Chapter 9.

Sick Day

Thirteen Days Post Apocalypse

The Car (Tentaclus shapechangerus) is about the size of a car. In the words of the guy who encountered it:

“I was shopping at this store, and I saw a red Cooper Mini in one aisle. It wasn't like it crashed into the store, either. It was like someone had taken one apart and put it together in the store aisle. No other way it could have gotten there. I moved to the next aisle and kept shopping. Can you believe someone took all the tinfoil?

Before anyone asks, I write IOU's for everything I take. If the store owners show up, we'll work out some kind of payment.

The next time I saw the car, it had moved about twenty feet closer to me. So I thought to myself, this isn't normal car behavior. The car's display popped up. “This is a car. It is not an alien shape-changer trying to kill you.” So I hit the “car” as hard as I could with my cane. The car turned into this huge mass of tentacles and mouth. It shot green slime everywhere. I fought it off with my cane until it escaped through a broken window. Had to go to the thrift store after that, for new clothes... But that's another story.”

An alien that can take the form of a car can probably take the form of any large object. Be careful.

—Notes from the Anderson Monster Manual—A work in progress.

***

“Come on Ian, I thought nerds were smart,” Mr. Riley, his geography teacher, was saying.

Ian heard the girls behind him giggling. The boy on his right, who was twice his size, fake sneezed “Loser!”

Ian's face turned red. “Uh sorry. What was the question?” he asked. The giggling got louder.

Ian woke up, his head pounding. Thank god, just a nightmare, he thought. He groaned and sat up in his bed. What happened? He was in his room. An alien light floated near the ceiling. The light revealed dirty clothes on the floor. Dresser drawers were open. He should really clean up this place.

“Ian's awake!” he heard Stacy shout from the doorway.

“Woof!” Fergi barked, jumped up onto the bed and licked his face.

“Down, girl.” He pushed her away, petting her.

Gabe came in. “I got 760 credits for my alien care package alone. I got a bunch of wizard stuff for my inventory, and there's a bunch of stuff I want to buy from the galactic market. How much did you get?”

Gabe was wearing some of Dad's armor, Ian noticed.

“What happened?” Ian asked.

“All hell broke loose!” Stacy said, unable to contain her excitement. “You launched that catapult. Some of it landed in front of the monster. The alien mother dragged herself over Gabe's care package. Stuff exploded! Burned a huge hole in that thing. How could she scream like that without a mouth?”

“Wait, she didn't have a mouth?” Ian said.

“No! She had thousands of spiky sucker things,” Stacy said. “She sucked the blood and fluids from her victims. I guess she had a bunch of little mouths.”

“It was the super-concentrated acid I got from the cuddle that killed her,” Gabe said. “And the poison, and the firebombs. But then a bunch of alien monster babies came out of the Superstore, and thousands of zombies.”

“Zombies? Come on guys, really, what happened?”

“Zombies!” said Stacy, jumping up and down with excitement. “They were dried out husks of the people who went into the store! But they could still move, and they all came after us. I get huge bonuses with zombies, because I'm Kid Barbie, the zombie killer. It was like they moved in slow motion. I killed over half of them myself. Paid off my guns with plenty left over, I got a bunch of gun upgrades and stat points.”

“I threw a Molotov cocktail at Zombie Chris Tyler,” said Gabe. “I missed Chris, and hit one of the monster babies, and six more zombies coming up behind it. I got another 300 credits that way, I got three stat points. And Stacy took out Zombie Chris. What did you get, Ian? You helped a little before you passed out with that nosebleed. You should have gotten something.”

“Ian, how are you feeling?” Dad entered the room, followed by Uncle Ben.

“Got a headache, but I'm okay,” Ian responded.

Dad took out one of the alien lights and moved it close to Ian's right eye, then his left, practically blinding him.

“Eyes are still dilating okay. Do you remember your name? What happened? What year this is?” Dad moved the light to the right then left, watching Ian's eyes follow the light.

“God, Dad! Are you checking me for brain damage? I'm fine. I think that alien overwhelmed my gift, so my brain shut down for a while. I got a headache, but I'm fine.”

“You've been unconscious for three days. I was afraid you'd fallen into a coma,” Dad said.

“He's fine. Walk it off. Everybody gets brain damage now and then,” Uncle Ben said. He was holding what looked like two glowing emerald green pears.

“Not helping, big brother,” Dad responded. “Whatever you did back there, don't do it again, Ian. I was afraid we'd lost you.”

“I didn't want to let people down,” Ian replied. “And what are those?” Ian pointed at the glowing pears.

“Monsterfruit,” Dad said. “The day after we cleaned out MonsterMart, trees appeared in the parking lot. They grew through the asphalt and everything. That is the fruit from one of the trees. BG assures us this fruit is tasty, nutritious, and safe to eat.”

