Invaders From Mars (11 page)

T
he next morning, after a sleepless night, David reluctantly entered the kitchen. Mom was at the stove cooking breakfast and humming. When David walked in, Mom smiled over her shoulder. As he seated himself at the table, he looked at her carefully, studying her neck. It was covered by a high collar and he could see nothing. But he was sure it was there, the little cut, the patch of bruised flesh.

The window was open and birds sang in the sun outside, as if nothing at all were wrong, as if this were a morning just like any other.

Mom put a plate of toast on the table and David nibbled at it without tasting it at all.

Dad walked in and sat down silently, watching David across the table. Unable to look at the cold eyes for long, David stared down at his toast, tore a piece in half, and removed the crust.

“Aren’t you hungry, David?” Mom asked, coming to the table with a plate of bacon. When she put it down, David stared at it in disbelief.

Black, shriveled pieces of bacon were stacked on the plate, smoke rising slowly above them.

Mom plucked a piece from the plate and took a bite, chewing it with relish.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked him as she crunched.

Without taking his eyes from David, Dad took a piece and began eating, too.

“I don’t think he’s feeling well, George,” Mom said, opening the refrigerator. She rummaged through it curiously, looking from one shelf to the next. Taking out a six pack of beer, she considered it a moment, then put it on the counter and grabbed a package of raw hamburger.

David watched her as the refrigerator door slowly swung closed. Mom didn’t even
like
beer!

She scooped out a mound of the burger and pressed it between her hands, then grabbed the salt shaker and held it over the patty, letting the salt pour from the little holes until the raw meat was caked with a layer of white.

“I have an idea,” she said, turning to them again. She pinched off a piece of burger and popped it into her mouth, talking as she chewed. “Let’s all go on a picnic, up on the hill!” She smiled, still chewing.

David began to breathe fast with fear as he watched his mom’s mouth, tiny lumps of raw hamburger clinging to her lips, and he wanted to speak, to ask her what she was
doing!
But he couldn’t.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dad said flatly.

“But, Mom,” David said slowly, with effort, “you’ve got classes.”

“We’ll go this afternoon,” she went on, eating another piece, ignoring David. “It’s beautiful up there. Your father showed me a place last night . . . a place you’ve never seen before.”

“Mom . . . is this a joke?”

“We’ll have a great time,” Dad said and smiled, eating more bacon.

“I’ll pack us a lunch.” Mom pulled the tab on a beer can. “Hamburgers! How does that sound? You always like that, don’t you.”

“But . . . I’ve got
school
today.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “You can miss. You don’t have to go every day.”

A rock-hard lump began to form in David’s throat as he stood, swallowing hard to get rid of it, praying for the bus to come so he could go.

“I don’t want to go,” he said quietly.

“Sure you do,” Dad said. “We aren’t together enough. We’re a family. We should do things together more. Don’t you think so, Ellen?”

“That’s right, George. We should be closer.”

“Hey, little guy,” Dad said, “give your mom a hug.”

David started to move away from the table, toward the doorway out of the kitchen, but Mom stepped in front of him. He felt as if he might throw up as he tucked his thumbs under the straps of his backpack.

The bus honked its horn outside.

David felt dizzy with relief. “I gotta go,” he said.

Mom glanced out the window at the bus, then looked back at David, her face determined. “Don’t you want to give your mom a hug?” she asked with a tight smile.

David continued toward the doorway, saying, “My bus is here.”

Mom put her beer down and stepped toward him. Before he could go around her, she grabbed his shoulders, squatted clumsily, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Chips of ice ran through David’s veins. This was not a hug his mother would give him. It was cold, clutching, possessive. He trembled in her arms and did not return the hug; his head was on her shoulder, against her neck, and his eyes moved to the spot just below her head, knowing what was there even though he was unable to see it. With a sudden jerk, he pulled away from her and saw the look in her eyes. She looked, for a moment, like a cat about to pounce.

David turned and ran as fast as he could from the house.

George and Ellen Gardiner followed David out of the house. They walked slowly down the drive as he boarded the bus.

“I told you we should have taken him last night,” Ellen said impatiently. “He’s becoming a problem.”

