Bug Hunt

An unlikely hero is summoned to save earth from an alien invasion.

Future Thief: Episode Number 77

When I drove up to Mayor Dale Higgens' residence at quarter-to-three in the morning, I didn’t expect to find him standing over a giant cockroach in his front yard. By giant, I don’t mean in the proverbial sense. The creature lay on its back, at least two feet long and a foot wide, a thick stream of green, gummed up blood seeping out of its abdomen. Dale didn’t know who else to call except an exterminator — my line of work — seeing as how close it resembled the types of things I deal with daily.

“You say this escaped from the cellar?” I asked.

“Two of them. Jeanie thought I was playing a joke on her. I never seen her run so fast, at least not from anyone but me when I’m trying to get frisky,” Dale said.

“I thought you were calling me out about the job I did over at Trixie’s place, and this was just the odd cover you cooked up after hitting the sauce,” I said.

“My sister has a hoarding problem that attracts vermin. It don’t matter how many times you go over. Those rats have just as much right to that place now as she does.”

There’s a part of me that wished he called someone else, but I’m the only game in town dealing with smaller-than-a-breadbox wildlife or infestations that trespass uninvited. Most folks would wonder why not call the Men in Black, since they’re more likely to deal with these sorts of out-of-towners. We got a saying in these parts: “If it ain’t local, it ain’t worth it.” That includes the Men in Black. Not like I’ve got them on speed dial anyhow.

“A meteor fell down the night before in the backyard. I didn’t think anything of it. Filled the hole up and went on with my day. Maybe I should have inspected a little closer,” Dale said.

“You think they’re related?” I asked.

“You don’t?” Dale asked.

“To be honest, this is a little out of my wheelhouse.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t really believe in cockroaches from outer space, even though the evidence presented left little wiggle room for debate. We stood there, inspecting it, in the quiet of the night while the crickets sang in the tall grass. I kicked it with my steel toed boot. I don’t know what I expected. The tire pressure seemed fine.

“You sure you don’t want to call the sheriff?” I asked.

“Nah, Dooley is on bed rest after the appendectomy. Deputy Mueller is filling in, and he’s one marble shy of an empty jar,” Dale said.

We stood there another spell and breathed in the crisp air. Sometimes a man has to work up the courage to face what’s coming. There’s nothing to decide. It’s just a matter of when. Dale wrestled with that himself for several hours before he finally called me, which meant we were fresh out of waiting.

“Alright then, I best get to it. This will be double time, if you don’t mind, and if the TV reporters come calling, I want to be standing next to you in the spotlight,” I said.

“I don’t know that I have much choice. Jeanie won’t step foot back on the property without assurances, and I don’t want to wake up to find more of them things staring down on me, exacting revenge for killing their kin.”

“Speaking of which, how did you manage to get this one?”

“Barbeque fork. I’ll never eat a T-bone again.”

“And the other one?”

Dale raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened, betraying a lack of commonsense awareness given the circumstances.

“You mind if I sit in your vehicle while you’re inside?” Dale asked.

He sat shotgun before I could protest.

The tools of the trade aren’t fancy for exterminating. Chemicals are the mainstay, some traps for rodents, depending on the scale of the invasion, and for termite mounds and the occasional hornet’s nest, I bring out Sheri. She’s a commercial grade, diesel-powered flamethrower. Dale didn’t seem too happy about my choice. Shooting flames twenty feet in any direction does more damage than browning a marshmallow.

“Sheri is a last resort. I’m also going in with my semi-auto and plenty of ammo, but if Mama Bear is in there, I don’t want to be caught with my pants around my ankles,” I said.

“We should probably have a signal if things go south,” Dale said through the barely cracked passenger side window.

“I’m not much for bird calls,” I said.

“Yeah, and I’m hard of hearing. I suppose that won’t work all too well anyhow.”

“If I’m not out in thirty minutes then call the deputy. After that you can call anyone who will listen.”

“Too bad Oprah isn’t on anymore.”

“I don’t think this is in her wheelhouse either.”

I slung Sheri on my back, loaded up the rifle and made my way up the porch to the front door, still open, inviting me into a galactic confrontation. Thank the good Lord I remembered my head lamp because the lights wouldn’t flip on, a sure sign one of those buggers chewed up the electrical.

The foyer led around to the living room, where a lamp and chair had been knocked over, the result of Jeanie’s hasty retreat. The living room connected to the dining room, where one of the bugs cozied up next to a table leg, feasting on a banana from an overturned fruit bowl. Its shell took on a dark purple shimmer from the moonlight poking through the back window. On the head were plenty more than two eyes, including two pairs of short, pointy antennae. It had eight legs total, no different than the creature Dale killed.