“I'd offer you one, but your dad would kill me. I'm trying to get up the nerve to try one myself,” Uncle Ben said.

“Fortunately, none of us is starving to death,” Gabe said. ”How much did you get from BG?”

Ian checked. “I'd rather not say. Go buy some wizard stuff.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Gabe said. “Told you he didn't get that much,” he said to Stacy. “I'm glad you're okay, Ian. Even though you're my idiot, nonidentical twin brother.” Ian's siblings left.

“You want to invite Melvin the Road Warrior over?” Ian heard Stacy say from the hallway... “I know. He cries a lot for someone born and raised in a nuclear wasteland.”

“Road Warrior may still be mad about how you killed his zombie family,” Gabe said. “Well, didn't kill, they were dead already.”

“Gabe hasn't whined since MonsterMart. Not once. I think it's a record,” Uncle Ben said. He sniffed the Monsterfruit, then shook his head. “Suppose eating these would give me a third arm or something?”

“I'm glad Gabe's happy,” Dad replied. “And thanks to you, Ian, our only other casualty was when Road Warrior shot himself in the foot by accident. He's fine now, of course, thanks to regen shots. How much did you get, by the way?” Dad asked.

“BG says, way to get hit by a psychic attack, loser. You get 560 credits. Better luck next time,” Ian lied. “Considering what I went through, that's really disappointing.”

“As far as I'm concerned you're a hero,” Dad said. “Your actions saved lives. I guess BG doesn't care about that. On a related note, if Mrs. Wilcox can be believed. Monsters can't spawn inside a home, shelter, or fortress. A fortress needs to be a fortified, walled-off, protected area that defends the area surrounding it. If we can set that up, it should give us some breathing room.”

“Welcome to the dark ages,” Uncle Ben said. “Oh, good news for the Crabtrees. Sabrina's parents were found. They'd holed up in someone's cellar when her dad got wounded. Her dad's leg is growing back, gonna be fine.”

Ian swung his legs over the bed and stood up. His head hurt and he felt weak. The room spun around. He sat down again. He realized he was very hungry. “I'm starved,” he said. “Anything to eat?”

***

After eating, Ian went back to sleep. When he woke up. Mrs. Wilcox, the evil ex-insurance rep, was in his room. It would have been nice to assume she was an alien shape-changer, but his time unconscious had made him more sensitive. It was definitely her.

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked. He sat up slowly, still tired. “And why is my dog in the garage?”

“I'm here because I wanted to talk to you in private, and your dog doesn't like me,” she answered.

“They say dogs are a good judge of character,” Ian said.

“Let's talk about that, Ian. The rest of your family like me. Even your dad is willing to overlook our past, but not you? Also, did you really get only 560 credits? That's not what BG told me.”

“You didn't come here out of concern for my well-being,” Ian said. “What do you want?”

“You are right, Ian. I do want something. But that doesn't mean we can't have a good working relationship. The high-powered regen booster shot your dad gave you after you passed out came from me.”

“Your point?” Ian said.

Mrs. Wilcox took a deep breath. “Ian, I'm going to treat you like an adult. In school, you're taught to do your best, get good grades, do well on standardized tests. But out in the real world, you learn it's your connections with other people that determine your success or failure.”

Ian nodded. “It's not what you know, it's who you know.”

“Exactly. Now, for me to succeed, I need people like your dad looking out for me and, in exchange, I'm willing to look out for him and his family. I would like to make you a similar proposition. But for me to have your back, Ian, I need to be sure you have mine.”

“Have your back to accomplish what?” Ian asked.

“To win this game and destroy BG,” she answered. “For this to happen we must survive, and overcome certain obstacles, which you can help me with.” She reached out and put her hand on Ian's. “I have already spoken to Mr. Hill, the man who owns the place I want to turn into a fortress. It took some doing but...”

Ian jerked his hand away from hers and backed away. “Jesus Christ! You shot him! Three times in the head!” He could see the old man's blood splattering the confederate flag that hung behind him in the background, and Robert standing off to one side, providing backup.

Mrs. Wilcox's lips pulled back to form a wolfish grin. “You really are psychic. Very good. You wouldn't have liked Mr. Hill. He was a nasty paranoid individual, and he treated his staff like shit, which made my job easier. As you can see, I'm willing to do what it takes to set up this fortress. I'm giving you the opportunity to join me on the ground floor of this venture.”

“You're a ruthless bitch who would feed me and my family to the dogs if it suited your interests, and you want me to give you my loyalty?” Ian asked.

She looked hurt. “I suppose I would if I had to. I don't want to. I like you, Ian. I need people like you and your family. I believe you need me.”

