James Patterson - Watch the Skies

Mom’s jaw dropped. But she didn’t even realize the full horror of it yet.

“Of course, we don’t know what the end result’s going to be,” I continued. “Whether it’ll kill the women or not.”

“DANIEL!” MOM RECOILED. “You’ve got to get to the bottom of this!”

“I know it, Mom,” I told her. “It’s just not turning out to be that simple. Every time we think we’ve set Number 5 back, it’s like he’s been expecting it. It’s like we’re acting a part in a play he scripted for us.”

“So do something unpredictable. Improvise.”

“We’ve tried that,” I said, mushing a SpaghettiO flat with my spoon. “We’ve tried everything.”

“Don’t lie to your mother, Daniel. You haven’t tried everything.”

“Well, I mean everything I can think of.”

“You haven’t done that, either. You could try listening to your mother for once. Eat your soup. Little-known fact-SpaghettiOs aren’t just comfort food, they’re brain food.”

“They are not.”

“They are when I make them. And didn’t I just tell you to start listening to your mother?”

I took a spoonful, and it was the weirdest thing-the fog instantly lifted from my brain. I began to see what clearly wasn’t going to work, and where we might actually have a good chance against Number 5. Suddenly, where everything had been impossible, this entire mission seemed completely doable.

“Wow, Mom,” I said, quickly polishing off the rest of the bowl. “What did you do to this stuff? I feel like an entirely new and improved Alien Hunter.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve always said there’s nothing like a good meal to get a body back on track.”

“Now, if only I could figure out how to get some more time to prepare our plans.”

“Well, why don’t you skip school, for starters?”

I don’t care what planet you’re from-you’ve got to love a mom who tells you it’s okay to play hooky now and then.

MOM HAD ME materialize an iPhone and promptly used it to call the administrative office at school.

“Hello,” she said. “This is -” She put the phone on mute and asked me what surname I had used when I’d invented my school record.

“This is Daniel Exley’s mother calling. I’m keeping him home today… What? You want to know why? Because I’m his mother and I say so, that’s why… But that’s ridiculous. Why would a parent not put their child’s interest first and foremost? If I didn’t have a darn good reason for keeping him home, I wouldn’t be keeping him home… Sick? No, he’s not sick, we just have something we need to solve here…

“Well, that’s just plain silly. Honestly, I have never heard of anything so unreasonable. Let me ask you one more time, why would I-his mother-want to keep him home if not because I thought it best for him?… ‘Against policy’ my ashtray!

“You know what? You sound like the sort of person who would do really well as a midlevel bureaucrat in a totalitarian regime-then you could tell me straight out, ‘Hey, lady, I don’t make up the rules, I just blindly enforce them.’…

“Personal? You accuse me of getting personal, and you’re telling me how to raise my son? Fine. You want acceptable reasons why Daniel’s not coming to school? Well, stick these in your fascist helmet:

“Number ten: Daniel is attending an intergalactic symposium on ichthyological embryology today.

“Number nine: Daniel described your school as being a holding pen for the ‘criminally underinspired.’

“Number eight: Daniel has developed allergies to fluorescent lights, number two pencils, and linoleum.

“Number seven: Daniel is locked in mortal combat with an electromagnetically gifted, levitating catfish from a planet eleven thousand four hundred light-years away.

“Number six: Daniel wrote an essay for his social studies class yesterday that was so good his teacher fainted, and we don’t want to put any other educators in harm’s way.

“Number five: We’ve looked over the terms of the No Child Left Behind Act and determined that if your school is doing the driving, we’re okay with Daniel being left behind.

“Number four: Daniel’s eyes glazed over so badly during yesterday’s trigonometry class that he needs to go to the ophthalmologist today for a cleaning.

“Number three: Aliens have landed in Holliswood, and I think maybe we should reconsider our daily routine.

“Number two: Daniel’s doctor fears that if Daniel has to hear one more nonsensical, bureaucracy-inspired edict come out of your office, he may decide to flee the country.

“Number one: If Daniel came in to school today, I would instruct him to find you and turn you into something more fitting for your personality… like a potted plant.”

There was a dramatic pause.

“Would you believe it?!” she said, turning to me. “That nasty little person hung up on me!”

“It’s okay, Mom. I think she probably grokked that I won’t be showing up today.”

“That’s right. You’ve got more important things to do,” she said, taking away my bowl and shooing me and Lucky out of the kitchen. “Now get going.”

I SPENT MOST of the rest of the day on The List, studying the reproductive habits of alien fish species and boning up on electromagnetic theory while my friends and family worked at their own parts of the puzzle.

Dad had the biggest breakthrough of the day by far.

“Daniel,” he said, “I figured out how Number 5’s been getting into the wiring. He’s been broadcasting himself from nearby cell phone towers into any accessible electronic components, including the van and The List computer itself.”

“So that’s how he knew my childhood nickname, huh?”

“And that’s how he’s known where you’ve been almost every moment since you got here. He’s essentially been hacking himself into any electronic device he pleases.”

“That’s just great. So if I ever want to get the jump on him, I have to give up the van, The List, and keep away from anyplace wired for electricity? I guess I’ll just go wait in the woods and hope he happens to walk by.”

“Sure, that’s one way. Or you could just upload this decoy computer program I wrote into The List computer and leave it right here on the kitchen table. The program’s designed to simulate your presence. So, when he checks in, he’ll think you’re right there in the room with the computer. Eating, surfing the Web, texting your buddies, doing your homework -”

“Homework? Don’t you think that’s a little unrealistic?”

“Well, you look like a geek,” said Pork Chop.

“Hey, I’m your brother.”

“Only in your imagination.”

I shook my head and sent Dad off to upload the program. Maybe it would fool Number 5 for a little while and give me a chance to surprise him for once.

Dad came back at dinnertime to say all was ready and that the program would also show me sleeping when night came. After that, I dematerialized the rest of the gang, took Lucky for a quick walk, came back, cranked the new Green Day album, and spent some time in front of the bathroom mirror with a pair of scissors and a tube of superstrength hair gel. Mom had told me I needed a haircut, and I figured a talented guy like me shouldn’t have much trouble doing something as simple as a haircut.

Once I’d perfected my new ’do, I drove my motorcycle to a small, blue-shuttered house on the north end of town. The crickets were chirping like it was their last day on Earth, but otherwise everything seemed totally normal. Almost too normal.

I nervously pulled the silver elephant necklace from my pocket and hung it around my neck. Maybe it would bring me some luck. Then I cautiously approached the front door and rang the bell.