Brian Saves the World, Maybe

Chapter 12 - Walking and Talking

Aunt Carol led Brian and Dale down another long corridor. They passed several closed doors on the left and right as they continued. Brian wondered what was in those rooms, but she made no mention of them as they passed by.

"Aunt Carol, how big is this place?"

Her expression turned distant for a moment. "Big enough, I hope."

"Big enough for what?" Brian asked.

When Carol didn't answer, Dale smirked, adding, "What, are you going to be hosting a consortium on how to address an alien invasion?"

Carol seemed adept at ignoring Dale. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, when she suddenly came to a stop next to a door on the right. This door was blue, while nearly all the others had been red. Carol pointed at the door and said, "Mr. Meeks," motioning for him to go in.

"Ladies first," he said, bowing in mock respect.

"Mr. Meeks, if you are unable to use the restroom on your own, I'm afraid I can't help you."

Surprisingly, Dale grinned at her, before nodding and entering the room.

What was that? Dale admiring a worthy opponent in the game of sarcasm? 

While Dale was preoccupied behind the door, Brian tried to squeeze in a few questions. "So, who built this place?"

"Aliens, mostly," Aunt Carol said, matter-of-factly.

Brian frowned, waiting for the real answer. When it was clear one wasn't coming, he sighed, and said, "Okay, what color were these aliens?"

"Brian," Aunt Carol said in a scolding tone, "They were from many different countries. You should know I don't approve of referring to skin color in that way."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You mean they were foreigners? How did that work, exactly?"

Dale opened the door, and Aunt Carol continued the tour, letting the subject drop.

After a few more paces, they turned a corner, passing a door that was propped open. Brian looked inside and saw a large room with big canisters, vials, and jars. Steam was rising from some of the canisters. A man wearing a white lab coat appeared to be labeling jars.

Brian was about to ask what the lab was for when Aunt Carol spoke up. "Jerry, you know you are to keep this door closed at all times."

The man looked up, a confused expression on his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Aunt Carol closed the door while he stood there, still open-mouthed.

"Is he okay?" Brian asked.

"Probably been sampling the product," Dale said. "Meth lab, eh?"

"He's fine. That's just Jerry," Aunt Carol said. "And no, we aren't manufacturing illicit drugs," she added, giving Dale an icy look.

Brian frowned. "What are you making in there?"

Aunt Carol paused, as if deciding how to answer the question. "We produce... cosmetic compounds."

"Like, makeup and stuff? Really?" Brain asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Anti-aging creams, actually," she said somewhat defensively, and began walking again.

I need to stop expecting things to make sense, Brian thought.

Just then, a distant bell sounded. It rang for about three seconds and then stopped.

"What was that?" Brian asked.

Without a word, Aunt Carol turned a corner and rushed down a corridor. Brian and Dale had to jog to keep up. Soon, she stopped, opening a small compartment in the wall. She pulled a simple, corded phone out, and made a call.

"What is it?" she said, and then after a few seconds, "We need to get a handle on this. I will be there in fifteen." She hung up the phone and closed the compartment.

"What's going on, Aunt Carol?" Brian said.

"I have a matter to attend to. We will need to cut the tour short. Jim will escort you to the elevator and get you two home."

"What?" Brian said, confused. "You're sending us back, now? You never told us how you plan to stop the Borae!"

Carol simply looked at him, stone-faced.

Brian shook his head. "I don't even know what you guys do down here in this hole, besides watch movies and make lotion."

"Anti-aging cream," Dale corrected.

"You know enough," Aunt Carol said. "Leave the plans to us."

She quickly led them to a small room with cabinets, where they met up with Officer Watkins.

"Aunt Carol," Brian said, "What was the point of bringing us down here and showing us this place if you didn't really want our help?"

"I never said I don't want your help. You needed to talk. If I had just met up with you at a fast food joint and told you what I did, what would you have thought?"

Brian sighed. "I would have thought you were crazy." He wondered if there wasn't still some truth to that. Then he shook his head.  "So, what do you need us to do when we get back?"

"Simple. Listen to the Observer messages you receive, and keep me posted."

"Okay... Anything, in particular, I'm listening for?"

"Everything you hear, I need to know about it."

"Uh, how am I going to reach you?"

"With this." She opened one of the cabinets and pulled out an old-style red telephone handset. The kind that's supposed to be sitting on a desk phone. It had a curly cord attached, but it wasn't connected to anything on the other end.

Brian looked at the ancient relic with the dangling cord for a moment, dumbfounded. "Is this a joke?"

Her expression showed it was no joke.

"So... How does it work?" Brian finally said.

Dale snickered. "Never used a phone before? You talk into the receiver."

Aunt Carol nodded.

Brian took the handset. "Right. Got it. Makes perfect sense."

That settles it. My aunt really is nuts.

* * *

Officer Watkins escorted Brian and Dale back to his cruiser.

"Where would you like me to take you?" Watkins asked.

"Better take us back where you found us," Brian replied.

Dale leaned in toward Brian. "We need to talk when we get back to base," he said in a lowered voice.

Brian grimaced. "Back to base? You mean, like, your barn?"