clothes and resume his journey.

  Once he was back on his way to the Outer Banks and Ocracoke Island, he reflected on the bizarre events of the last few hours. The recent attacks on him had revealed his adversaries had learned from their failures. JB’s past success in defeating his would-be assassins had in large part resulted from their choice of weapons.

  Previous attacks on him had been carried out with weapons that were powerful, but slow to recover… A drawback that allowed JB to prevail on every occasion. Apparently now, they had changed tactics, abandoning those weapons in favor of those with faster recovery times. If so, he’d have to be quicker, and smarter. His odds of survival had suddenly gotten much, much worse.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Trench Family Estate

  IT WAS EIGHT o’clock that morning when JB pulled up to the old Victorian house on the two-acre Trench Family Estate. The early morning fog had lifted, revealing a bright and cloudless sky. There was a mild breeze that picked at JB’s heels as he mounted the cracked wooden stairs onto the broad, covered porch. The paint on the front door was in slightly better condition than the weathered siding; however, the brass knocker hung on a loop of rusty bailing wire that served to replace the broken hinge. JB knocked it against the oak door three times and waited.

  After a few moments, he knocked it three times more. Shortly after that, his cousin Terry answered the door. Over the decade that JB had known him, his appearance had changed almost as dramatically as JB’s. The athletic teen that Terry had once been had grown into the paunchy and prematurely balding man who was now looking at JB from behind the partially opened front door. He was dressed in a worn, dirty brown bathrobe and looked like he just rolled out of bed. Terry was squinting at JB warily and was plainly annoyed at the intrusion. ”Who the fuck are you?” he grumbled. “And what the hell do you want at this fucking, ungodly hour?”

  JB smiled back and waited for his cousin to make the connection. Instead, Terry frowned and started to close the door.

  “Cousin Terry!” JB said as sincerely as he could. “It’s me, JB!”

  Terry stared back at JB in slack-jawed disbelief and shook his head dismissively.

  “Who do you think you’re foolin’? It’s too early in the morning for this shit!”

  “Terry, it’s me, swear to God! Like I said over the phone, there’s a bunch of stuff I gotta tell y’all…”

  “Like hell!” Terry interrupted, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he pushed past JB onto the porch and started yelling at JB’s parked pickup.

  “Damnit, JB! Come out right now! I ain’t fallin’ for another one of your stupid jokes! Come on, get out of the truck!”

  JB sighed in resignation. He had somewhat anticipated Terry’s reaction, but he never thought his cousin would need this much convincing. He followed Terry over to where he stood by the truck.

  “I know you’re in there, JB!” Terry said, sticking his head through the driver’s side window. Despite the obviously empty truck, he wasn’t having any of it. “Come
on out, Cuz!” he yelled loudly, addressing the ragged shrubbery that still clung to life in the front yard. “I know ya gotta be somewhere ‘round here!”

  JB tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Terr, it’s me, Jim Bob Tucker. What do I got to say to prove it?”

  Terry turned reluctantly and gave JB a long, hard look before he replied. “Well, ya kinda sound like him, an’ you might be drivin’ his truck. But you sure as hell don’t look nothing like him! The JB I know couldn’t stand up straight an’ had his self a dented skull. Now, look at you! Standin’ straight, with a perfectly shaped head… Full head of hair too. The last time I saw JB, he was going bald, like me. Family trait. An’ shit! You even got all your teeth… So there is no way on God’s green Earth that you could possibly be him!”

  “I know I look different, but it’s really a long story. I’m really me, an’ I’ll prove it… Go on; ask me something that only JB would know.”

  “Alright Stranger,” Terry replied, rubbing more sleep out of his eyes. “What was your first girlfriend’s name?”

  JB shot his cousin an incredulous look and laughed. “Honestly, Terr? Fact is, I know that there’s a trick question. I ain’t never had no girlfriend.” Terry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as JB added, “Of course, there was that one time you got me a hooker in San Antonio on my birthday, but that probably don’t count, right?”

