Difficult Times - A Weekly Serial - Episode Nine Read online

  Difficult Times

  A Weekly Serial

  Episode Nine

  By Walter B Shillington

  Copyright: Walter B Shillington

  EPISODE NINE

  Something sharp dug into my cheek. I raised my head from the frigid earth and peered into the gloom.

  A slender sapling stood just within my reach. To the right, a bear crouched, biting into the carcass of a dog. I stretched forward, wrapped my arms around the trunk and pulled myself into the shadows.

  The bear spoke. “Good morning, Dancing boy.”

  It all came back. Vivid images of biting bat-birds and nasty bucktoothed aliens.

  “Want to eat?” Kittick asked. He stripped back skin from the dog’s hindquarters and tossed it my way.”

  “No.” I pulled my aching body to a sitting position against the sapling. I shook, overcome by the wet clothing combined with chilly morning air.

  The burly alien reached forward to reclaim the bloody chunk of meat. “You keep getting yourself hit in the head, human. Not smart.”

  “What happened?”

  He brayed. “We’re lost in the woods. It’s fortunate I made Cattick carry you out. ”

  I groaned and rubbed the back of my head. “You should have left me.”

  “You’re our local expert. We need a guide to Bellville.”

  “Why go back to town? I thought you were all ‘gung-ho’ to blow up the dockyard.”

  “Gung-ho? That means expecting?”

  “It means excited.”

  Kittick grinned. “You were excited. I’m simply a professional performing his task.” He bit into the hindquarter. “This meat is good but chewy.”

  “Why are we going back to Bellville?”

  “To bask in the glory of our success.”

  “You were captured twice,” Cattick bellowed from behind. “Is that how you measure success?”

  “What happened at the station?” I demanded, turning toward his voice. I should never have cooperated with these monsters. The dead were my responsibility.

  “It was a good fight.” Cattick tapped his thigh. “The human with gray hair put a hole right through my leg.”

  “Their long guns are noisy,” Kittick added. “My ears still ring.”

  “Did anyone die?”

  “The gray haired one-I hope.” Cattick turned to his companion. “Did they kill their own female?”

  Kittick brayed. “The bullet bounced off the wall. Then it slammed into her chest. Lots of blood!”

  Dim light filtered through the woods as the aliens finished their meal. While I’d been unconscious, dogs had successfully tracked our party. Sadly, their ability to fight had proved less effective. With the dogs dispatched, the aliens easily evaded our pursuers. But now they were lost.

  Kittick climbed to his feet. “Okay, lead us to Bellville.”

  “How?” I looked up in surprise. “I haven’t a clue where we are.”

  Cattick grinned and patted my butt. “Don’t be foolish. You live here.”

  “All I can see are trees.”

  Kittick frowned. “You are of no use.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me think.” I glanced around the forest, my eyes settling on the rising sun. “Newport Station is west of Bellville. “We should head toward the light.”

  Cattick led the way, limping slightly from his bullet wound. Although he kept his bandaged paw pressed against his chest, Kittick bubbled with enthusiasm.

  The woods ended at a large clearing. Several cows retreated from our approach and clustered nervously against the far fence. The main highway stretched to our left. To the right were hills. Overgrowth hid the entrances to long abandoned gold mines. Years ago, Fred and I had ventured down one of the old mine shafts. The rotten supporting timbers, however, quickly discouraged our quest for treasure.

  The stiff breeze gradually dried my cloths although the headache remained. We stopped and hid whenever a vehicle passed but these interruptions were infrequent. About noon we reached Rimshaw Lake and Cattick, limping badly, called for a halt.

  “How much longer?” Kittick asked.

  I knelt by the lake and splashed water over my face. “About three hours to town. Another half hour to my house.”

  “How nice. Dancing Boy invited us to his home.” Cattick brayed, and then ducked his head into the lake.

  “No I didn’t. You’re going to board your little spacecraft and fly off.”

  Kittick grinned. “Those contraptions can’t fly. Maybe we should accept your hospitality.”

  Cattick’s head reappeared. “The water’s fine. Quickly he peeled off his clothing and jumped into the lake.

  A moment later Kittick joined him. I should have run for it but my energy was gone.

  We stopped at the first turnoff into Bellville. “This leads into town. If you turn left at Clarence Street, you will end up where we first... uh... first met.” I leaned tiredly against the signpost. “You won’t be passing though the main part of Bellville but a fair number of people live in the area.”

  Cattick grinned. “You expect we’ll be shot?”

  “Someone is likely to call the police.”

  “I’m tired and sore.” Kittick shuffled his feet. “Maybe we should go to Dancing Boy’s place.” He broke into a strange guttural language.

  Cattick nodded and turned to me. “Is it difficult to get approach your building? Will we be seen?”

  “My house is almost downtown. We can’t reach the building without getting caught.”

  Kittick grinned. “Okay, that settles it. We’ll wait until nightfall.” He trudged across the narrow ditch and flopped to the ground behind a bush.

  We slipped across the highway about nine and worked our way down to the mall. The stores were closed but the main street was busy. I expected to see traffic - with an invasion underway people would be trying to connect with family - but there were pedestrians everywhere. They congregated in groups and more than a few were drunk.

  We waited in the shadows until well after midnight. Then we crept around the mall and made our way through a series of backyards until reaching Maple Street.

  Cattick coughed nervously and pointed. “There is someone inside that building.”

  I peered across the street at Maggie’s, a family owned convenience store. It was closed but a man stood behind the counter. “I live three houses up the street. The blue one with the enclosed sun porch.”

  “Kosti!” Kittick swore. “So close.”

  My stomach rumbled. “He’s busy working.” I pointed to the back of the store. “We can hop the fence and run along the side of the building. It’s dark. We won’t be seen.” To be truthful I didn’t care. I just wanted to get home.

