Alien Roadkill-Dealbreaker Page 8

  LuAnne got out of the truck and joined JB, who was watching the alien's body as it dissolved away. All that remained was his license, the trooper’s gun belt and the handgun, lying on the gravel shoulder.

  "How the hell did y'all know she was an alien?" demanded JB, his mind reeling at what he had just seen. Aliens that could disguise themselves as humans was a huge game changer. The discovery of this tactic even eclipsed the revelation that more than one species of aliens wanted him dead.

  LuAnne looked at him and breathlessly replied. "Are you kidding? It didn't matter, the second she shot you, I just…" She took a deep breath before she continued. "I knew she was going to kill me too, so I freaked out. I saw how you used the spikes and I just did it."

  "Good thing y'all did. But I thought I heard her checking the truck, why didn't she shoot you then?"

  "Dunno," she answered, her voice shaking, "I hid under the dash on the driver's side. I guess she didn't see me."

  JB looked at her dubiously. "She didn't see you?"

  "Guess not."

  He didn't press it further, instead he walked over to where his license and the other items were lying on the ground. He made sure not to touch anything else as he retrieved his license and walked back over to the trooper’s patrol car.

  “Christ almighty!” he exclaimed when he peered through the window of the rear door. Worried about leaving fingerprints, he used his shirt tails to open the car door as LuAnne, alerted by his reaction, came over to join him.

  Stretched out on the back seat, was a dead woman, her eyes still open. She looked identical to her alien imposter, uniform and all, though she was missing her service belt and weapon. While there were no apparent wounds or other recognizable causes of death, there was absolutely no doubt in JB's mind as to who, or more correctly, what, had killed her.

  "Unbelievable," LuAnne said weakly when she saw the trooper's body. "They don't care who they kill!"

  "That there’s a fact," agreed JB.

  He stared at the dead trooper as he processed the implications of what had just happened. It was bad enough that aliens were shooting at him, but going forward, now everybody would be suspect. He shook his head with disgust, more discouraged than ever at his chances of survival.

  "Now that the damn aliens can look like anybody, how can y'all tell who's human or not?"

  LuAnne had started back to the truck. "There's a way," she replied, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean there's gotta be a way, right?"

  "I hope so. So help me God, I hope so," JB murmured under his breath.

  He wondered if only certain species of aliens could masquerade as human beings or if they all could. That would remain to be seen. However, in the meantime, he would have to be even more vigilant. He wasn't sure that would be even be possible, considering that his paranoia was already being pushed to the limits.

  JB used his knee to kick shut the rear door of the patrol car and followed LuAnne back to the truck. As they drove off, JB figured it wouldn't take long for someone to discover the patrol car and the dead trooper. Then all hell was going to break loose, and he intended to be long gone before it did.

  It was a nerve-wracking drive as they made their way down the busy interstate. Neither of them said a word as JB kept alert for any signs of law enforcement. A very tense two hours later, they exited the highway and rolled through the streets of Kollville, a small town that had grown large enough to support several fast food franchises.

  They found a twenty-four hour drive-thru where JB ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke. Claiming she still wasn't hungry, LuAnn only asked for water. After they got their food, they drove a short ways so JB could pull over to park just long enough to eat.

  "After what just happened, do you still think looking for Harvey is a good idea?" LuAnne asked, taking a swig of water.

  "We gotta start somewhere. He might be workin' with the aliens. Hell, he could even be one of 'em!"

  LuAnne looked at him seriously and said, ”Or, what if he was at CronLab when it blew up? What if he's dead? What then?"

  JB wiped some grease off of his chin and replied, "Don' know. If it turns out he's dead, then we'll figure something else out. Right now, I do admit that absolutely nothin' makes much sense. Startin' with how that alien in the video got itself killed."

  "Maybe, it didn't have any of those saw-ma-doodles in it,” LuAnne offered. "An' that's why it died."

