The True Meaning of Smekday (33 page)

He called them all kinds of other Boovish words I’d have to bleep if I translated.

“I agree,” I said. “I totally agree. I’m just suggesting that maybe we don’t know everything about them after all. You said they can’t get sick, but I’ve seen two of them sneeze. Or the same one sneeze twice.”

“It could not have been a sneeze.”

“Their noses were running. Something was making them sick. Are you saying Gorg just make stuff come out of their noses for fun?”

“Yes!” said J.Lo, pacing. “For fun! Why not? Who wouldn’t want something coming out from his nose?”

He was as bad as I was—he’d say anything when he got this upset. I cleaned my fingernails and waited for him to calm down. He finally stopped and stared at the wall. He took a breath.

“Maybe…maybe it was a comfort…a comfort to think of the Gorg as unstoppable. It is not so bad to be beaten when you are believing the enemy is an army of perfect monsters.”

“I dunno,” I said. “I think maybe something has changed. You guys would have noticed these symptoms before. This last Gorg looked like he cried motor oil.”

J.Lo started pacing again. Somewhere in the casino, music was playing.

“You know,” I said, “back when Slushious’s tape deck actually played tapes, Mom and I would copy our music so we could listen to it in the car.”

J.Lo said nothing, but he stopped pacing.

“The copies we made never sounded as good as the original. And if we had to copy a copy? It got even worse. So, what if the Gorg never perfected complex cloning? What if they’ve been making clones of clones of clones, and getting weaker every time?”

Mom came home just then.

“Hi, Turtlebear, J.Lo.”

“Mom,” I said, “you met with some Gorg, right? Before J.Lo and I got here?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Did any of them sneeze?”

“Sneeze? Not that I noticed.”

“You would have noticed,” I said.

“Then no.”

“Did they wipe their noses, or get teary eyes or anything?”

“No,” she said. “Nothing like that.”

“You’re sure?”

“I was right next to them the whole time.”

“That Landry guy said the Gorg were going to have a big surprise for us.”

“You talked to Daniel?”

“Yeah. He said there would be this surprise at the, uh…festival. I forget what it’s called.”

“The Nothing to Worry About Festival,” said Mom. “Isn’t that nice? No worries…”

“This surprise is gonna be bad news, Mom. I swear. Just ask J.Lo.”

“Yes. Ask me.”

“Turtlebear…” Mom said, sounding exasperated. “Look, don’t tell anyone else, because it’s really supposed to be a
surprise
, but the Gorg are bringing us the cure for cancer.”

“What?” I said.

“What?” said J.Lo.

“I know! Isn’t it amazing? They really want to earn our trust.”

I crossed my arms.

“Sounds like they already
have
our trust,” I said.

J.Lo gasped. When I looked to see why, he had one hand to his mouth and the other pointing at me.

“You…” he squealed, wagging his finger, “…your
hand
!”

I raised my hand to my face, turning it over and back again.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“You are bearing the mark! The mark that has been fore
told
! You are The One…The One who will bring peace onto the
galaxy
!”

“What, this? This is taco sauce,” I said, wiping it clean.

J.Lo stared at my palm for a moment, then turned back to the wall.

“Never mind,” he said.

There came a knock at the door, just two short raps, very functional. We scrambled around for a few seconds. Soon the Boov was in the ghost suit and Pig was in the car, which would be a good lyric for a bluegrass song, now that I think of it. I went to answer the door. J.Lo had rigged up some strange hinges and a lock, and I slid the bolt back and peered through the crack.

“It’s the Chief!” I shouted. His red cap was in his hand and his peppery hair was combed. He looked better.

“Hey, Chief,” I said. “Come on in.”

“Much obliged, Stupidlegs.”

Mom frowned at this, but took his hat all the same. She looked confused as J.Lo removed his costume and I retrieved Pig.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “who—?”

I hadn’t mentioned the Chief. It seemed whenever Mom heard any details about our trip she’d go pale and start crossing herself, so there was a lot I hadn’t mentioned.

“His real name is Frank,” I said. “He’s a junkman.”

Mom winced. “That’s not very nice.”

“Oh, no. I meant—”

“I used to trade and sell junk,” the Chief said.

I rattled off a bit of the Chief’s history. Without specifically mentioning the teleclone booth, I still managed to work in the part where the Chief got walloped by a Gorg.