It didn’t appear conversational or intelligent enough to speak and I had no interest in trying to make a new friend. Smith & Wesson would do all the talking, but they only had bad news to share. The first shot hit dead center between its mandibles. After a few seconds of twitching, the body went limp. I popped off another round to be sure, waited, then continued into the kitchen.

On the counter were two more of the creatures, spreading their interplanetary germs everywhere while they scrounged for more food. A box of Trix cereal had been decimated, and one of them nibbled at the small sugary bits.

“Silly cockroach, Trix are for kids,” I said, putting several rounds into its head and torso.

Its buddy took offense and turned to square off for a showdown. A red splotch marked the crown of its head and the two biggest eyes were red, indicating it either leveled up or spent too much time swimming in a contaminated gene pool.

A slow hiss came from its mouth, and it reared back on its hind legs. When you’ve been in this business long enough you know that means to be on the defensive. It spit out a yellow and viscous fluid, but I was three Red Bull’s deep and alert enough to dodge the attack. The fluid fizzled onto the wall behind me and started to eat away at the drywall. I’m a solid six in the looks department, attracting my fair share of ladies. Had I let that critter get the best of me, no woman — even in these parts — would give me the time of day.  I emptied the rest of the clip, spreading fleshy chunks all over Dale’s kitchen.

After reloading with another clip, I opened the door to the basement cellar, creeping down each step, watchful for any surprises. A decrepit stench hit me hard when I reached the bottom, a mixture of sulfur and fiery excrement. My meemaw hated the smell of her grandbaby’s diapers stinking up her trash cans. She used to burn our diapers in the fire pit instead. An odd way for her to be memorialized, but that’s how I recognized the smell.

When I turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, my headlamp lit up a grotesque sight of writhing larvae sacks all over the floor, a series of basketball dumplings that reminded me of wonton soup. It would be a spell before I ate again at Mr. Chang’s Ruby Palace. At least twenty to thirty were packed tight around the cinder block walls, while the far wall had been broken through, a result of whatever came riding that meteor and dug down into Dale’s domicile.

Another larva came slithering into the light, directing me to the source, tucked back into the hole in the wall. A man-sized roly-poly curled itself up in the opening, its underbelly on full display, all of its spindly legs propped up against the dirt walls. Mama Bear. This mammoth crustacean didn’t seem embarrassed by the fact that I had a full view of the birthing process. She squeezed out one more larva before rooting around in my mind, attempting to converse telepathically.

You’re here to destroy us.

“Well, I ain’t here for bingo night, that’s for sure,” I said aloud.

I’ve traveled far to find a home, hundreds of years in hibernation. Your planet’s resources are plentiful for me and my brood. We can share.

“Honey, it’s not personal, but at the rate you’re going, there won’t be much left to share. Maybe I can get the government to put you on the next shuttle out of this place, to look for another living arrangement.”

This will not do. Our time is now and our place is here.

She hung up the phone before I could reply, a passive aggressive play I knew well from a few women in my life. I suspected she wasn’t the type to slash my tires or show up drunk and apologetic at Mulligan’s bar on a Saturday night. Her species opted for a more direct approach. The larvae began to hatch, red eyes and heads poking out, a warning sign I knew too well. Before they could start spitting their juju, I unloaded several clips. Mama bear let out an ear-piercing shriek and I thought a counseling session with Sheri was in order.

I lit the place up, directing most of the scorching inferno toward Mama Bear. She didn’t retreat back into the darkness, instead making an attempt at instigating my demise. Several razor-sharp quills shot out from her direction and whipped past my face, while I doused everything in sight with all Sheri could give. The squealing, crackle and pop of the unwanted visitors gave me confidence I would make it out alive from this mess.

In a situation like that, I’ve already gone above and beyond, but if ever my reputation was on the line for quality service, then this was it. I checked out the rest of the house, thoroughly investigating every nook and cranny, even though I only had a few rounds left.

Back outside, I expected Dale to be wide-eyed and bushy tailed from all the raucous, but as noted previously he couldn’t hear so well. At first glance he seemed to be dreaming peacefully, head back, not a movement as I approached. At second glance, he had definitely fallen victim to a runaway cockroach who spits acid. I won’t describe in detail the smoking carnage in my front seat.

I thought long and hard about what to do next, at peace with the fact the Men in Black were better suited to handle this predicament. Besides, I already lost a good night’s pay and didn’t feel too charitable. My client couldn’t very well cut me a check for services rendered, and I didn’t think it right to ask Jeanie.

It took quite a convincing to bring out Sheriff Dooley. He wanted the deputy to check on things first. I said we needed a full jar of marbles. He understood the meaning and asked me to hang tight. I couldn’t sit in the driver’s seat, no matter how much I wanted to seek shelter. With every rustle of leaves or hoot from a barn owl, I grew more nervous. The scurry of little legs across gravel pushed me over the edge. If Trixie called back about her rat problem, I would tell her I’m on sabbatical.