  “Maybe,” replied JB, as he took another bite and chewed on both the burger and his thoughts before he spoke again.

  "But I kinda doubt it, mostly 'cause without 'em, I reckon it's too dangerous for them to be running 'round down here."

  He saw LuAnne was giving him a doubtful look, and he took another bite of his burger before he continued. "The way I see it is, that as far as them aliens go, Sawbonites gotta be a standard thing. I mean, here they are on a strange world teaming with germs and other stuff that's way different from wherever they come from. Any of that could make 'em real sick or worse. Plus, they're a real long way from whatever passes for medical help. Hardly likely that any of them aliens would consider coming round here without 'em… Don't you think?"

  LuAnne didn't reply, but JB didn't let that stop him from polishing off the burger and starting in on his fries. When he offered to share them with LuAnne, she declined with a frown and a shake of her head.

  "Suit yourself," he said, "A little mushy, but they ain't half bad."

  He kept on eating, but LuAnne's brow creased with the thought that had just crossed her mind. She said, "Well, ya know, there could be a reason why the alien in the video didn't have any of those Sawbonites.”

  “What kinda reason?” he said with his mouth full.

  LuAnne shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Maybe it's for a reason you ain't thought of yet."

  "Maybe," JB conceded, nodding thoughtfully. "Damn, I only wished I could have gotten a close-up look at that alien in the video though. But, I'm pretty sure any chance of that went up in smoke with the rest of it." His features darkened and he added grimly, "An' a whole bunch of innocent folks."

  LuAnne said nothing as JB finished his fries in silence. When he was done, he started up the truck again and resumed their drive through town. Two hours later they reached Lindon, another small town, where JB decided to stop for the night after he spotted the blue and white TallMart sign.

  "I think we can get off the road for a couple hours an' get some rest," JB said, as he turned into the large TallMart parking lot.

  "What? Here?" LuAnne said, sounding confused.

  "Sure. Ain't you ever heard? TallMart lets folks dry camp in their parking lots. They figure it's good for sales."

  He parked the truck amidst a pack of RVs that were already there, spending the night rent-free. Hopefully, he thought, they'd be safe enough here to grab a couple hours of sleep. That was another thing he had learned; his Sawbonites needed to rest too. He was sure he could go without sleep if he needed to, but a few hours would do both him and his critters some good. It had been one hell of a day, and there was no reason for him to think that things would improve.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Payoff

  MERCMAN HAD SERIOUS misgivings about the arrangements. Even though his client had kept his promise regarding the cash down payment, the son of a bitch had lied to him when he said there would be only one or two people in the building when they blew it. And he also said that there was no risk involved, yet two of his men along with one of the expensive rental vehicles were missing, presumably permanently.

  Mercman had come to that conclusion after they hadn't shown up at CronLab to help with the demolition of the building. The last thing he had heard from them was that they had some clean up to do. That was code for eliminating possible witnesses, which was what the client had demanded. No witnesses, regardless of effort or cost. However, he had no misgivings about their reliability. The fact that he had heard nothing further from them could only mean that they were dead. Once he had his
money, he'd look into that, and intended to take whatever means were necessary to avenge their deaths.

  He was pissed off that what should have been a straight-forward operation had become messy and costly. The two million dollar payoff seemed low now, all things considered, but it was too late to renegotiate and the deed was done. He only had one concern at this point, and that was to collect the cash and get out. He was angry enough to consider killing the asshole after he got his money… But, first things first.

  Before Mercman and his associates had finally arrived at Harvey Matthew’s property, they had carefully vetted the entire area surrounding it first. Harvey Matthews’ modest home was located a short distance off a backcountry road and miles away from the nearest neighbor.

  The ranch style house sat at the end of a long dirt driveway that cut through the trees in a perfectly straight line. From the street where the rural mailbox stood, you could see the white clapboard house, but the extent of the clearing around it wasn't visible from the road, nor was the old, brown Mercedes diesel sedan parked off to the side.

