Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1) (24 page)

      “Holy crap!”  Mel shouted in complete shock as he quickly pushed himself back up, ready to fight any stragglers that might remain.  He helped Pete, who had fallen almost on top of him, back to his feet.  Rick sat upright and stared at the small fireball that worked its way up in the sky along with the smoke and burning embers of dozens of dead spiders.  Tormodis was just as shocked as everyone else.

     Margaret turned and looked pensive, afraid that blowing Pete’s diner up was not a good thing.  Tormodis moved quickly over to his wife and took the spent grenade launcher out of her hands.  “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

     Margaret shrugged.  “I don’t know?  Just sort of came to me.”  She smiled in her charming way.

     Tormodis put his hands on his young wife’s shoulders and looked her in the eye.  “We’ve got to find you some safer hobbies,” He said with a twinge of love mixed with respect in his voice.

      Rick and Roger stood upright again.  Rick’s ears were ringing.  He looked at the smoldering diner with amazement.  “Nice,” He said in a slow and sly way.

    Mel reached down and picked his weapon back up.  “Well, that was a clear demonstration of the Prime Sphere at work,” He told Rick.  “Now you know how it shields and absorbs force.  Consider it on the job experience.”  He began to check his remaining ammunition.

     Roger, unharmed and slightly amused, moved away from the group unnoticed, his neck craned back while he looked up at the sky.  He was completely captivated by some object there, transfixed to a certain point.  Everyone else, breathing a collective sigh of relief from their recent dramatic experience continued to take no notice of him.  In fact, it frustrated him that no one seemed interested in what he alone had found approaching them in the sky.  “What’s that?”  He finally said, pointing at a group of large black objects clustered together like a flock of birds.

       Pete noticed Roger’s gestures first and joined him at the edge of his smoldering back yard.  At first, his hand over his eyes, he could barely make out the objects, but he could tell they were getting nearer.  Despite his confusion, something whispered in the back of his mind a name he hadn’t uttered in decades, and it was a name that brought fear and dread and more destruction.  He stood there waiting as the others milled about unconcerned about this new development.  Gradually, the objects grew larger until Pete could unmistakably make out the tale tell markings underneath the wings and the clear outline of a fuselage he had grown very familiar with over sixty-five years before.  He tried to get Mel’s attention by waving at him, but his protégé was busy trying to talk to Tormodis.  By the time he was able to utter a warning, the Japanese A6Ms, or more commonly known as a Zero, were breaking formation and heading their way.  “Everybody take cover!”  He shouted, and he grabbed Roger by the shoulders and pulled him into the open doorway of his small two-room cinderblock house.  He threw Roger onto the tattered old couch.  The others, hearing his warning didn’t wait to find out what he was looking at but bolted for his house as well, their nerves still primed and adrenaline still flowing.  Moments later the zeros descended on the bay and started firing their 20mm cannons into the buildings and foliage.  Pete stood precariously in his doorway watching them swoop and dive, attack and then pull up.   The smoldering remains of the diner caught the pilot’s attention, and two of them attacked it in a single flyover, the heavy cannon rounds crashing into the poor diner with ferocity and destruction. Finally, a round hit the propane tanks in the kitchen and the whole diner went up in a fireball and explosion that sent Pete flying backward again, landing on his old floor model television set positioned in the corner as the whole house shook and reverberated with the explosion.  The fireball momentarily blocked out the sun, and darkness enveloped the group.  The zeros, satisfied with their attack broke off and headed north, toward larger populations and more destruction.  Pete blacked out.

      Pete woke with the feel of a cool damp cloth on his forehead.  He was lying on his back on his couch while Margaret nursed him with the cloth.  Her smiling face was a delight to see as he came out of unconsciousness, certainly better than Mel’s face.  He smiled back at her.  “Hello, I’m Pete.”  He said in a low and melodious way.  She patted his forehead again.

      “I know.”  Her voice was calm and reassuring.  “You already told me.”

      Pete could hear someone arguing from outside.  It sounded like Mel and Tormodis, but he couldn’t be sure.  He pushed up on his elbows and looked around.  “How long have I been out?”

