James Wayne bounded out of the movie theater still clutching his tub of popcorn and large soda. With good natured skepticism he eyed the rest of the audience members pouring through the doors trying to determine whose lives and agendas might mirror the world of spies from the movie; the espionage adventure they had all just shared created a natural tendency for suspicion. A couple of times he caught people glancing back at him before breaking into a shared laugh at the artificial paranoia that the evening's entertainment had produced.
With a bounce in his step he crossed through the yellow pools of parking lot lights until the crowd of people and cars thinned out to reveal his orange Volkswagen Beetle. James slid into the car and immediately spilled the remains of his popcorn as he rummaged for a Mission Impossible soundtrack CD. Sliding the tunes into the player, he "dum dum"-ed along with the main theme as he pulled out of the parking lot.
It was a casual drive out of town, along a dark street that meandered along the river. All along the winding route, James kept a close eye on the rearview mirror watching carefully for imaginary soviet agents out to steal his non existence nuclear codes. Several times he thought he saw a red light flashing through the thick trees that surrounded the twisty road: but when he listened for a siren that never materialize, he eventually concluded they weren't the flashers of a government chase vehicle out to stop him from his urgent mission.
After a long, slow drive down the wooded lane, James finally pulled over and turned off the ignition and the car's headlights. He stared out the windshield at a lonely house that sat tucked into the woods about a hundred meters ahead. It was a dark, single story home with a couple of windows spilling out warm light.
James tapped the corner of his over sized, horn rimmed glasses. While they appeared perfectly normal from the outside, the inside of the glass displayed a steady stream of data fed from his base computer. Using his eye movements, he accessed the necessary submenus to gather the information that he needed.
The occupant of the house was Mrs. Eleanor Vanderfelt, an elderly widow who lived alone. But James already knew that. Instead he accessed her phone records to find out that she hadn't received any calls tonight, and her cable TV records showed that she had been watching a steady run of shopping network television.
Quietly James slipped out of the car and crept though the woods toward the house. He resumed softly humming the Mission Impossible theme as he crawled behind the shrubbery under the living room window. He pulled a small, dome shaped device from under his jacket, turned it on, and carefully stuck it to the glass. The gadget would guarantee that Mrs. Vanderfelt would fall quickly asleep and not be disturbed by anything else that may happen nearby.
With the sleep inducer activated, James reached into a holster hidden under his jacket, and pulled out a modified, old fashioned looking Walther PPK. Once he checked that it was loaded and ready, he scanned the tree line. Seeing no sign of movement, he slid out of the bushes and tip toed toward the back of the property.
The back of the house contained a screened in porch that faced the river. A small boathouse sat next to a dock on the far side of the property; a 30 foot cabin cruiser rocked gently in the current. All was quiet as James circled across the yard.
Suddenly it hit. The blow to the back of his head sent James sprawling across the grass. He rolled with the momentum and came up on his knees facing his assailant. His vision blurred for just a moment before he could get his gun aimed, but that was enough time for his attacker to dive for cover.
Although she looked like a slight framed, blonde human, her green uniform revealed her to be a Reticulian, an alien race that had been abducting and experimenting on Earthlings since human development began. James was also a member of that race, but he had sworn against their manipulative agenda. He had taken on an undercover life among humans in order to do whatever he could to interfere with Reticulian plots.
The assailant had hit him with a kinetic amplifier, a small club that caused maximum damage with minimal effort. Shaking off the ringing in his ears, James ran for the cover of the boat house. Catching a glimpse of the girl, he took a couple of desperate shots in her direction. His gun let out a few soft pops as they release small waves of neural disrupting force. She quickly dodged behind the back porch of the house to avoid the invisible energy blasts.
That was when James' foot hit something and with a solid "Pwoof" he was shot into the air. Reticulians had been doing battle on Earth for centuries, but they were intent on staying hidden from the current residents of the planet. Therefore their weaponry was almost completely silent or muffled and, whenever possible, only damaging to the target. Thus the soft thuds and pops were designed to avoid the notice of anyone not nearby or under the influence of a sleep inducer.
Seeing James set off the preplaced concussion mine she had herded him toward, the blonde assailant burst out of hiding and ran over to find where he fell. But a quick scan of the area didn't reveal any sign of him. Assuming that he had fallen in the water, she began to creep toward the river bank.
That's when he dropped down on her from the roof of the boat house. He tried to kick her off the dock, but she was fast enough to spin and grab his foot. With a twist, she flipped him back into the grass. She tried to pounce on him, but he rolled away before she could connect. As she landed, he reversed his roll and came up on top. James quickly grabbed her wrists as she reached up to get a grip on him. The blonde tried to push him off, but he clearly had enough leverage to use his weight to securely pin her.
His glasses instantly ran a facial recognition program on her and identified her as Chal'ee, a Reticulian operative. Records showed her to be a generic, versatile use crewmember of the Reticulian fleet, not a scientist or abduction specialist. So what was someone like her doing here?
"You're not going to touch that lady." She snarled as she tried to twist out from under him.
76Id/6@7;��j)
YOU ARE READING
Nerd Knight Short Stories
Ciencia FicciónThey are here. They walk among us. They have been with us since the beginning of civilization. Most people don't notice. Most people just pass them by. But those that notice, those that look closely can see that they're just a little bit... gee...
