Something is Out There Read online

  You killed someone.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, a strange-looking group made its way through the deserted neighborhood. A young girl, her eyes grim and haunted, held onto a leash and led an older boy, who walked behind. Beneath her free arm, she held a battered teddy bear.

  Slightly ahead of them, her eyes warily scanning both sides of the street, walked a slightly older girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, pushing a jogging stroller. Her name was Callie, and she was on her way to see her grandmother in California.

  The Bully

  Oscar Robinson was reaching down to open his locker when a large hand gripped the back of his head and shoved his face into the locker above his. Crunch. Before he could register what he was happening, the hand grabbed a fistful of hair, pulled him back, then slammed him into the locker again, this time even harder.

  Everything went black for a moment, and the hand released him.

  Oscar's head rang like an old-fashioned alarm clock, and he was too stunned to grab his glasses as they slipped down his nose and clattered to the floor.

  Something warm was running down his chin and his mouth tasted coppery.

  He sank to his knees and felt around for his glasses. Voices around him; some hushed, others louder and openly amused.

  “Fucking loser,” growled a voice he knew all too well. Robert Patterson. Big and mean. The scourge of Las Pulgas Middle School. He wasn't even supposed to be in this hallway. It was for sixth graders.

  A grunt, and then pain, bright and flaring, shot through his right hand. He glanced down and saw a black army boot on his hand, slowly rotating, grinding bone against bone. Oscar gasped. Don't cry. Don't cry. Tears were like blood to sharks to Robert Patterson. If he saw tears he would move in for the kill.

  One last hard twist and the boot was gone.

  Oscar brought his hand up to his chest and fought back the tears.

  Robert Patterson strode down the corridor, fully aware of the eyes following him. On both sides, kids moved out of his way, and turned away as he passed. A cowed sixth grader wearing a Transformers tee shirt tried to avoid eye contact too late as he hurriedly stuffed a book into his backpack. Robert stopped and glared down at the boy.

  “Fuck you looking at?” he demanded.

  The sixth grader blinked and his mouth opened and closed. He said nothing, frozen in fear.

  Robert stepped closer. “I asked you a question, dispshit.”

  Transformers shirt managed, “Uh, no, uh.” He still the held the book, half in and half out of his backpack.

  Robert smirked. “‘Uh no uh?’ What's that? Some kind of dipshit language?” He leaned in. The sixth grader swallowed audibly. Fear radiated off him like a heat shimmer on a desert highway.

  “Leave him alone!”

  Robert whirled around. An older woman, most likely a teacher's aide or something, was walking toward him. She had a “visitor” tag pinned to her sweater.

  As Robert turned to face her, he was vaguely aware of shuffling behind him. Transformers shirt was making a break for it. Robert stuck his foot out. The kid hit his leg and stumbled forward, off balance, his arms pin-wheeling. He fell to one knee, quickly got up, turned to see if Robert was following and took off running.

  “What's your name?” The old woman demanded. “You're going to the office.”

  Robert smirked at her. She didn't know him. She wasn't even a teacher. But she could still be a problem. “I'm not goin' anywhere with you, old lady,” he said.

  She gasped. “I—”

  “You fucking loser,” Robert snarled. “Get out of my way.”

  The old lady had no response. She was clearly out of her comfort zone.

  Robert eyed her up and down. “Why don't you go home and die? Nobody wants you here.”

  She blinked and held up a bony hand, pointing a finger at him. “You—you can't—”

  “Shut up!” Robert moved towards her, fists clenching. He was big for his age, and was a little taller than her. He didn't have time for this. If she turned him in he'd spend the rest of the day in the office. And then what happen when he got home? He had to get away, and quickly.

  She took a step back and Robert knew he had her. He feinted suddenly, lunging towards her and twitching his shoulder, and she lurched away, a cry of fear bursting from her.

  Robert laughed and strode through the double doors into the quad. He turned to the right and moved quickly to get out of sight. He knew he had frightened her, but she could still snitch and get him in trouble.

