Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

I fought the urge to knock this fake Mrs. Goodfellow over and run to my baby—to all the children—but I needed to know what I was dealing with first. I had to know what kind of being I was up against in order to know how to fight it and bury it deep within the ground.

It had my child. It had to die.

Licking my dry lips, tamping down my absolute terror, I asked, “What are you. Who are you?”

Mrs. Goodfellow, or whoever this was melted before me, shedding her skin like a snake until her true form appeared.

So here’s the deal: I’m going to officially concur—aliens exist. And they can shapeshift.

Tall, lanky, gangly of leg and arm, bulbous eyeballs, enormous triangular head, green skin like that of some mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Yep. This was an alien, and Neerie had been right, and if we got out of this alive I was going to apologize to her for thinking her quite mad.

It chuckled then, a weird, almost electronic sound. “I know what you’re thinking, Mrs. Jefferson. As your friend Nina would say, holy shitballs, aliens are real. Am I right?”

I gulped. Nina would say that.

“What do you want? Why did you kidnap these children?” I demanded, as if I was some sort of authority figure it would bow down to. But Nina and Marty were always telling me I gave good stern nun. I was hoping it would work in my favor.

“You’ve been a busy little bee, haven’t you, Mrs. Jefferson? I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out. But it’s my understanding, you’re just getting your footing in the field of investigation,” it chirped, with a little too much glee for my taste.

Refusing to back down, I kept moving forward, pushing it back, getting closer to my son, who lay with eyes closed, pale green face curled into a pillow on a bed and hooked up to what looked like an IV.

What was this…this thing doing to my son? To all of these children?

Here’s the dilemma I’m currently having. How strong is this thing? Can I take it? Will I only end up making things worse if I rush it?

Talk. Do what you do best, Wanda, talk. Make nice.

I held up a hand, squaring my shoulders. “Can we pause here for a moment? Can you explain to me what’s happening? Why you’re doing this?”

It cocked its big head, its eyes assessing me from behind those orbs of black. “Of course. I’m not a heathen, Mrs. Jefferson. I am, after all, the more intelligent lifeform—or at least that’s what all you humans claim, isn’t it?”

“I’m not human…” I don’t know why I made that a big deal, but it was true.

It held up a long, skinny green finger. “Correct! You’re half werewolf, half vampire, even if those numbers make no sense. You’re actually a quarter vampire, a quarter werewolf and half human.”

By golly, it was right. I don’t know why we’d never noticed that egregious error. “You’re right. That aside, why are you doing this? Why do you have these children? Why do you have my son?” I fought the growl in my voice when I mentioned Sam, even though I wanted to rip its throat out.

“Well, it’s a simple explanation. These children, your son included, have a very important thing in their blood called seriguin. All paranormals have it. It’s a waste product of their magic. It excretes when they urinate. Rather the way humans excrete things through their blood and their kidneys.”

I looked up at this enormous being and decided ET had been a whole lot of bunk. “So you’re draining them of their magic?” I should have paid better attention in science class. Curses!

“Sort of. I’ve been draining their blood. Not enough to kill them, of course—not yet, anyway—and collecting it before it can be excreted. I’ve been removing it, waiting for their bodies to make more, so I can repeat the cycle until I have enough.”

“Enough to do what?” I squeaked, unable to keep the hysteria from my voice. “Why do you need their blood?”

Its head bobbed on its wide shoulders. “To make a group of superior beings, of course, Mrs. Jefferson. So I can take the blood back to where I’m from and use it to create super-assassins who aren’t only double the strength and powers of my species, but smart as whips. Then we’re going to come back here and wipe out Earth. Duh.”

Was I hearing this right?

“Yes, you’re hearing that correctly, Mrs. Jefferson. We want to kill all humans and take over planet Earth,” he said so calmly, I almost stopped breathing.

And it read minds. Perfect .

It nodded. “It comes in handy, for certain. I’m male, by the way. My name isn’t something you can pronounce, but you can call me Groot. You know that tree in the movie Guardians of the Galaxy ? It cracked me up. You guys really know how to make a good story. Though, I didn’t love ET . He was a bit of a wimp.”

My head swirled as I tried to keep one eye on Sam and the children and one on this—this being. “So, um…Groot. You kidnapped all those children by pretending to be school staff, didn’t you?”

He shrugged almost coyly. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. That part was easy-peasy, as you Earth people say. I morphed into them, hid my scent, coaxed the children to me, transported them here where I’d decided to set up my lab, for obvious reasons. But I did put back the people I used. Good as new. Honest. I can morph into almost anyone or anything. Wanna see?”

“No!” I shouted, then bit my lip. “No, thank you. I want you to finish your story, seeing as you’re such a fan of them. So, Neerie caught you, didn’t she? She took your picture, and she figured out you were the one behind the stolen school supplies?”

