Sucker Punched
"Danny! You left a floater! That's just vile!"
Unrepentant boyish peels of laughter erupted from the hall, accompanied by the rapid staccato of tiny feet thundering on the hardwood. I stuck my head out of the bathroom, eyebrow cocked and ready to browbeat the culprit. An orange-clad blur descended the stairs at warp speed, the creeky-whine of the patio door apprised me of the six-year-old's escape, followed by the clatter of the time-worn wood being thrown closed in Danny's giggling wake. The "Ah-ha!" on the tip of my tongue, sputtered into a muttered, "Little hell goblin." Of course, I meant it with love... well, until I turned to see what was staring at me from beyond the rim of the toilet seat.
What the hell is this kid eating?!
Okay, fine, I only had myself to blame with a steady diet of pizza and mac 'n' cheese. Kids are notoriously picky eaters, especially mine (or so it feels like), but I've become quite adept and clever when it comes to mealtime. Although, you wouldn't think that with the unsightly state of the toilet. And why does he insist on using half the damn roll of toilet paper?!
Last thing on the shit list, Neens. Get it over with.
Resigned to my fate, I sighed, flushed the toilet, and started scrubbing the bowl encrusted with Nickolodeon vomit i.e. TMNT and Transformers stickers. You'd have to be under the age of ten to appreciate that kind of finish on your porcelain, but on the upside, it hid all those unsightly yellow stains and cracks.
Sweat prickled my scalp and converged at the hairline to slide down my spine. Lousiana's summers were no joke and it had grown steadily hotter over the last two decades. And the ancient house I shared with my kid brother hadn't seen a renovation since the turn of the 21st century. The AC couldn't keep up with the demand and as a result, the second floor was warm enough for Hades to winter in. The humid air-
-a girl's best friend-
-dampened my pits and turned my burgundy locks into a godawful sodden mess. Grabbing a stray neon green tie from under the sink, I hastily wound the long and mid-length layers of hair into a slightly less messy topknot. As I mentioned, it's hot in the South, so aside from the wide stripe of locks running from forehead to nape, the rest was shaved. The sensible style in these parts was everything short. Short hair. Short shorts. Short tempers, etc. Sweat trickled from my temple down the shaved sides of my head to glide the rest of the way from cheeks to chin. I swiped at the trails angrily with the back of my arm, cursing my shitty luck upon realizing the wet spots on my shirt were in fact backsplash.
Damn it!
Horrified, I hastily yanked the shirt over my head while simultaneously dashing down the stairs. I couldn't have gotten the shirt off faster if it had been on fire.
I can't believe I got piss water on this shirt! That'll teach me for getting ready in the dark.
Danny was an early bird. Me... not so much. But every morning, I rise an hour or so before he does, albeit half dead, to get a workout in. Jogging had become therapeutic for me after dad died. A chance to let out all the bad so that Danny didn't get swept up in the undertow.
In the laundry, I grabbed the Grateful Dead T-shirt I'd workout in earlier that morning, plus the two previous days before that, and tugged it over my head. So I smelled a wee bit ripe, better than being covered in kid peepee, and if I even thought about the twosies in that bowl I might suffer an aneurysm. It was just me and my kid brother Danny. That monster would happily live in his own filth if I let him. Feeling oddly revitalized in the soiled top, I went ahead and folded a week's worth of neglected clean towels stagnating in the basket and even started another load before heading into the connected kitchen.
My gaze tracked back to the stairway, then up. I suppressed a shiver of horror at the thought of going back into that bathroom. I would not, could not, brave going back in there right now. Willing a distraction, I spied my laptop on the kitchen island and smiled. Then, I noticed the stack of papers next to it and inwardly groaned. Mercy, you'd think the power and water guys would take the hint from my full answering machine but no-oo-oo, then the cheeky bastards started sending me letters printed with big bold red words just in case I was uninformed about the shrinky state of my bank account. When my father passed away during my senior year of high school, I dropped out in order to work. Now we barely orbited above the poverty line at times, but there was no way I was letting the state take Danny.
I could introduce it to the shredder. Or douse it in gasoline and flick a match. Neither of those things would make the stack of bills truly disappear, but it would make me feel better. I shoved the stack aside and opened the laptop. Clicking on the doc still open in the toolbar, I took a seat and quickly read over what creative genius I'd managed to shake out of my head at oh-fuck-thirty this morning:
An icy halo ringed the moon, its light shivering off the frozen lake. Snowflakes lazily drifted in great swooping circles, leeching away any remains of tenacious greenery. Old Man Winter bellowed from the north, the bitter chill clung to the trail of tears stinging a path down Maisie's cheeks. The mournful call of the wind an echo of the agony in her heart. She took a tremulous breath and exhaled a cloud of white. Eyes shiny with spent sorrow, she gazed longingly at the stars in the desperate hope that somehow her mate would sense her loneliness and return. If you'd only known... she thought dejectedly. Maisie wrapped arms around the small bump in her abdomen, protective of the unborn life inside her, the only physical proof of the love she'd shared with... /
Taking a brain pause, I pulled out the chocolate milk, filled up my Totoro mug, then nuked it in the microwave to make cheap chick hot chocolate. When I returned, I eyed the blinking cursor listlessly, willing the words to manifest on the screen. By the time I was on my second hot chocolate and had detoured over to Netflix for a quick fix of Sherlock because gawd dammit I loved me some Benedict Cumberbatch, I surrendered to the proverbial wall of my writer's block. At least this time, I knew what the problem was: the protagonist, Maisie. I found writing her particular brand of whiny bullshit exceedingly dull. But unfortunately, I was already two books deep into the project series Outer World Passion, and Jill, my editor/publicist who also happened to be my step-cousin and biggest, if not craziest, fan, would never allow me to do something as senseless as killing off the main character; no matter how morally gratifying I found it, simply because I hated her personality. Frankly, I only continued writing this story because it happened to be good enough for a few ebook sales which in turn kept the internet on, and let's be honest here, no one could survive these days without the information highway. Especially when you live in Bums, Louisiana. Okay, the town was actually called Burms but everybody who lived here just called it Bums. And when your closest neighbor lived over half a mile up the road, then yes, it really was bumfuck nowhere.
