Lone Star Renegades (8 page)

Collin said, “I need to take care of something else. I’ll take DiMaggio, if he wants to come with me.”

“And where’s that?” Humphrey asked.

“To do a little reconnaissance. Back up to the top of the pile. I’m thinking at some point we’ll need to take control of this space vessel … at least try to. That, or wait to suffocate the next time that big aperture opens up to outer space again.”

“Did you forget you’re just a skinny teenager, Sticks? Do you really think you can go up against a bunch of advanced aliens?” Humphrey asked, shaking his head.

Collin shrugged, but stayed quiet.

“I’m with you, Frost,” DiMaggio said.

“Yeah … I’m with them, too,” Bubba said, looking bigger and meaner than ever. He stared back at Humphrey, as if daring him to say something. Collin was surprised Bubba wanted to come along. He unconsciously rubbed his upper arm where, not so long ago, Bubba had been mercilessly punching him.

Collin spent the next few minutes familiarizing himself, DiMaggio and Bubba with the automatic weapons they’d collected. What they really needed was practice shooting the damn things. But with the limited amount of ammunition they’d found, that wouldn’t be a good idea. They determined Bubba would carry the MK48 and Collin the MK5, and each would bring along a small rucksack, holding food provisions and other odds and ends.

Most of the group had already left to deal with the bodies in the railcars. Darren and Humphrey were still on the wing, talking between themselves. Collin seriously doubted either one of them would get anywhere near a dead body. They both looked up as Collin approached.

“We’re heading out.”

“You’re taking those weapons with you? Don’t you think that’s a little selfish, Sticks?” Humphrey asked.

“You both have weapons. Speaking of which, there’s something you should be aware of … I think I saw something down there, in the pile.”

“Saw something like what?” Darren asked.

“It may have been nothing. It may have been my eyes playing tricks on me.”

“Just spit it out, for God’s sakes,” Humphrey spat.

“I think I saw something alive. It wasn’t a squirrel or anything like that. It was the size of a man and covered in fur.”

Both Darren and Humphrey simply stared back at Collin for a long moment. Eventually Darren said, “You better not be pulling my chain—”

“I’m not. I’m just telling you so you’ll keep an eye out. It’s one more reason I’m going to look for a way out of here.” For the first time, Collin saw the two teens not as thugs, but as what they really were—two scared boys in way over their heads.

Chapter 10

Collin took up the lead and together the three made their way again into the mass of junk. They headed straight up from the edge of the wing. Collin and Bubba had their rifles strapped across their backs, leaving both hands free to climb. DiMaggio, bringing up the rear, was in charge of marking their course. He’d ripped small strips from a bright yellow Hawaiian T-shirt and was tying them on to whatever was handy as they went along.

After climbing for close to an hour, Collin stopped and rechecked his leg. He saw that it was getting infected—yellow-white puss was forming around the outer edge of the open gash. He retied a piece of cloth around the wound and looked down at Bubba and DiMaggio.

“There’s a lot more than when we first got here. They must have made another stop.”

“They definitely did,” DiMaggio said from below. “Look at this.” He held up an automobile license plate—only this one was significantly different from anything they’d seen in Texas. “It’s got RUS on it … I’m betting this is Russian. They probably stopped there for another load.”

That made sense. For the past ten or fifteen minutes, Collin had noticed the metal items he’d been crawling around were not typical of what he was used to seeing. He’d seen the tail end of an automobile that definitely wasn’t produced in Detroit.

They continued upward for another twenty minutes before Collin, his voice somewhat muted, said, “We’re near the top. I can see light coming in from above … and something’s moving around up there. Try not to make too much noise.”

Collin came up beneath an overturned aluminum fishing boat. It smelled of seawater and the inside was caked with what could only be remnants of fish guts. DiMaggio and Bubba joined him and both scrunched up their noses.

“What’s that noise out there?” Bubba asked.

“Let’s go see.” With Collin in the lead, they crawled downward and sideways, between several old-style school desks, and reached the surface. Collin found he was wrong when he’d thought the spaceship was filled to the max. There was a lot more stuff jammed in now than there was before. Mountains and mountains more stuff! But that wasn’t what captured Collin’s attention. Two football fields’ distance away was something that could potentially change everything.