  “No,” Cattick replied, pointing to the street light. “It’s best to wait...” He stretched forward to grab Kittick but the burly alien slipped past and sprinted across the street. Swearing aloud, Cattick grabbed my arm and followed.

  I couldn’t climb the fence. Tiredness, I suppose, was the culprit. Cattick boosted me over and pulled himself to the top. Before he’d dropped to the ground Kittick had reached my backyard.

  The kitchen windows glowed but that might have been me. I’m bad at shutting off lights.

  “Wait here,” I whispered and crept over to the side window. I’d hoped Tinny was at work, but she might have been keeping a vigil at my place.

  Rocky crouched on the inside ledge. Hearing my approach, he pressed his nose against the pane.

  I tapped the window and peered inside. Tinny sat at the table, half asleep. I tapped again.

  She stirred, muttered something to the cat and buried her face against the table.

  A hard rap drew her attention. She slid from her chair and approached the window. Catching sight of me, Tinny’s eyes widened. Then, I’m not sure why, she burst into tears.

  I gave her a few seconds to collect herself before banging the glass again. “Open the back door.”

  Tinny bent down and wiped her face against Rocky’s fur. “The front door is unlocked,” she replied, her expression confused.

  “I’ll explain later. Let me in the back.”

  She nodded, mouthed something inaudible and disappeared. By the time I reached the door Tinny was fumbling with the back porch latch.

  Kittick sat on the bottom step. “Get out of sight,” I hissed and pushed him away.

  He jabbed my ribs but backed into the shadows.

  The door swung open and a moment later Tinny’s arms were wrapped around my body. Her face pressed against my neck. “Oh God, Billy, I thought you were dead!”

  I returned the hug. So warm and soft. I couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Hey,” a loud voice interjected. “Isn’t she one of the ones who escaped?”

  Tinny pulled away, her eyes locked on Cattick.

  I tried to inject humor. “I couldn’t get rid of them, love. They’re like pet dogs. They follow me everywhere.”

  The joke fell flat. Tinny backed toward the door, half falling as she tripped against the bottom step.

  “Why are they here?”

  “I... I’m sorry. I needed to get home and... I couldn’t get rid of them.”

  “This is silly,” Cattick hissed. “Let’s get inside before we’re seen.”

  Tinny stared bleakly into my face and then shuffled into the house.

  Kittick made for the fridge. “Is this where you
store your food?”

  “Yeah, help yourself.” I moved to the table and rested my hands on Tinny’s shoulder. She sat there, staring blankly at the kitchen window.

  “Can I make you a coffee?”

  “How could you bring them here?”

  I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” I whispered. “They won’t be around long. I think they’re being picked up tomorrow.”

  “Picked up where? Here?” She started to rise. “I’m going home.”

  I gently pressed her shoulder. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Is this what you use to cook?” Kittick interrupted.

  I turned to find the alien, a package of frozen wieners clutched within his paws, pointing at the dishwasher.

  “Hold on a second.” I ran my hand through Tinny’s hair and turned to organize supper.

  The hot dogs ran out fast but I pulled a package of Italian sausages from the freezer. Wrapped in a slice of bread and covered with mustard and ketchup, they were quite tasty.

  Kittick liked Tinny. He bombarded her with stories of our exploits, pointing out my many mishaps and mistakes along the way. It helped. Her constant shaking diminished and she ventured a weak smile when he related my cowardly attempts to dissociate myself from his team.

  Cattick, worried about the store clerk, grabbed a couple of wieners and guarded the front door. Eventually satisfied, he disappeared within the bathroom to clean his wound.

  I switched on the television mounted beneath the kitchen cupboards. Garble and sudden breaks distorted the announcer’s voice but I understood the main points. In the Maritimes, only Halifax had been hit. Down the coast reports indicated Boston and Norfolk were under attack. Information was sketchy but Ontario, with the possible exception of Ottawa, appeared to have been spared. A live feed from Washington, intended to show the White House in flames, displayed only a series of shifting multicolored blocks. Reception remained lousy.

  Tired of Kittick’s attention, Tinny rose from the table and began to wash the dishes. I grabbed a towel and gave her a hand.

  Once the burly alien retired to the bathroom to check his damaged paw, she tapped my shoulder and half smiled. “He likes to talk.”

  “Kittick never stops talking. He’s quite the braggart.”

  “I figured that. Are you sure they’re leaving tomorrow?”

  “Their squad was dropped off to sabotage a power dam. Kittick expects to be picked up soon.”

  “Kittick told you this?” Cattick stood at the door, his lower jaw quivering in anger.

  I stiffened. “No, no. It’s just that he’s been very relaxed lately. I assumed it’s because he’s going home.”

  He forced a bray. “Home is far away, Dancing Boy. There is no pickup. Forget you heard that.”

  I nodded vigorously and wiped my forehead with the towel. “My mistake.”

  He pointed to the back door. “I noticed steps leading down when we entered your building.”

  “That’s the basement,” Tinny answered.

  “I heard a noise. Who is down there?”

  “Nobody. It’s a storage area,” I replied. “You probably heard the furnace kicking in.”

  He started toward the back porch. “I will check.”

  Tinny opened her mouth to speak, and then changed her mind.

  As he walked through the door and navigated the steps, she giggled. It seemed forced, almost hysterical.

  “Are you all right, Love. Maybe you should sit down?”

  She shook her head. “This is poetic justice.”

  “It’s what?”

  A blood curdling scream erupted from below.

  Episodes are published weekly. Search for the next installment under Difficult Times - A Weekly Serial - Episode Ten. To view the entire series, search under Shillington.

 

 

  Walter Shillington, Difficult Times - A Weekly Serial - Episode Nine

  Thanks for reading the books on GrayCity.Net