"What about the fans?!" Jill had tried to argue, reminding me that while my fan base was small, I should appreciate their support.
Annoyed, I leaned back in the chair, balancing on its back two legs as I stewed over Jill's words. I hated it when she made good sense. But I also couldn't ignore that I'd fallen out of love with the story. Comic books were more my speed. And what the hell did I know about romance anyway? I'd been writing hard SciFi before this and on an insane whim decided to change the dynamics between two characters. I'd written the love scene separately in order to preserve the story and hadn't thought much of it after I'd finished and set it aside.
And then Jill happened, I thought with a morose sigh. And like an idiot I let her read it.
Jill ran her own editing biz. She had an eye for a good story, so admittedly I was pleased by her reaction to my little experiment. And let her fill my head with all sorts of nonsense about being the next Christine Feehan or Charlaine Harris in SciFi. I didn't know who either of those people were but it sounded awesome. Write a romance story. How hard could it be? Turns out, very. Not the sex part. That part was easy. But toss me a curveball like love, then I was about as freaked and clueless as a monkey wielding a blow torch. So no, just no. I could not write a love scene. In fact, I'd rather write about blood geysers and parts falling off. And bugs. Bugs the all-encompassing term in SciFi for non-sentient aliens, even ones that looked mammalian. Writing a bug hunt story, yeah, I could get behind that in a heartbeat. And if things kept on going the way they were, I might feel inclined to introduce Maisie to a few insectoids.
Discontent toward my story's shortcomings tightened my features and I decided, screw it. I wasn't going to get any writing done today. Love? Seriously what the hell did I know about love? High school boys hardly counted as anything more than sexual experimentation gone awry under the bleachers. And after I dropped out of school, the few men I dated didn't even deserve honorable mentions in my shower fantasies.
I snorted scornfully at myself, irritated that I'd let something so inconsequential as not having a real boyfriend in all my twenty-one short years bother me. Not that I have time to date anyway. Tragedy struck our little family, not once, but three times. Mom had been sick. She'd died when I was ten.
An old ache returned to my collar bone and I rubbed at it absently as I lost myself in the memory. Stephanie Leblanc had been a beautiful woman and a talented journalist. Daddy used to say I got my gift for storytelling from her and I took comfort in knowing I shared that with her. The one good thing out of all the bad.
She's not hurting anymore that's what's important, Neens.
Eventually, dad got remarried to a pretty young woman named Angie. And a couple of years later Danny came along. I never thought of Angie as a mom, but she'd been really sweet and took great care of dad. Every spring, they'd go on a camping trip just the two of them. I didn't mind. In fact, I'd outright refused to go with them. The last thing I wanted to do was to be crammed in a tent with my parents who were still a couple of love-struck idjits and a baby. I was seventeen when disaster tore our family apart again. Angie and dad went on a second spontaneous camping trip. We had record rainfall that year and Angie's Prius had been no match for a flashflood. Sometimes I blamed Angie, if she hadn't hated dad's Bronco so much, they might still be alive. And sometimes, I blamed myself, tormented by the thoughts to the tune of shoulda, coulda, and woulda.
Immediately following their deaths, I'd dropped out of school my senior year in order to make ends meet. I'd had to mature quickly in order to fully embrace the mom role in Danny's life. And while I wasn't Danny's mom, the sentiment was the same and with acceptance came responsibility. More to the point, there's an inherent sense of danger you develop as a single parent that makes dating someone difficult. You couldn't blindly go on a date with just anyone when you had kids. Not when there's already a degree of uncertainty, of doubt, and of distrust leveled against a potential significant other. It zaps the magic right out of the whole experience. And let's face it, guys my age weren't ready to be family men. But I gotta say, having a kid made it really easy to weed out the losers... which in my case had been always.
To hell with it.
Aware that I was spiraling, I took a deep breath and shut the laptop with a satisfying snap.
Time to take out the garbage. I'd meant that literally, but figuratively, it worked too. The trash wasn't all that full, but I knew myself well enough that if I didn't do it right now, it would pile up until the next pickup day.
Shifting shadows from the corner of my eye had me spinning back around. Hand to my chest, I let out a string of curses as Mama, lighted upon the kitchen island with nary a sound, her canary yellow eyes interested.
"Mama, you silly cat."
An ear flicked forward then back, her massive paws curled over the lip of the counter. At only two years old, her age belied her oddly wisened behavior. But I suppose that is the nature of things, animals matured faster than humans.
"Danny's not here girl."
The feline's ears twitched at the mention of Danny's name. Danny was her baby. Funny, considering it had been Danny who rescued the bobcat when she was only a few weeks old.
Mama shimmied closer to the edge of the counter, her posture suddenly tense. Her eyes flashed on the door with an angry hiss and growl, once again startling the hell out of me as she leaped from her perch and took off out the kitchen door.
Okay then.
A thud came from the living room, followed by hurrying feet. I hadn't heard the front door open but that was hardly a concern when I could clearly identify the wild slap, slap, slap of Danny's bare feet on the wood floor.
