Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (39 page)

“The alien
flight technician. A female of their species. She is, in
fact, the only occupant of the craft.”
“And that craft is coming back soon?” Hays asked.
Majora looked at her watch. “In a matter of minutes, in fact. But
she’ll be in for a big surprise this time. No sperm.”
Now Hays got it, but he felt the Chief deserved more of a
explernation. “And likes I said, Chief, there’s more. See, what
they done is give Mrs. Willis this li’l purple marble which gives
off this funky light that causes folks to become hypnertized’n go
unconscious—”
“A low-yield millwave discharge unit which alters beta brainwave activity,” Majora accentuated.
“Like all them boys at the County Watch-House?” Kinion pieced together.
“That’s right, Chief, and she done the same thang at the VFW Post.
Since the aliens gots so little time ta collect as much spunk as they
can, they gotta go ta places with a high number’a fellas—ya know, more
spunk fer the buck. And I’ll’se bet their new-fangled radio-telescope
frequencies done brainwashed Mrs. Willis inta doin’it.”
“Precisely,” Majora said. “You’re very deductive, PFC.”
Hays were all in a swivet talkin’‘bout all he’d figgered out on his
own. “And, Chief, there’s also somethin’ else she does, see. Before she
orders the fellas ta go unconscious, she makes ‘em inject this stuff .
. . inta their
wood!
”
“No!” Chief Kinion exclaimed.
“Your deputy is quite correct, Chief,” Majora said. “It’s a
genetically-engineered oxytocin-nutrient which not only fuels the
testes and the seminal vesicals, it enables the men and boys to achieve
several dozen orgasms in the space of an hour. It’s a libidinal
stimulant. Chief.”
But the Chief looked crosseyed at her, like he didn’t know what’n tarnations she were blabberin’ ‘bout.
But Hays noticed this inflection, so he augemented, “What she means,
boss, is that this stuff you inject in yer dick makes ya able ta have a
bunch’a nuts real fast, and it were Mrs. Willis who done
sucked out
all that dicksnot and then spat it inta them big 2-liter
bottles. It were the aliens who done gave her the stuff, and the purple
marble, influencin’ her by their fancy alien technolergy.”
“It sounds ridiculous, Chief,” Majora said, “but it’s true, and PFC
Hays is absolutely correct in all counts of his speculation—
echnology, of course, being the operative phrase. It’s an alien conspiracy to appropriate human sperm for their own devices.”
Chief Kinion glanced again to that giant motherfuckin’puddle’a spunk on the floor.
Holy shee-it. That’s a dang lot’a joyjuice, yes sir!

“And as far as Doctor Willis being certi
fiably dead this morning,
“ Majora went on, “yet being quite alive when you confronted him
upstairs—it can all be explained by more of the technology that the
aliens gave to Mrs. Willis in exchange for her assistance. A simple
biogenic reanimation serum was infused into the corpse—by Mrs.
Willis—and this produced a mute assistant for her objectives.”

The zombie,
the Chief calculated. But, yeah, the whole thang
sounded purdy dickerluss, but the Chief thought he were beginnin’ta
see it all. “But,” he said, ta further his questions, “how do the aliens
know ta come
here.
”

“Simple, Chief,” Majora answered, “and this might sound
ridiculous too, but it’s true. Dr. Willis, even in his retirement, attended
several medical conventions ever year. Upon such occasions that he
was out of town, his wife took money out of his bank account to
build a low-ohm, refractive radio-telescope receptor; it’s buried in the
field behind the house. See, simple. The aliens will be re-assuming a
sub-orbital in just a few minutes, thinking they will receive the next
cachet of sperm from Mrs. Willis. You may have noticed me earlier,
out behind the house looking up into the sky.”

Yeah! The Chief shore did!
And she were doin’so with a pair’a
somethin’that looked like binoculars!
“I was using a specially made optical device that the Air Force
Material Command was able to construct that will penetrate the alien
stealth systems.”
Yeah,
the Chief thought. It sounded more
ridickerluss
than
simple but how could he not believe it? All the proof was there . . .
“But there’s still one more thing,” Majora said, “and obviously,
through his intelligence and perceptivity, PFC Hays has already
figured it out . . .”
But when Majora and Kinion looked around . . . Micah Hays
was gone . . .

Yeah, Hays had read all’a them fancy government classer
fied papers
in that red-hairt bitch’s briefcase. He knew, and he was dang well
pissed.
Bunch’a evil aliens tryin’ta steal our dicksnot!

He ran down behind the house, knowin’ full well when the
final
embarkation would occur on account’a he seed with his own eyes
the NASA trackin’ infermation.

He knew, alls right . . .
And he dang shore knew what he was gonna do.
He stood back there, in the field behind the house. He looked up
in the sky but weren’t surprised that he couldn’t see nothin’ but stars.
Alls he knowed was what he
needed
ta know.

She’ll be comin’. And she’ll be thinkin’ I’se the one with the
spunk . . .
Suddenly a great whirling wind rose; it seemed to turn circles
around him, and nearly blew him off his feet. Blades’a grass and
weeds’n dust rose like a friggin’ tornado, and just as Hays thought
he’d blow away like a piece’a straw—
Fuckin’-A! Cool!
A cone of light bright as the sun beamed down on him, and a
second later—
FFFZAPP!
Hays were standin’someplace else. Nothin’at all like the breezy
field behind Doc Willis’ house but . . .
inside
somethin’. Someplace
that were made of a bunch’a, like, honeycombed walls at all differnt
angles, all drab gray, and it was cold in here, and he heard this steady
hummin’ in his ears, a low, black, warblin’ noise . . .

—
You are
— a sultry voice fluttered in his brain.
From one of the honeycombs, a shadow stirred, then moved forward.
Shee-it . . .
The figure approached—it was short and thin’n all covered with slick gray skin, and had skinny beanpole arms’n legs. Problee no
more than four-foot tall it was but with a big bald gray head like a
upside-down pear. Another thang was the mouth: just like little slit’n
two holes fer a nose. Purdy plain, though, that this were a
gal
alien,
on account that she had pointy, gray tits on her rack-skinny chest’n
darker gray nipples stickin’ out long as golf tees, and ‘tween her
beanpole legs, Hays could see a li’l gash down there.
Not a bad cut
fer a alien,
he considered. But then he noted—

The eyes.
Dang!
They’se was big as crystal-black tennis balls sunk in the skull.