  “How the hell do yo…”

  JB interrupted with what he hoped would be the clincher. “I remember y’all said at the time that ya didn’t want me to die a virgin. “

  “Holy shit! Is it possible? It’s gotta be plastic surgery, right?”

  “Not exactly,” JB said. “When I told y’all on the phone that my life has gotten complicated… Well, y’all just have no idea. Like I said, I think we need t’ talk.”

  “JB, is it really you?”

  “This is me, Terry. The package may be different, but inside I’m still that kid whose life you saved.”

  “Jesus!” Terry exclaimed as he absent-mindedly ran a hand over his thinning scalp before he led JB over to the front door. “Alright then, you come on in an’ tell me all about it… I ‘specially want to know how you grew your hair back.”

  Terry ushered JB into the house and asked him to be quiet as they walked through the front room. They noiselessly padded past Colin Trench, who was asleep on a well-used leather couch. At one time, that room, like the rest of the house, had been elegantly furnished. Now there was only the couch, two battered reclining chairs and a glass-topped, wrought iron coffee table. The elaborately detailed copper ceiling had been painted over, and the plank flooring was rutted and well-worn by generations of use. Dust motes danced in a beam of sunlight that had managed to sneak through a crack in the shabby drapes. The small amount of light revealed the unkempt state of the place. Strewn around the floor were crushed beer cans, old issues of “Soldier of Fortune” magazines and “Mercenary Milestones” comics.

  “We had quite a meetin’ last night,” Terry whispered to JB as they went into the kitchen and sat down at a purple, Formica-topped dining table.

  “So, alright, Jim Bob… What the fuck is goin’ on with you?” Terry asked, still looking hard at his cousin.

  JB was halfway through his explanation when it became evident to him that it wasn’t going well. Terry’s expression was growing more and more skeptical with every word as JB related all that had happened to him. He tried to lay out the entire story, beginning with the alien he ran over in the swamp. However, from his cousin’s reaction, JB suspected that it was all too much for Terry to process. When he got to the part about the girl, who turned out to be an alien, Terry’s credulity had been stretched far beyond the breaking point.

  “Hold it right there!” Terry exclaimed in exasperation. His voice was growing louder with every word. “You are either batshit crazy, or you’re trippin’ out on somethin’! Come on, JB! Why don’t you just admit you went ahead and got yourself plastic surgered? No shame in that! Come on, now! Don’t disrespect me with bullshit like roadkill from outer space! We’re kin!”

  “Shut the fuck up in there!” yelled Colin Trench from the next room.

  “Sorry, Colin,” Terry apologized, still glaring at JB.

  “It’s true!” JB whispered loudly.

  Colin Trench pushed open the door to the kitchen and staggered in, one hand in front of his eyes, shielding them from the early morning light that was streaming through the kitchen window. “How can a guy sleep with this racket?” he complained. Colin didn’t sound particularly angry, but he was eyeing JB curiously.

  “Who the hell are you?” Colin asked on his way to the refrigerator. He didn’t wait for an answer; instead, he added, “Anybody want a beer?”

  “Grab one for me,” Terry replied. “You ain’t gonna believe this, but this here’s JB.”

  “You talkin’ your cousin, JB? That ain’t possible,” Colin said. “That kid was all fucked up.”

  Before JB could interject, Terry said, “I know this don’t look like him none, but he is. I done made sure of it. Now, I say he got his self some plastic surgery, but he says different… ”

  Colin shrugged and reached for a third beer, but JB declined it, shaking his head. “No thanks. Beer, drugs… Hell, none of that stuff don’t do nothin’ for me anymore, on account of what done changed me.”

  Terry looked at Colin, rolled his eyes, pointed to his temple and made a small circular motion.

  Colin laughed at JB’s offended look before he joined them at the table and handed a beer to Terry. He popped the tab off of the one he kept for himself, all the while looking closely at JB.