"This way..." Danny's not so subtle whisper reached my ears. "Mama, stop-" A very angry sounding feline spat and hissed. "-it'll be okay-" A thud and audible "oof" as the kid tripped over something. Likely his own two legs.
Who's he talking to? Thighs aching from a prolonged crouch, I began to stand in order to investigate when my toe struck something hard and unmerciful. Fuck! What the heck was that? Distracted, I pulled out a skillet wedged between the fridge and counter with burnt rice and a half-melted plastic kids play spatula stuck to it. Last Friday night's dinner fiasco tickled my lips into a lopsided grin. Danny had tried to help and in the process almost managed to set the kitchen on fire.
"...wait! Put those things away or my sister will freak!"
I'd just tied the bag off when Danny entered the kitchen. His bare feet stopped with a smack behind me. "Neens, can I keep him?"
Him?
Shifting my weight to eye him over my shoulder, I was met with hound dog wide eyes and a noticeably anxious smile that bordered on creepy.
Oh, balls.
We lived on a decent plot of land that backed right up against a heavily wooded area. With Danny out of school for the summer, it provided him with ceaseless adventure, a win for him and for me. Unfortunately, the flourishing wildlife also meant no end to the injured or abandoned baby animals that needed a home. Our home. Okay, I get it. Kids have a natural affinity for all things "cute" and "fluffy". Bringing home strays is what kids do. Though they weren't always necessarily cute or fluffy, like the time Danny brought home a baby gator. Truthfully, I don't mind all that much. It somehow seemed wrong to deny Danny the opportunity to nurture his budding empathy and sense of responsibility-
-but we just can't!
The bills were really starting to pile up. There was just no way we could afford to feed another stray right now. Mama, bless her, was independent enough to kill her own dinner. Danny was still a young kid. He needn't worry about the woes of adulting. But perhaps if I explained things a bit, he'd understand.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of meeting his gaze. We shared the same bright green eyes, but Danny's projected the sort of disarming cuteness associated with small fuzzy helpless things that should be licensed as a dangerous weapon. And staring into them weakened the structural integrity of my resolve.
What's the harm? Just let him show you. With any luck, he hasn't named the little critter yet.
"Alright, what did you bring home this time, soot sprite?" I shifted on the balls of my feet in front of him, feeling an odd prickling at the base of my neck when I spied gooey fluorescent green flecks on his chin. Without thinking, I switched the skillet to my other hand and did the "mom thing" as he called it, licked my thumb, and wiped the grubby splotches off. Danny squirmed and made a ewe face.
What the heck is this stuff?
Not that the hell goblin ever managed to come home clean, but still, this stuff... maybe he picked it up in the scrap metal yard behind the house. Oh, great. That's a cheery thought. There's a reason I referred to that area as Hell's Kitchen. Was this stuff corrosive? Or toxic? I've got to stop letting him play Transformers back there.
"He's my friend," he said, an odd combination of determination and fragile hope in his severe gaze. Mama wound herself between Danny's legs and hissed in the direction of said friend. 'Course her objection didn't mean much. Mama hated ever stray Danny brought home.
I juggled the skillet to the other hand as Danny pulled on my arm in an attempt to guide me to the living room.
Suspicion furrowed my brow, the worst thing sprang to mind, the baby possum incident of last year sent a shudder through me. I still sported scars on my butt from that. "Danny, if this critter isn't of the cute and cuddly variety then its gon-"
Having lost all meaning, the words died on my tongue. Eyes widening in abject horror as they scaled every mounting inch of the giant critter hunched over in the doorway between the living room and our best escape route to the Bronco parked out front.
Mama hissed again and I realized how epically stupid I'd been to ignore her warning.
The thing was the size of a grizzly, hairless with a bulky muscular build that rippled under taut mottled skin. Metal plating of what I assumed were pieces of armor scarcely covered him, along with a weird netting that kinda looked like he might've stolen it from a hooker. You know, if hookers wore armor.
"Oh... god..." Comprehension struck fast and true. Alarm dried the saliva in my mouth, fear perforated my ability to reason as the amorphous black shadow of my every nightmare since I was eight inexplicably became all too real. I'd been warned that schizophrenia was an inherited trait. I hadn't listened. "... it's true..." The realization scissored out of me on a gasp.
No, it can't be!
"-ina?"
And what about, Danny- I can't let them take me to Jericho and die like mo-
"Nina!"
Danny's voice sent a cold shock jarring down my spine. My eyes regained their focus. The manifestation of my darkest fear still stood in the doorway. Eyes riveted, my response to Danny was barely lucid. "Uh-wha?"
"Can we keep him?"
Danny's words broke over me like a tub of ice water. Perception flew out like grappling hooks, desperate to anchor me. If this thing was a figment of my imagination then why the hell was Danny seeing it too? Or Mama for that matter. "Danny, you see it too?"
"What? Don't be weird, Nina. He brought me home."
It's real... it's real! But with elation came a new form of terror. Shit! It's real!
A heartbeat elapsed in the time it took me to accept the creature as corporeal and not the onset of schizophrenia; and in the same beat, the creature's intense focus fixed on me, projecting more menace than a shiver of hungry sharks. Small hands tugged at my forearms, breaking cold terrors' icy grip that had robbed me of action. Instinct wailed at me to get Danny the hell out of there.
The creature's head jerked up at the same time I scooped my kid brother up under an arm. A low growl emanated from its chest. Its breaths were heavy and punctuated with wet ragged rasps that were muffled by the metal helmet it wore. It sounded hurt. Good. If I could get to the shed in the back, I could grab my bow.
"Nina, wait!"
Danny yelped. Struggling like a rabid badger.