George squinted in the morning sun. They stopped at the end of the drive. Shaking his head slightly, George said, “No. Everything will be fine.”

As the bus drove away loudly, George raised a hand and waved with a smile. When it was gone, he looked at Ellen.

“Midnight,” he said quietly.

At recess, David sat alone at the jungle gym, gazing through the bars like a prisoner. He certainly felt like a prisoner, alone and trapped.

On the bus, David had tried to tell Doug about the UFO he’d seen, about his parents’ frightening behavior, and the cuts and everything. But Doug had only laughed.

“I never thought I’d say this to anybody,” Doug had said and chuckled, “but maybe you’ve been reading too many comic books!”

David had stopped talking then, realizing
no one
was going to believe him. He was on his own.

As he sat on the jungle gym, he stared at the cut on his hand. He’d taken the Band-Aid off in the shower. A scab had formed; the cut was healing. Why didn’t the cut on his dad’s neck heal? What was it and who had put it there?

And what did they want with David’s pennies . . . ?

David started at the skull-splitting slam and turned to see Doug pounding his baseball bat on the jungle gym.

“Hey,” Doug said, tilting his head and squinting, “you weren’t shittin’ me about that spaceship crap, were you? I mean, you’re . . . well, you’re pretty upset.”

“Just forget it, okay?” David turned from him.

“Y’know, all the guys think you’re really spaced.”

“Great.”

“You sure you don’t wanna play?”

David shook his head. “Nah.”

“Okay.” Doug ran across the playground, stopped, turned back to David, and shouted, “Hey, why don’t we go fly on our bikes this afternoon, huh?” Laughing, he rounded the corner of the school building to the baseball field in back.

David stood and walked slowly across the playground, his hands in his pockets, his toes scuffing the pavement. Children played around him, throwing balls, jumping rope, laughing. As he watched them, he wondered how long it would be before this thing had them, had everyone in the school . . . in the whole
town.

He went into the building and wandered down the empty hall toward his locker. When he rounded a corner, he spotted Mrs. McKeltch down the hall, just outside her classroom, talking with the chief. He quickly ducked back around the corner, out of sight, cocked an ear, and listened.

“Midnight,” the chief said.

“No problem.” He heard Mrs. McKeltch open her door as the chief’s footsteps faded down the hall.

Peeking around the corner, David spotted the chief disappearing through the side exit. He looked all around; he was alone. Walking on tiptoe, David went to Mrs. McKeltch’s room and silently peeked in the open door.

She was standing at the blackboard, her back to him, writing something. She dropped the chalk in its tray after a moment and went into her office.

When David saw what she’d written, he stifled a gasp:

2:00 P.M. FIELD TRIP

“
That’s
how they’re gonna get us,” David breathed.

The students always looked forward to field trips, despite the watchful presence of Mrs. McKeltch. But this one would be like no other—this would be their last. When they came back, they would be different; they would no longer be his classmates. Doug would no longer be his friend! Even Kevin would be different, changed into something . . . something
wrong.
Kevin was a dick head, but David preferred
that
to what he would become.

Mrs. McKeltch had moved the frogs into her office; there were still a few live ones left over from yesterday’s dissection and David could hear them croaking. Through the doorway of her office, David could see her back. She was doing something at her desk.

Cautiously, he walked into the room and headed for her open office door, squinting at her neck. Was that . . . ? When he was just a few feet from the door, he could see a Band-Aid on her neck. Goose flesh crawled over David’s shoulders. Mrs. McKeltch was bad enough already, but now . . .

“What are you doing, David?”

David whirled around to face Heather. She stood in the doorway, fists clenched, eyes cold, and he knew in an instant that they had her.

“Heather . . .” David said in a fearful whisper.

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned toward Mrs. McKeltch and his mouth fell open as he staggered backward away from her.

Mrs. McKeltch stood in her office glaring at him with wide, threatening eyes. The back end of a frog hung from her mouth, its legs kicking as she struggled to suck it in, at the same time moving toward him. She tossed her head back with a jerk, gulped loudly, and the frog disappeared, making an ugly lump in her throat and leaving a glistening slime on her lips.

