Daniel X_ Watch The Skies Part 17

"Disgusting!" I could hear Dana saying in the distance. I stared at Number 5's remains-just a mess of overdone fish and melted wiring-and, dazed as I was, aimed a sheepish smile in her direction.

Then I looked down-the necklaces had melted into a silver puddle of slag in the palm of my hand. Now I would never be able to prove they hadn't been my parents'.

"Ew!!" Dana exclaimed. She wasn't reacting to Number 5's remains after all. She was staring off at the alien army, which was suddenly exploding in geysers of gore. Through the storm, we could see bodies of aliens literally getting mowed down as the ant-lion and his new dog friends made short work of their terrified prey. Remember what I told you about dogs who smell bad aliens?

Needless to say, even as numerous as the aliens were, with the help of our animal friends-and with Number 5 safely out of the picture-the tide quickly turned back in our favor.

Chapter 86.

DOGS AREN'T JUST a man's best friend. As it turns out, they're an Alien Hunter's best friend too. They really made all the difference when it came to wiping out Number 5's army. It even crossed my mind to adopt that ant-lion as a pet-and as a plan B for my next alien confrontation.

Dana and I were driving back into town to get Lucky from the house, and I was noticing that despite all that had happened recently, every single home was alight with the flickering blue glow of TVs and computer monitors.

"You'd think so soon after discovering the worst possible perils of electronic media, these people would chill out with all their TVs and computers and whatnot," I commented.

"Yeah," said Dana from her console in the back of the van. "And they all seem to be watching the exact same thing. Here, I'm patching it in -"

"What is it?" I asked.

"Um. We have a small problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"Well, you know how you killed Number 5?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, you didn't quite get all all of him." of him."

I slammed on the brakes. "Are you kidding? kidding? You mean his charbroiled skeleton came back to You mean his charbroiled skeleton came back to life? life?" No way was I ready for another fish fry. I was totally wiped.

"No, it's more like his virtual virtual self came back to life. It's like he's turned himself into a bunch of little computer programs on every device he ever touched... like they're all infected with a little piece of his um, personality." self came back to life. It's like he's turned himself into a bunch of little computer programs on every device he ever touched... like they're all infected with a little piece of his um, personality."

I groaned. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Dana continued.

"Right now he's rejoining all these little pieces and making himself into one very big, powerful dude. And, in fact, it looks like right now he's busy trying to hack his way through to a satellite uplink station."

This was bad. This was very very bad. "Which means," I began as it dawned on me, "he's either trying to reconnect with the wider world here on Earth, so he can infect it too... or maybe he's going to broadcast into s.p.a.ce to summon reinforcements." bad. "Which means," I began as it dawned on me, "he's either trying to reconnect with the wider world here on Earth, so he can infect it too... or maybe he's going to broadcast into s.p.a.ce to summon reinforcements."

"So this must have been his contingency plan. He probably didn't mean for you to fry him up like a catfish po' boy, but he had a backup plan in case you did..."

I banged my forehead against the steering wheel. Again. And again.

"What?!" asked Dana.

I sat up and turned to her. "I'd been thinking all along that he'd had that computer hardware put inside him as a sort of implant, you know, to enhance his powers. But maybe I had it backwards. Maybe Number 5 isn't an alien electric catfish at all but a computer program that took over took over an alien electric catfish." an alien electric catfish."

"In other words, he was a computer program first and a catfish second, not a catfish first and a computer program second." I nodded, and Dana continued along the same lines of what I was thinking. "So maybe this isn't really much of a setback for him at all, in that case. Maybe he just needs to find another host, and he's back in business. Maybe he even wanted wanted you to do this to him." you to do this to him."

"Yeah, maybe we just freed him up so he can call the shots from cybers.p.a.ce," I said.

"That would be bad," said Dana, and I did the only thing there was left to do.

I continued to bang my forehead on the steering wheel.

Chapter 87.

TURNS OUT RACING along the highway with your buddies isn't nearly as fun in stinky old munic.i.p.al dump trucks with grease-smeared windows as it is on high-performance motorcycles.

Still, we were pretty happy to be doing it. We had finally managed to confiscate every single every single electronic device in town and had loaded them into these garbage haulers. electronic device in town and had loaded them into these garbage haulers.

How, you may ask? Sometimes, alien powers can't solve problems in an instant. Occasionally, there's absolutely no replacement for good old-fas.h.i.+oned elbow grease and determination. And in this case, a little high-tech hypnosis.

When we got to the Wiggers' farm, we took the garbage haulers out across the abandoned fields until we reached the alien breeding ponds.

Then we turned and dumped every Macintosh, Think-Pad, Dell, Gateway, Tos.h.i.+ba, Sony, LG, Motorola, Samsung, NEC, JVC, Magnavox, Westinghouse, GE, RCA, Sylvania, Nextel, Nintendo, Microsoft, AT&T, IBM, Lenovo, and a dozen other branded electronic devices-from walkietalkies to microwave ovens to TiVos to Wiis to network routers-into the water.

It was pretty impressive-the sound of tons of twisting metal, breaking gla.s.s, and snapping plastic cascading down the hillside into a pond.

But the best part was when Number 5-who'd been silent till now, no doubt trying to figure out yet another escape plan-screamed like the Wicked Witch of the West when the stuff started splas.h.i.+ng into the water.

The moment the first of those batteries, silicon chips, and transformers began sizzling and fizzling and shorting out, everything with a screen or a speaker began broadcasting his shrill, urgent-sounding plea: "Stop! Please stop it! I'll make you famous. You can have a credit on my next show-I'll put your name right up there with mine-I'll even move the pilot episode to another planet if these stupid humans mean so much to you. St-oooo-op! Puh-uh-lease. My my-ind... I fe-eeel... di-zzzzzzzzz-eeee... D-d-d-ah-nnnn... yu-uhl?"

