Invaders From Mars (9 page)

“Huh?”

“What’s your problem? You mad or something?”

“Oh, no.” David shook his head.

“Then how come you’re being so quiet? Are you sick?”

“No. But I think my dad might be. I’m worried about him.”

“How come?”

“Well, he . . . I don’t know, he just kinda got weird this morning.”

“Oh, jeez, don’t worry about that.”

David turned to him for an explanation.

“My dad does that all the time. So does Mom. All parents do. Parents are weird,” he said with a wave of his hand. “They go through these moods, you know? My mom tells me I’ll understand when I grow up. But I don’t think I
want
to understand the way they act sometimes. Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothin’.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.” Doug poked him in the ribs with his elbow. “Cheer up.”

David smiled, feeling a little better. But his smile disappeared as soon his house came into view.

Dad’s pickup truck was in the driveway.

Mom’s car was nowhere in sight, but David realized it could be in the garage. David walked to the front of the bus and held onto a rail as it stopped. The doors opened. David couldn’t move his feet from the top step. He held the cold rail and stared at his house. It was usually a welcome sight with its cheery windows and well-kept yard. Now it seemed threatening. The windows were like eyes that watched his every move and the front door, which was open wide, was a mouth patiently waiting for David to step inside.

“David . . .”

He turned to Mr. Bob. The driver waved a meaty hand at the door, motioning for him to get off.

“See ya tomorrow,” Mr. Bob said.

David nodded. Before stepping down, he glanced toward the back of the bus at Doug. He was laughing with someone; David was forgotten. As the doors closed behind him and the bus rumbled away, David felt very alone. He watched the bus disappear down the road, then turned toward the house.

As he walked up the driveway, David looked around the yard for some sign of his parents, but saw nothing.

A soft breeze made hushed sounds in the trees.

Somewhere a bird sang.

As David neared the open door, he heard a strange hissing sound coming from inside the house. Frowning, he climbed the front steps and peeked inside. The living room was empty; the television was on.

“Dad?” David asked, taking a step inside.

No reply, no sound except for the hissing crackle of static from the television.

As David walked into the living room, the front door slammed explosively behind him and he jumped as if kicked. When he spun around, there was no one there.

The breeze? It wasn’t strong enough.

“Dad?” he asked again, his voice cracking. He looked around again but the only eyes he met were the red bulbs of his toy robot standing against the wall, still and lifeless.

He turned to the television and reached for the button to turn it off, but the snowy fuzz that filled the screen suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a clear, colorful picture. On the screen, screaming crowds ran frantically through city streets as deadly beams shot back and forth over their heads. Buildings exploded, cars crashed. David frowned at the movie; he couldn’t remember if he’d seen it or not. He folded his arms before him, allowing himself to become engrossed in the destruction, forgetting, for a moment, his anxiety.

Something began to whir mechanically behind him and a flat, emotionless voice said, “David Gardiner!”

David whirled around to see the foot-and-a-half-tall robot rolling toward him, arms waving, red eyes flashing, and a scream escaped him before he could stop it. He stepped back toward the television just before he saw Mom peek around the corner, grinning, the robot’s remote control in her hand. The robot stopped.

“Mom!” David snapped, his heart pounding. “Don’t do that!”

“Ha-ha, gotcha,” she laughed, crossing the room and giving him a hug.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He’s probably around here somewhere.”

“No, he’s not. I looked around.”

Mom plopped onto the sofa and faced the television. “Oh, he probably got a ride to the base with one of the guys.”

“No . . .” David fidgeted, the movie forgotten.

“Hey,” Mom said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “What’s the matter?”

David sat beside her, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well, I’m not sure, Mom. Dad’s . . . weirded out.”

She put an arm around him and held him close. “Oh, you know your father, David. He’s probably got a lot on his mind. He’s a little worried about that bio-lab arm, you know. C’mon, don’t worry. Okay?”

David looked away from her, unable to reply. He was worried. He was scared. And he felt as if he might never stop being scared again.

