Anaz-Voohri (6 page)

After the showers, most of the students planned to celebrate at their favorite pizza place. Zack slipped on his jeans and alien-head sweat-shirt in a hurry,
then
pulled on his helmet as he rushed outside. In the parking lot, he secured his gym bag on the back of the Kawasaki. Lobo hurried after him, still braiding his wet hair, and mounted the motorcycle behind Zack, who revved the engine. Night had fallen and the cool air smelled of spring rain. They stopped at Wei Pei for takeout on the way to Zack’s home.

As Zack leaned into the bend, the motorcycle beam swept over a black van parked across from his house. The gold logo of a flower shop decorating the sides didn’t look familiar. Zack sighed. “It’s the Feds all right,” he yelled in Lobo’s ear. “They probably bugged the house again.”

Lobo’s helmet shook as he laughed. “Poor bastards could be up all night. I feel sorry for their wives.”

“At least they have wives,” Zack railed.

“Dude, if they stole the bogus files from the computer in your room, they are in for a surprise.”

“That’ll keep them busy for at least a week." Since the last time the Feds had stolen his files, Zack had booby-trapped his old computer, which had become a bed of viral infection. The real files remained safe with him at all times, on CDs and the laptop he carried in his back pack.

“About time we give
them
something to worry about." Lobo chuckled.
“Might be fun to get these guys scared for a change."
He seemed to think of all this as fun.

Avoiding a glance toward the black van, Zack pulled into the driveway, next to his mom’s car. No need to leave space for his stepfather, who’d taken yet another assignment overseas. It happened a lot lately, and Zack couldn’t blame him. The atmosphere in the house had become rather depressing since his mom had stopped working and vegetated on the couch like a recluse, finding refuge in her bottle of Blue Heaven, the new liquor the color of sapphire that matched her eyes.

After his sister’s disappearance, his parents had sold the house in Granada Hills.
Too many memories of Ashley.
They’d bought another home close to Berkeley campus, so Zack could stay at home while going to school. It made his mom feel less alone.
A lot of good that did.

Zack and Lobo entered through the front door.

Sitting alone on the fancy sofa, Zack’s mother glanced up from the television.
“Hi, Lobo.
Hi, Hon. How did your test go?" Her speech sounded slurred, and Zack noticed the glass of blue liqueur on the coffee table. His mother had lost her professional polish. She looked old and tired and frail in the semi-darkness. But he understood her pain and couldn’t blame her.

Zack held up his black belt and diploma for her to see.
“Got it, Mom.”

“I’m glad." Her smile waned and she turned her attention back to CNN.

Zack knew she still hoped the CIA would find Ashley among the terrorists, somewhere in Iraq or Afghanistan, so she kept up with all the developments in the middle-east. Zack felt bad about it. He’d broached and lost the argument so many times, he didn’t even try anymore.

Zipping through the kitchen, Zack snatched two cans of soda from the fridge then bounded up the stairs with Lobo. Once in his room, he locked the door and dropped all the stuff on the desk. He glanced through the window and considered the black van with foreboding. Would the Feds really hurt his family if he went too far? They would go ballistic when he released his book. They were in it, with all the dirty little tricks they’d pulled on him for the past two years. He closed the navy blue roll up blind before turning on the light.

His space had a very different feel from his old room in Granada Hills. No posters of Angelina Jolie here. One wall featured detailed renditions of the alien Zack had seen that night, along with other alien portraits from his mind contacts with Ashley. Maps of the stars covered the ceiling. Another wall featured artist sketches of what Ashley would look like now, with long hair, short hair, no hair at all. Anasazi drawings and pictographs Zack had gleaned from his psychic travels on the alien ship dotted the other walls. Among them, many representations of Kokopelli, the legendary flute player.

Zack had met Lobo while researching Kokopelli. Although his friend was Apache, he had connections with many tribes. So Zack had learned from an old Hopi artist from Arizona that Kokopelli was actually a well-endowed fertility god, and what he played wasn’t a flute at all. That’s why he always looked bent, not because of the sac of grain on his back. They’d had a good laugh that day.

Lobo, who knew the debugging routine by now, already checked the room with his latest spy gadget. The two friends didn’t exchange one word while combing the room. Dude, the black cat, opened a tired eye from his nap on Zack’s pillow. He purred loudly when rewarded with a scratch behind the ears.

Lobo’s detector chimed and he flashed Zack a mischievous smile. Delicately, Lobo pulled the miniature microphone from behind the desk, laid a finger across his lips, brought the mike to his mouth then screamed, “Banzai!”

Zack chuckled. “This is lame, dude. Grow up.”

Lobo ground the device under his shoe on the hard floor then set the detector on the desk. “I’m starved." He popped the tag off a soda can, opened a fried rice container and grabbed a pair of chopsticks.

“There could be more bugs." Zack seized the detector and continued scanning the room.

“Don’t think so,” Lobo managed on a mouthful.

Finding no other microphone, Zack finally relaxed and sat down on the bed. He accepted the other carton from Lobo and ate, sharing bits of fried rice, eggs and shrimp with Dude the cat, who always perked up at the smell of food.

After setting aside the container, Zack pulled his laptop out of his backpack, opened it on the bed,
then
went online through the remote router to check the server. All the files on the website looked like a jumble of broken codes. “What a mess!"

“Told you."
Lobo finished his container. He pointed at Zack’s unfinished carton with his chopsticks. “
You eating
that?”

Zack shook his head. “You can have it." One by one, he deleted the files.

Lobo smiled in gratitude. “How far are you with your book?”

The deletion was taking time. Zack glanced over the laptop screen. “If Ashley can’t communicate with me anymore, I guess it’s time to finish the book and get it out there.”

