The 17 (12 page)

“I’m glad you are conversing with me,” Zack said.

“Why will you not fight, even when we gave you an incentive to do so? Is it not in your nature?”

“Not mine, I guess.”

“You are a violent race. You send men of your species to your orbiting satellite, place a plaque dedicated to your own hubris on a lifeless, barren body to proclaim you come in peace, meanwhile back on your world you bomb cities and slaughter your own people by the thousands.”

“Yes. We are pretty savage as a whole, I guess. But we are individuals, too. Not all of us subscribe to the mean.”

Silence.

Zack was concerned he had lost his audience. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. Where else would I be?”

“Who are you?”

“George.”

“I know. I know. But what are you? Are you an alien?”

Long pause. “Alien?”

“Yes. Different from me.”

“Oh, yes. Very much so.”

“Why did you bring me, bring us, here?”

“To study. To evaluate. To learn. We need you.”

“Need me? Why?” Long pause. “C’mon. Tell me.”

“We are dying.”

“Dying?”

“Yes. Our race is stagnant. We have answered all the questions of the cosmos. We have nothing left for which to strive. We have lost the ability to create. We have lost the ability to enjoy. We only exist. We do not really live. We need to integrate new ideas; new thoughts; new life or we will further wilt and cease to exist.”

Zack took a moment to process what he had just heard.

“This troubles you?” George asked.

“What troubles me is being held against my will and being watched and tortured and killed over and over again. What troubles me is that you let Jenai die without bringing her back.” Zack paused and swallowed the lump that had former in his throat. “What troubles me is that I pulled that trigger.”

“You pulled the trigger, but you did not kill. You could not kill.”

“But I pulled the trigger. I wanted to kill.”

“No. Had you wanted to kill, the rifle would have fired. It did not fire.”

Zack swallowed the lump that had formed uncomfortably in his throat and walked closer to the barrier. He felt its energy stand the hairs on his arms. “What are you saying?”

“If you want something, it happens. If you do not want something, it does not happen.”

“I didn’t want Jenai to die. I want her back.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me?” Zack screamed. “I want Jenai back!”

“There are some things you want that you may not have. It cannot be done. Her biological functions have ceased for too long.”

Zack gritted his teeth. “I don’t care. Bring her back!”

“Are your auditory functions troubling you? Some things you want, you cannot have.”

Zack stomped his foot angrily. “Why are you talking to me?”

“I am curious,” the deep voice boomed. “You are different than the others. But I am confused. We give you comforts of your home. We provide you with things you like. We heal you when you are hurt. We revive you when your body functions cease. Is this not favorable to you?”

“No.”

“This is quite vexing. You are very vexing.”

“We do like the things you give us. We do appreciate not dying, I guess. But we don’t like to be confined and forced to do things for your amusement.”

“What is amusement?”

“Pleasure. You take pleasure from our pain.”

“Oh, no, we do not. We quite dislike it. It is necessary, however.”

“Why?”

“To study you. To see if you are what we need. You deserve further study. That is why one of us is among you.”

Zack’s heart beat faster. “What does that mean?”

“We are with you. Very perplexing race you are. It is very hard to pretend.”

“You have been with us?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“George.”

Zack sighed and shook his head. He began to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “I know you are George. I mean, who have you been pretending to be?”

“One of you.”

Zack screamed in frustration.

The deep voice echoed with concern. “Are you hurt? I can heal you.”

“No, I am not hurt. I am vexed.”

“In that, we share.”

“Go away, George.” Zack lay back on the cot and closed his eyes.
There were no answers to be had here. Only more questions.

“I am sorry you are distressed. I should not have spoken with you, Zack Earnest.”

Zack heard some clicking and clacking, loud and then growing softer until it was gone.

†††

Zack stared at the half-empty bag of Olive Garden croutons that sat on the coffee table. He was back in the same house where he appeared in this menagerie for the first time. Zill sat on the chair, her legs swinging wildly over the armrest.

There was an uncomfortable silence. There always was an uncomfortable silence with Zill, but this one was different.

“God! This is never going to end,” Zill bellowed.

It startled Zack. “It doesn’t seem so.”