Responding to his struggle, the creatures growl deepened into something mind-numbingly frightening. Unwittingly, my gaze met the creatures through the black slits in its helmet. The opaque vizors made it impossible to discern the color or shape of its eyes, yet the sheer weight of them burned with such intensity I knew the cold light of fear shone in my own eyes.
Hefting the weight of my struggling sibling, I eased a single foot backward in the direction of hope, muscles twitching to bolt for the patio door. My gaze flicked longingly to the shotgun on the shelf above the tv. The creature saw this and snarled and the fierce sound caused my gut to clench. It took a menacing step forward.. and almost buckled. Yes, the thing was hurt. I could see it now, a ragged wound in its side, bleeding a... a green fluorescent fluid. The same stuff I'd wiped off of Danny's face. The fear boiled away, replaced by a volcanic rage. This creature, whatever it was, it had touched my baby brother.
Grunting from the struggle, Danny caught me behind the knee with his foot. I collapsed on reflex so as not to fall and drop him, but as I was forced to kneel to find balance, I took my eyes off the creature. That's when the creature struck. Sensing my vulnerability in that brief second, the attack happened so swiftly my brain would never remember it correctly. I'd barely registered the scrape of claws on the hardwood before the punch of intense pressure against my windpipe. The kitchen spun. And I flew ass over tea kettle until pain burst behind my eyes. Darkness threatened to take me, but the panicked screams of my kid brother suppressed the heavy waves of blackness.
"No don't! She's my sister!" Danny pleaded, his voice rough with emotion. "Mama! Get away-"
A growling hiss. Then a thud and a pained cat yowl.
Fear flashed white-hot through my mind and body as I struggled to get up. Blinking away the double vision, I saw the creature, one giant hand encircling Danny's upper arm as the boy tugged and pointed frantically in my direction. The creature's head lifted from Danny to me, then it shook itself as if dazed. Moving at full tilt with such horrible wounds had cost it dearly.
On the wings of adrenaline, thought and action melded together. Skillet still miraculously in hand, I bounded onto the kitchen island and vaulted up in the air. It growled and ducked its head, revealing an unprotected sweet spot on the back of its skull. So I brained the bastard with the skillet putting a solid 124 pounds of pissed off mama bear power behind it. A strangled roar burst from its throat and then it fell face-first to the floor with all the grace of a bag of rocks. I didn't waste time finding out if it was dead or not, just scooped up a stunned Danny, jumped over its big ass carcass, and ran out the front door.
"Mama?!" I called.
Nails scratched wood. Mama bounded over the body of the fallen creature and led me the rest of the way out of the house.
Danny recovered and immediately began to struggle. "Lemme go, sis! He wasn't going to hurt u-"
"Danny!" I dropped to my knees on the rotting wood porch and pulled him into my arms. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
Danny pushed at me, but I held fast. No way in hell would I let him run back in there. He'd always been fearless, but this went beyond fearless. This had been reckless.
"He's my friend and you killed him!" he accused, scowling so hard his lips were white and bloodless. I recognized it as an attempt to hide the fact that he'd been frightened. But something about the twist of his jaw, the hurt glistening in his eyes...
...fuck, he blames me!
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. None of this was my fault, I knew that. Nonetheless stirring up an argument with an already emotionally overwhelmed kid just to make a point would only worsen the situation. So I did the only thing I could do. I took a steady breath and walked a mental step back. Even though my intention had been to kill that thing, telling Danny would simply fan the flames of resentment. So I decided to keep my mouth shut.
We need to get out of here- The keys to the Bronco were still in the house and so was my phone. -oh, hell!
"Unbelievable!" I dropped my head on an explosive sigh. A seeping fatigue suddenly deadened my limbs, the pain in my everything returning. Mama nudged at our legs, brushing her shoulders here and there to check in with us. I nudged her back and her agitation subsided and she perched beside us with her eyes intent on the house.
"Neens, he saved me. Bad guys don't save people."
I looked up at Danny slantwise. My eyes narrowed, focusing on his. "What do you mean?"
Danny looked down at his Avengers T-shirt and pointed at Thor. "He came from up there-" He pointed to the cloud barren blue sky. "-and he killed the bad guy."
My eyes snapped back to Danny's, "It killed who?!" While part of me found it hilarious that Danny could compare the Norse God of Thunder to the mutant lovechild of a Klingon and Cthulhu sprawled out on my kitchen floor another albeit tinier part of me felt weirdly terrified I might've just killed someone or thing who may have saved my brother.
"The bad guy," he reiterated slowly so that I could keep up this time.
"What are you talking about, soot sprite?" I spun Danny slowly, checking for any injuries as he practically frothed at the mouth to vindicate the thing bleeding out all over the floor. A couple of scratches on the chin, but they were of minor consequence.
"There was this big bug thing Nina! You should've seen it! It was so cool!"
"Uh-huh," I muttered absently, darkly eyeing the grubby, clotted scrapes on both his elbows and knees. Injuries he might've sustained falling off his bike, except there were glittery metallic flecks and more green goo in the wound tracks.
"... it had me wrapped in its tail then Pakkun fell from the sky and hit the bug thing with lightning!"
"Wait. Wait. Lightning?" If my eyes got any wider they'd pop right out of my head. Three minutes ago, I would've chalked that story up to my brother's overzealous imagination, but now... over my shoulder, I eyed the creature still lying facedown on the floor with a wary glance. He looked pretty dead to me. Course, I wasn't dumb enough to assume that. Doing so might prove bad for my health.
