The truck was blackened with scorch marks. All that remained of the colorful plastic ice cream cone that had formerly bobbed atop the truck’s roof was the metal coil and an amorphous dollop of melted plastic that looked like a dog had taken a shit immediately after eating a rainbow.
Miraculously, the truck’s sound system was functional, and a jingle warbled from the truck’s speakers.
When they rolled back into town, the truck canting to the side noticeably due to a nearly flat rear tire, Ryan slammed the brakes when they saw the massive creature that had crawled up from beneath the street.
“Oh my God, what is that?” Becky asked.
“The 50 Foot Woman’s dildo?” Fred offered. He had managed to remain conscious despite his ghostly appearance, and stood between the driver and passenger seats, gazing at the creature through the truck’s shattered windshield.
“The firefighter,” Ryan said.
“Huh?”
“Patient zero. The firefighter that was at the shuttle crash. The first one to get infected.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Fred asked.
“Well, for one, that’s the likeliest explanation, and two…it’s wearing his face.”
“That’s one nasty space bug to do shit like that to a guy.”
“Look,” Becky said, pointing to the side of the street in front of the creature. “Kevin and Rhonda.”
“Do you have any exploding tips left?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Give me the crossbow.”
Becky didn’t need to ask what he was planning to do, but she did anyway. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to drive this ice cream truck straight up its ass,” Ryan said.
Fred had the crossbow, his handless left arm wrapped around it awkwardly as he knocked one of the bolts. “Maybe I should do it,” he said. “You haven’t used one of these before. I’m the better shot.”
“I’ll be close enough that it won’t matter. Besides, both of you have given enough already. Now I’m going to end this.”
Fred smiled, handing Ryan the crossbow. “That makes hero speech number three.”
“Figure I might as well get in as many as I can.”
“I’d argue that this is one damn stupid idea, but somethin’ tells me your mind’s made up.”
“And you’d be right.”
“Well,
I’m
going to argue about it with you,” Becky said. “This is crazy. I know you think you’re proving something right now, that you’re cool or macho or whatever, but it’s just you being stupid. Nobody is going to think you’re cool when you’re
dead
.”
Ryan leaned over and unbuckled Becky’s seatbelt. Becky immediately drew it back across her chest and buckled it back into place.
“If you want to be stupid, then I’m going with you.”
Ryan unbuckled her belt again and said, “This isn’t the time to be stubborn. I’ve got about ten seconds before that ugly-looking thing squashes our friends, so I really need you to get out.” Ryan’s eyes flicked toward Fred.
Fred grabbed Becky’s shoulder gently. “Let’s do like he says.”
“And
you
– I can’t believe you’re just going to let him do this!”
“I don’t like it any better than you do, but I think we’re all out’ve bubblegum.”
Becky stood up in a huff. For a second, Ryan tensed himself, fully expecting Becky to slap him, but instead she grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. It was sloppy and wet and he felt his lips pushed back hard against his teeth. When she pulled away, she said, “You better come back to me alive. Otherwise, I’m going to kick your ass!”
Fred ushered her toward the back of the truck and nodded to Ryan after they had jumped out. Ryan nodded back. He brought his foot up and kicked out what remained of the shattered windshield, resting the crossbow on top of the dash.
Ryan took his foot off the brake and stepped on the gas.
He was thinking that in the movies the hero would jump out at the last minute, roll away, and wouldn’t show up again until his friends were weeping over his incinerated body. The hero would step out of nowhere and ask them what they were crying about, and they would all jump for joy and relief, and then they would cut to the hero and his girl lounging on the beach somewhere. He would make some witty remark and next thing you knew it was fade out and the credits would start to roll. Everybody loves a happy ending.
Although Ryan was acutely aware of the difference between real life and make-believe, what he was about to do was straight out of the movies. He would shoot the exploding bolt at the creature, ram the truck up its ass, which would cause it to explode like an oil tanker on fire…only he would abandon ship half a second before impact.
And he wouldn’t reappear until Becky and Fred and the others were weeping over him, thinking he had perished in the fire.