“Yeaaah,” Groot drawled, crossing his gangly arms over his thin chest. “She did. She’s not as crazy as everyone thinks, you know. I agree, she’s insufferably bossy, but she caught me one night while I was shedding Mrs. Goodfellow’s skin to take a breather. I almost caught her. Little did I know, she could fly. How did I miss the fact that a fairy can fly, for Mars’ sake? It’s the one thing we haven’t been able to perfect—aside from our ships, that is.”

“So you caught up with her when she met with her Facebook group and snatched her from the woods?”

He shot a finger up in the air. “Bingo!” he cried cheerfully. “But that one gentleman had a dog with him on their hunt for Bigfoot—as if he really exists—and he could smell me. Darnedest thing. Anyway, I grabbed her and brought her back here. I’m sure all the PTA moms would thank me if they could. She is rather dreadful.”

I burst out laughing. To think an alien doubted the existence of Bigfoot. Hah!

Groot cocked his head. “What’s so funny, Mrs. Jefferson?”

Shaking my head, I held up a hand. I think I was growing slaphappy from my lack of sleep and all these outlandish events. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s get back to the problem at hand. I have more questions.”

“Of course. I’m happy to answer. Do go on.” He rolled his oddly shaped hand to indicate I should continue.

“You do realize you forgot her phone, right? She must have dropped it when you snatched her. We saw your picture.”

He shrugged his shoulders again. “So? Big deal. As if anyone was going to believe her alien theories any more than they did her conspiracy theory about poor Paul McCartney. To taint that man’s life with such a heinous rumor is unthinkable. I cherish my Abbey Road album. Besides, even you and your cohorts thought it was nuts.”

A fair statement if I ever heard one. If I made it out of this, my apology tour was going to be a long one.

“Why did you steal all those school supplies? The coloring books? The chemistry books, which I’m assuming are for my son, Sam?”

Groot tsked. “I needed to keep things tidy, of course, cleaning items were essential. Also, I wanted the children to have things they enjoyed when they were awake. What do you think I am, Mrs. Jefferson? Some kind of unfeeling animal?”

I was running out of questions. I had to do something. Anything. But what? This thing could snatch people up out of thin air.

“May I see my son? The children?”

Groot sighed. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. You have a soft heart, Mrs. Jefferson. Seeing them hooked up to all the machinery will only upset you.”

I looked over his enormous shoulder at the children, lying helpless in the beds, and strengthened my resolve. “Please,” I begged. “You’re going to kill us all anyway. What will it hurt to let me see my son?”

His sigh was one of impatience. “Oh, fine. My colleagues would laugh at me for being such a bleeding heart, but I’m almost done here. Sam finished the superfecta for me. Each of the children offer a facet of magic due to their species. All different, but combined, powerful. Little Sam gives me the last quality of magic I’ll need before taking what I’ve gathered and leaving this hellscape.” He motioned with his arm. “Go on, then. He won’t be awake, but you can do whatever you Earth people do when your time here is done.”

I let out a small sigh of relief, inching past him to run to Sam.

Do not cry, Wanda. Do not. While you gather up your child, figure out how to get everyone out of here. No tears.

But it wasn’t easy, when my baby came into full view. He was hooked up to a machine cycling his blood, draining him of the magic he excretes. Helpless to do anything.

With a quick glimpse around, I took note of all the machines whizzing and whirring, quietly buzzing. The harsh lighting overhead, the scent of fear and desperation emanating from the children, even though they were asleep.

There was a standing fan, to keep the area cool and dry, I suspected; it was terribly damp down here. It blew softly next to the stack of coloring books and bottles of bleach and cans of oxygen.

I gathered my baby up in my arms and held on for dear life, rocking him, my eyes filling with tears. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw petite Neerie tied to her chair, unconscious, just as helpless as Mrs. Goodfellow, her pointy ears sagging downward. I battled my helplessness.

How would I get all of us out of here?

“It’s okay, Sammy. Mommy’s here,” I whispered, gazing at the other children. Tina Madry, Chester Godfrey, Lori Caulfield, all in the same state as my son, and it infuriated me so, my limbs shook.

As I clung to him, as I rocked him, buried my face in his shoulder, something hit me out of the blue.

Movies and my lighter.

I know that sounds like a ridiculous combination, but the movie Alien sprang to mind.

Sure, it was probably a completely inopportune time to recall this, but didn’t Sigourney Weaver kill an alien with fire? Didn’t she throw herself into a furnace or something? The ending of the movie is fuzzy. I think I fell asleep. Sci-fi isn’t my cuppa, but Heath loves it, and could it hurt to try?

But a lighter wasn’t going to cut it. I needed a flamethrower.

I kept speaking to Sam, thinking about my husband and Olivia, while my fingers reached into my Mary Poppins purse and felt around for a can of hair spray.