"Yeah! And he has this long sword stick thingy-"
"Wait. What about the bug?" We had some really nasty critters in Southern Louisiana and no shortage of beastly legends but this didn't sound like your typical loup-garou. No, Nina. Frightful imagery of spindly arms, elongated bodies, and ravenous appetites wrapped themselves around my mind. He means bugs. A shiver of justifiable caution skittered down my back. Sure I wrote about aliens all the time. I've spent hundreds of hours researching the cosmos in order to give life to some seriously weird and grotesque horrors, never once considering the true potential that was out there. Makes sense though. Stars outnumbered the grains of sand, each typically with their own solar system of four or more planets. And considering the thing I'd whooped with a skillet... yeah, aliens. Holy shit they're real!
Honestly, I couldn't decide if the revelation of other life terrified or excited me. In spite of my fear, I realized it was a bit of both. I ran my fingers through Danny's soft reddish-brown sun-soaked hair, the familiar action had a soothing effect on me. "Is that how you got hurt?" I went on.
Aliens... too freakin' weird...
Danny started to shake his head then paused mid-movement and duck-billed his lips thoughtfully. "I tried to outrun it. But I, ah..."
"Tripped over your little legs again, huh?" I supplied in that oh-so-helpful way only a big sister could manage.
Annoyance ruddied his cheeks, then he grinned in a flash of teeth as the devious easy-bake bulb flipped on. "Keep talkn' cheek, Neens. Remember, I'm six. Every day I get a lil taller. But you will always need an adult to get into R rated movies."
"God, you're mean." Grabbing my chest as if he'd cut me to the quick. I'd stopped growing around the 5th grade and had been subjected to every fun-sized joke in the book. And high school boys were exceptionally crass. Guys at that age are nothing more than walking skin bags of raging hormones and liked to joke that I was perfectly crotch height. And I was, but so was my fist. I'd grown a thick skin over the years, but sometimes it still smarted. And at four feet and a couple of centimeters, Danny was already tall for his age. Eventually, he would loom over my head like the rest of the world, providing him an infinite supply of ammunition.
"I learn from the best."
If Danny had fangs, he'd be baring them at me. Cheeky brat. "Wait a minute." My mind seized on something else he'd said. "Pakkun? As in the pug dog from Naruto?" Christ on a cracker he named that thing? Whatever that creature was it did not look like the little anime pug dog.
He nodded. Eyes filling with an unsteady emotion I couldn't quite identify.
Does he really care that much about that thing?
"Nina, I-I wished for him... for you."
Momentarily stunned, I just stared at him as if he'd claimed to be the baby Jesus. And with his every following word, my eyes grew wider.
"Aunt Jill said you needed a boyfriend and wanted me to help. I didn't really care, but then, I thought if you met someone cool, I could hang out with him too. So last week, during the meteor shower-" He gave a nonchalant shrugged. "-I wished for him."
"Wait." I held up a hand, trying to wrap my brain around what he'd said. "So instead of wishing for me to meet someone like, I dunno say Thor-" I poked said God of Thunder in the center of Danny's orange shirt. "-you wished for that crazy thing?!"
Is this really important?
The childish part of me had decided that yes. Yes, it was.
"Not exactly," he considered, ducking my eyes in a suspiciously guilty way. "I wanted him to be someone I'd like too. Like Leonardo or Raphael..." Lifting up on tiptoes, he tried to get a look at the creature or alien or whatever from over my shoulder. "I might've wished too hard."
"Those are mutant turtles! Not to mention cartoon characters! How's that any better?"
He shrugged, "They're ninjas."
"That's not the point!"
For fuck sakes is anyone in more hell than me?!
A fluorescent green pool of blood beneath our feet caught my attention and I followed the path with my eyes down the porch steps through the grass until I lost sight of the trail in the dense brush. It registered clearly the magnitude of the creature's injuries.
He's in a bad way... really bad.
Blindsided by the strange pang of sympathy, I doubled down on the immediate danger aspect the creature represented to my family. Too much shit had happened in our lives already. And I didn't need any affirmation to stuff that unexpected bit of empathy in a dark hole.
"Nina." Small hands grasped my forearm, tugging my focus back. "Pakkun wasn't going to hurt me."
Danny's voice held such conviction that I found myself wanting to believe him. I sighed, eyeing the skillet still in my hand. A bright splash of green on the edge of the cast iron. If he wasn't dead then he'd have a bitch of a headache when he came to.
"Please, Nina. I don't want him to die."
It was the please that got to me.
"Fine." The asperity and exasperation in my voice made him laugh. "But stay outside. I'll go check on it."
"Him," Danny said in that insufferable lordy tone he sometimes adopted when he knew something I didn't.
"Whatever. Fine. I'll go check on him."
He perked up a little bit and nodded. I ruffled his hair before walking back inside, careful not to slip in the freaking dayglo green blood. I traded the skillet for the shotgun and edged closer, heart pounding like a jackhammer.
I must be out of my fucking mind. This thing is obviously a killer. Why the hell else would it be armed to the teeth?
Tentatively, I kicked the creature's leg and flinched back. It didn't move. Didn't even twitch. No reaction.
Good. He's dead.
"Is Pakkun alri-"
"Christ!" I almost jumped out of my skin as my brother appeared behind me. "Danny, what part of stay outside did you not understand?!"
"All of it," he said, ducking under my arm to crouch over the body. Mama right on his heels.
Taking a deep breath, I ran a hand down my face in misery. How the hell was I gonna explain this to the Sheriff?
"He's alive!"
"What?!" I wrapped an arm around my brother and hauled him back against me. "How can you tell?"
Danny pointed at the creatures back. "Because he's still breathing, duh."
A faint breath shuddered through the creature, ending in a low growl. Great. Even unconscious the thing had a bad attitude. To Danny, I muttered, "I knew that."
Danny snorted a silent, "As if."
Yeah, well, forgive me for not checking for a damn pulse!