He played it in his mind. It seemed doable.
But that’s not what happened.
The needle on the ice cream truck’s speedometer spiked at fifty-five, and Ryan was within thirty feet of the towering creature when he squeezed the crossbow’s trigger. The bolt hit its mark, only lower, piercing the creature’s fleshy exterior and exploding. The creature let out another piercing howl as gallons of pus exploded outward, splashing onto the truck and drenching Ryan in the foul-smelling goo.
The truck barreled forward. Ryan held the steering wheel with one hand, got ready to bail and –
A massive tentacle shot forward, wrapped itself around the truck, and plucked it off the ground as though it weighed no more than a box of Kleenex.
Ryan peered over the side of the truck and suddenly saw the street twenty feet below him. The tentacle coiled, bringing him closer to the creature until he had an up-close view of its face. Then he saw the tattoo that depicted a grinning skull wearing a black fire helmet, only it was stretched and warped almost beyond recognition.
The creature’s lower jaw came unhinged, revealing rows and rows of needle sharp teeth that disappeared into the darkness of the thing’s throat. It brought the truck closer, tipping it forward so Ryan was thrown forward into the steering wheel.
It’s trying to eat me like a fucking Tic Tac,
he thought, pushing himself into the seat and buckling the seatbelt, unwilling to let gravity do the creature’s work for it.
“If you want to eat me, you’re going to have to eat the whole damn truck, you ugly alien fuck!” he yelled. He pulled the Glock from its holster and fired.
Fred and Becky watched as the tentacle lifted the truck off of the ground. Behind them, a horn blared, and when Fred turned to look, he saw a three vehicle cavalcade racing toward them. He yanked Becky out of the way just as the vehicles sped past them; a black SUV, followed by a black Lincoln Towncar with darkly tinted windows, and a second SUV bringing up the rear.
“What are they doing?” Becky asked, her eyes never diverting from the ice cream truck suspended thirty feet in the air, the tentacle rocking it back and forth as though trying to dislodge an uncooperative piece of candy stuck to the bottom of the box.
Except Ryan is the candy,
she thought.
“A better question would be ‘who
are
they
?’
”
The vehicles stopped a short distance from the creature. A stocky Asian man wearing a black suit stepped out from the passenger side of the lead SUV, holding what looked like a rocket launcher. He rested the launcher on his shoulder and pulled the trigger. A large transparent cylinder filled with amber fluid burst out of the launcher, a long needle protruding from the end. The dart whistled through the air, its needle tip sinking into the creature’s quivering flesh.
For a moment, nothing happened. But then the creature began to shake; at first, it was an almost imperceptible shiver, but then it became more pronounced and the creature began to undulate wildly.
The tentacle holding the truck released its grip and flopped to the ground. The truck dropped, coming down hard but upright, the remaining windows blowing out in an explosion of glass when it hit the pavement.
“Ryan!” Becky screamed, running forward without thought to her own safety. Fred hurried after her.
The stocky Asian man stepped back into the SUV and closed the door. When they reached the vehicles, Fred saw the SUV’s windshield wipers were on.
Becky rushed over to the ice cream truck and threw open the driver’s side door. Ryan was still buckled into the seat with his eyes closed. Becky shook him, and he gradually began to stir. He blinked his eyes, moaning when he tried to move. He managed a smile. “Next time I try to be the hero, do me a favor and talk me out of it.”
“I tried. It’s not like you listen.”
“Guys,” Fred said. “I think you should save the tender moment for later.” He pointed to the creature. It had begun to howl, large bubbles expanding and contracting on its rippling skin. It shuddered madly and seemed to shrink in on itself as though it were imploding. The creature let out a final insane screech and exploded.
An ocean of pus poured down on them, splattering across everything. Fred thought:
that’s why they have their wipers on!
Chunks of flesh and bone rained down onto the pavement.
They hobbled over to Kevin and Rhonda, who were also drenched in sticky white pus. Fred roused Derek from unconsciousness and helped him over to the others.
“What is this stuff?” Derek asked, holding up his hand and watching the pus slowly drip from his fingers.