“On the web?"
Lobo licked his chopsticks.

“Where else?
We are getting so many hits on the
site,
we can sell a million of this thing in no time as long as it’s cheap enough.”

Taking a gulp of soda, Lobo set the can loudly on the desk and burped. “You talking download?”

“Sure, like a buck a piece. Then when we have enough money, we can get the darn thing printed ourselves." Even to Zack it sounded too easy.

”Put that way, it sounds doable." Lobo aimed and pitched the empty container into the waste basket.

“I even know a few radio and TV guys eager for a controversial story. My stepfather will hate me for this, but I plan to talk to his friends from the studio. Several of them produce talk shows.”

“Sweet."
Lobo paused, his dark gaze searching Zack’s eyes. “So, what’s the catch?”

Zack clucked his tongue. “The Feds aren’t going to like it. It could become dangerous for anyone associated with me.”

“I don’t care about that." Lobo’s even face turned serious. “The Feds have persecuted my people for over two centuries.”

Zack hadn’t thought of that angle. All the files were now deleted. “There, all gone." Zack cleared the site and closed it.
“Time for plan B."
Zack dialed a fresh server’s address. He’d learned to have several in reserve. He started the set up process and entered his trademark domain name, Anaz-voohri.com. He’d discovered through his psychic contacts with Ashley that was the name of her abductors’ race. “Are the bozos in the black van still here?”

Lobo went to the window and lifted the side of the shade.
“Nope.
They scrammed.”

“Good, that means there was no other bug.”

It took the best of two hours to finish the job, during which Lobo made useful suggestions, but mainly he kept Zack awake and entertained. Moral support, as he called
it,
and Zack appreciated that. Then Zack loaded all the pages and graphic files from a backup CD and started testing the site.

Lobo followed him every step of the loading process.
“Seems to be working.”

“Looks fine to me.
Check it out." Zack turned the laptop, dialed the website, then he clicked all the links. All the pages appeared as they should—his blog, his drawings, the portraits of Ashley, and some of the information he’d gleaned through his communications with his sister.

The thought of Ashley squeezed Zack’s heart, but although she probably wouldn’t communicate anymore, he believed her to be safe. If the Anaz-voohri had wanted her dead, they’d have killed her long ago.

Lobo stretched on the rug and yawned. “Got a blanket?”

Zack threw him a pillow and a comforter,
then
slipped between the covers, exhausted. He’d probably flunk anthropology by not turning in his paper tomorrow. So be it. His sister came first.

*****

Kavak couldn’t believe she had been so blind. She hovered around her personal chamber,
then
stopped in front of the clear bulkhead to gaze at the blue planet, Earth. All this time, the little brat named Ashley had been sending messages to her brother down there. How much did the young man know? At least, the girl wouldn’t blab again. Kavak made sure the surgeons erased her memories for good this time. Again she castigated herself for not killing the brother when she had the chance, two years ago. Now he’d become a nuisance.

At her console, Kavak scanned the various wave frequencies around the blue planet, trying to figure out how much information had leaked. She came upon something flaunting the name Anaz-voohri. Surprised, she explored on her three-dimensional screen the information posted there for all to see. She hissed when she saw her own face, along with an accurate rendition of the nursery where the girls were kept. Little Ashley had been busy, indeed.

Kavak couldn’t afford a slip up in the current political climate among the Anaz-voohri, and this young man constituted a liability. But Kavak couldn’t go there or send someone to take care of...Zack. That was the brother’s name.
At least not now.
Any intervention would be an admission of her mistake. And although it might seem like an easy task, it could very well be a trap. Besides, any further Anaz-voohri sighting on Earth would rally the population to the very belief Kavak wanted to suppress.

No. Kavak would have to go on as planned and bide her time, but she also needed to silence the exasperating Zack Duncan once and for all.

Chapter Five

Los Angeles
–
Summer
2005

Elated, Zack grinned at Lobo as they walked out of the NBC studio on Alameda Avenue.
“Told you they’d go for it."
He unbuttoned his navy blue blazer, wishing he’d brought a change of clothes.

Lobo, who hadn’t gone on stage, looked comfortable in his black leather jacket. “All they want is ratings, right?”

“I know. But I don’t care, as long as people hear the true story.”

Lobo flipped back his long black hair. “It was awesome how you showed that talk show host you could handle him.”

Zack chuckled. “The guy wanted to make me look like a loony, but I have the truth on my side. I’m young but not stupid." He winked. “After all, I did write a darn good book." He patted his inside breast pocket where he kept a copy of
Alien in my Sister’s Bedroom
. The title reeked of sensationalism, but it brought a lot of media coverage. It was part of the strategy.

 
“After an interview like that on national TV, we’re going to get a lot more hits on the website, dude." Lobo sounded even more excited than Zack.

The sun had set already, and dusk quickly turned to night as they strode toward the parking garage where Zack had left the Kawasaki. He stopped before crossing the driveway. “Even if they don’t buy the book, more people will find out what’s going on. That’s what we want."

They waited on the curb to let a security guard in an electric car pass by at a snail pace. The guard gave them a vacant stare. The show audience had long left and the place looked deserted.

Lobo stepped onto the tarmac. “Dude, they’re entitled to the truth. It’s their planet."

Once inside the parking garage, Zack pushed the elevator button. “I only hope someone out there can help us find Ashley. What level was it?”

As the door opened, Lobo went in. “Three."

Zack followed and punched the third level. When the door opened again, he recognized the layout and started toward the motorbike. As he approached it, a chill went through Zack and he stopped. A black van next to the Kawasaki displayed a pizza delivery logo. “What pizza place would use a shiny black van?”