Mario Acevedo - The Undead Kama Sutra

Clayborn wormed into a sitting position. His aura undulated in a low boil of despair. Tendrils of anxiety lashed from the penumbra.

Jolie grabbed a loose section of wire and used it to drag him out of the helicopter. Clayborn tipped over the edge of the cargo compartment and fell headfirst onto the ground. He balanced on his big head for an instant, then landed on his back, faceup in the dirt, and those dumbbell feet splayed apart. His pained expression screamed, man, that hurt.

Jolie reached down and jerked Clayborn to his feet. “Ask that little fucker what the hell’s going on.”

I unwound the wire but kept it cinched around his neck. I looped the free end around my wrist to keep him tethered.

Clayborn pulled the cloth gag from his mouth and tossed it on the ground. He stayed quiet.

I tapped my watch to see if it would start working again. It didn’t. “Seems all the electronics are toast.”

Antoine looked up the engine cowling. The rotor blades spun lazily as they slowed. “Could be from an EMP.”

“A what?” Jolie asked.

“Electromagnetic Pulse.”

“Where would that come from?”

“Usually, a nuclear blast,” I answered.

“I would’ve seen that,” she replied.

Clayborn’s big eyes turned upward to the twinkling stars.

I gave the leash a tug. “What are you looking for? Your friends?”

Clayborn’s aura sputtered like the fuse on dynamite. His black eyes fixed me with a glare of hatred. His toothless gape curled into a snarl. He mouthed the words “You’d better kill me because I’ll never forgive this.”

I brought my face close to his. “I don’t remember asking for forgiveness. What I want to know is, how do we get Carmen back?”

Clayborn narrowed his dark, wrinkled eyelids. “Then consider me dead because you can’t. Carmen and the others are gone for good.”

Rage pounded through me. I fought not to kill Clayborn. I froze my grip to keep my talons from ripping him apart. “How’d you move them?”

“Teleportation.”

Teleportation?

“Like Star Trek ?”

Clayborn smirked. “Please.”

I wrapped both hands around his skinny neck and throttled him. “From where?”

He clutched my wrists. “The lab in the annex. That pedestal? It’s the transmitter. We transported them to an orbiting ship.”

“‘We’?”

“My comrades on the ship.” A veneer of triumphant smugness smoothed Clayborn’s aura. “The payment’s been made. You’ll be lucky to find where your friend Carmen will end up. Make it easy on yourself and forget trying to get her back.”

I punched his ugly face. “That’s not an option.”

Clayborn dropped to a knee.

A low hum echoed through the darkness. Clayborn struggled to his feet and his aura blazed with terror. He shrank toward the helicopter.

Jolie and Antoine gazed about. Their auras surged with confusion and alarm.

“I’ve heard that noise before.” My skin tingled with dread. “When another flying saucer came to take Odin’s body.”

“Flying saucer?” yelped Antoine. “Shit, first the power goes out on everything, then a flying saucer? Whenever one of those shows up in the movies, it’s never good news.”

“The last time they didn’t do anything to me,” I replied.

“Well pardon me if I don’t share your confidence.” Antoine’s aura and face lit up with distress.

Jolie pointed. “There it is.”

A black shape-a disk bisecting a spherical body-floated into view above the trees. This flying saucer was a smaller version of the one that had taken Odin’s body and the blaster.

Antoine backed away in the opposite direction. When his feet stepped off the sandy road and squished into the marsh, he bolted from us. His feet spanked the mud and his orange aura bounced over the saw grass like a burning ball.

Jolie shouted after him. “You goddamn coward, don’t you want to see what happens?”

“Post it on your blog.” Antoine’s voice ripped through the darkness.

The saucer glided closeand hovered a hundred feet from us, right on the edge of the marsh. The hum felt like an electric tickle. The hairs rose on the back of my neck. My kundalini noir writhed in alarm.

Clayborn’s aura burned incandescent yellow with terror.

“They’re not here to rescue you, are they?”

Clayborn stood beside me, quiet as a condemned man.

I gave the leash a tug. “Didn’t think so.”

Three struts extended from the belly of the saucer. It settled into the marsh, the struts flattening the grass and sinking into the mud.

A hatch the size of a car door opened and a ramp extended to the ground.

Clayborn squirmed. Jolie took a step from me.

“Where are you going?” I whispered to her.

“No sense bunching up, in case they open fire.”

Clayborn tried stepping away.

“Not you.” I jerked the leash and put my arm around his shoulders. “Who are they?”

Tendrils of despair snaked from Clayborn’s aura. “I don’t know.”

“Then why are you so worried? Are they fellow crooks you cheated? Or are they the law?”

The tendrils twisted like burning snakes. Either way, Clayborn was in deep intergalactic doo-doo.

But before I gave Clayborn up, his captors would have to help me find Carmen.

A yellow aura filled the hatch of the saucer. One alien emerged, squatting through the hatch and climbing onto the ramp. He had a humanoid shape and unfolded his legs to walk upright down the ramp. A second alien followed him, then a third. Their auras signaled caution, and they each advanced with one arm extended and holding a blaster pistol.

They were identical triplets and looked exactly like Gilbert Odin: mustaches, short-sleeve shirts, and wrinkled khaki trousers-the kind of cheap clothes a civil servant like Odin would wear.

At the bottom of the ramp, the first alien tripped and fell splashing into the marsh. His aura blazed with surprise. The other two aliens rushed beside him, all three tromping in the mud and struggling to get the first alien to his feet.

“So much for an awe-inspiring close encounter,” Jolie whispered.

Finally, the three aliens marched toward us, the mudsplattered one leading. A clip-on tie dangled from his collar. His aura simmered with embarrassment. They halted ten feet from me.

The alien at the left nudged the leader. “Go on.”

Alien number one pointed his blaster at me. His aura brightened with confidence. “Surrender your prisoner.”

A glop of mud fell from the tip of the pistol barrel. Another wave of embarrassment surged through his aura.

Jolie coughed.

The auras of all three aliens flashed like camera bulbs. They whirled and aimed their blasters at her.

I coughed.

Another flash from their auras and they whirled toward me.

I raised my free hand. “Easy now, guys. Someone could get hurt. We don’t want trouble.”

Alien leader lowered his pistol. The other two took his cue and lowered theirs as well.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Deputies,” said the alien on the right.

“Marshals,” said the deputy on the left.

Alien leader flexed his jaw in irritation.

“You’re cops?” I asked.

Alien leader nodded. “Cops. From the Galactic Union.”

“You got any ID?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alien on the right reached into his back pocket.

More embarrassment flared through the leader’s aura. He elbowed the other alien. Leader raised his blaster. “Here’s all the ID I need. Now give us Fugitive 187.”

“Fugitive?” I gave the leash a tug. “I knew Clayborn here wasn’t on the up-and-up. You got a warrant?”