Of course, I didn't say it out loud. I wanted to, but the childish urge to do so was subdued by the sight of the creature's claws. Unwittingly, my hand rose to my neck, and for a second I remembered the tremendous pressure of that powerful hand cutting off my air, his claws... my fingers came away bloody. Fuck, he'd moved surprisingly fast. Even wounded he'd been incredibly fast. He could've ended my life so easily.
So why hadn't he?
Now that I thought about it, why had the creature gone after me? And the answer came to me in the same instant.
Danny. Instead of fending off my attack, he protected Danny.
Staring at the unconscious creature, a weird knot of unexpected distraught formed in my gut.
"He's bleeding."
"Huh?" I snapped out of my daze and found Danny poking a deep ragged wound in the creature's side. Dayglo green blood oozed out, spreading across the tile at an alarming rate. "Damn."
With a sudden spark of adrenaline, I dashed over to the kitchen table, momentarily stumped at seeing it lying on its side. The pain in the back of my head served as a swift reminder that the bastard had thrown me into it. I grabbed my smartphone and ran back, kneeling next to a panicked looking Danny, I slid a finger over the cracked screen to unlock it. I paused, thumb hovering over the dial app. Who do you call in this type of situation? The Sheriff? Animal control? Hell, the Men in Black?!
"Nina, what're you doin'?!"
"Calling for help-"
"No! You can't?!"
"Why not?"
"Because he came from outer space, Nina! You know what they'll do if the government gets their hands on him! You've seen the movies!"
I scowled, "And you've seen too many. No more late-night SyFy, kid. Beside's he's bleeding out all over the floor! And I don't want this thing to die on-"
"He's an alien, Neens, not a thing. And he's my friend. Sheriff Watkins won't help him. He'll shoot 'em. Same as Kiki."
"That possum you so affectionately call Kiki bit me on the ass! I had to get rabies shots in the butt! That varmint was whacked out of its gourd Danny, the Sheriff didn't have a choice."
"You scared Kiki that's why she attacked! You probably scared Pakkun too!"
"Possums don't act like that unless they're rabid, Danny, and I highly doubt this alien was afraid of me either!"
We were in each other's faces, both baring our teeth. I could continue to argue but gave up in defeat when fat tears streaked down the side of his reddened cheeks.
"Fine, I won't call the Sheriff but we have to call somebody."
He was already vehemently shaking his head. "Alien, sis. The people in these parts would all shoot first and not give a ripe shit later."
"Watch your language!"
He rolled his eyes.
"Pray tell me, what do you expect me to do? I'm not a doctor-" My eyes roved over the alien's dark scaly hide. "-or a vet."
"What about the emergency field training dad made you learn?"
Shit. I gritted my teeth. Dad had me learn some basic tactical field medicine. Part of his "always be prepared" mantra. My knowledge was very limited and an alien definitely fell outside that wheelhouse.
"You stitched up my lip after Chad Watkins beat me up." he continued to push. Jutting out his lower lip to display the needle fine scar as proof.
My shoulders stiffened and my eyes automatically snapped to the thin scar above Danny's lip at the mention of the little asstard. Four years older than Danny, the freaking brat should've got his ass handed to him for picking on a kid half his size, but of course, he was the Sheriff's son and got away with just about anything. Snot-nose brat. I'd send him a card when they finally tossed his ass into juvie.
Begrudgingly, I knew Danny was right, but that didn't mean I had to admit it out loud. And the more I considered it, the greater the repercussions grew. If we involved the law, our place would be ground-fucking-zero. I didn't want to lose our home. Or be plastered all over the media. And paranoia runs more rampant in these parts than deer ticks.
I think I almost prefer the crazy angle.
I eyed the six or seven-inch long wound in the thin- er, alien's side and grimaced. If he had any internal damage then he was shit out of luck. "You say this thing- er sorry, this alien saved your life?"
Danny nodded emphatically.
Blowing out a breath, I swept my sweat sticky hair aside, unsure when the short strands had escaped the confines of the hair tie. I leaned the shotgun against the door frame. "Alright help me turn him over."
Together we heaved. And we heaved. And we heaved some more. "Screw it." I dropped the big guy's arm and it hit the floor with a dull thud. "This bum's ginormous ass weighs as much as a bull alligator." Having roped a few of those bad boys and dragged them into a boat for tagging last summer, I knew my assessment while funny wasn't that far off. "Let's at least get his face out of the floor before his helmet gouges the wood anymore."
Strange black protuberances grew from its head, they fringed the edge of the helmet and cascaded over his neck and shoulders. Maybe they're just vestigial pieces of his anatomy. Lips pursed in an apprehensive line, I tentatively touched one of the rubbery looking cylindrical structures surprised by its give and smoothness. My thumb circled a ring, one of many woven into the dreads lending a vaguely tribal feel to his appearance. Aware of Danny's watchful gaze, I decided against any further exploration of the alien's dreads and started piling them over the opposite shoulder so that we could hopefully adjust his head. I tugged one by accident, trying to unknot a twisted few and the reaction was immediate. A strangled growl erupted from the alien's chest, and he rolled over on his own. Danny and I both jumped aside, but the alien made no further movement. Mama hissed and sidled up alongside his head with her back arched in suspicion as she gave the alien a dubious sniff.
Well, shit. If I'd known that's all it took to get his carcass moving I would've yanked on those suckers like horse reins!
"I don't think he liked that."
No shit, Danny. But I stuffed the sarcasm knowing full well it was born of fear. "Just an autonomic reaction," I supplied instead. "He's still out cold."
"Whadda we do now?"
Hearing the strain in his voice, I searched Danny's face from the corner of my eye. His face was ashen with fatigue and his green eyes were deeply troubled.
