Chapter 8
MonsterMart Meets The B Team
Nine Days Post-Apocalypse
World Population 600 Million
Letter from the Federation Council
Dear Carl Anderson, and Concerned Parties.
We hasten to assure you that the recent events you have experienced are not a punishment, collective or otherwise. The Federation has no desire to anal probe you, steal your water, eat you, kidnap or rape your women, dissect your food animals, or do any of the many things humans think alien lifeforms exist to do. Indeed, we are certain humans are much better at punishing and hurting each other, than anything we could think up in the Federation Council. What you have received is part of a comprehensive Federation aid program.
The monsters you have encountered are ecologically friendly beings, sent to your world to provide short-term solutions to the many problems plaguing humankind. Problems, we would like to point out, that are entirely self-inflicted: Overpopulation, pollution, global warming, famine, war, disease, exhaustion of resources to name a few. These monsters purify water, convert carbon dioxide to carbon and oxygen, and work to clean your environment. When you kill them, they often become trees or edible plant life.
We hope that you will channel your violent and genocidal impulses towards these alien monsters, instead of each other.
However, we are concerned that your population is decreasing faster than anticipated, and we will continue to look into this.
Your Friends
Federation Council
***
“I told BG, you fix my stage 4 lung cancer, you can do whatever you want with my damn skill-points,” an old man wearing a makeshift tinfoil hat and smoking a cigarette said to the equally old man next to him. They were setting up a large sniping rifle on a tripod.
“Like I said, I was here last Friday, thinking of shopping at MonsterMart, when I saw a huge crowd of people in the MonsterMart parking lot. They all looked really happy, having a good time. I was all set to join them, then I noticed a lot of people going into MonsterMart, but nobody coming out. -So I said to myself, 'Robert, if they ain't coming out, you better not be going in'. I did my shopping at the little store a few blocks away. It wasn't safe either, but at least it wasn't no roach motel.” Robert said, telling everyone in the second alien task force, once again, why he didn't shop at MonsterMart.
Ian tuned them out. He studied the giant parking lot in front of him and the MonsterMart in the distance. Aside from a few scattered cars and a bunch of trailers near the store's entrance, the parking lot was empty. The second alien killing task force met on the empty street in front of the MonsterMart parking lot, at least 1000 feet from the MonsterMart itself.
He pulled up his stat sheet.
Name Lord Ian Mind Master
Sex Male
Age 13
Physical Attributes 3.3
With 10 being an Olympic athlete, and 1 being an invalid in a wheelchair, you are 3.3.
Mental Attributes 7.8
With 10 being a super-genius, and 1 being severely retarded, you are 7.8
Status among peers Low
If your peers hadn't been eaten, they would still consider you a nerd and spasticle.
Spasticle, is a human slang word that means an uncoordinated clumsy person.
Claims to fame.
If Coach Benson hadn't been eaten, he would still consider you the worst player to try out for his little league baseball team, in the fifty years he coached baseball.
Special abilities
Psychic. New, level 0.
You are a New, level 0 psychic, only because I'm not allowed to assign negative numbers to your special ability levels. The one stat point you put into your gifts has done nothing to change this.
Note. While I can't tell you how to win this game, I would remind you that one of the game's objectives is to not get eaten. In your case, I suspect this reminder is a waste of time.
A cold chill went through Ian. They were dead. Everyone who entered MonsterMart was dead.
“This is the nearest place any human we know has been to MonsterMart and lived to tell about it,” Dad said to the second alien killing task force. “So this is where we set up our base of operations and plan our attack. Let me make this clear. No one is allowed to cross the line between us and the parking lot without permission from me. You do, you're no longer part of this group. I will take you home myself if I have to. Is that understood?”
Ian nodded and looked around at the sad group of kids and old people making up the second task force. Fergi was at home. Dad had shut her in the garage despite Ian's protests. “Too much going on without a dog running around,” Dad had said.
Aside from his Dad, Uncle Ben, Ellen, and Robert, there were four old men who had to be gun collectors or retired military. They'd brought an impressive arsenal of rifles and machine guns. Two of the four wore makeshift tinfoil hats that were blinding to look at in the morning sun.