“What’s this on the tube?”

David shrugged.

“What?
There’s a monster movie on TV and you don’t know what it is?”

He shrugged again.

“You want something to eat, Champ?”

“No.”

“Tell you what. I’ll get some Oreos and milk and we can watch this movie together while we wait for your dad. How about that?”

David looked up and saw the anticipation in her face. He knew if he turned down Oreos and milk, not to mention a monster movie, she would worry. He decided to make her feel better.

“Okay,” he said.

“Great.” She hurried into the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. You’ll see.”

When George had not returned by the time dinner was ready, Ellen became concerned. Trying to remain calm for David, she put dinner in the oven to keep warm and called a few of George’s friends from the base, casually asking them if they’d seen him.

“He wasn’t at work today,” Larry Hoban said. “Is anything wrong?”

“Oh, no,” Ellen assured him, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice, “no, there’s nothing wrong. I just needed him to do a favor for me, that’s all. I wondered where he was. Thank you.” She slammed the receiver in its cradle unintentionally hard.

He didn’t even go to work!
she thought, feeling the beginnings of panic set in.

“Okay,” she said quietly to herself, picking up the phone again, “
now
I’m worried.”

“Who’re you calling?”

She looked up to see David standing on the staircase, his face tense with worry.

“I’m calling the police, honey,” she replied, expecting to see alarm in his eyes. Instead, his shoulders slumped with what seemed to be relief.

“Good,” he whispered, coming down the stairs. He stood beside her as she punched in the number on the phone.

Ellen’s finger hesitated over the telephone’s square buttons. It wasn’t a number she dialed often—only once before, in fact. George had gone away on business for the weekend—some meeting in Washington, or something—and someone had tried to break into the house late at night. David had woken her, his eyes wide and fearful. Remembering how scared she had been, her hand trembled over the phone, and it occurred to her that she was calling the police, that George was gone, that something was not right, and her throat began to burn. She looked down at her son; he was waiting pensively, glancing from the phone to her and back again.

“David, honey,” she said softly, “why don’t you go out on the front porch? Maybe keep an eye out for your dad? Okay?”

He nodded slightly, turned and left.

“Jesus,” she sighed, finishing the number.

Chief Ward said that he’d be there in just a few minutes. She hung up, stared at the phone a moment, then quickly crossed herself. She hadn’t been a practicing Catholic since high school, but she never hesitated to flick her hand up and down and back and forth when the waters got a little choppy.

She went out on the porch and sat down next to David.

“The chief said he’d be right over, Champ,” she said, trying to sound cheery and unworried.

“You know, Mom,” David said after a moment, “Dad has been acting kinda funny since this morning. Since he went over the hill.”

“C’mon, David, I told you not to worry. He’s just preoccupied, that’s all.” She watched him staring out at the driveway, twiddling his fingers together nervously. “David, are you sure
you’re
feeling okay?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“Your nightmare bothering you?”

He turned to her suddenly, opened his mouth and took in a sharp breath to speak, his eyes wide, and she knew what he was going to say
—It wasn’t a nightmare, Mom, really
!—but he closed his mouth, relaxed, and just shook his head. She put an arm around him and they sat in silence until the Willowbrook Police car drove up.

“Hi, Chief,” Ellen said, standing to greet him as he got out of the car with a grunt, his round belly making his movements a bit awkward. Another man got out on the passenger side, younger, thinner. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem, Mrs. Gardiner,” he said. “You know Officer Kenney?” He gestured to the younger man beside him.

“Ma’am,” Kenney said with a nod, taking off his hat and revealing thick black hair.

“What seems to be the matter, Mrs. Gardiner?” the chief asked.

“Well, George isn’t here. His pickup is, but he’s not.”

“Where do you think he might be?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I phoned a few of his friends, but they haven’t seen him. David and I haven’t spoken with him since this morning.” She looked down at the boy to see his eyes suddenly widening, his face brightening with realization.

“Maybe he went back over the hill!” he said excitedly, grabbing Ellen’s hand.