Marty and I? We were old school. We still loved our Aqua Net and we always had some handy. In our purses, our bathrooms, even in a kitchen drawer—because a girl always wants to be at her best.

I can’t tell you the relief I experienced when my hand touched that can of hair spray. Laying Sam back down as gently as I could, I pressed a kiss to his brow and whispered, “Wish Mommy luck, sweet boy. I love you more than the entire world times infinity.”

Sam stirred then. Gripping my arm, he whispered back, “I love you…too, Mommy,” before he drifted back into an unconscious state.

And my heart shattered. My stomach rolled and rumbled. Tears stung my eyes.

I wasn’t going to let this thing take this boy away from me. Not without a helluva fight.

Gritting my teeth, I searched for strength while I kicked off my shoes—because heels and a fight to the death aren’t always compatible. “So, what’s next, Groot? How are you going to end it all?” I asked, as he stooped to check the dial on a machine, the likes of which I’d never seen.

“Well, I didn’t plan on so many deaths before I left Earth, but I have a sedative that will end all your troubles. Rather a humane euthanasia, if you will. Promise you won’t feel a thing.”

My trembling hands clung to the hair spray and lighter as I crept toward him with silent steps, my nylons catching the concrete as I went. I only needed him to turn around. “You know, I just want to mention, you’re the nicest bad guy I’ve ever encountered, and believe me when I say I’ve encountered many.”

He didn’t turn around though. Instead, he busied himself reading a printout. “That’s so kind of you to say. I’m not here to terrorize you, Mrs. Jefferson. Not at all. I simply want what I need to end all of mankind. It’s not a big deal,” he said—and finally turned around.

In that second, I hit the actuator of my can of Aqua Net and lit that lighter for all I was worth.

Except, my lighter didn’t light. The dull clicking sound of the wheel that sparks the flame was a dud.

Gulp.

Groot came at me, fast and furious. “Oh, Mrs. Jefferson, how could you? I was just beginning to like you. What a pity.”

He gathered me up so fast, my eyeballs jiggled in my head, giving me a good shake. His hands, though lean with slender fingers, were like vise grips, their cool clamminess digging into my flesh. “And after I let you say goodbye to your son. I’m so disappointed.”

Imagine my disappointment that my Bic didn’t flick. I struggled against his grip, my feet dangling off the floor, my breathing a hard-won fight. He glared at me, his blacker-than-black eyeballs pinning me to the wall he held me against.

I was about to shift to were form when I sensed movement over Groot’s shoulder.

“Wanda!” I heard Nina bellow.

Dear God, I loved my BFF.

Nina’s voice caught Groot off guard and gave me the chance to take a second shot.

Lifting my arm—an arm that felt as if it were made of lead—I hit the actuator again, flicking the Bic in front of the stream of hair spray until it raged in flame.

Right in his big ugly face.

Groot dropped me hard, letting me crash to the ground, and my ankle twisted as my foot cracked against the basement floor.

“Wanda! Look out!” Marty screamed, the scuffle of her boots clacking wildly as she raced toward us.

Groot wasn’t an easy kill. With his face on fire, even as he began to melt into green slime, he came at me again, hauling me upward and slamming me back to the ground. The hair spray and lighter flew to the floor, swishing away from me.

I scrambled to get away, but he grabbed my ankles and dragged me back toward him, scraping the flesh of my cheek against the concrete floor.

That was when I realized it was going to take a whole lot more than a Bic lighter and some hair spray to end this. “Forget me! Get the children! Get Sam!” I yelled to Nina and Marty, as Groot hauled me up against him, my head only reaching his waist, the feel of his eerily cool, slick skin against mine making me gag.

But Nina didn’t work that way. It was always all or nothing with her. I heard her call to Marty, “Catch!” Right before she hollered, “Hey, you piece of shit! Over here!”

I heard Marty grunt, then screech, “Wanda, duck!”

I fought to get away from this thing that had the strength of a thousand men, scratching and clawing as pices of my clothing began to catch fire from the embers until I broke free and lunged for the far wall of the basement.

Groot screamed, a long, wailing sound that nearly blew my eardrums out as I scrambled to do as Nina instructed, tucking my head to my chest and curling into a ball when I felt hot flames lick at my heels.

When I poked my head up, I saw Marty pop the lid on a tank. Then the can of oxygen arced across the room, Marty launching it at the alien like an NFL quarterback.

It exploded in red-hot flames when it hit his burning head, and Groot collapsed on the floor.

The flames engulfed his body while he screamed in agony, twisting and writhing until he was nothing but a melted green blob, wisps of green smoke swirling above him.

I fell back on my elbows, my throat sore from being manhandled, my ankle throbbing after taking the hit to the floor, and sucked air into my lungs. The acrid stench of burning alien clung to my nose, making me gag.