Stacy and Sabrina were on patrol duty, with orders to stay near the base... or else. Road Warrior hung around nearby. He still seemed to think Gabe and Ian were gay, but after yesterday he was nicer about it, waving at the two boys halfheartedly when he saw them. He used his small motorcycle to run errands for the group.
The red biplane with iron crosses on its wings and body could be seen flying in the distance. Ian didn't know if the plane was part of their task force, or just happened to be out that morning.
“Ian, man of the hour. You getting anything from the MonsterMart?” Dad asked.
“Not a thing Dad. Sorry,” Ian answered.
“What I expected. Turn around.” Dad put a modified rock-climbing harness over Ian's shoulders and between his legs. He then pulled it painfully tight.
“I hope there's a reason for this,” Ian said.
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“There is. Give me any knives you have, any tools from your inventory, and all of your credits. You'll get them back when this is over,” Dad said.
“You're serious?” Ian asked.
“Yes. I need to make sure you can't buy something from the galactic market to free yourself with.” Dad attached the harness to twenty feet of heavy rope. He attached that heavy rope in turn to a large spool of something labeled “parachute cord”.
Ian didn't have any knives or tools, but he produced his life savings of one hundred and fifty-four credits. The credits came out of his inventory in the form of glowing coins that floated in the air, seeming to defy the laws of physics.
“Could you free yourself quickly?” Dad asked. “If your life depended on it?”
Ian studied the harness. “It might take me a few minutes.”
“Good,” Dad said. “We know this alien, or aliens somehow force people to enter the MonsterMart, but we don't know how. We need to be able to pull you back if it affects you. This alien may produce a pheromone or hallucinogenic substance. If so, this gas mask should keep you safe. I want you to walk fifty feet, over to that first row of parking spaces, then turn around and come back. If you act crazy or deviate from this path in any way, we will use the rope to pull you back. Understood?”
Ian nodded. The gas mask felt suffocating. He walked forward, dragging the rope behind him, feeling like a total idiot. He stopped walking when he ran out of rope. Still not feeling anything, he turned around and walked back again.
Ian pulled off the old gas mask. “Nothing.”
“I'm giving you one hundred feet of rope this time, that's about two more parking spaces in. Go there, stop for a minute, if you sense anything come back.”
Ian walked back into the parking lot, moving forward until he ran out of rope. He stopped and looked around. For some reason, he felt good, like everything would be okay... Oh Shit, he thought. Ian came back to the base and tore off the gas mask.
“It's mind control,” Ian told them. “Subtle as hell. You feel fantastic, then you really want to enter MonsterMart. Also, I think the alien's trapped inside. It's too big to leave, especially after all the people it's eaten.”
“Good to know. Can you fight the mind control?” Dad asked.
“I don't know,” Ian said. “I'd like to go back to where I was. See if I can learn more about how it works and how to fight it. If I start acting crazy pull me back.”
“We'll give you an hour. I have plenty to do back here. If you're not sure you can handle this, come straight back.” Dad said.
Ian walked back into the parking lot, to the same place as before and sat down. How did you fight something like this? It wasn't like he'd done it before. At least he understood what was happening now. That helped. He tried to put up a mental barrier between his mind and the monster's. He'd think he was getting the hang of it, then he'd really want to go into the MonsterMart.
Okay. Deep breath, he thought. Let's think this through. First, he needed to identify and separate his thoughts from the alien's. Because of his gifts, he should be able to do this. Any thoughts of going into the death trap known as MonsterMart were foreign. So starting there, he taught himself to identify alien thoughts and keep them separate from his own. Separating his thoughts from the aliens was a difficult, time-consuming, tedious task, but when done, he could tell which thoughts were his, and which belonged to the alien.
Second, he needed to create a shield to shut out alien thoughts. This didn't take as long, but it was a lot harder. Blocking alien thoughts stressed his gift and made his head ache. It worked, though. Thoughts of how great it would be to go into MonsterMart receded.