  He ducked into the cafeteria and blended in with the crowd. The noise hit him first, then the smell of food. All kinds of food. He hadn't realized it until now, but he was hungry. He hadn't gotten any breakfast, and he had no lunch. He never did. He usually just took some kid's sack lunch, but thanks to that old hag, he couldn't do that now.

  Robert stood, his hands in his pockets and looked around. Not for friends. He didn't have any. There were kids that thought he was cool, but they weren't friends. He'd never get invited to their houses. Not that he'd ever invite one of those losers to his house.

  Robert walked the length of a table, feeling rather than seeing the eyes on him. He liked it when they were afraid of him. He needed it. He stopped when he saw a familiar face. That Asian kid who sat in front of him in math. Robert “borrowed” paper from him every day. Robert looked at the kid's lunch. A sandwich, cut diagonally. Chips. A water bottle. Robert leaned across the table. “What kind of sandwich is that?”

  The Asian kid grimaced. He knew what was coming. “H-ham. Ham and cheese.”

  Robert held his hand out. Made eye contact. “Give it to me.”

  A voice beside him said, “Come on, man, that's his lunch.”

  Robert looked down at some blonde kid he'd never seen before. The kid looked scared, but not scared enough.

  Robert quickly scanned the room. Two teachers were talking at the other end of the table, their heads together. The other room supervisor was scolding some kid by the trash can. Robert ducked down and punched the blonde kid right in the face. The kid put his hands up to his face and Robert grabbed one of his cookies. He also took the sandwich from the Asian kid. He looked meaningfully from face to face before he left.

  “I know you all,” he warned.

  ***

  By the time the last bell rang, Robert had brought a girl to tears in PE, given a dead arm to a kid taking too long at the drinking fountain, and stolen two dollars from a boy at the soda machine. And he made a kid buy him a PowerAde.

  He half-expected to get called up to the office, and every time an office aide walked into one of his classes, he sat up, but it hadn't happened. Maybe that old bag had been too frazzled to tell anyone.

  Robert had detention, as he did almost every day, and at this point it wasn't even a big deal. He didn't mind. He was in no hurry to go home. So he sat in the detention room after school, with three other kids who had made a point not to sit near him. The teacher was one of the hall monitors, but she just sat at her desk on her computer. She'd look up occasionally. The other kids just played on the phones and whispered quietly to each other.

  Robert didn't have a phone, so he put his head down and tried to sleep. He was tired. His parents had kept him up last night. All that shouting and screaming. He hated it, but what could he do?

  ***

  Robert walked home alone. Like always. Was he lonely? you might ask. The answer was complicated. Robert wanted friends. But tormenting was more important. Bullying the smaller and weaker, that was his focus. If you had asked, he would have had a difficult time explaining why.

  Sometimes he worried about high school next year. He wouldn't be the biggest and the meanest. Well, probably not. But it would be more difficult.

  Walking along the worn sidewalk, he spied a cat sunning itself on the lawn. Just an orange cat, eyes half open. Robert stopped, surveyed the situation. Nobody around. He approached the cat, which sat up, ears perked, eyes wide. Robert squatted on his ha
unches. Hey buddy, “he said softly. “What's up? Come here, guy.”

  The cat stretched, looked at Robert, then scampered away. He didn't bother pursuing it. He'd chased cats before. Forget it. You could never catch a cat. Those fuckers were slick. But dogs. Dogs were easy to catch. He remembered one time—Robert shook his head, shoving the images away.

  He stood up and stretched. Adjusted his backpack. He should probably go through it. He had way more stuff in it than he needed, especially since he didn't even use it half the time. But it was heavy. A solid weapon. He had knocked down more than one unsuspecting sixth grader down by swinging his backpack. Had been suspended for it too. That had been rough. His parents—well the screaming last night was nothing compared to when he had to stay home for three days. He wasn't looking forward to summer either.

  Mr. Voight, his counselor, had told Robert that he would probably have to go to summer school. Robert had shrugged, not said anything.