Why hadn’t I thought of the oxygen tanks? A question for the ages.

Marty flew to my side, pulling me to her, the comforting smell of her perfume wafting to my nose. “Oh, Wanda, we were so worried! Are you okay?”

I struggled to sit all the way up. “How did you find me?”

She chuckled, hugging me to her, swatting at the embers from the fire. “Remember that door to Narnia?”

I coughed, my lungs tight. “Please don’t tell me that’s real, too. Aliens, Bigfoot, what’s next? Elvis at the outlet mall, singing for his supper?”

“Well, it’s not real, but the concept is similar. I guess this…alien, is it? Made a secret passage in the supply closet. So when you were looking at the supplies, you must have moved a jug of ammonia. That’s what opened the door down here. To the basement of the school.”

“You mean, you guys went to the supply closet and risked never getting back to the school for me? My flabbers are all gasted.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wanda, and c’mere, you sassy bitch. Leave it to you to find the biggest motherfucker to ever walk planet Earth. You scared the shit out of us,” she complained, as she pulled me into her embrace, tamping out patches of my clothes with her bare hands. “I hate when you do that.”

I hugged her back. “I’m sorry about what I said to you. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I was just frustrated and worried. I love you. I love you both.”

She tightened her hug while Marty threw her arms around us. “I know that, dipshit. Forget it ever happened.”

Over her shoulder, I spied Sam and the other children. “Sam! We have to unhook him from that machine now !”

I unfurled my aching body from Nina’s clutches and hobbled to my son, gathering him in my arms to hold him close while Nina and Marty removed the needle in his arm, then went to tend to the other children.

Neerie began to stir, her eyes slowly prying themselves open. “Wanda?” she whispered weakly. “How did you get here?”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “I don’t know exactly, but let me be the first to tell you, I’m sorry for not believing in your conspiracy theories and thinking you weren’t all there.”

“Alternative thinker,” she whispered hoarsely, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I prefer alternative thinker.”

Throwing my head back, I laughed as Nina untied her. “Oh, Neerie, if you only knew how not so alternative you are.” I hiked Sam against my chest and held out my hand to her. “Now, let’s get you back to Tamlin.”

Marty ran her hand over Sam’s head with a gentle smile, and Nina dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“My big boy, Sammie. Auntie Nina loves you so much,” she whispered hoarsely in his ear. “I’ll make sure you forget all of this. Promise.”

“Wait here,” Marty instructed. “We know the way out. Let us take Neerie and Mrs. Goodfellow. We’ll come back for you.”

Marty and Nina took the children first, still completely out of it, and whisked them out of the basement, returning to help a very weak Neerie and Mrs. Goodfellow.

When they came to get me, Nina asked, “You want me to carry him?”

I shook my head and hugged Sam closer, burying my nose in his hair. “I’m never letting this boy go—not ever again.”

While we walked toward this secret passage, Marty mused out loud, “Hey, Wanda? Do you remember when Nina made fun of us for having Aqua Net in our purses?”

I chuckled, wincing at the small stab of pain in my ribs. “Why, yes, Marty. I do. Didn’t she call us vain girly-girls?”

Nina knocked shoulders with me. “Fine. Gen X to the rescue, but holy shit, Batman, the big news? Aliens are real. You kicked an alien’s ass.”

“ We kicked an alien’s ass,” I reminded her, my legs already tired and my ankle aching from the walk down the long hallway.

“A fucking alien!” Nina repeated, wonder and awe in her voice. “How’d you know fire would kill him?”

“Are you ready for this? Alien . I saw it in the movie Alien . Part three, I think. I didn’t know if it would work, but I guess I got lucky.”

“Huh,” Nina said on a chuckle. “Sigourney Weaver and a can of Aqua Net saved the day. Who fucking knew?”

Marty stopped walking for a moment. “You know, if Bigfoot is real, and aliens are real, does that mean Santa Claus is real, too? Because I have some pressing questions about a Barbie Dream House and a Crissy doll I never received for Christmas, thank you very much.”

I tapped her arm, grinning. “Do you mean the Crissy doll that grew hair? Ooooh, I wanted one of those, too!”

Marty nodded with a fond smile. “Uh-huh. Remember, you pulled her hair out of the top of her head?”

“I do!” I squealed.

Nina grunted at us. “Barbie? How unsurprising and predictable.”

“Oh, shut up, Nina,” Marty chirped. “Not everyone wanted GI Joe with the kung fu grip.”

“Hah! Shows what the fuck you know. It was Stretch Armstrong for me. You could stretch that motherfluffer almost five damn feet.”

We both stopped and stared at her for a moment, aghast, before Marty innocently asked, “But here’s the most important question of all—could you braid Stretch’s hair?”

And much laughter was heard.