“Like, I thought if we died, we died. What are we doing back here again? What do they want?”

“For us to save them.”

Zill looked at Zack and cocked her head. “Um, what?”

Zack debated on whether or not to tell Zill about his encounter with George. Zack wasn’t all that sure it was real, anyway. He felt as though he was slowly losing his mind, that reality was becoming so blurred he couldn’t tell what was authentic and what was imagined.

Zack decided to tell her anyway. “I talked to one of them.”

Zill cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, everyone! Come here! Like, quick!”

Harness, Brock and Cass sprinted into the room from the hallway, all with concerned looks on their faces. It took Mizuki another moment to amble into the room as stoic as ever.

“What the hell?” Harness asked.

Zill pointed at Zack. “He talked to one of them.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “One of who?”

“One of the asshats who are keeping us in this hell, who do you think? Duh?”

They all closed in on Zack, surrounding him with wanting, expecting eyes. Zack leaned away from them. He hadn’t wanted to unleash all he had learned on everyone just yet, but Zill had forced his hand.

“Spit it out, twerp,” Harness said in his usual gentle way.

“I was in that cell and one spoke to me. He said they were dying and needed help.”

Brock sat down slowly on the couch beside Zack, pressing his clasped hands and index fingers to his lips. “How interesting.”

“That’s not the worst part.” The eyes in the room swung to Zack again. “He said they have someone with us, pretending to be one of us.”

Those same eyes that focused on Zack swung around suspiciously to each other. What little trust the group had was gone.

In a flurry, accusations were tossed. Harness was the first to point a finger at Brock, calling him a “black robot.” Then the group turned on Cass, accusing her of faking her British accent and using the term “bloody” way too often, and then the ire focused on Zill. “Who has a bloody name like Zill?” Cass asked, condescendingly. Harness chimed in with, “Like, who says like, like so much. You are trying too hard to be a dumb girl.”

Zack knew it was just a matter of time before it would all come back around to him, and sure enough, it did.

“What about Zacky Goody-Two-Shoes,” Harness said, pointing his beefy finger at him. “He was the last one here. He’s certainly weird enough to be an alien. His head is misshapen like one.”

Zack bit his tongue.

Mizuki scoffed. “You always reveal your true natures.”

“Accusing each other isn’t going to help,” Brock blustered. “Why would he tell you, Zack, that there was one of them with us?”

“He wasn’t supposed to be talking to me. I think he just let it slip.”

Zill began to panic. “Oh my God! Oh my God! What do we do about it? I can’t believe one of those creepy aliens has been eating and sleeping with us. Ew.”

Brock asked calmly, “What was he like? Did you see him?”

“No. I could only hear him. He spoke very deliberately. You know, like an alien who was hopelessly trying to understand us.”

Brock slipped back into Brock-ly mode. “Interesting.”

Zack continued. “He sounded almost sorry he was putting us through this.”

“Sorry? He’s sorry?” Harness fumed. “He can kiss my Earthling ass.”

Zack looked at each and every one of them and examined them. He eyed Harness, who jutted his jaw and clenched his fists in anger. He eyed Brock, who escaped into his thoughts. He eyed Zill, who blinked back tears and he looked at Cass, who just plopped on the floor and buried her head in her hands.

Mizuki stood, arms crossed, examining everyone just as Zack was doing, making mental notes, studying.

Being very alien-like.

No, Zack, thought. It can’t be her. Then he recalled the newspaper clippings he saw on his return home. Mizuki wasn’t among them. Then again, there wasn’t one about Zill, either. Then he thought of Mizuki’s sudden change in personality. He thought it odd then, but it made sense now.

It can’t be Zill, Zack concluded. The alien he spoke to was incapable of playing a role that well. George even said it was difficult to pretend.

“I do not think we will ever know,” Mizuki said, calmly, bluntly, quite alien-like.

Zack stood, his eyes drilling into Mizuki, who had finally noticed his stare.

“What is your malfunction?” she asked.

“Mizuki, say ‘can’t.’”

“What?”

“Okay. Say, ‘don’t,’ or ‘wouldn’t’ or ‘shouldn’t.’ Just say any contraction. Any will do.”