“David . . .” she said, hoping to quiet him. She didn’t want him going on about UFOs with the police around.

The chief turned to David and bent down as much as his girth would allow. “What’s that, David?”

“Copper Hill.”

Ellen put a hand on his head. “George took a look up there this morning. David thought he saw, um, an aircraft crash there last night.”

“No, Mom!” David exclaimed, exasperated. “I saw a UFO! It had huge lights and everything! Just like in—”

“David, please,
stop
that.” She smiled at the policemen, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

The chief looked thoughtfully from David to Ellen. “Tell you what, Mrs. Gardiner,” he said. “We’ll go up there and have a look. Come on, Kenney.”

They got their flashlights from the car, then Ellen and David followed them around the side of the house to the back yard. As they started toward the path, an ugly thought occurred to Ellen.

What if he’s over there and something’s wrong? What if he went back this morning, fell and hit his head, had no one to help him, and he’s been lying there de
—

She couldn’t even
think
the word: dead.

“Let’s wait here, David,” Ellen said suddenly, holding David back, pulling him close to her.

Chief Ward and Officer Kenney headed up the hill, their flashlight beams bobbing before them. Ellen could hear their fading voices as they climbed.

“I haven’t been up here since I was a kid,” the chief puffed.

Kenney asked, “You hear anything about a plane crash?”

“Nah. The kid’s just been watching too much TV.”

Their flashlight beams swept back and forth before them as they went up the path. They stopped at the crest of the hill and gazed down at the sand pit. They seemed to be talking with one another, gesturing. Then they disappeared over the top.

Ellen felt her son put his arm around her waist and press himself close to her.

“Don’t worry, honey,” she said. “You know, maybe he went with someone to do some field work. That might be it. Don’t worry, Dad’s okay.”

“I hope they are,” he whispered with a nod toward the hill.

“Who?” she asked, looking down at him again. “You mean the chief? And Kenney?”

He said nothing.

Ellen squatted down beside him and turned him toward her. “David, exactly what do you think is over that hill?”

With another look toward the hill, slow and lingering, he said, “I don’t know, Mom. But something is.”

“Oh, David,” she sighed, “I wish you wouldn’t—”

Two quick footsteps made Ellen shriek as she shot to her feet and whirled around, coming face to face with George.

“My
God,
George,” she snapped, instantly angry, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared the
shit
out of me!”

Another man stepped out of the shadows behind him and stood at his side. Ellen had never seen him before. He was a tall man with a square jaw, a high forehead, and deep-set eyes.

George was wearing a suit, but it looked sloppy, as if he hadn’t dressed with his usual care.

“This is Ed,” he said. “Ed, this is my wife . . . my son.”

Ed looked from David to Ellen, but said nothing.

Ellen’s arm snaked around David’s shoulders again, more protective than comforting this time. There was something about this man that made her very uncomfortable. In fact, there was something about George that didn’t seem right. He looked and acted as if he were suffering from a heavy-duty hangover.

From beyond the hill, sounding hollow and mournful, a whippoorwill cried in the night, sending goose flesh across Ellen’s back. She suddenly felt a chill in the warm, calm air.

“How do you do?” she said to Ed, breaking the frigid silence.

“Couldn’t do much better,” he replied. The words sounded as if they should be accompanied by a smile, but they weren’t. In fact, Ed’s face was quite blank. “And yourself?”

“I’m . . . yes, I’m fine.” She turned to George and leaned her head forward, looking at him from beneath lowered brows. “George, where were you? David and I have been worried sick! I even called the police. They’re over the hill looking for you now.”

“Over the hill?” George asked quietly, looking beyond them toward Copper Hill.

“Well, I guess I better be going,” Ed said. “I have to pick up Alice and Heather.”

George turned to him, no smile, no handshake. Just a nod. “See you later, Ed.”

The man turned and walked into the darkness, silent as a shadow.

“What
happened
to you?” Ellen asked George, even angrier than before. “And where did that guy come from? Who
is
he?”