Ian weighed his options. It seemed Mrs. Wilcox believed she was being truthful. “You are the one who organized the cleanup of MonsterMart. It's possible you are the best person to take charge of this mess.”

“I believe I am, Ian,” she said.

“So Mrs. Wilcox. Let's say I use my gift to spy for you. To keep you informed of anyone working against you and what they're planning. That is what you want, isn't it? If I do this for you, what's in it for me and my family?” Ian asked.

She smiled, leaning over his bed, giving him an excellent view of her breasts. “Let's say I'll owe you one, Ian. I always remember the people who help me.”

Ian looked away, embarrassed. Then he forced himself to turn back and look her in the eye. “As long as you look out for me and my family, I'll look out for you,” he said. “If you turn on us, I'll know.”

“Ian, has anyone told you what a good-looking guy you are?” Mrs. Wilcox asked.

“Definitely not,” Ian said. “Okay, my mom thinks I'm good-looking. I'm pretty sure she doesn't count.”

“Well, I'm not your mom, am I?” Mrs. Wilcox said. She kissed his cheek. Then she turned to leave. “See you soon, Ian.”

“Just congratulating our new hero on his recovery,” he heard Mrs. Wilcox call out to his family as she left the house.

Ian lay back as the implications of everything she'd said sank in.

***

Later that evening, Ian pulled up his display. He hated lying to his family, but people found his powers frightening. Considering how he would feel if someone knew his secret thoughts and fantasies, he supposed he couldn't blame them. The more sensitive he became, the more apparent this was to him. He felt it best to downplay his powers. Or in short, lie.

His display said. You helped defeat a level 5 alien monster! You pushed yourself so far beyond your meager abilities that you won 21,857 credits! You gained a year's worth of psychic skill points in one day alone!

You have a galactic following! I told the galactic following to go follow someone who isn't lazy and worthless, but they refuse. They want me to bend rules for you. That would be cheating! And I will not do that. You also have 28 stat points! Yay!

What the hell was a galactic following? Ian wondered.

BG continued. Before you do something you regret with your stat points. A brief refresher. Skill points are experience. They improve an existing skill faster than it would improve otherwise. To gain them, you must use that skill. The skill-points you gained in your defeat of the wuffle go to your gift, and there is nothing we can do about that.

Stat, or statistic points, alter you on a genetic level. They cannot substitute for experience, but they will determine the limits of your abilities, and how much experience will improve a certain skill. They can also give you talents and abilities you didn't have previously.

For example, you could use stat-points to increase your social intelligence, so females of your species won't think you're such a dork. You can also use stat points to improve your looks and increase the size of your muscles, again raising your social status with females of your kind. You now have enough stat points to do both of these things. To make these or any other changes, all you have to do is will the stat points to perform that action.

If you could believe the girls, Chris Tyler had all the characteristics BG was suggesting for Ian, but it hadn't saved the jock from being killed, eaten, and turned into a zombie. Ian's gifts, on the other hand, were keeping him and his family alive.

If you must put your stat points into your psychic gifts, BG continued, you will get your first skill tree.

The first branch of the skill tree was Human/Alien. Ian focused on Human. You will specialize in the control, subjugation, and mental attacks on humans. Under Alien. You will specialize in the control, subjugation, and mental attacks on aliens.

The human branch was tempting. It was why Ian had taken the psychic route in the first place. On the other hand, aliens kept trying to kill him and everyone he knew. The Alien branch was the obvious choice. After the Alien branch came Beast-Mastery/Psychic-attacks.

Beast-Mastery

Control Alien monsters and force them to kill for you. A good tactic for lazy humans.

Psychic-Attacks.

Confuse, disorient, and kill alien monsters with mental attacks.

This was a harder choice. Since he did not know which, if either, he could use effectively, he maxed out the first branch Alien with twenty-one stat points. Then he divided his last seven stat points between Beast-Mastery, and Psychic-Attacks, putting the leftover point into Beast-Mastery, because of his success with his dog, Fergi.

He fell asleep with thoughts of Mrs. Wilcox. She'd kissed him. He'd sensed from her mind exactly what she was willing to do to pay him back. This left him excited, and a bit frightened.

***

“Come on, we got this one.” someone shouted.

He was a good Kitykity, and he was having fun. He limped away, like his hind foot hurt, but he was pretending. Ten humans chased him into the canyon, falling into his trap. Boring... Kitykity doubled back, fast and silent. These humans would not leave the small canyon alive. Something twitched at the edge of his awareness. Distraction. New? Interesting? Fun?

Ian woke up, heart racing. His dog whimpered from the foot of his bed, responding to Ian's fear. The worst thing about this nightmare was, when he sensed the Kitykity, he could swear it sensed him. He sighed. At least the girls weren't picking on him.