  Voight once asked him if everything was okay at home. Robert nodded, staring at his hands. “I got everything under control. It's fine.”

  “Robert, what happened to you? Last year, you had all A's. But this year, you're failing all your classes. You've been called up to the dean's office...” He consulted a sheaf of papers. “...six times so far this year. “ He spun his chair so he was facing Robert. “I just want you to know that if there's anything you want to tell me, it won't go any further than this room. I promise. Anything.”

  Voight let that statement hang there between them, apparently waiting for Robert to say something.

  A couple minutes later, Robert had. “Can I go now?”

  “Sure,” Voight sighed. “You can go.”

  ***

  Robert's house was the only one on the street with a dead lawn. The trees needed to be cut back too. Several old newspapers lay on the driveway. Robert didn't bother picking them up.

  He kept his house key on a shoelace around his neck. He leaned over slightly, slid the key in and opened the door. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  The smell hit him first. It always did. He was never prepared for it. Rotten food, stale smoke, urine, shit, sweat, garbage. It was all there. It was dark, and he stood by the door to let his eyes adjust. The smell wasn't quite so bad here, either.

  He began to make out shapes in the dim light. His parents. They looked at him.

  “I'm home,” he called, unnecessarily.

  “Shut the door.”

  Robert closed the door. He took his backpack off and placed it on the floor. The carpet had been rolled up and the furniture moved to one wall.

  “Come to me,” the voice said.

  Robert walked to the center of the room. He looked up at his parents, who hung suspended, several feet off the floor, gently turning. Their eyes were open, and they returned his gaze as they slowly rotated. Their faces were gaunt and sunken, their clothing was soiled and reeking. On his mother's face, several strands of hair were stuck to her cheek with dried blood. Robert whirled around.

  “You said you'd let them down today! You said—”

  “Oh, you have been busy,” said the demon, gliding across the floor, careful not to enter the pentagram painted on the floor. It sniffed the air as it approached. “Very busy.” It slid its long leathery fingers over Robert's face and head. He stiffened involuntarily, as he always did.

  The demon moved its horrible face closer, breathing in, and wisps red vapor escaped from Robert's eyes, nose, mouth and ears, and entered the mouth of the demon. It closed its yellow eyes.

  “Oh, yes. The fear, the misery you've created. Oh, tears... how delicious. Robert, you've outdone yourse—wait! What's this? An adult?” Its glowing eyes flew open as it grimaced in distaste.

  It wrapped a hand around Robert's throat and lifted him. “What did I tell you about adults?”

  “That... that...” He struggled to speak with its hands clutched around his throat. “... children are best. Their... fears are better.”

  “Yesss,” said the demon, clutching Robert closer, breathing in all the pain and fear and unhappiness he had caused today. “So much better.” The red wispy vapors faded, and the demon gave a satisfied sigh. “Delicious.”

  It dropped Robert, who collapsed on the floor. This always took it out of him. He felt so cold and alone. He looked up as the demon hovered beside his parents. It raised a talon and ran it down the side of his mother's face. Her eyes widened.

  “I'm afraid I can't release them tonight, Robert. You disappointed me. It was good, yes, but... “ He shook an admonishing finger. “That old woman ruined it.”

  “But,” Robert said. This wasn't fair. He looked at his parents, hovering, helpless. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

  “I'm sure you'll do a better job tomorrow,” The demon smiled. “And then we can let Mom and Dad down for a while. How's that sound?”

  Robert fought the tears. He knew the demon liked it when he cried. He nodded without looking up.

  “But unfortunately, Mom and Dad must suffer for your... ineptitude.” It waved a hand, and his parents began to rotate faster. His mother screamed, a heart-rending sound that shook Robert to his soul. His father cried out and Robert turned away.

  “And Robert,” the demon said.

  He kept his head down. He couldn’t take much more.

  “Robert,” it said, a little more forcefully, speaking louder over the sounds of the screams. Robert looked up. “Tomorrow, let's go for a little something extra. Use this.” It held out a knife.

  ***

  The screams continued until later in the night, and Robert got very little sleep.