       “Just about ten minutes or so, not long.”  She told him and sat back in her chair, her job done.   “That Mel guy said your prime something took the blast, but it was still too much to keep from knocking you out.”

      Pete rubbed his head.  “Prime Sphere.  Yeah, it does dat.  So, what are dey arguing about?” He nodded toward the sound of the two voices.

      “Oh, something about Tor going to find some tracker.”  Margaret seemed mildly uninterested.

       “He
de
Tracker,”  Pete said as he moved and put his feet back on the floor.  The sweet smell of burning wood and insulation was thick in the air.  Pete sighed.  “Dis gonna be a really bad one.”

    Margaret looked at him puzzled. “What do you mean?” 

    Pete hung his head.  “Dis just de beginin’.  We got some bad stuff comin’.  You got to get you husband to find de Tracker for us.  He ‘bout de only one dat can help now.”

    Margaret looked out of the cracked and shattered window at the smoking remains of Pete’s once proud diner.  She could hear her husband arguing with Mel.  Tormodis insisted that they were leaving, and Mel quickly stopped him.  The really loud arguing began shortly afterward.  “I’m sorry about your diner.”  She said sadly.

     Pete looked up at her and smiled.  “Don’t you worry none ‘bout dat ole place. It done been blowed up, at least, four times before now.  Prolly not de last time needder.   ‘Sides, it got de spiders didn’t it?”

      Margaret smiled again.  “I’m glad it did.  There were too many to handle.”

      Pete’s face changed to deep concern.  “Der gonna be a lot more.  Dat just de start lil’ girl.”  He stood up with a groan and grunt of cracking knees and old age.

       Margaret put her hand out.  “Maybe you should take it easy.  That was a pretty good blow you took.”

       Pete rubbed the back of his head again. “Nah, ole Pete done been knocked around so many times.  He jus’ like a spring toy, keep comin’ back for more. Now, come on les’ go get dese two straight ‘fore a nudder war break out.” 

        “If I haven’t met him yet, how can I find him!?”  Tormodis shouted at Mel, who was standing defiantly in front of him with his arms crossed and a determined look of resistance on his face.

        Pete stepped out of his doorway into the carnage that used to be his front yard.  “Finding him’s not the problem, bra.  Convincing him to help is.  I know where you can find him.”

        The small group scattered across the area looked quickly at Pete as he walked out toward Mel and Tormodis.  Roger was playing with a piece of burning debris in the yard, and Rick was sitting at the old dry rotted picnic table that had miraculously escaped the disaster unscathed.  Even while all the burning pieces of Pete’s Barbecue fell around it after the explosion nothing landed on the picnic table and Rick was now perched there, feet outstretched in front of him while dreaming about the barbecue he had eaten there just a day ago, before the world went crazy.

       Tormodis huffed.  “Okay, but if I don’t know him yet, and he doesn’t know me how am I supposed to convince him of anything?   More to the point, why should I?  I’ve already spent too much time at this party already.”  He sternly pointed out.

       Mel started to counter him with a fierce broadside but, Pete interjected.  The fight had gone on long enough.  “Tormodis, dis is way more dan we got time to tell you.  But, findin’ the Tracker is our only hope at dis point.  We got to head dis ting off ‘fore it gets out of hand, and more people die.”

      Tormodis looked at him with a determined expression filled with his youthful candor and opposition.  “This isn’t what we came here for.”

      “I know brudda.  But, we need your help on dis one.  I saw lots of people die before.  I lost my wife in de last one.  Dat ting you saw was a robot from de Company.  Mel thought it would help me get along better after Maria died.  But, I never forgot de ones we lost dat time.  We got to move now and not wait.”   Pete sounded hard and serious.  His years of experience and the pain he had suffered were telling in his tone and on his broad wrinkled brown face.

      Mel shifted.  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him, Pete.  But, he won’t listen.”

      Tormodis sighed and shrugged at the same time.  “How am I supposed to find this guy?”  He mumbled.

      Margaret moved over by her husband and put a reassuring arm on his.  “You know this is right, Sam.”