His display popped up.
You have created your first mind shield. An action akin to the human Road Warrior mastering calculus. Impressive, and very hard to believe. You have received extra skill points!
“Hey, Ian! You okay back there?” Uncle Ben shouted. Someone pulled on his rope. He stood up and waved, feeling exhausted. His nose was running. He put his hand up to his nose and saw blood. Tilting his head back and squeezing his nose, he walked back to the monster hunters' base.
“You okay? You've been sitting there for over two hours,” Uncle Ben said. He handed Ian a handkerchief.
“I'm fine,” Ian answered. “I thought you were going to call me back in an hour?”
“You seemed fine, and we had plenty to do back here,” Uncle Ben answered.
A lot happened since he'd been gone. Gabe was talking to Dad about an alien care package he was putting together for their MonsterMart alien. Now all four old men, plus Robert and Uncle Ben were wearing tinfoil hats that reflected the sun.
Dad had been busy. A twenty-foot-long gray curved object, probably a tumtum bone Mrs. Wilcox had given Dad the day before, had been fastened to a framework of what appeared to be several more large tumtum bones to create a makeshift catapult. A pulley hand crank mechanism was being used to stress the long tumtum bone, bending it way back. The bucket, fastened to the end of the catapult, held two large cement blocks. The old men stood around telling off-color jokes about Dad's tumtum boner.
“Everybody stand back!” Dad shouted. As soon as they were out of the way, he pulled on a rope. With a whoosh and a loud bang, the bone snapped forward. The two cement blocks flew up and over the MonsterMart entrance, landing on the roof of the giant store.
“Not bad!” Dad shouted. “The tumtum bone catapult works better than I thought. A few adjustments and we're good to go.”
“We need to get that trailer out of the way. That sixteen-foot utility trailer is blocking the entrance,” one of the old men told Ian's dad. The two men started talking quietly.
“It's the quickest way,” the old man said. “If Lady Wilcox can be believed, we don't have much time.”
“Absolutely not. It's too dangerous.” Dad said.
“If anything goes wrong we pull him back, and we'll be covering him the entire time.” the older man argued.
“I'll do it,” Ian said, overhearing the men. “I have a mind shield now. Tell me what the plan is.”
“No,” Dad said. The two men moved away, still arguing.
***
“If you're sure you want to do this, push the shopping cart over to that large utility trailer blocking the entrance. Move the trailer to the side, get it out of the way. You see where the parking lot slopes downhill? First, make sure nothing's blocking the trailer's wheels, then use the slope to push the trailer away from the entrance. The trailer's empty so you can do this,” Dad said. “Next, push this cart forward and roll it as far into the MonsterMart entrance as you can. For god's sake don't try to go through the entrance yourself. If you act crazy, we'll pull you back. If you feel you can't do this at any time, turn around and come back. Too many people have died here already.”
“What's in the cart?”
“Don't worry about that. Just get the cart inside the entrance,” Dad responded.
Ian nodded. A blanket covered the shopping cart, and it was heavier than he would have liked. Trying not to think about what was in the cart, he muscled it onto the parking lot and rolled it forward. He wasn't half as sure about this as he'd tried to appear.
Ian raised his mind shield, trying to imagine his mind inside a heavy vault. He forced himself to concentrate on the cart, nothing but the cart. Soon he'd pushed the cart past the hundred-foot mark where he'd been sitting. Forward, forward, growing more exhausted with every step. If he turned around now, he'd be letting people down, but he could feel the alien pushing against his mind. It wanted him to let go of the cart and go inside, everything would be okay. It promised. It felt like the time that baseball coach had made him do twenty push-ups after he'd ran ten laps around the park. That kind of strain, only mental. His nose was bleeding again. He tried to pick up the pace. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could get away.
The cart stopped with a jolt. It had run into the trailer. He pulled the cart back, then grabbed the Trailer Hitch. It was hard to get the thing moving, but once he did, moving it became easier. An eternity of pushing later, the MonsterMart entrance was no longer blocked.