I sighed and realized I'd have to go all-in and actually try and save the bastard. Besides if he died on my floor, he'd stink up the place to high heaven, and I'd have no way of removing his carcass.
Well, I could hook 'em to the truck winch and drag his ass out. Drop him in the swamp and let nature do the rest.
I coughed in my hand to hide the evidence of the evil tilt to my lips. Not wanting to get radioactive looking blood on my Grateful Dead T-shirt, I yanked it off and tossed it on the stairs, leaving me clad in a black sports bra decorated with hot-pink skulls and Dri-FIT black shorts. Louisiana. Hot. Enough said.
"Danny, go fetch a bowl..." I eyed the wound again and amended, "A bucket of hot water and towels. The ugly yellow ones. Also the antiseptic and medkit are under the kitchen sink."
The dog tags around my neck clicked and jingled as I crouched over the alien to get a better look. I tucked the dog tags down the bra to keep them from dragging through the radioactive-looking green blood.
I examined the wound in Danny's absence. On its own, the deep laceration had already clotted nicely and the bleeding was minimal now. I briefly considered leaving it alone, but then decided the stitching was necessary to keep him from reopening it. Danny returned with the supplies and after irrigating and cleaning the wound I ran into a different problem. The alien had a seriously thick hide! Leathery, but the kind that's well-maintained and smooth, yet somehow rough at the same time. Shoe and bag designers everywhere would foam at the mouth and pay big bucks for his skin.
Hmmm. Surreptitiously I eyed the bills scattered all over the floor, but then I saw my brother's face and filed it under future revenge plots.
"Ouch! Son-of-a..." I bit down on the expletive. Sticking myself with a needle for the third time, I threw up my hands in frustration and leveled a determined look on my brother. A mere needle and thread weren't gonna do the trick. I'd have to Franken Stein this bitch. "Get the fishing supplies and duct tape."
I sanitized the mammoth-sized hook and line and got back to work. When I finished, I double-checked the stitch job and knot. I looked at the raw state of my fingers and felt a burst of pride. I'd managed to successfully close the wound, but what good it would do the big guy, only time would tell. He had another injury at the junction of his neck and shoulder partially obscured by a leather spaulder, though it appeared minor in comparison. Still, I would check it in a minute.
On the whole, the guy had been pretty lucky. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he must've been in or the sheer force of will it must've taken for him to stand much less attack me. Not human that's for damn sure. He might be bipedal, upright, and have opposable thumbs, but it didn't take a scientific mind to surmise his alien anatomy was vastly different from our own.
He'd still have to have a heart to pump blood through his massive body though.
On a whim, I pressed my ear to his chest and was rewarded with a powerful buba-thump. So he had a heart with a pulse every bit as strong as his attitude. Okay, focus, Neens. Speculations aside removing the plate armor to get a better look at his shoulder wound was another issue entirely. It required me to figure out how the armor attached and no shortage of muscle to remove the heavy pieces. I have a decent amount of muscle for a woman with my height complex and I spared none of it. Eventually, I got the rig covering the opposite shoulder off, my biceps burning from the effort. And upon further discovery, I realized the hooker hosiery was actually a fine metal mesh that detached easily from the main body of the armor. Peeling away the layers, I came to an unsettling conclusion based upon all that I'd seen that one thing was for certain, this alien was a hunter. I'd been around hunters all my life and all of them may differ when it comes to weapon choice and such, but they all take trophies. And this alien was strapped with trophies. Bones and teeth of various undefinable species were strung to him with care. And with the considerable hardware he was packing, well he didn't come here to duck hunt. I unclipped a strange short staff thingy with blades longer than my forearm at each end and a whip attached at his hip that was segmented and really fucking sharp.
When I was done, Danny helped me clean up before I sent the soot sprite upstairs to take a shower.
"You won't call anyone right?" He asked, peeking back around the corner of the stairs and regarding me with heavy suspicion.
"So long as he doesn't wake up and attack me," I retorted honestly.
Danny's lips thinned, "Don't be such a Mononoke and maybe he won't!"
My eyes narrowed to slits, "Shower, soot sprite, or I'll show you a Mononoke."
He stuck out his tongue then darted up the stairs with a yelp as I made a grab for him. I laughed as the bathroom door slammed and sat on the bottom step, putting me within touching distance of the alien. Our house was small so everything was really close together. The stairway was directly adjacent to the open kitchen entrance. So as I sat there, I could occasionally poke the alien with a toe to see if he would respond. He didn't. Out cold. Hell, maybe he was in a coma. Mama continued her slow cautious perusal of the intruder. Occasionally hissing at an offensive odor and exploring items with her teeth and paws.
Now that the initial shock had worn off I could think more clearly. I wondered if anyone would've even believed my claim about the alien. What happened to my mom was no secret and the stigma of my family history followed me every time I went into town. Anger shook my heart, I had a very vivid idea of how folks in the parish would've reacted. There were still plenty of people in the deep South who confused schizophrenia with demonic possession.
"Pain in my ass," I growled at the unconscious alien. Frustration needing a target. "Where the heck did you come from? And why here of all places?"
No response.
Sighing, I got to my feet, stepped over our new big-lumpy rug, and stole a beer from the fridge. If this alien really saved Danny then I owed him a debt. For now, we would keep him here. It's not as if anyone ever dropped by so he was relatively safe from further discovery. And what about the bug critter Danny mentioned? I drew the bottle to my lips. Hesitated. My uneven breaths singing across the bottle top. Are there more of them? Hell, are there more aliens like the one on the floor?!
I eyed the alien from where I stood, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Was it just me or did he seem to be breathing better? As if to confirm, Mama let out a low growl before slinking up the stairs after Danny.
