Daniel X_ Watch The Skies Part 14

"It's your your funeral!" funeral!"

I materialized one of those big, digital, drag-racer countdown clocks in the field between us. It pinged down: 0:03:00... 0:02:00... 0:01:00 - And then I was leaping in the air, avoiding his blinding, hypersonic blast and, simultaneously, launching the exact same sort of blast back at him out of my "hand gun."

When I landed, his discharge had scorched its way across the field behind me, setting afire some cornstalks and taking a nick out of the crown of a hill before it ripped its way into outer s.p.a.ce.

My blast, on the other hand, had punched a ten-foot-wide, mile-deep, smoking hole in the ground right where he'd been standing.

"Anybody smell pork chops?" I asked the gawking henchbeasts in my best John Wayne impersonation. "Or is that charbroiled monkey?"

They scattered back into the forest like terrified bunny rabbits.

Chapter 69.

I TURNED DANA back into herself, materialized the rest of the gang, and then-with Dad's electronic countermeasures installed in the van so that Number 5 couldn't, as far as we knew, spy on us-we proceeded to put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on a 3-D battle map of the Wiggers' farm.

Judging from our satellite photos, the property had changed a lot over the past month.

The farmhouse and barns had been joined together by a number of alien-constructed domes, generating plants, and oblong outbuildings. And dozens of new ponds pockmarked the former corn and sorghum fields.

"Nursery ponds," said Dana.

"Looks that way," I said. "It'd be hard to raise a million little Number 5s without a habitat similar to that of his home planet."

"Check out this this footage," said Joe, hitting a b.u.t.ton that superimposed video images onto the map. footage," said Joe, hitting a b.u.t.ton that superimposed video images onto the map.

Hundreds upon hundreds of human forms were staggering through the fields, zombie-like in every way, except that every single one was a pregnant woman, and all were watching cell phones, iPods, or PDAs-transfixed as if engrossed in the last few minutes of an episode of 24. 24.

With the sort of seamless ch.o.r.eography you'd see in an automated factory, they split into groups and moved toward the ponds. One by one, and turn by turn, they wandered into the water, deposited the wriggling contents of their stomachs, waded back out, took another can of "caviar," and headed back to town.

And then an alarm went off. Somebody was approaching the van.

Chapter 70.

"HUMANS," SAID w.i.l.l.y, examining the monitor. "Lots of them."

We looked out the front and saw ma.s.ses of Holliswood residents streaming toward the Wiggers' farm. They were parting around the van and staggering, barely alert, intent only on moving forward, their faces inches away from the cell phones, BlackBerries, and portable game platforms they carried.

"Holy Close Encounters of the Weird Kind," said Joe. "But these ones aren't pregnant. So what gives?"

"Well, I doubt the aliens dug all those ponds themselves. So maybe these ones are coming to do some free manual labor. That, or maybe they're coming to get filmed," said Dana.

"And then melted," added Emma.

"All right," I said. "I think it's about time we went and had a talk with Number 5."

Chapter 71.

WE DROVE THE van up the poplar-lined, heavily rutted driveway and parked on the gravel by the main barn, just opposite the house.

"Lock and load, guys," w.i.l.l.y said as we leaped out of the van.

We closed in on the farmhouse, tree by tree, bush by bush, moving so stealthily that n.o.body would have heard us over the gentle breeze and chirping birds.

"Where's the welcoming committee?" signaled Joe in American Sign Language-one of thirty human languages we're fluent in-as we reached the front porch. "I mean, do we have to go up and ring the doorbell?!"

Just then, the birds stopped singing and, in unison, chirped the three tones from those NBC Peac.o.c.k station-identification interludes. And then the ma.s.sive barn doors swung open to reveal a JumboTron-sized video screen.

"Greetings and salutations to you and your imaginary friends, young Alien Hunter," said Number 5 from the screen. He was carrying a pitchfork and wearing a straw hat and oversized overalls-if you can imagine a creature with no legs in overalls-standing in front of a backdrop curtain patterned with a Milky Way Hillbillies Milky Way Hillbillies logo. logo.