  It was growing late in the afternoon, and though not a soul was in sight, the heavily armed men proceeded cautiously. Mercman had warned them they might be heading into a shit storm and they were ready for one.

  When they approached the front door, Mercman signaled his men to move to either side of it, as he did. Leaning in from the edge of the doorframe, he knocked loudly.

  “It’s open, please come in,” Harvey’s voice called out.

  Immediately, Mercman and the two men with him readied their weapons, assuming combat ready stances while moving further away from the door.

  “This better not be a double cross,” Mercman yelled, holding his automatic in both hands. He was on edge, but in control. Seal training taught you that, among other things. He and his men waited and watched, prepared to open fire at the slightest provocation.

  The door slowly opened and Harvey Matthews stood there looking at them with an inquiring expression on his face. He appeared completely unfazed by the sight of the three men pointing their weapons directly at his head.

  “Please,” he said, gesturing with his open hands to emphasize that he was unarmed. “Come in. I was in the kitchen, my hands were wet." He held up the dishtowel in his hands, adding, "The door was unlocked.”

  “That’s the kinda shit that can get you killed,” Mercman growled as he and the others warily entered the house.

  “Please, there is no need for threats. What chance would a person like me have against men like yourselves? No, gentlemen, rest assured, you have nothing to fear from me.”

  Mercman wasn't afraid, but he wasn't prepared to let his guard down, regardless of appearances. He looked around, checking for any signs of an ambush. The interior of the house was inexpensively furnished and appeared long overdue for housekeeping. The open floor plan revealed the dining and kitchen area to be clear, but Mercman had one of his crew check the bathroom and bedrooms before he made Harvey take a seat on the couch.

  Although Harvey invited them to sit, Mercman and his entourage remained standing, for their entire attention was commanded by what was lying on the top of the dining room table.

  “I have your money,” Harvey said, gesturing to the cash on the table.

  The tall piles of cash were all carefully stacked into rows of neatly arranged bundles of one hundred dollar bills that covered the large table-top completely. A dozen, large aluminum briefcases lay opened on the floor nearby.

  “Gentlemen, thank you for a job well done,” Harvey said in voice that was more gracious than it should have been. "And, here's your reward," he added, gesturing to the money as if he were a game show MC.

  This wasn't the first big payday for the mercenaries, but by far it was the largest amount of cash that any of them had ever seen. The caution they had been exercising up to this point was forgotten, washed away in a flood of anticipation and greed.

  Mercman and his associates holstered their weapons as to free up their hands to undertake what promised to be a pleasant task. As Harvey remained on the couch watching intently, they began to rake the stacks of money off of the table and into the briefcases.

  One of the men paused to quickly riffle through one stack of bills as if it were a deck of cards. Suddenly, his expression changed to dismay and anger. He yelled, “What the fuck! Merc! Only the top bills are real, the rest are phonies!”

  “Shit!” Mercman exclaimed as he confirmed that this was indeed the fact, wetting his thumb and shuffling through another stack of bills. He dropped it back onto to the table and went for his gun.

  At that moment, however, he found his fingers weren’t working as he expected them to. The weapon slipped from his nerveless fingertips and fell to the floor. Then, Mercman's entire body began to shake uncontrollably. His men had also found themselves helpless, as they too had lost all control over their motor functions. Their faces were pale and sweaty and their angry demeanors had grown more and more fearful as they realized they were doomed… Soon their faces revealed nothing at all as their features grew slack, and their eyes glazed. One by one, the three men fell face first onto the Berber carpet drooling and convulsing violently, unable to move or speak.

  “I apologize, gentlemen,” Harvey said with as much sincerity as he could manage while he watched the men writhe in pain.

  No one replied, nor would they ever.

  “But, as I told you, I have no intention of leaving any witnesses or evidence behind. However, I promise, it will all be over soon. That insecticide is nasty stuff. After all, I should know, it killed my career.”

