Finally settling into the little motel, Myc and I started to plan out how we were going to find the owner of the possible meteorite. The game plan was to first check out the crash site, hoping we would be able to confirm or deny its authenticity. Then if that was either a success or inconclusive we would have to ask around. The newspaper would be the best bet of getting their identity or at least our next clue.
While it is still early we should check to see if there's a gym that has hand-to-hand combat.
So heading over to the local gym, I was able to find a quick lesson. The main theme was MMA, there weren’t any boxing classes or the like. While it was useful to get some sort of combat practice, most styles were designed with the human physique in mind. Choke holds and joint locks could be useless against another species, although the focus on balance and coordination would allow Myc to better focus on specific muscles to develop.
***
“I hope that was helpful.” I rubbed at my sore muscles and bruised ego. I wasn’t expecting to do that well in my first lesson, but with Myc’s help I thought I could hold my own. It turns out that increased muscle density and reflexes were almost pointless when I had no idea how to use any of them.
I was a few inches shorter than the instructor, so after a few unsuccessful attempts on his part with the assumption that I weighed less. He started to treat me as if I was in a higher weight class, using my own weight against me. This was when I started to get my ass handed to me time and time again.
It is to be expected you have never been in a real fight before, he has had years of experience. While the changes that I have made seem useful on paper, it will take time and experimentation to find an optimized muscle to weight ratio.
“Fine, let's get this investigation underway then.” Finishing up my breakfast of basic necessities. We headed out to see the crash sight, it was just outside of town. The suspected meteorite had destroyed an old abandoned farmhouse, collapsing most of the roof and a single wall onto the supposed otherworldly object.
Although seeing it now, it may have just been someone messing with the already weakened structure. So with a few shifted planks and a small drop, we stared at the compacted dirt underneath the destroyed building.
There doesn’t seem to be any rock or metal debris. We will have to assume this destruction is from an intact capsule and not just human interference.
“Damn, a part from a spaceship would most likely have left scrap and a real meteorite would leave a molten layer on the crash site.” I wished we could chalk this up to natural decay or kids messing with the structure. But caution was the wise choice in matters as important as finding another species.
This means we will have to find out who found it in the first place. They may have been infected, if they have they will be scared and confused.
“Then we need to find out who, before they hurt someone or themselves.” Heading back into town, and a few questions to people walking on the street gave us the location of the local paper. Finding the little place where the locals wrote of all the stories that went on around town. “Why can’t I talk to the writer of the meteorite story?”
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The young guy, who was most likely some part timer working to pay for school, looked at me with a bored expression. “Ms. Suzu is out ‘pursuing another story’. She won’t be back till later today.”
The journalist obviously took her job more seriously, but in a small town word traveled fast so perhaps a local paper wasn’t seen as a necessity. Especially nowadays with phones and online news; although it was admirable to see someone actually doing research rather than posting nonsense online.
“Do you know where she went?” I understood I was just some random guy asking pointless questions, unable to tell him that a person's life may be at risk.
“She went to ‘The Pit’.” He answered again without looking up from his computer screen.
Suppressing a groan, “Where is ‘The Pit’?”
“It is some site where they plan to start fracking, it is a few miles outside of town. Just before the exit to get onto the freeway.”
“Thanks.” Without wanting to waste any more time on what was becoming a nerve racking investigation. I rushed out the door and headed to ‘The Pit’.
I can’t believe that your species still uses such dangerous methods of energy generation. You have more than enough other methods of natural production. Dumping poisonous chemicals into the local drinking water is bordering on insanity.
“You don’t need to tell me that. Fracking is one of the most dangerous methods of procuring new sources of energy. It releases pollution into the air, poisons above and underground water, while destroying native flora and fauna. Not to mention the adverse effects it has on human health, it causes everything from asthma to cancer.” If it wasn’t obvious I was pretty against the whole idea of poisoning the planet for short term monetary gain.
“Exactly." I jumped as someone grabbed my shoulder, turning to see a small Asian woman, maybe in her early 40’s; with short black hair, small glasses, and a large tattoo that wound its way up her right shoulder. "Which is why if I have my way this place would be a smoking hole in the ground before they even have time to say ‘the long-term effects are still unclear’.”
I let my heart settle back into place before asking. “Are you Ms. Suzu?”
“It’s Liz, but yeah. Why, you’ve been looking for me?” She gave me a questioning glance up and down. As a journalist she probably could get a good read on people. Although I doubted she would be able to tell I was infested with an alien fungus symbiote, looking to see if other alien species had found their way here.
“Yeah I’ve been looking for the meteorite that supposedly hit the old farmhouse. There wasn’t anything about it in your article. I was wondering if I could talk to whoever took it.” I questioned what she thought of my reasons for asking. She may have thought there was something more to the whole ‘fallen space station part’ but, hopefully she just thought I was an enthusiast.
Her shoulders relaxed and she stopped glaring at me. “Oh yeah sure, if you think you can get Mr. Woodrow to talk, be my guest. He hasn’t left the house much since his wife passed a month ago. He even stopped his usual walks in the morning.” She looked down like she had lost an old friend. Writing down his address and tearing off the little sheet to hand to me. “You can ask him, but don’t go harassing the old guy. Or you will personally deal with me, got it?”
“Got it.” Turning to leave, before I got chewed out by the stern reporter, I headed to the address on the sheet. “This seems more and more like the guy got infected.”
Yes, the coincidences are starting to add up. We should go slow, if this man is infected just after losing his wife. His reaction to the change may be extreme, and he may not see the potential benefits as you and I do.
“Alright, hopefully knowing that he isn’t alone will help him open up.” Knowing that Myc was there for me, helped more than I could have imagined. Having someone to understand what you were going through was hard. But if their situation was the same as yours it made it easier to connect with.
Finally getting to the address that was written on the sheet, I realized how he was able to find the meteorite before anyone else even got a picture of it. We had passed the crash site on our way, not even half a mile down the road was an old manor. The abandoned farmhouse was most likely part of the farm that Mr. Woodrow owned back in the day. Although it seemed he stopped farming as most of the fields were just wild grass and a slow reclamation of the forests.
Heading up to the door, I passed a mailbox that was overfilled with mail. It seemed like it was mostly junk mail, but no overdue bills or overdraft fees. So the man had enough money to never leave the house, yet the trash cans looked like they hadn’t been moved in weeks. A rustling from inside made me turn around, the old fashioned window drapes fluttered inside.
It seems he has noticed our arrival.