“My God,” Mom breathed, and crossed herself. She looked shaken. “Thank you for protecting my daughter.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sniffed the air. “You have real food.”

“Just a little,” Mom said. “We’re still having milk shakes, mostly. But I have some potatoes and onions, and it’s no trouble cloning olive oil. Will you stay?”

“Be honored,” he said, then caught sight of the telecloner. “How’s my booth?”

“Your Boovish shower booth?” I said quickly. “It’s fine.”

The Chief stared at me.

“Good to know,” he said, and sat down with a chorus of pops and creaks at our dinette.

After dinner J.Lo helped Mom wash up, and I walked with the Chief out to his truck.

“Got some friends and cousins comin’ down from the res,” he said. “Should be here in a couple days. And I’m gonna leave tomorrow morning to round up some more. Friends of friends, and air force types. People we can trust.”

“Do you know some of the Papago Indians around here?” I asked.

“Tohono O’Odham,” said the Chief. “The Tohono O’Odham Nation. Papago is derogatory. Means ‘bean eaters.’ And yeah, I know a few. What’s the story ’bout the ‘Boovish shower’?”

“Oh, yeah. My mom’s been working with that Dan Landry guy, and he seems pretty pro-Gorg. So I’m worried maybe Mom is, too.”

“Heard a lot about him. Seems like a snake.”

“I think she likes him,” I said. “I guess he’s nice looking, in a cornflakes kind of way. He probably likes her, too. He sure wants her around a lot. I mean, we’re a hundred miles from the Mexican border and she’s
still
the best Spanish speaker he can find?”

“Be careful of him. He’s got some skeletons in his closet.”

“No,” I said, “just brooms.”

“Huh?”

“He has a broom closet attached to his office. I almost walked into it.”

“That’s weird.”

I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye.

“Hey, Lincoln!” I shouted, and ran up to where he strained against his leash, nearly pulling the truck in two. I patted him down, and he made sure my face was good and slimy.

“Do you two need a place to stay?” I asked.

“You don’t have the space. We’re fine sleeping in the camper bed. You could store a couple boxes for me, though, so we got a little more room.”

I walked back to the casino with two boxes of the Chief’s war souvenirs to put in Slushious. He’d promised to be back in two or three days.

The next morning, word started to spread: the Nothing to Worry About Festival had been rescheduled. Excellent Day was no longer Labor Day. Excellent Day was tomorrow.

“That can’t be true,” said Mom. “Why would they do that?”

I ran outside to look for the Chief’s truck, but he’d already left. As I walked back I saw a great swarm of Boov ships to the east. They flew slowly, close together, not on the attack. They were going to formally surrender to the Gorg.

Six times that morning I saw J.Lo stare at our old cell phone.

“Chief’s gone,” I said as I reentered our place.

“Old people get up really early,” said Mom. “He probably left hours ago. Don’t worry…this place is always full of rumors.”

But by early afternoon the Gorg’s crab robots were clacking around, delivering the news.

“DUE TO UNFORESEEN EXCELLENCE,” Gorg faces announced through the robots’ jittery screens, “THE EXCELLENT DAY FESTIVITIES WILL BE HELD TOMORROW MORNING AT SUNRISE. HUMANS OF THE AIRPORT DISTRICT WILL MEET ON THE AIRPORT TARMAC TO WATCH THE BOOV RETREAT. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY! MANDATORY! MESSAGE ENDS.”

“This is ridiculous!” said Mom. “It must be a mistake. I’m going to talk to Daniel. Don’t go anywhere this time. For real.”

She ran out of our apartment still holding one shoe.

Without a word J.Lo went back to the dishes he’d been washing. I stood and rested a hand against the dinette. Then I thought maybe I should sit, but I got up again a second later and stared at my shoes. Stalling.

There were ten different kinds of playing cards in the pattern of the carpet. There were hundreds of cards, of course, but they were the same ten, over and over. Sixteen poker chips, eight red and eight blue.

“The Hoegaardens have dice on their carpet,” I said.

“Ah,” said J.Lo. “Yes?”

“Yeah. Pairs of dice all over. All the pairs add up to seven.”

“I see.”

“They live where the craps tables used to be,” I added. “Pardon my language.”

We fell into a silence again. J.Lo’s hands sloshed around in the water.