“Giant evil alien semen,” Fred said.
Derek scrambled to wipe the goop from his hand. “Gross.”
“Is everybody okay?” Ryan asked, eyes going to the bone protruding from Kevin’s leg.
“I’ll live,” Kevin said.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” Rhonda said, wiping pus from her face.
Ryan stooped down, grabbed Kevin under one shoulder and hauled him to his feet with Rhonda’s help. “That’s at the top of the list, but first I want to have a word with our mysterious saviors.”
Ryan was walking toward the SUV when the doors opened and two men stepped out; the same stocky Asian man that had fired the strange-looking canon, and from the driver’s side, another Asian man, taller and thinner than his companion. They stood stoic-faced outside the SUV. Behind them, four men exited the rear SUV.
The phrase “diplomatic immunity” went through Ryan’s head, and he thought he had a handle on just where this might be going, but if he had learned anything in the last twenty-four hours, it was to expect the unexpected.
It had stopped snowing. The first signs of dawn were painted on the sky.
The back door of the Lincoln opened and a man stepped out. He was tall and Asian, his face wrinkled and serious, and he wore a designer suit that even Ryan, who wasn’t an expert on such things, knew must have cost more than two month’s worth of his salary at the sheriff’s department.
The man walked toward him and said, “I would bid you good morning, Deputy Carver, but something tells me you are in no mood for simple pleasantries.”
“You’d be right,” Ryan said. “You obviously know who I am, but I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure.”
“Chan,” the Asian man said with a slight smirk. “Jackie Chan.”
Ryan cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.
“You will have to trust me when I say it is infinitely better if you know as little about us as possible.”
“And you’ll have to forgive me when I say that’s a crock of shit. After what my friends and I have been through, I think we deserve a few answers.”
Fake Jackie Chan nodded. “Understandable, Deputy Carver, but I’m afraid that even if I were to offer you answers, you may find them unsatisfactory. A point that I would like to make perfectly clear, however, is that the events that have transpired over the last forty-eight hours were accidental. The result of an unplanned technical difficulty, you might say. You have my assurances that things have been restored to order. In fact, even as we speak, an aerosol agent is being administered by aerial means over the town. You won’t need to worry yourself over a future outbreak.”
A truck hauling a long flatbed trailer lumbered toward them from down the street. A hulking shape sat on top of the trailer, covered in a black tarp. Ryan stared past Chan to the truck. “I hope you got all of it.”
“We have taken every precaution.”
“If you had done that to begin with, we might not be having this conversation right now. And I’d have a lot fewer dead people to clean up.”
Chan nodded solemnly, but Ryan had a hunch (more than a hunch, when you got right down to it) that the man could give a shit less about Trudy and its residents. “You may be right.” Chan glanced over his shoulder toward the Lincoln. The driver stepped out, walked around to the trunk, and opened it. He brought out a large steel briefcase and walked it over to Chan. Chan took it and then offered it to Ryan.
“What’s this?”
“Restitution for our sins, Deputy Carver,” Chan said.
“You brought a plague down on our town and now you want to buy our silence?”
Only the words didn’t come out as vehemently as Ryan had anticipated. Weariness washed over him, and he found that he was too exhausted to argue. Chan went on staring at him. Finally, Ryan accepted the briefcase. It was heavier than it looked.
“With our apologies,” Chan said and walked back to the car. Before he slid into the passenger seat, he paused and said, “I am sure you can understand that if something like this were to leak out, despite a lack of details, the consequences could be…devastating. The detrimental effect on both of our countries would likely be irreparable.”
Ryan didn’t answer. Chan disappeared into the car and closed the door. The vehicles began to move, the truck with its secret cargo rumbled after them.
“What do we do now?” Becky asked.
“We’ll get those doors open. Get everyone that’s left home safe. After that, we’ll clean up the best we can. That’s one thing good you can say about this town – we take care of our own.”
“I don’t know about you guys,” Derek said, “but I feel like I could sleep for a week. Like the
dead.
”
“Derek,” Kevin said.
“Yeah?”
“Shut it.”