Daniel X_ Watch The Skies Part 2

At me. me.

I've got some pretty good reflexes, if I do say so myself, and I managed to leap up into the air before he got the shot off-like high enough so that I could grab one of the exposed I beams in the thirty-foot ceiling-but I wasn't fast enough.

A ma.s.sive shockwave slammed into me, compressing all the air in the warehouse-sized store and smacking me down like I was a fly and it was a rolled-up newspaper. I crunched onto the floor, my ears ringing, my vision blurry, the room spinning.

"This is gold," Number 21 cackled.

It would've been a great time to conjure up my friends or some weapons to help me kick some alien b.u.t.t, but right now I could barely remember the word for ouch. I was on my own.

"We've found a lot of talented extras here in S-Mart," Number 21 said darkly. "But you're our best talent of the day, Daniel."

My legs were like rubber as I staggered to my feet and forced myself into a jujitsu stance, instinctively realizing that since I couldn't think clearly enough to create a peashooter, I was going to have to resort to old-fas.h.i.+oned hand-to-hand combat.

Unfortunately, I was still so unsteady, I think I ended up looking more like a drunk clown than a highly trained martial artist.

Number 21 was busting a gut. He mopped his sweaty brow and slung his shockwave cannon over his shoulder. "Are you guys getting getting this?" he asked the henchbeasts that were filming the shopping nightmare. this?" he asked the henchbeasts that were filming the shopping nightmare.

One of the crew asked, "Should we melt him too?"

"Nah," Number 21 replied. "This was just his screen test. Boss says he's still got some real important parts to play."

And then everything went black as I fell back against a tower of mac-and-cheese boxes.

Chapter 8.

AS I CAME to, I could feel the henchbeasts' high-tech restraint device squeezing me from my chest down, holding me to the floor.

"Can we make a deal?" I pleaded to the two shadowy figures standing over me-and then, um, I became about as embarra.s.sed as I've ever been in my fifteen adventure-filled Earth years.

What was holding me to the floor was not some alien-tech, carbon-fiber straitjacket, but a whole mountain of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese boxes that I'd knocked on top of myself when I pa.s.sed out.

And the two figures standing above me weren't alien henchbeasts, but two twelve-year-old skate kids.

"You mean you want us to join your crew?! crew?!" asked the shorter chubby one.

"Dude, that's so stoner! stoner!" said the taller skinny one.

"Yeah, when you jumped up and the monkey dude with the big s.p.a.ce-gun blasted you and you fell! Whomp, Whomp, dude! Stomped like a narc! And those guys in the weird bug suits with the cameras? Totally awesome FX." dude! Stomped like a narc! And those guys in the weird bug suits with the cameras? Totally awesome FX."

"You," I said, looking down the aisle at the brown stains on the floor that had been some of their fellow humans not long ago, "are insane."

"And you, dude, are a magnate! magnate! When's the show going to be on? Are you guys on YouTube?" When's the show going to be on? Are you guys on YouTube?"

"You guys own both Jacka.s.s Jacka.s.s movies, don't you?" movies, don't you?"

"Dude. And T-s.h.i.+rts," he said, lifting up his buddy's sweats.h.i.+rt to show an "I Jacka.s.s" decal.

I like humans; I truly do. But, sometimes it amazes me their civilization ever got off the ground.

Chapter 9.

MY FRIED HEAD and body were starting to feel better as I crossed the parking lot back to my motorcycle. Pregnant women were still streaming into the store to look at the empty fish-food and motor-oil displays, but at the moment I was too b.u.mmed about losing my first battle against Number 5's crew to continue my investigation alone.

So I decided to summon Mom and Dad. I was so aching for my family right then, I even whipped up Brenda, aka Pork Chop-my annoying little sister-out of thin air.

"Um, Daniel, I don't think we're all going to fit," said Pork Chop, nodding at my bike.

"You are not not still riding still riding motorcycles, motorcycles," said Mom. "You know how I feel about them, Daniel. Not Not safe." safe."

Dad smiled knowingly at me. It wasn't an argument worth having with Mom, although-for the record-he and I knew that unless I had an accident on my bike that involved falling into the sun or possibly a direct hit from an Opus 24/24, chances were I would escape permanent injury. And so-presto change-o-I willed some additional matter into existence and transformed my motorcycle into an awesome late-eighties vintage, wood-panel, retrofitted Dodge minivan.

"Air bags?" asked Mom.

"Side-impact air bags and ABS," I a.s.sured her and gave her the keys.

"Well, let's get going," said Dad. "Time's a wasting, and we need to convene a strategy session for dealing with Number 5 and Number 21."

The man never took a breath without having a six-point plan for it.

"And then, dear, sweet, wonderful, mult.i.talented brother, we can all go out in the yard and polish the giant golden statue we've made of you because we love and adore you and, basically, wors.h.i.+p your fantastic self... or not, not," said my sister, making the L-is-for-Loser sign against her forehead.

I was too tired to retaliate, so I just rolled my eyes.

"So where's home, anyway?" I asked.

"Why, right here, here," said Mom, pulling the minivan over in front of a huge Victorian house with a wraparound porch and a FOR RENT sign in the front yard.

Even without a golden statue of me in the backyard, the house was beautiful. The landlord, however, was not so easy on the eyes. We'd called the number on the sign saying we were interested in the property, and he showed up about fifteen minutes later in a gleaming, new, top-of-the-line Ferrari. Right off the bat, he was grouchy and impatient with us.