Nearly tripping over desks, David dashed toward the door.

“Stop!” Mrs. McKeltch called, her voice still wet and gurgly from the frog she’d eaten. “David Gardiner!”

David raised his arm and knocked Heather out of his way, running into the hall.

“Stop right where you are!” Mrs. McKeltch roared, her heavy shoes clumping on the floor as she hurried after him.

“Linda!” David screamed as he neared her office. “Ms. Magnuson,
help!”

Linda opened her door and stuck out her head. When she saw David running toward her, she stepped into the hall and said, “David, what’s
wrong?”

Please,” he gasped, grabbing her arm.

“I’ve had it with you!” Mrs. McKeltch was bearing down on him, reaching out her hands.

Linda stepped between them and faced Mrs. McKeltch firmly.

“What’s the problem, Mrs. McKeltch?” she asked.

“I’ve
told
you—” She stabbed an accusing finger toward David, who was peeking around Linda’s side. “—this boy is trouble! He must be severely punished.” She spoke so venomously, bits of spittle flew from her mouth. She lunged toward David, taking a swipe at him.

Linda moved quickly, cutting Mrs. McKeltch off.

“David,” the nurse said softly, turning to him, “what’s wrong?”

David started to reply, but Mrs. McKeltch interrupted.

“He knocked over a defenseless little girl!” she snapped. “And he was prying, the little snoop!”

“Please, Mrs. McKeltch,” Linda said, “let me talk to him.”

“No!” She held out a hand, her fingers curved slightly, resembling claws. “Give him to
me!”

Doors were opening and other teachers were peering down the hall toward them. When Mrs. McKeltch noticed them, she relaxed a bit.

“Please,” Linda said again, quieter now, “let me talk to him. David, come into my office.”

David stepped inside, glad to be away from Mrs. McKeltch. He turned and looked through the doorway as the teacher leaned toward Linda, clenching her teeth and trembling with anger.

“You’re pushing it, sister!” Mrs. McKeltch hissed. “I’ll be back for him in five minutes.” She turned and stalked down the hall, calling behind her, “Five minutes!”

Linda came inside, closed the door, and sighed.

David was pacing the floor, his fingers wiggling nervously at his sides, his eyes wide with fear.

“David, David,” Linda said gently, “relax. It’s okay. Just relax.”

“But you don’t understand!” David panted.

“What? Understand what?” She took his hand and led him to a chair. “Sit down, David, and tell me. What don’t I understand?”

He sat in the chair and stared at her, fidgeting, his mouth open.

Leaning on her desk and facing him, Linda said, “David, whatever you tell me stays in this room.”

David searched her face for a hint of deception, wanting desperately to trust her, but afraid to take that chance. There was only one way he could tell for sure . . .

“You know, I’m here to help, David,” she assured him with a smile. “I mean, I’m a nurse and I’m supposed to say that, I know, but I mean it. I really do.”

David chewed his lip, looking into her eyes. Her smile seemed genuine, heartfelt, but still . . .

He took in a deep breath. “First . . . can I see the back of your neck?”

Linda’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “The back of my . . .” Puzzled, she turned her head and lifted her shiny blond hair from her shoulders.

Perfect, unblemished white skin.

David was so happy he almost laughed.

“All right,” he said.

David’s story went on longer than she’d expected. He spoke fast, gesturing with his hands, his eyes wide and his body tense. She had to slow him down a few times, but it never worked. Linda tried hard to look attentive and not register the amusement she was feeling, tried not to look as if he were telling her a joke. When he finally got to the frog’s legs hanging out of Mrs. McKeltch’s mouth, she could not stifle a giggle.

“Eating a frog?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well,” she sighed. She leaned forward, rubbing her thighs absently, trying to choose her words carefully. “I don’t know, David. That’s some story. You realize that, don’t you?”

“It’s not a story!”

Be understanding,
she thought. “A UFO lands in back of your house and puts something in your dad’s and mom’s necks, then gets the police and your teacher and your friend Heather and her father and . . .” She shook her head slowly, thinking about his tale for a second. “How did it get Mrs. McKeltch?” she asked with a frown.