"Yes, Number 5?"

"I'm... gu... guh... gunna get you... for this."

"Oh, no, you're not," I said. And I opened up The List computer-on which I'd just run a very thorough virus scan-and deleted Number 5's entry.

The pond was soon bubbling and steaming with all the battery chemicals and electronic waste, and we watched as literally tons of stinky, finless, alien catfish began to float, belly-up, dead, to the surface of the pond.

Then I turned to the video camera that Joe was using to record the proceedings and did my best Ryan Seacrest impersonation: "We here at American Alien Hunter hope you've enjoyed Season Two. Please stay tuned for previews of our next adventure-right after this brief word from our sponsors."

Chapter 88.

THEY SAY EVERYONE loves a parade, and I guess that's one more way I'm different. I guess I just think there's something unsettling about people putting on uniforms, walking together in a line, and having everybody come out to stare at them. Still, if only out of being gracious, I let the people of Holliswood put me atop their homecoming day float and rode along with the mayor through the middle of town and out to the civic auditorium where all of the children of Holliswood had a.s.sembled to stage their own version of High School Musical. High School Musical.

It wasn't really my cup of tea, but I will say one thing for Number 5's legacy-he left those kids with some darn good dance moves.

And then, since the whole town-minus those who were melted by Number 5 and his goons-was there, I used some of what I'd learned of Number 5's mind-control broadcasting techniques and erased all memory of myself and the aliens from every single person... except Judy.

Chapter 89.

I DROVE JUDY home on my motorcycle while everybody else was getting their bearings and wondering what the heck they were all doing at the civic auditorium in the middle of the day.

"You study hard with your folks, okay, Judy?"

We were standing on her porch exchanging goodbyes. It was a beautiful June day. The birds were chirping, the clouds were scudding, the flowers were doing their fragrance-emitting thing.

"I just can't believe you're leaving. Can't you take me with you? I'm losing my mind here with my parents and this homeschooling business."

"I know it seems like a drag, but they're good people. I can tell. And there will be life after Holliswood, I promise."

"Easy for you to say," she said.

"Well, I have been around the block a few times -"

She interrupted me with a kiss. And, as the world spun and I saw the brilliant promise of summer in her eyes, I erased her memory of me.

Chapter 90.

THE GANG AND the family and I had our final council meeting at the KHAW transmission station that we had trashed in that early skirmish with Number 5's goons.

"Checklist," I said.

Emma began. "Caviar: one hundred percent confiscated and all female residents checked to ensure no alien inhabitation. Also, all dogs from the Holliswood pound safely adopted."

"Good. w.i.l.l.y?"

"All incubation ponds drained and all larval Number 5s converted to crop fertilizer. All battery chemicals removed from groundwater, and all electronics fully rehabilitated. Wiggers' farm restored to its preNumber 5 condition."

"Dana?"

"All aliens imported or bred by Number 5 have been exterminated... except for the ant-lion, which is on an interstellar freighter on its way back to its home planet."

"Mom?"

"All essential civic functions restored. Remainder of town police currently investigating multiple missing-person claims, including loss of entire fire department."

"Pork Chop?"

"Holliswood area schools back in session. New curriculum featuring effective math and science courses. English cla.s.ses now including such pillars of modern literature as Stranger in a Strange Land. Stranger in a Strange Land."

"Excellent. Dad?"

Dad threw a circuit breaker on the recently repaired broadcast shack's wall. "Holliswood is now officially reconnected to the wider world, and the government authorities will doubtless be showing up to a.s.sist in putting the town back on its feet."

"Joe?"

"Video sc.r.a.pbook has just undergone postproduction. Screening ready to commence."

I nodded, and he fired up the projector.

We watched Number 5's landing party. The attack on the fire department. The takeover of the TV station and the Wiggers' farm. Screen tests of human families being forced to dance. The High School Musical High School Musical practice sessions at the civic auditorium, the caviar distribution, the alien nurseries, the incubation ponds... and then the scene at S-Mart where Number 21 kicked my b.u.t.t, which once again got a good laugh out of everybody. practice sessions at the civic auditorium, the caviar distribution, the alien nurseries, the incubation ponds... and then the scene at S-Mart where Number 21 kicked my b.u.t.t, which once again got a good laugh out of everybody.

"That's why we watch these things," I tried to explain. "It's like a football team reviewing the highlight reels at practice."

"Yeah, but that scene's hilarious!" said w.i.l.l.y.

"That's nothing," said Joe, and that's when the real laughter began. Because somehow Joe had gotten the grainy black-and-white feed of me cutting my own hair in the bathroom.

"I was trying to look like Billy Joe Armstrong!" I protested as they all rolled with laughter. "You know, the lead singer of Green Day?"

"Yeah, there's plenty to learn there," said Dana, winking at me.

"Okay, gang," I said after we sat through the final battle scenes and paused a couple of times to comment on things we could have done better. "Is that everything?"

"Oh, one last report," said Joe, somberly.

I nodded for him to go on, though I couldn't think what we hadn't covered, and what would be making him look so glum.

"I'm still not certain that operational efficiencies have recovered one hundred percent at White Castle, Taco Bell, KFC, Burger King, Wendy's, McDonald's..."

"Well, I guess we can stop by and check a couple on our way out of town," I conceded.

The strength of Joe's embrace rivaled Number 5's final squeeze.