  He paused for a moment, watching dispassionately as his victims continued to twitch and spasm. He could smell their body waste as their muscles went flaccid, but his only thoughts were on whether he had enough carpet shampoo in the shed out back.

  Harvey got up off the couch and walked over to where the men lay on the floor and began to speak to his victims as if they would find his explanation of interest. “A couple of farmers were prepping the same product, though in a far less concentrated form, and had the same thing happen to them. Stuff gets absorbed right through the skin in seconds, and sadly, there is no antidote. Of course, nobody bothered to read the warnings on the label, but naturally, CronLab put the entire blame on me for that.”

  He looked down at the dying men as he continued to address them, answering a question he imagined they might have asked.

  "So, you want to know why didn't I quit when they put me here in Bumfuck? I'll tell you why… It was that iron clad, twenty year contract. At the time, I thought it was a smart move… But I only ended up screwing myself. Just goes to show."

  The three men on the floor were unaware of Harvey's rants as their bodies continued to shut down. Harvey, completely unmindful of their futile attempts to cling to life, still babbled on as they convulsed and squirmed in agony. He was still railing about all the inequities he had endured until well after the last man had stopped breathing.

  Donning gloves, he dragged the bodies, one by one, out into the shed where he kept the wood chipper. He resolved to get to the messy part of his plan once night fell. Then, in a few short hours all of their remains would be gone, reduced to a few buckets of slop.

  Harvey was brimming with confidence when he returned to the living room. He congratulated himself on how smoothly everything had gone. Still wearing gloves, he separated all of the real one hundred dollar bills from the worthless paper and rinsed them off with water in the kitchen sink. Unaware of just how much of his sanity had unraveled, and overcome with elation at his success, he kept talking to himself while he washed and organized his cash. He made stupid jokes about money laundering and speculated on how the bugs at the dump would fare after he disposed of the contaminated paper and the toxic remains of Mercman and his crew.

  As he had been doing ever since acquiring his prize, Harvey frequently touched the pocket of his oversized sweater to confirm the jewel’s presence there. Whether it was a c
onscious or unconscious motion, he was acutely aware of his constant anxiety when it wasn't on his person. His paranoia had blossomed to where he now felt under constant siege. Only the enormous diamond mattered, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to make sure it remained in his possession forever.

  Harvey was totally unaware that his gradual descent into madness had begun immediately after he had removed the jewel from its pouch. He had also become oblivious to the changes in his personality and his ever increasing nosebleeds and headaches. The mixture of unfamiliar emotions and wild mood swings became stronger with every occasion that he admired his prize, something he found himself doing quite often. He had made no connection between any of these events and his most prized possession, remaining completely unaware of his gradual mental and physical decline.

  Early on, he had a fleeting, rational moment when he recognized his obsession with the jewel, but those thoughts soon evaporated from his consciousness. Instead, he experienced what seemed to be a new clarity of thought that was almost electric. The empowerment he felt every time that he held the gem reinforced his growing realization that he was above any and all conventional limitations or constraints. He was confident that any societal mores that might hold others back did not apply to him. It became exceedingly clear that the ends, or more correctly, his ends, always justified the means.

  After he had found the diamond, the discovery of the alien and any questions regarding its purpose had become immaterial… At least as far as he was concerned. He had reached the conclusion that revealing the alien's existence would pose a threat to his claim on the gem, so he had taken the necessary precautions. The destruction of the alien's body, along with the deaths of any possible witnesses had neatly addressed those concerns.

  He brushed aside the contradictions in his thinking, convinced that inevitably he would be handsomely rewarded by the wealth and power the gem would bring him. Those were details he'd deal with later. Right now, the total destruction of CronLab's Oakwell satellite office gave him even more to celebrate. That, he thought, was the icing on the cake, and was easily the most satisfying part of his brilliant scheme.