Taking a long pull from the beer, I made my way through the kitchen and straightened the table. Attempting to occupy my mind with mundane things because the alien was seriously wigging me out.
What the heck am I supposed to do if the alien dies?
An electric jolt of fear seared my nerves.
And what will you do if he wakes up?
...
"Seriously, soot sprite, next time if it doesn't look like E.T. don't bring it home."
Together all three of us cuddled on the pullout sofa, we watched The Iron Giant, after some incessant whining on my brother's part. It's a great movie. A classic. But at the moment, I was too hyper-aware of the alien on the floor to appreciate the sound of Vin Diesel's voice.
"E.T.'s overrated-" He popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and crunched. "-Flight of the Navigator was better."
Danny's head was cradled against my thigh with his body sprawled out on the sheets. He munched away on popcorn without the slightest worry. Even Mama slept in that careless faineant manner all felines were capable of. Her long body comfortably stretched over my lap, her paws absently preening the top of Danny's hair. She'd settled somewhat as the night progressed, but occasionally her head would still pop up to cast a wary glance at the intruder. Me, I sat bolt straight with the shotgun laying against my other thigh. I would've preferred my bow but the shotgun was better in close quarters. My eyes glued to the body on the floor, shoulders tensing at every hitch in his breathing.
"Movie's over."
"Huh?" I tore my eyes off the immense expanse of the creature's chest, unaware of the way I'd been watching the dark play across his skin. The credits were rolling on the screen and Danny looked up at me.
"Wanna watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers?" His lips parting in a Cheshire Cat grin. Apparently, the little shit found my discomfort hilarious.
"Nah. Go to bed."
He rolled up onto his knees and crossed his arms over his chest with a stubborn expression. "It's summer, Neens."
God don't remind me! I didn't know if I could handle him having so much free time. Especially if he was gonna keep bringing home freaking hairless, armor-wearing Yetis!
"It's also after twelve," I said after a quick glance at my phone. "It should be okay to sleep upstairs." We'd grown accustomed to sleeping downstairs on the pullout bed during the summer heatwaves. But at this hour of the night, it should've cooled off enough for him sleep up there. Moreover, I didn't want him sleeping anywhere near our house invader.
Danny looked at the alien then back at me. An impish smile playing across his mouth. "You gonna leave the lights on?"
"You bet." I leaned back into the sofa, unashamed of the admittance. Wiggling deeper into the paper-thin mattress, my cheeks searched in vain for a spot without an over-friendly metal spring. The shotgun cradled next to me like a sleeping child. "Think I'm gonna catch any shut-eye with that thing around?"
"Alien."
"Whatever."
"And his name is Pakkun."
"Does he know that?"
"No, but when I started calling him Pakkun all he did was make these weird clicky noises at me."
I raised a brow, "Clicking?"
Danny shrugged, "I doubt he speaks ooman."
"What?"
Again he shrugged as if none of this was a big deal, just another normal day. "That's what he called me. I think."
And on that ridiculous note, I sank deeper into the comfort of the blankets and plopped my head against the backrest. Mama objected to being shuffled about with a quiet growl but quickly settled. Weary uncertainty rolled over me as I stared at the water-stained ceiling.
"Nina?"
"Hm." I eyed him without shifting an inch.
"He won't hurt us." His eyes flicked to the gun. "Well, he might if you shoot him." He scowled, "Don't shoot him."
"Bed-" I threw an arm over my leaden eyelids. "-now."
He sighed, the mattress creaked and groaned as he rolled off. "Promise?"
"Fine. As long as he doesn't-"
"He won't."
"And how do you know that?" I peeked at him from under my arm.
He started up the stairs. Reacting to the sound, Mama's head popped up. She spotted Danny as he stopped at the third step to look at me. Mama scurried after him and Danny picked her up and smiled. "Good guy, Neens. He's like Thor!"
If I remembered correctly a lot of innocent people died in those movies when Thor and the rest of the Avengers got involved. True they saved the world or whatever but there had still been a lot of collateral damage and my baby brother was not collateral damage.
Unfortunately, the stubborn set of Danny's severe face and stiff shoulders implied that if I wanted him to go to bed, then I'd have to at least meet him halfway on this. So instead of extending an olive branch, I extended the whole honkin' tree by leaning over and propping the shotgun up beside the couch. Pakkun had somehow managed to become a hero to my brother, so I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
Danny's face lit up, "Best sis, ever!"
"Uh-huh. And don't you forget it. Now go."
He smiled, then ran up the stairs with Mama in his arms and out of sight. Once he was gone, the smile slipped from my face as I eyed the shadow-draped figure on the floor. Regret already churning in my gut.
Please don't make me regret this...
A/N: Happy Halloween! Thank you for reading. Twinkle Twinkle: It's a What? is Can I Keep Him? reimagined and overhauled. I developed a deep love for writing when I wrote Nina's story all those years ago. But after becoming a mom myself, I lost touch with that spontaneous and creative side and recently realized how much I missed it. Moreover, I missed Nina and her brood terribly. So I decided the best way to rediscover that passion was to return to my roots, so to speak. Nina's history was never fully fleshed out, nor was the true potential for her story truly realized. So I aim to correct that mistake and give this amazing family a rebirth. And personally, though I am certain many of you will agree, after the last few months of pandemic and hurricanes and wildfires (both political and wildland), my brain could use a fun and steamy vacation from reality. This also provides an opportunity to test my ability as an author and discern how much skill I have acquired. Warning: read at your own risk, cheesy romance and cliches abound! And I apologized for none of it! ;P
P.S. the original story is still available to read on my profile page.