It was a small spacecraft of some kind—small only in the sense that it was a fraction of the size of the craft they were trapped in. Cigar-shaped, it was about the size of a naval submarine, but the similarities ended there. It was drab brown and had multiple thrusters around its circumference, midway along its fuselage, and two bigger ones at the tail end of the ship. The other thing keeping Collin’s eyes glued to the spaceship was that it was apparently trying to take off.

“That thing’s beat to shit,” Bubba exclaimed.

The vessel was only able to lift off another mountain of metal by ten feet or so before conking out and dropping back down.

“Let’s go … that might be our ticket out of here.” Collin moved as quickly as he could while maintaining his balance over the rough terrain.

It wasn’t long before the spacecraft ceased trying to get airborne.
Good
, Collin thought. It would do them little good if it took off and left them behind. Halfway to the vessel, DiMaggio abruptly stopped. Bubba careened into his back and both toppled over.

“What is it?” Collin asked.

DiMaggio got back to his feet and pointed off to the side. Collin was surprised he’d missed it. He could have thrown a rock and hit it.

“The other bus,” Bubba said in a near whisper.

No one had talked about it—not one student had mentioned it. Perhaps it was just too unimaginable to go there … there had been two buses coming back from the game away. This one, nearly identical to the one they had been riding in, held the younger freshmen and JV kids, as well as the four coaches. The three teens stood, deflated. The bus was crushed—flattened to less than half its previous height. Collin scanned the line where the row of windows used to be.

The sound of the spacecraft again attempting to gain altitude brought them back to the job at hand. Collin ushered them forward. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

They were close enough now to feel the effects of the ship each time it crashed down onto the metal mountain below it. “One thing’s for sure,” DiMaggio said, “there’s an idiot alien driving that ship. Repeatedly crashing down like that can’t be good. Asshole’s going to wreck the damn thing before we can even steal it.”

For some reason that struck Collin as funny and he laughed out loud. The other two chuckled as they all cautiously approached. Collin and Bubba unslung their automatic weapons. Collin flipped the safety off and watched as Bubba did the same. DiMaggio had his Glock out and the three of them hesitated, cringing as the ship clattered down once again, twenty yards ahead. They took cover behind the haunches of a giant statue of a horse and its uniformed rider. Collin was pretty sure it was Civil War era.

The ship sat stationary again, heat emanating from the now-quiet rear thrusters.

“What do we do now?” Bubba asked. “It’s not like we can just knock on the door.”

There was no reason to respond. The ship’s pilot had ventured outside and was now standing, with his hands on his hips, staring back at the ship. Much as Collin, Bubba and DiMaggio were doing.

“Is that your wolf man, Frost?” DiMaggio whispered.

Bubba looked at Collin with a furrowed brow.

“I saw this guy when we were crawling around outside the jetliner. Wasn’t sure then if I was seeing things.”

“You definitely weren’t seeing things.”

They continued to watch the furry creature as he now strutted around the outside of the vessel. He wore no clothes and the likeness to a wolf man was less so, now that Collin saw him standing in the dim green light from above.

“We got to do this,” Bubba said.

Collin’s nod was subtle. He didn’t like it. But one thing was clear: these weren’t normal times. Their very survival depended on doing things they weren’t remotely comfortable with.

Collin stood, aimed his MK5, and fired two rounds at a point near the alien’s feet. Startled, the alien crouched down and spun on his heels. He noticed the three humans—each pointing a weapon at him.

Collin rushed forward. “Walk with me, spread out to the sides.”

The furry alien stayed perfectly still, his eyes moved between the three—eventually settling on Collin.

“Now what, Frost?” Bubba said.

“Um … I guess we try to communicate with him.” Collin gestured with the muzzle of his rifle for the alien to rise up. He did so, slowly—standing up to his full height, several inches below Collin’s own.

Taking care not to make any abrupt movements, the creature pointed to something around his neck—some kind of device. The three teens raised their weapons in unison. He shook his head and raised his palms. He tapped at it with a series of quick finger movements and then spoke. “I am no danger to you. I am not your enemy.”