  Something is Out There

  October, 1944

  Everything was happening so fast, thought Captain Heinrich Gruber, gazing out at the Greek countryside rolling past. Too fast. Just yesterday,he had been sitting in his familiar office (his familiar comfortable office) in the German Headquarters in Athens, checking over ration reports. Now, here he was, in a four seat kubelwagen, leading a troop transport over a narrow bumpy road towards a village he had never even heard of.

  He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. ”How much farther?”

  The driver’s eyes never left the road. “It should be just over this ridge, Herr Captain.”

  It was a nondescript village near the western coast of Greece. In an area called Foloi, known for its woods and oak forest, apparently. This was in the documents that had been hand-delivered yesterday, along with orders to leave at 0600 that morning.

  This was all new to Gruber. He was a bureaucrat, not used to the outdoors. He already missed his office with its richly paneled walls and large desk. That’s where he should be right now, drinking a hot mug of kaffee while he began his daily paperwork. He was not a field commander. But he wasn’t going to say anything. Orders were orders, especially these days. Since the Allied invasion in France last June, tensions had risen. He had seen the stress in the faces of many of the officers he worked with, and to be honest, on more than one night he had awakened in his villa, heart pounding, to the sound of planes flying overhead. Is this it? He would ask himself, waiting in the darkness for the inevitable explosions and sirens and shouting. The end is near was the prevailing unspoken feeling. Between the Allies and the verflucht Russian army, it seemed to be only a matter of time. Of course, if you believed Goebbels’ propaganda, the German Army would emerge victorious by the end of the year.

  And every so often, one of his superiors would not show up for work. No messages, no notes. The rumor was that most were headed for Argentina.

  Gruber lifted his briefcase from the seat beside him and opened it, pulling out a thick file folder. The phrase streng geheim was stamped across it in larger red letters. Gruber had never even seen a top secret folder, let alone been given one. And this one...it seemed like madness. He opened the folder and looked through his orders again. Impossible. The Fuhrer must be getting desperate. He shook his head. I know he’s been searching for sacred and
holy relics...but this is too much. But if there was even a chance of finding...No. It was impossible. He leaned forward again, turning to Krause, the sergeant he had just met this morning.

  “What do you know of these orders? This mission?”

  Krause turned around from the passenger seat beside the driver. He was older than Gruber, his face lined and serious.

  “I was ordered to give you the file and accompany you to the village. The men and I are to follow your orders for the duration, sir.”

  Gruber gazed at him a moment. “The duration? Of what?”

  Krause remained silent.

  Gruber tried another tactic. “Do you know why we’re here?”

  “No, sir. I only know we need to find a local to guide us to our destination as soon as possible.”

  Gruber nodded and sat back. “Our destination,” he repeated under his breath. He read over the file again. Unfolded a map. Maybe he had missed something. It just didn’t make sense. He took out a pack of photographs. There were several grainy images of ancient documents containing lines of Greek letters and symbols. Gruber gazed at them for a moment before he put it all away and closed his briefcase. He glanced up as the vehicle slowed and stopped.

  “We’re here, sir.”

  The village of Kavos was smaller than Gruber could have imagined. The main thoroughfare was dirt, now mud, and the vehicles had to stop twice because of goats wandering through the streets. Narrow stone buildings, mostly two story, lined the streets on either side. People filtered out of doorways and stared as the motor cars entered their village. Old women wearing black shawls and men with heavy moustaches gazed with curiosity and, in a few cases, open hostility at the Germans. A young boy shouted something at the vehicles and ran away, laughing, followed by a barking dog.

  “Orders, sir?”

  Gruber started. He looked around. Krause was standing at attention. He had opened Gruber’s door. The other soldiers were climbing out of the back of the truck. They spread out around the transport, their eyes watching for trouble. These were hardened men, Gruber thought. Veterans. He glanced at their field grey uniforms. All of them SS. And he was supposed to lead them? Him? I don’t belong here Gruber thought again as he turned to face the men. He looked up as rain began to fall. I should be back in my office.