  “Plastic surgery is pretty expensive… How did you come by the money?”

  Terry popped his beer and said, more than a little sarcastically, “Swears it ain’t plastic surgery. Says he got himself kidnapped by aliens… An’ he don’t mean the kind that wears sombreros, either.”

  “No shit?” Colin replied. His smile was just as broad as Terry’s.

  “Y’all don’t have t’ believe me, but it’s true,” JB protested. “‘An’ I didn’t get kidnapped by aliens exactly… It was kinda the other way around since I got some of them in me. An’ like I told Terry, they fixed me.”

  “Who, the aliens?” Colin asked.

  “Nope, I’m talkin’ about the little critters that I got from them. They fixed up everything that was wrong with me. Maybe I would have turned out like this if it wasn’t…” JB stopped and took a long breath before he continued. “If it wasn’t for all the shit that Willie-Dean did to me.”

  The expression on Terry’s face changed. His smile had vanished as if the very mention of the name sucked the air out of the room. He said, “Well, that’s the one true thing you’ve said so far. Both of our daddies were mean sonsabitches. But that don’t change a thing. There ain’t no such things as aliens from outer space. Hell, otherwise it’d be in the bible!”

  JB exhaled in exasperation. “Not everything’s in the good book, Cuz. ‘Sides, right now, there are a bunch of them that’s hunting me down, tryin’ to kill me!”

  “Whoa, fella! Don’t ya know you sound like a complete wack-job?” Colin chided, although the way he said it didn’t sound dismissive or judgmental, but simply matter of fact.

  “That don’t bother me none. The truth is the truth. After I ran down that alien on the road, its Sawbonites got inside me. They is what made me a new man.”

  Colin kept staring at JB, an unreadable expression on his face. Terry was making the motion at his temple again and shaking his head.

  “Sawbonites?” Colin asked. Is that what you call ‘em?” There wasn’t anything in his voice that suggested he was trying to humor JB.

  JB nodded, not quite knowing where the conversation was going.

  “Well, then, how did those ‘Sawbonates’ do that, exactly?” Colin asked. He punctuated his question by pouring the remainder of his beer down his throat and crushing the can.

  JB ignored Colin’
s mispronunciation. After all, he had made up the name himself, and he genuinely had no idea what they were actually called.

  “Dunno, ‘zactly how they do it… But anytime I get hurt, they fix me up, an’ they can do it real quick,” he replied.

  Colin had gotten up while JB was talking and returned to the fridge where he grabbed another beer and held it out to JB. He said, “Sure, you won’t have one? Without question, the best breakfast known to man!”

  JB shook his head and politely declined. “Thanks, but I could drink a whole tank-car full, and it wouldn’t do nothin’ to me. Plus, I’ve come around to the fact I never did particularly like the taste.”

  Terry, with a smirk, immediately added, “Man, he was tellin’ me that his little thingies won’t let him get drunk.”

  “That so?” remarked Colin. He got up from the table and went over to a cabinet above the sink stacked with dirty dishes. He swung open one of the cabinet doors and extracted a bottle of whiskey.

  “I think we’ll test that theory right now,” Colin said. He found a couple of poorly washed shot glasses on the drain board and placed them beside the unopened bottle he had set down in the center of the table. “Look, JB, it even has your initials on the label.”

  “Ah, that’s gonna be a waste of good liquor,” JB said sincerely.

  “That’s alright, I’ll write it off as research,” Colin countered, opening the bottle. He filled the two shot glasses up to the top. He pushed one of them towards JB and said, “Well, let’s see if you’re just a bullshitter.”

  JB shrugged and downed the first shot. It didn’t even burn his throat, as his Sawbonites had broken down the alcohol in his mouth before he could even swallow it. Then Colin poured him a second shot, and then a third and then ten more after that without even so much as a pause in-between.