Chapter 11

The alien’s accent was thick and his voice sounded raspy. “My name is …” He hesitated, as if trying to think of the proper way to say it. “My name is Cine.”

The three boys exchanged glances. Collin said, “What are you doing here?”

Cine gestured toward the ship: “I am trying to get this broken-down heap into the air … to get off this collector ship.”

Up close, Collin saw that Cine was more cat-like than wolf- or dog-like. His teeth were small and sharp and he had ears, which continually twitched, that stood straight up on the top of his head.

“Looked like all you were doing was crashing the thing,” DiMaggio said.

“Is it your ship?” Collin asked.

“As much mine as anyone’s. What’s left of my ship is a hundred feet below us, in multiple pieces. Thanks to the Notares and this collector … what’s called a sim rover … I’ve been marooned here for weeks.”

“The Notares?”

“The beings that sent this ship to both your planet and mine.”

“And it was you that I saw down below,” Collin said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, that was me. I was looking for food. Much of my time is spent looking for food.”

“Wait … How do you know about the Notares?” Collin asked, suddenly suspicious.

“The Notares began invading my home world several years ago. We’ve learned much about those people, humanoids like you, over time.”

Collin took a step toward the little ship. “There room in that vessel for all of us?”

The cat-like man scratched at his chin. “Yes. There’s more than enough room. But, as you saw, it’s not operational. It’s never getting us out into space.”

“So you’re giving up?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to put that ship into the air,” Cine said. “It’s time to give up. Don’t put your hopes on that ancient wreck.”

Bubba stared down at the furry man. “Just because you failed doesn’t mean we will.”

“And why is that?” Cine asked back, looking resigned in defeat.

Bubba looked at DiMaggio, then at Collin, and then back to Cine. “Because we’re Texans … because we’re Lone Stars.”

Maybe because he was only the kicker—had limited time on the field—but in all the time he’d played on the team, he’d never gotten pulled into the whole rah-rah team-spirit thing. It wasn’t because the Middleton High School Lone Stars were a sub-par team; they almost always won. But right now, listening to Bubba’s deep baritone—the pride in his voice—Collin finally got it.

“Show us the ship,” Collin said.

Cine looked like he was going to resist. Bubba stood up a bit taller and looked even meaner than normal.

“Follow me,” Cine said, taking the lead toward the battered old ship.

DiMaggio leaned in close to Collin as they walked. “Is it me or does Cine speak better English than any of us do?”

“Yeah, kinda weird … huh? Keep an eye on him. I’m guessing he’s a lot more dangerous than he acts,” Collin added.

As they came around the far side of the space vessel, Collin had to cringe. As bad as the rest of the ship looked, this side looked downright terrible. It was dented, with several large scorch marks; Collin began having serious doubts the ship could ever get airborne.

Midway back from the bow of the ship, Cine used a recessed handle to open a seven- or eight-foot-high hatch. Before he could move inside, Collin yelled, “Hold it right there.”

Cine hesitated, looked inside the dark confines of the ship, then back at the three approaching teenagers. Collin was the first to reach the hatch, brush past Cine and walk inside. There, close to the hatch, was an assortment of things lying on the deck—a toolbox of some sort, coveralls, and a weapon. About the size of his MK5, Collin guessed this one was a whole lot more advanced.

“An energy weapon?” Collin asked, picking up the gun and appraising its alien technology.

Cine reached for the weapon. “That’s mine … I’ll need it.”

Bubba placed the muzzle of his MK48 against Cine’s temple.

“Sorry. We’ll keep it for now,” Collin said, passing it over to DiMaggio. “Why don’t you show us the ship?”

“And I thought the outside was bad,” Bubba said. “What’s that smell?”

Collin had to agree, the interior of the vessel was pretty horrific. Just as battered as the outside, there were also dark, rust-colored stains splashed onto the bulkheads and across much of the deck. He could only surmise it was dried blood.

Seeing Collin’s expression, Cine said, “From what I’ve determined from the ship’s log, few here survived their last attack.”