His head felt like a spike was going through it. Ian grabbed the cart and pushed it towards the entrance. Flags and debris from the first expedition covered the ground. He pushed the cart over them, too tired to do anything else. The MonsterMart was dark, but Ian could see a faint green glow from deeper inside.
You don't have to be afraid. Let go of the cart, come inside and relax, the alien kept saying. Ian shuddered. The only thing inside the MonsterMart was death.
He reached the slight downward slope at the entrance and let go. The cart somehow rolled to the side, catching on the edge of the door. He groaned. Staggering forward, he pulled the cart back and pushed again. The cart was inside the entrance now. As good as it was going to get. He began staggering back to base camp, taking ten steps before something grabbed his leg from behind, and pulled.
He screamed, skinning his hands on the pavement, trying to get away. The men at the base camp pulled on his rope and he became the subject of a tug-of-war. He heard shooting, at whatever had grabbed him, he hoped, he hugged the asphalt. A horrible scream came from the store's entrance. Something exploded. The heat from the explosion behind him was hot enough to burn. Whatever grabbed him let go. Ian was pulled, crawling and stumbling back to the home base.
***
“I told you to wait for him to get clear before shooting that thing!” Dad shouted. “And those tinfoil hats make you look like fucking idiots!”
“Hey! If these hats protect us from BG's brainwaves we're going to be the ones laughing. And would you rather he got eaten? We didn't have a choice!” someone shouted back.
“Ian's fine,” Uncle Ben said. “Man, that thing is huge! Did we kill it?”
Ian was so tired he couldn't stand, and he needed a dry pair of pants. Five feet of the monster's tentacle was still attached to his leg. He unwound it and tossed it aside in disgust.
A giant bloated green octopus thing with way too many tentacles now blocked the entrance of the MonsterMart. It looked dead. “Did we get it?” someone asked, as both alien and Ian's tentacle vanished.
“You got one of the babies,” Ian answered, unsure of how he knew. “And the mother is pissed.”
A lower-pitched rumbling scream grew louder, and louder, making Ian's teeth and bones rattle. The front walls of the MonsterMart exploded outward and the giant red MonsterMart sign came crashing down as the huge alien mother pushed her way out. She pulled her pale, glowing green, bloated body forward with her thousands of large tentacles. Crushing the giant red MonsterMart sign with her weight as she came for the second task force. Ian's display popped up.
This is a wuffle. She came to your planet to give birth to her many fat, ill-tempered, disagreeable children. Children who have no respect for those sacred religions, customs, and traditions you humans hold dear.
Ian looked for the others to see what they were doing. They didn't move. They looked like they were in shock and would soon snap out of it... but they didn't.
“Dad! Wake up!” Ian shouted, shaking his father. Dad rocked back, but didn't respond. The spike going through Ian's head returned with renewed force.
The catapult had been pulled back for a second test. If it could launch cement blocks to the roof of the store, would it launch a larger, heavier object a shorter distance? Like halfway across the parking lot?
Ian crawled over to Gabe's box with the words “Alien Care Package” on it. It was large and heavy. Knowing Gabe, it held a nasty surprise for their alien. He grabbed it and dumped it into the catapult bucket. Then he added what looked like Molotov cocktails and a few other things that were probably bombs. Looking for a match or lighter, he realized the camp stove was still lit and the coffee pot was boiling over. He grabbed the coffee pot and threw it to the side. The metal pot and boiling coffee must have burnt his hand, but he didn't feel a thing. He was having trouble getting his arms and hands to do what he wanted. He dropped the Molotov cocktails several times before he could light them from the stove and place them in the bucket.
The spike going through his head kept getting worse. He could feel the alien mother getting closer. Praying he'd put enough in the catapult bucket, he found the rope his dad had pulled earlier to launch the catapult, and pulled it as hard as he could. He fell over. Desperate, he tried again, somehow finding the strength to stand. He pulled the rope harder this time, putting all his weight behind it. With a whoosh and bang, the catapult went off.
The last thing Ian felt before he lost consciousness was sadness. They'd done the best they could. They were only human.