"We'll see who's so imaginary," said w.i.l.l.y, attempting to storm forward as Emma and Dana held him back, "when my boot comes down on your slimy head! slimy head!"

Number 5 ignored the outburst. "In fact, I'm honored you've come. I knew your mom and your dad-back before they got turned into crispy critters, I mean-so I have a good idea of what an upstanding young Alien Hunter you must be. You know, I may even have some footage of them around here someplace."

That was weird. I mean, obviously he hadn't arrived on Earth till long after my parents were dead, but maybe there was some chance he'd crossed paths with them when they'd been on a.s.signment in the Andromeda galaxy, or someplace before they'd come to protect Earth...

How cool would it be to see them on film? Of course, I have my memories, and my memories-even from back when I was three, when The Prayer took their lives-are pretty good. But what if he really did have some footage of them? Maybe after I killed him, I'd go looking through his archives, just in case.

"Daniel," said Dana, "you're gaping like you're a fish. Snap out of it."

I shook my head and forced my mind through a focusing exercise Dad had taught me during my aikido training. She was right-Number 5 was obviously messing with my head.

"Sure," he went on, "I think I may have even posted them online. Here, I'll text you the YouTube link."

"I didn't bring my cell phone. It's not like I haven't figured out your infiltration techniques, Fivey."

"Well, where can I send an e-mail?"

"Try I-H-eight-F-I-S-H-at-gmail-dot-com."

He held up his Sidekick, showing me the screen and the "message sent" dialog box.

"So you've really never seen it?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"The scene where Number 1 killed your parents? You didn't know I was there, filming the whole thing?"

Chapter 72.

"NOW I KNOW KNOW you're lying," I said. "I was you're lying," I said. "I was there there when my parents were killed." when my parents were killed."

"Sure. But were you upstairs with me and Number 1? Or were you down in the bas.e.m.e.nt, playing with your toys?"

How could he have known that?

"You had no idea I was up there filming, did you? That surprises me. You know, out on the Extranet-the Outer World's version of the Internet-that clip has had more than thirty-five trillion thirty-five trillion downloads." downloads."

It simply wasn't possible. I'd relived that moment a thousand times. There had only been Number 1's and my parents' voices.

And in the end, there'd been n.o.body upstairs with my parents' bodies. I mean, I hadn't actually seen them killed, but...

"It's very moving," he said. "The part where your mom cries like a little girl is pure emotion, but my personal favorite scene is where your dad begs Number 1 for his life. 'Oh, Mr. Prayer, please, I can get you money, I can help you, just don't hurt my fa-fa-family, oh puh-lease!' "

"Dude, that's low," said w.i.l.l.y, cracking his knuckles.

"Yes, perhaps that necklace of your mom's you're wearing will dispel any lingering doubts you may have. You do know it was hers, don't you? That footage where you recognized it and started crying is priceless. Just priceless!"

Had the necklace really been a plant, a setup? Had he even filmed my reaction to it... was that even possible?

"So," he went on, "it's starting to dawn on you, isn't it?"

It was no secret that Alparians wore elephant pendants. It was probably just an elaborate hoax meant to distract me, get under my skin, cause me to make mistakes - "And, look!" he said, pulling out a necklace from behind the bib of his overalls... "We're twins! twins! Do you recognize it? It was your father's, of course. Number 1 usually collects them for his trophy case, but this time he knew they'd make great props and let me borrow them. Once he was done spitting on their corpses, that is." Do you recognize it? It was your father's, of course. Number 1 usually collects them for his trophy case, but this time he knew they'd make great props and let me borrow them. Once he was done spitting on their corpses, that is."

My mind was reeling, and I winced as I resisted throwing everything I had at the flat-screen display-but I knew that was exactly what Number 5 wanted. He was just trying to keep me from thinking rationally. There was no way he'd been in that farmhouse twelve years ago. The necklaces had to have been manufactured. And any film he showed me of my parents would turn out to be a computer-generated fake.

