Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

Cuddy could see someone else, sitting inside the sheriff’s cruiser. Seated in the passenger seat, peering out over the dashboard, were, unmistakably, the two white strips of adhesive tape across Tony Bone’s nose. The sheriff’s son.

Three more sets of furry legs were descending the gangway, which made at least five Howsh that needed to be dealt with— somehow . Even one was a problem. Cuddy wondered how many more were still on board the spaceship.

Crack! Startled, Cuddy and Jackie flinched as a loud rifle report resounded out from within the house. He turned in time, hearing a second loud crack , to catch a bright muzzle flash through the kitchen window.

Cuddy threw caution to the wind and sprinted out the barn door, hearing Jackie’s desperate plea behind him: “No… Cuddy… wait!” But he couldn’t let them take Momma—or worse, hurt her.

In one long stride, he leapt up onto the porch. Crossing his forearms in front of his face, he plowed his two hundred pounds into the off-kilter, hanging screen door, which crumbled and splintered into kindling on impact. Cuddy ran past the foyer and into the kitchen, nearly tripping over a Howsh body, lying, its furry limbs askew, on the floor. Cuddy noticed a good portion of his head had been blown away—a splattering of skull shards, fur, and brain matter, covered the adjacent wall.

Hearing a choking, gurgling sound, he ran down the hallway on the other side of the kitchen and found another Howsh. Momma’s shotgun—its breach open—was lying on the carpet. The Howsh had one arm raised high—a ginormous fist wrapped around Momma’s neck, pinning her high up on the wall. Her legs thrashed as she desperately tried to kick out and free herself. One shoe had fallen to the floor. What came next was both terrifying and comforting. It was a voice . Cuddy knew it was the AI orb, somehow speaking out to him. Use your mind… use your will to prevail.

Crazed with fury, Cuddy’s hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Yet he did as the unseen voice suggested and constructively applied both his anger and will power and watched as the alien’s hand and fingers, so tightly gripped around Momma’s neck, suddenly burst into a splattered cloud. A blood-red mist filled the hallway. Cuddy reached Momma’s side as she fell to the floor. Desperately gasping—her hands clawed at her throat. The Howsh wailed—a high-pitched, blood curdling, otherworldly sound. Blood rhythmically spurted out from his lower arm—now with no hand. The alien beast, bent over in pain, used his other hand to tug his ruined appendage—its matted fur now slick with blood—into himself. His anger had only increased—stepping in closer, Cuddy ratcheted his right arm backward, simultaneously twisting—torquing—his upper body around. The ensuing, spring-action release—like a human pile-driver—drove Cuddy’s right fist into the back of the alien’s head with enough force to shatter his skull into hundreds of pieces. The alien died right where it stood, teetering for only a moment. Cuddy shoved the lifeless body away from Momma as it crumpled and fell to the floor in a heap.

Cuddy knelt down next to her, still having trouble breathing, but he could see by her expression she was okay. She swallowed hard and tried to speak. “How did you…?”

“Don’t try to talk, Momma.”

She swallowed again, this time croaking out the words, “There are others…”

“I know. Hold on…” Hurrying into the kitchen, he returned moments later with a glass of water. “Drink this.” He waited for her to take several sips. “I need to get back out there. Will you be all right?”

She nodded. “How did you do that… his hand…”

“I don’t know… not really.”

“I got one of them, too… did you see?”

“I saw, Momma. Guess they picked the wrong humans to mess with.”

Cuddy heard the same inner voice—the AI orb again communicating with him. He didn’t understand how that was possible.

I still await your orders, Cuddy Perkins.

Orders? Where are you?

I am where you left me… at the barn.

Cuddy made his way through the kitchen, then onto the porch. Jackie and the orb were still where he left them, hiding in the barn doorway. Off to his left, more Howsh were milling around. Seeing both the sheriff’s and Officer Plumkin’s police vehicles on fire he wondered if they’d died in the flames. Turning to face the barn, he made eye contact with Jackie, who looked nervous. She mouthed the words: What should we do?

Cuddy, telecasting mentally, which had become a surprisingly natural talent, said, Orb… I want you to protect us. Go destroy the Howsh… all of them… if you can.

Cuddy then turned around, reentering the house, as he recalled what was lying on the kitchen floor. Just around the corner, he saw the dead Howsh his mother had shot. Extending out from beneath his legs was the muzzle of a weapon. Cuddy used his foot to roll the body over and snatched the strange-looking rifle up from the floor. Holding it in his hands, he found it heavy, and also strange, to grasp such a thing. Yet, upon looking it over, it didn’t appear particularly difficult to use. He had no experience with guns, but it had a trigger and he knew which end to point at the enemy.

More plasma fire erupted outside, but sounding somewhat different than what he heard before. Making his way through the kitchen and onto the porch, he used extra care not to be spotted. Jackie, he noted, still huddled in the barn, though the AI orb was not there. Jackie pointed toward the spacecraft and shrugged.

He saw the orb momentarily hover beneath the ship. Its quick movements were a blur. He noticed two Howsh bodies, lying prone on the ground near the gangway, and briefly wondered if that was the police officers’ handiwork or the AI orb’s.

The two Howsh he’d spotted earlier, lurking around the side of the house, began firing their weapons toward the road—in the orb’s direction.

How many are there? he wondered. He watched the AI orb stop long enough to fire off more bright blue energy bolts from its two outstretched articulating arms.

Cuddy brought his attention back to the weapon he held in his hands. Lifting it up, he placed the stock firmly against his shoulder—just like he’d seen done in so many movies. He stared down the muzzle, noting three sets of sights, then lined up all three with the Howsh alien, standing by the corner of the house—some thirty or forty feet away. He pulled the trigger. A bright-red plasma bolt hit the side of the house, missing the target by several feet. He fired again, this time missing by only a foot. Unfortunately, he had gotten the alien’s attention, who was now bringing his weapon around toward Cuddy’s direction. Cuddy fired again, this time taking little aim, and it was a direct hit onto the alien’s chest. He watched the alien drop to the ground. He’d never purposely harmed another living thing—never in his life—and now he’d killed two beings in a matter of minutes. He didn’t want to dwell on that.

Cuddy noticed the second Howsh had moved forward, had assumed the position held by his dead comrade. When the alien looked across, from around the corner of the house, they made eye contact. Raising weapons at the same time, they fired simultaneously.

Cuddy was hit hard by something coming in low—in from his right side. The momentum lifted him off his feet and jammed him up against the house. A series of plasma bolts sizzled past him in the air and undoubtedly would have killed him, except for Jackie, who had careened into him. Still stunned, he watched her grab the alien’s rifle from his clutches, then spin around and fire the weapon. Cuddy hadn’t been aware the Howsh alien had steadily advanced on them—was less than twenty feet away. Jackie continued to pull the trigger, though the Howsh alien was obviously on the ground dead. Dead, and on fire, from more plasma fire than necessary.