"Can we have a look around?" Dad asked.

"Let's not beat around the bush here." He'd spotted our dilapidated minivan and peered at us through his amber sungla.s.ses. His s.h.i.+fty eyes darted around, sizing us up like we were so many head of cattle and he was a rancher. Or a butcher.

Chapter 10.

SO, AS YOU can see, I have trust issues.

But it wouldn't have taken a ninth sense-let alone a sixth sense-to know the guy definitely wasn't cool. The next thing you know, his eyes fixed on Mom's modest engagement ring.

"Three thousand," he said, and spat some tobacco juice into the lawn.

"Dollars? A month?! A month?!" my mom asked.

"Plus a month's rent in advance. Security deposit. And heat and electricity are not not included," he said, already turning back toward his luxury sports car. included," he said, already turning back toward his luxury sports car.

"We'll take it," said Dad.

The man spun around. "Now, don't waste my time here, buddy. I have twenty properties to manage and can't waste time on deadbeats."

"Are you calling us deadbeats?" asked Mom.

Pork Chop blew a bubble and stared at him menacingly.

"All right then-a cas.h.i.+er's check. Six thousand dollars made payable to Ernesto Gout. And I need it today. I have a lot of other people looking at this place."

The guy tensed up a little as Dad stepped toward him, but Dad was all smiles.

"It's a deal, sir," he said, putting out his hand.

The landlord grudgingly accepted the handshake, whereupon I quickly stepped up behind him and put my hand on the back of his head, causing him to go rigid like somebody had dropped an ice cube down his s.h.i.+rt.

Cool Alien Hunter power number 141: Telepathic Att.i.tude Adjustments.

"So, would cash be okay?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, of course. Cash would be fine," he said, quickly coming around.

"And how about if you you bring it bring it to us to us by, oh, say, noon." by, oh, say, noon."

For a moment it looked like he was going to lose his lunch, but he nodded.

"And we'll need you to call the electric and gas companies and arrange to pay that yourself, okay?"

"Yeah-yeah, sure-sure."

"And, here, why don't we trade cars? You take the minivan, so you can have some more room for stuff when you run our errands. And we'll keep the Ferrari."

"Great idea."

"All right then. If you can just give me the keys to the house and your car, I'll let you go to the bank and get us our money."

"Yes, sir," he said.

It all goes to show that you can't always believe first impressions.

Or, if you don't like your first impression, then change it. I mean, if you're an Alien Hunter.

Chapter 11.

AFTER MR. GOUT returned with the money, we sent him off to get some lumber and other things to help alienproof the house. His att.i.tude was much improved-he actually seemed happy about it.

"Your abilities are getting sharper," remarked Dad, "but you're going to need a bit more than that for Number 5. In fact, I've managed to update his profile, and I created a brief dossier I want you to digest before dinner."

"And you aren't going out till you've taken a shower and done your laundry," added Mom. "You look like a ragam.u.f.fin. And tomorrow you're getting a haircut."

I guess it's a little weird that I let myself get bossed around by people that are essentially products of my imagination; but what kind of parents would they be otherwise?

"Sure, Mom," I humored her. Meantime, I went to check out some updates and relevant List computer information that Dad had helped me locate on Number 5 and Number 21.

You don't make it into The List's top ten without a pretty terrifying resume to back it up, but the more I found out about Number 5, the more it was clear this was going to be my biggest test yet.

Like the electric eels on Earth, his species had evolved in murky swamp waters where electrical powers gave a creature a distinct advantage. Only, of course, his species had evolved a little more than any eel. Not only were Number 5 and his kin able to sense and stun with electricity, but they could also manipulate the electrical impulses in their prey's brains and actually hypnotize them into doing whatever they wanted.

According to recent reports, it wasn't uncommon to find Number 5's species living with a handful of attending servants, who would do everything from cleaning to cooking themselves themselves for dinner. for dinner.

In the field of electromagnetics, Number 5 was described as something of an artist-you know, like in the way Genghis Khan was an artist with battlefield tactics and ruthless leaders.h.i.+p. Oh, sorry... maybe you missed that part of world history cla.s.s.

Also, he was a dynamo of energy. Literally. Where an electric eel could generate a few kilowatts-enough to kill the population of, say, a bathtub-Number 5 could generate enough electricity to fry an entire water park full of people... and even those out in the parking lot.

As to Number 21, the s.p.a.ce ape that had gotten the jump on me in S-Mart, I discovered his show-biz name was Dougie Stars.h.i.+ne and that he'd been credited as the production a.s.sistant and casting director on Number 5's last dozen shows-and that he was no weakling, either.

That alien miscreant was wanted for murder in a half dozen galaxies, and it looked like he had some pretty serious psychic warfare talents. I mean, maybe a twenty-one ranking doesn't quite compare to a top-ten baddie, but if you're the type of reader who likes a little perspective, consider that Joe and I had figured out that if Superman were evil and and real (in fact, he is loosely based on a real alien from the Crab Nebula), he'd come in at about number thirty-seven. real (in fact, he is loosely based on a real alien from the Crab Nebula), he'd come in at about number thirty-seven.

Real aliens seldom have weaknesses as obvious as kryptonite. aliens seldom have weaknesses as obvious as kryptonite.

Chapter 12.

DAD AND I went out back and did some jujitsu training-and savate, tae kwon do, taekkyon, aikido, judo, and glima for good measure-and held a brief tactical planning session afterward.