"Look, Daniel-may I call you Daniel? I'm first and foremost a business creature, so let's do ourselves a favor and adhere to the negotiating process here. Remember how it works? First we state our goals, and then we start working toward a deal, a compromise. So, you see, for my part, I want to create the most popular reality show of all time. Which conflicts, wouldn't you say, with your stated purpose of wanting to exterminate me and my crew. exterminate me and my crew."

"Actually," I said, somehow keeping my game face on, "you have it wrong. All I'm looking for is some information."

He nodded his fat, slimy head and gestured for me to elaborate.

"All I want to know is exactly what you want with all the people of Holliswood."

"Well, Daniel, it's just that they're as entertaining as heck." He laughed. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that they're good little workers-dumb, loyal, coachable.... Did you know they created nearly thirty acres of new ponds here at the farm in just under a month? Unfortunately, there were a couple of accidents along the way. They aren't the most resilient species in the world. If I had a nickel for every bulldozer-related fatality this week..."

He chuckled to himself. "Anyhow, it's a shame we had to lose any, but I a.s.sure you we were able to recycle their remains-just as we will with the rest of them after each episode. It turns out that on top of everything else they make wonderful fertilizer. And did I mention the women are perfect perfect incubators?" incubators?"

Dana didn't let that one go without a response. I just wish she'd tried using words first.

Chapter 73.

WITH AN ARM that would have turned Roger Clemens green with envy, Dana fired a rock straight between Number 5's eyes on the display. Sparks flew everywhere, and the screen quickly went dark.

"I think you just voided his Best Buy warranty," said Joe.

"There are too many televisions on this planet anyhow," said Emma, patting Dana on the shoulder.

There was a laugh behind us that sounded like Jell-O being liquefied in a Cuisinart. We turned to see Number 5 hovering at the end of the wraparound porch.

Absolutely live and in the flesh for the first time.

"Woo-hoo! You're a hot-tempered little product of Daniel's imagination, aren't you? Can I interest you in some caviar?"

That got the rest of the gang charging at him, but to little effect. He'd thrown some sort of crackling field of electricity around himself, and he laughed as if he were getting tickled as they b.u.mped into the invisible barrier and fell back flat on their b.u.t.ts.

It shouldn't have come as any great surprise that number five on The List of Alien Outlaws on Terra Firma was not going to be taken down in hand-to-hand combat, but my friends continued to take out their frustrations on his force field-leaping, charging, punching, kicking... and always ending up flat on their backs as they failed to find a gap in his electromagnetic defenses.

Meanwhile, I watched my fish-faced foe as closely as I could-and I can watch things pretty closely.

I monitored his sweat, the rhythm of his breathing, his pulse, the slime oozing from the pores on his belly, the contractions of the suckers on his tentacles, the shape of his slimy nostrils... and, other than almost getting sick at how truly disgusting he was, almost right away I noticed something significant-a "tell," as a poker player might say of his opponent-his eyes never never blinked. blinked.

I zoomed in my vision to about 128:1 and quickly understood why. His eyes were held open by very thin, transparent data screens that would be entirely invisible to the human eye, but I could see they were feeding him images, text, and data. It was kind of like one of those heads-up displays in a fighter pilot's helmet; only, of course, in Number 5's case, the wiring was inside inside his body. his body.

But I didn't have time to think about it much right then.

"Thanks for keeping him distracted, guys," I said to my friends and hoped they would forgive me as I dematerialized their trigger-happy selves.

"You should have let them keep it up," Number 5 said, still laughing. "I could have gone all day."

"I was starting to get that impression," I said, gloomily.

"Oh, don't take it so hard," he said. "Can I help it if I'm bee-oo-tee-ful bee-oo-tee-ful and completely and completely invincible invincible too?" too?"

Chapter 74.