The others glared at Mizuki.

“Yes,” Brock said. “Come to think of it, you’ve been acting strangely lately, and speaking very formally.”

Mizuki was defensive “So? This is how I converse.”

Zack shook his head. “No. It’s not. It’s how they
converse
. When I talked to George, he didn’t—or couldn’t—use a contraction. He also used strange, formal words like converse and vex. I don’t think they have mastered our language well enough yet.”

Zill blurted, “Yeah, just like Data on Star Trek.” Eyes swung to her. “What? Don’t judge me.”

Mizuki sniggered and shook her head. “This is farcical.”

“Farcical?” Zack laughed. “You’ve been cold and distant lately. I thought you were just having a mental breakdown or something, but you’ve been quietly studying us.”

“Do not get so supercilious. Such hubris.”

“See. There it is again. Supercilious? And you didn’t use a contraction again. You said ‘
Do not. Do not
.’”

Mizuki was getting flustered—or at least feigning it. “That is just how I converse. And I am having a mental breakdown. I am feeling very irked. That does not make me an alien.”

Zill hooted. “Like, who says ‘irked’ in normal convo? You are such an alien.”

Mizuki shrugged her shoulders. “Then there is nothing I can do to persuade you.”

Zack interrupted. “Yes. Say, ‘
There’s
nothing I can do to persuade you.’”

Mizuki tried to speak, but couldn’t. Harness grabbed her and threw her down on the couch, holding her there as she squirmed. “I bet you are real ugly. Well, uglier than you are now. Show us what you really look like.”

Mizuki looked around the room, her eyes glancing from face to face and finally focused on Zack. At that moment, he knew Mizuki was one of the aliens.

She turned her gaze to Harness and said, almost defiantly, “My true form would offend you.”

Harness, shocked, loosened his grip, allowing Mizuki to break free.

Zill shrieked. “Oh my God, it’s going to shoot lasers out of its eyes and kill you, Harness. Look out!”

“Zill,” Zack said. “Just shut up.” He walked closer to Mizuki, who stood her ground, defiant and pompous. “It can’t hurt us even if it wanted to. George? Is that you, George?”

Mizuki shook her head. “No. George will be reprimanded for talking with you, Homo sapien boy. That is a certainty. I am Fred.”

“Fred? George and Fred? Really?” Zill mocked. “Do you all have nerdy names like Wilber or Eugene?”

Harness barked, “Shut up,
Zill
. Remember, your name is
Zill
. You shouldn’t make fun of people’s names, even if they belong to spineless aliens.”

“Mizuki—or Fred—chuckled smugly. “You always show your true nature. So feeble of mind. This is why George is so wrong about your species. He thinks your race is the answer to our dilemma. I think you are just a waste of material, like so many others in the universe. Such inferior things, you are. So combative. You bicker and fight and belittle. You offer nothing. You add nothing. You would all be dead if it were up to me.”

“But it’s not up to you, is it?” Zack said boldly. “You and George are just low-level underlings, the lab geeks who have to babysit us. So, who’s running this show?”

Fred, who still looked disturbingly like Mizuki, grumbled. “You do not ask questions. You do what we say.”

“I want to talk to someone higher up than a babysitter.”

The alien circled Zack slowly, and then walked toward him. Harness jumped between them, but Zack tapped him on the shoulder and nodded. Harness hesitantly moved out of the way. Fred resumed his approach and now stood very much in Zack’s personal space. He eyed him up and down, smirking. It was unsettling to Zack.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” the alien asked.

Zack nodded.

“This is acceptable.” The alien grabbed his arm and Zack felt a sensation unlike any he had ever experienced. He felt as if he were unattached and floating as the room warped. He could see Harness reach out for him in stabbing swipes. He could see Zill cover her mouth and Brock cock his head in wonderment.

And, then, darkness.

†††

The clicking and clacking was loud, so thundering Zack had to cover his ears.

He was back in the cell—the spring in the cot that poked into his butt told him as much. He squirmed, and then stood, walking slowly toward the swirling barrier of light.

The click-clacking, rising and falling in intensity, boisterous and emphatic, abruptly ceased.

The aliens were definitely in a tizzy.