“We really have to talk,” I said. “Don’t you think? We have to?”

J.Lo grabbed a bowl and dunked it in the sink.

“If you are wanting to. What should we talk about?”

I’d been holding my breath without realizing, and the last of it came out in a puff. “You know…”

“Ahh. About the Boov. About me leaving Earth.”

“You never really said what your plans were.”

“I would be as a criminal to the Boov,” he said, scrubbing the bowl. “The greatest bungler ever. I brought to our doorsteps the Gorg.”

“Would they…kill you?”

“No. The Boov are not having capitalized punishment any longer. I would be made a prisoner. Or given a very bad job.”

“Like what?”

“Legtaster, maybe. Or Bearer of Droppings. It would be bad, but not so very. These jobs have a certain quiet dignity.”

“Uh-huh.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then J.Lo rinsed the bowl and picked up a plate.

“Sooo…should I leave, then?” he asked. “Go back to the Boov?”

“I can’t tell you what to do. It’s up to you. Right?”

J.Lo looked into the sink and nodded a little nod. It was like I could see him deciding. It was like watching a slowly falling balloon that would burst if nobody caught it.

“But,” I said, “but if you…It would be harder around here if you left, of course. More chores for everyone else. That’s all I’m saying.”

“True.”

“It would be hard to explain to everyone why JayJay wasn’t around anymore. If you left. But you need to do what’s best for you.”

“Yes.”

“I’m only saying it would be harder. And you could give us a lot of help getting rid of the Gorg, knowing what you know.”

J.Lo paused with his hands in the water. I suddenly felt like I was standing very strangely, so I shifted my weight to the other leg, but it didn’t feel any better. The house was hot. I could feel it in my face.

“It seems,” said J.Lo, “it seems it would be the best if I stayed. There are things here to do. I can be a help to my family.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, then nodded and picked up some spoons. He dipped them in the water. I stood by him at the counter and dried as he washed.

“So it’s just like the milk shake cloners,” said Mom, looking at the booth. “But for people.”

She’d come home angry, unable to see Landry or even get near his building, for all the Gorg patrols around. So J.Lo and I told her about the telecloner, knowing that we couldn’t reach the Chief and we were almost out of time.

“It’s not just cloning, though,” I said. “It’s teleporting, too.”

“I don’t know that word.”

“A person or thing,” said J.Lo, “can be sent from one booth into another. To another booth on the Earth, or inside the Gorg ship. Maybies evento booths on other planets.”

“Like e-mailing a person,” said Mom.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you told me. But we need to get other people in on this.”

I nodded.

“Mr. Hoegaarden was a police officer,” said Mom. “He knows some good people. Here. Take these books back to Mrs. Hoegaarden and see if anyone’s home.”

I took the books and walked across the casino, cutting through the kitchen to the Hoegaarden’s area. It was a smaller section than the slots floor where we lived, with only two apartments and a single wobbling ceiling fan that looked like it was trying to unstick itself and fly away. It was hard to tell one apartment from another, but they’d written their name on the back of a keno ticket and pinned it to their door. I knocked.

My knock was maybe the third loudest noise I’ve ever heard. That doesn’t sound as impressive as I’d like, but it had been quite a year for loud noises.

Mrs. Hoegaarden threw open the door.

“I didn’t do it,” I said. “I swear.”

I really hadn’t. The noise had actually come from out in the main hall. The air still rang with it.

We raced to the corner and peeked around to see a Gorg lift a change machine over his head.

Frightened people were pressed up against the walls, as far from Gorg as they could be. Just past him I saw the door he’d come through—it was a metal taco shell now, and dangling off one hinge.

“HUMAN PERSONS!” Gorg spat. “WHERE IS THE ONE CALLED GRATUITUCCI!”

Oh, God, I thought. Why is it always me?

“Um,” said Joachim, “who?”

“GRATUITUCCI! GRATUCCITY! OR SOMETHING SIMILAR!” said Gorg, and threw the machine to the floor. It spilled its silver guts out onto the carpet.

Our neighbors were silent. But they must have understood who Gorg was talking about. Mrs. Hoegaarden sure did.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “Listen: take this hall, go in the first door, through the office, through the door on the other side, and you’ll be in the hallway with the restrooms and the exit to the loading dock. Hurry!”

I did as she said and ran through the casino. I could still hear Gorg’s booming voice.