      He looked at her soot-smeared face and her hair thrown all out of place.  Her eyes were so sweet and endearing and melted his heart every time he looked in them.  He could never tell her no.  He patted her hand on his arm.

       “I know where he is!”  Roger suddenly piped up.  He stood from his little fire and quickly stepped over to where the rest were gathered.   “I can see him.”

      Tormodis looked Roger over, realizing for the first time that he so closely resembled Mel it made him grimace slightly.  “Then why don’t you take them where they want to go?”

       Pete spoke up again.  “Because the Tracker only gonna listen to you, bra.  Dat de way it goes.”

      “We don’t know each other yet,” Tormodis complained again.

       “He gonna know you.  Don’t worry ‘bout dat.  You take Mel and Roger here and find him and get him to come back wid you.  Den we can find dis ting and stop it.”  Pete reassured him.

      Margaret looked up at her cantankerous young husband with her widest most pitiful look she could manage.  He hated when she did that to him, but it didn’t matter.  “Is this guy gonna be a pain in the ass the whole time?”  He pointed at Mel.

       Mel looked at Pete with disgust.  “Seriously?  I’M the pain in the ass?”

      “Not de whole time.  Just some.”  Pete said chuckling. 

       Tormodis drew in a heavy breath.  “Let’s go then.”  He finally conceded.

      Pete smiled broadly.  “Dat’s good den.  Yes, dats good.  Mel,” He said, pulling his protégé to the side for a more private word.  “You didn’t mention de Company, and all dat stuff ‘bout Roger and all to him did you?”

      Mel looked at him confused.  “No, not yet.  Why?  He knows we’re Company, though.  What does it matter at this point if he knows about Roger?”

     Pete was happy.  “Well, Tor he don’t much like de Company, never did.  Best keep all dat udder stuff quiet for now.”

      “Okay,” Mel agreed, “But, I can’t control what Roger blurts out.  No one can.”

     Pete agreed.   Despite the few minor set-backs, the spectacular mass of attacking giant spiders, the Japanese WWII fighters and the diner blowing up, things were proceeding according to plan.

     Rick, who had been patiently listening to the conversations, decided to interject his question in the mix.  “That brings up a point, Mel.  Why don’t we get the Managers involved?  They obviously have the resources to deal with this, I assume.  It follows that we would want their help if this is as big as you say.”  He pointed out.

      Mel looked like someone who just learned their puppy was killed in a threshing machine.  “Rick, you’re gonna find out the hard way, you don’t have to get the Managers involved.  They probably already know.”  He almost whispered.

     Tormodis was looking at him accusingly, but Margaret was still holding his arm very tightly and reminding him where his duty lay.   “You ready?”  He asked Mel.

     Mel shouldered his weapon.  “Beam me up, Scotty,”  He said smugly.  Roger was almost beside himself with giddiness and telling his pocket that everything was going to be okay.  Margaret was getting more concerned with Roger’s odd behavior.  Without warning, there was a flash of light, and the four of them were gone.    

      Rick and Pete remained alone silently looking at each other while the smoking remains of the diner made a war zone backdrop that would have been a great photo-op.   The fires had faded, and some of the smoke cleared, and they were left to deal with the remains of the catastrophe at hand.  “So, that’s his thing, huh?”  Rick lazily asked Pete who was lost in thought?

      Pete snapped out of his daze.  “Tor?  Yeah, he port when he want to, wid no machines.”

     Rick was stunned by the implication.  “Then why didn’t he just port us all out of this mess?”  He waived his hand.

      Pete smiled.  “He just too young.  Maybe get too rattled.  Dat’s a lot to handle, yeah?”  He pointed at his fallen diner.  “Maybe too much for all of us,”  He said reflecting.  While he was musing, he noticed his large stainless steel refrigerator had been blown out of the back of the diner and was lying at an angle against the corner of his house.  He looked amusingly down at Rick.  “Hey, you want something to eat?”

     Rick looked shocked.  “Um, I think we might be out of the diner business, Pete.  Last time I checked your barbecue went up in a nice little mushroom cloud courtesy of the Empire of Japan.”