Watch the Skies

“Number five: S. Hugh Striker, MD, is counseling him about his obsession with lists.

“Number four: Dr. Wei-Goh Holmes is treating him for an especially nasty strain of domestic nostalgiasitis.

“Number three: Dr. I. M. Trubbell is assessing the state of his bureaucratic mumbo jumbo allergy.

“Number two: Dr. Slobodan So

“Number one: Hello? Are you still there?… Daniel, I think she hung up on me.”

“She probably just needed one excuse, Mom, but thanks.”

“No worries, Daniel. I just figure the best way to teach people like that a lesson is to overload them with whatever it is they think they want.”

“Interesting thought, Mom,” I said, sending her home with a blink of my eye and summoning Dana. We pulled back onto the road and headed off to meet Number 5.

Chapter 65

I BEGAN BY doing what any highly disciplined military commander would do on the eve of battle-I ate a four-course meal.

Dana and I had climbed a hill above a cornfield opposite the Wiggers’ property. I’d made us a picnic including wasabi-crusted salmon fritters, chanterelle-and-pork-medallion panini, watercress salad, vichyssoise, and a carafe of Gatorade.

“So what were you doing last night, Daniel, off on your own like that?”

“I was just confirming some theories I’ve been working on. Some light reco

“By yourself?”

“Um, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” she asked. “And that black hair I found earlier probably just happened to land on your collar? Just had been blowing around in the wind?”

I guess dematerializing her hadn’t made her forget. “Hair?” I said incredulously. “What hair?”

“The one that looked just like this other one that I found in your blue motorcycle helmet and which isn’t mine or Emma’s.”

“Wow,” I said turning the hair into a butterfly that flew from her grasp. “Is that a tiger swallowtail?”

“You aren’t going to distract me so easily. Whose hair was that?”

“Just a kid I met at the diner,” I said, thinking quickly. “Number 5’s goons had given her a rough time, so I just checked in on her.”

“Sure you did.”

“And she gave me some good information too. Turns out Number 5’s programmed everybody in this town with some sort of standing electronic charge that lives inside their heads. Makes them conveniently forget things they’ve seen; makes them responsive to his orders-stuff like that.”

“And she told you this?”

“Well, no, but I did figure out how to remove the charge from her head, so that now-provided she stays away from TVs, computers, and cell phones-she’s once again in control of her own mind.”

“Sounds like it must have been a pretty intimate procedure.”

“Sure, I mean, I had to basically go inside her brain and… Wait, I know what you’re thinking. But you know I’d never get emotionally involved with any humans. I mean, it’s just not fair -”

“So you were just using that poor girl? She was nothing but an experiment?”

I shook my head. This clearly was not something to get into with Dana.

“Let’s just eat our lunch and relax, okay, Dana? It’s a gorgeous day, and we’ve got a big afternoon ahead of us.”

She bit into her sandwich with a little more force than was necessary.

I sighed and looked around at the rolling hills, the brilliant blue sky, the butterflies and birds flitting around the field below.

“This really is a beautiful planet, isn’t it?” I said. “So much diversity, so much that’s lovely and good. You know, that’s what really gets me about the Outer Ones. I mean, if I had to come up with a definition of evil, I’d say it’s not just not appreciating beauty but wanting to mess with it, control it, own it.

“I mean, this whole show Number 5’s aiming to make-it’s all about taking this fantastic human species and bending it to his will for nothing more than cheap entertainment. A true artist would document them. Would present humans and their planet in all its glory-the plays they’ve written, the beautiful art they’ve made, the cities, the fields…”

“Put a sock in it, Daniel; (a) I’m not forgetting that you went on a date last night, and (b) you have a crumb on your lip, and it’s driving me crazy. Here, let me take it off.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” I said, leaning forward so she could remove it. I just didn’t expect she was going to do it with her lips.

Chapter 66

A GUY’S GOT to give his imagination some credit when a girl he’s dreamed up manages to make him dizzy with a kiss.

“Wow,” I said. “That must have been some crumb -”

We began kissing again. The blue sky and green fields were twirling around like I was in a music video.

“I’m not exactly complaining,” I said, “but what was that for?”

“Must be that hot new hairdo of yours, spike. Or that new bling,” she said, fingering my necklace.

“Hey,” I said, “you’re supposed to be my dream girl.”

“So?”

“So dream girls just say no to u

“Having dreams is one thing,” said Dana. “Controlling them is something else.”

“I guess they’re kind of like reality that way,” I said, and, as if on cue, seven henchbeasts, who must have been crawling on their bellies toward us through the tall grass, sprung up, grabbed Dana, and rushed off toward the woods, depositing her in the arms of a big sweaty space monkey.

Chapter 67

“HOLD IT, SHE’S not even real!” I yelled. “I just make her up. With my imagination!”

I leaped to my feet and sca

“You make her up, huh?” he said, snorting through his ugly snout, and passing Dana to his henchbeasts. “In that case, I guess let’s make believe my soldiers are breaking her arm.”

The henchbeasts looked back at him like confused children.

“Break. Her. Arm,” he said, and now they all nodded and positioned themselves to snap her left arm.

In a flash I gave Dana a wink and turned her into a thirty-five-foot anaconda, which promptly wrapped itself around their necks and squeezed. Hard.

“Didn’t believe me, did you?” I asked Number 21 as his henchbeasts fell to the ground, their heads swelling like balloons.

“Oh, I believed you. I just wanted to keep you distracted while I got this ready.”

He was suddenly aiming the same shockwave ca

“Oh,” I said, as he pulled the trigger.

Chapter 68

LIGHTNING QUICK, I reached down, tossed up a handful of dirt, and mentally forced the particles into a shield.

Number 21 started to laugh, but the blast completely deflected around me. I took some pleasure watching that obnoxious ape lower his gun and scratch his head.

“What else you got?” I yelled across the field at him.

He dropped his weapon, and one of his cronies passed him a gun so large I was kind of surprised he was able to hold it. I wasn’t familiar with the type, but it was so big it looked like it could have blown apart a modest-sized asteroid.

“And what do you have, my little Stinkyboy?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Better a stinky boy than a stinky space ape,” I said, reaching dramatically to my side and unholstering my weapon of choice-my hand with my index and middle finger extended, my thumb cocked like a pistol’s hammer. “Na

He laughed like a hyena.

“They said you were a character, but it’s truly a shame that your curtain call is coming so soon.”

“You’re too kind,” I said. “Shall we draw on the count of three?”

“It’s your funeral!”

I materialized one of those big, digital, drag-racer countdown clocks in the field between us. It pinged down: 0:03:00… 0:02:00… 0:01:00 -