Frankentown (6 page)

With another glass of rum down, he put on a pair of black surgical gloves he used for washing dishes, and with a fork, tried to pry the skin loose from its wearer. It came right off.
With the suit unpeeled, the horrible creature underneath had context.
Two great black demonic eyes focused, with large eyes that could look through your soul, but had no more life behind them, threatening nor peaceful. His breath slowed down to a near halt.

The alien’s suit broke.

It kept him under pressure.

Quickly coming to his senses, he closed his mouth and moved away.
It may be releasing fumes
∴

A strange and yet familiar smell pierced his nasal passages. It reminded him of shoe polish and train stations. Without an idea what he was inhaling, he decided to step away and protect himself. He opened all the windows but drew all the blinds, locked the front door and went to the garage to find a leftover mask.
He knew there was a blister-pack of masks on the middle shelf,
under a twelve-year dust veil.

He put on a pair of black surgical gloves
 
(that he used to wash dishes in)
to avoid direct contact with any unknown agents,
then walked back behind the kitchen isle.

Underneath his mask, his mouth was opening. Sweat already collected on his forehead and began running down his face. Using a pair of kitchen scissors, he pushed the loose skin of the suit. The soft exposed slimy muscles underneath were bruised, swollen and turning a deep maroon.

Just transporting the body in his coat may have been a bad idea. The whole body seemed to be bruised. The skin underneath, was translucent and moist, but not slimy. Through it, Frank could see every muscle in its body.

As soon as he tore a large enough opening to see the creature’s chest, he found its skeletal structure could clearly be made out. No deposit of under-skin fat could be seen, only a vast complex network of thin blue veins decorated the creature’s chest in festive fractal patterns.

The outside shell seemed like callous skin. He put his finger on the area of bruising to discover it was very soft, almost mushy, compared to the rest of the revealed exterior. Careful not to damage the skin any further, Frank leaned over and made a small incision in the suit with the kitchen scissors he had pulled out of the drawer moments earlier. It was skin-tight at first, but the air made the body softer to touch and soon he could cut the material along the neck to reveal the head.

The material came off the head like skin off a ripe peach, exposing minuscule facial creases and veins, hinting at muscles, a small, slightly opened mouth and a pair of deep dark eyes with enormous indigo pupils.
The black eyes were lenses attached to the skin.

It must be sensitive to light,
Frank noted to himself. Then it came to him that he was not recording his observations.

Dad’s camera! No film.

A camera from the 90’s with no film was not the solution. His phone!

Course! Lifesaver!

He propped the phone up on the counter against an antique bottle of ketchup towards the carcass and began narrating.

“This is an examination of a body of unknown species, potentially extraterrestrial in origin. Today is
…
Sunday, October 17
^th
, and it is 4:42am.”

He cleared the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and continued hastily and nervously.

“Subject is a bipedal creature with a disproportionately large cranium, possibly suggesting the organism to be highly intelligent. The subject appears to be clad in an organic exoskeleton of some sort, possibly made from old skin deposits, with what looks like protective lenses for its eyes. It must be very sensitive to light.
 
The creature has four digits on each arm and four elongated toes...

...and is...”

He held his breath as he removed last of the suit.
 

“...really ugly. All digits have thick black nails..

...the creature appears to have vast similarities to human anatomy. The body doesn’t appear to be either gender...”
Okay, Now What?
There was no telling how long the body keeps.
What is the right method?
There was only one hope for preserving the body for further analysis. He would have to freeze it. After removing the frozen peas and ice from his freezer, the body fit nicely on top of two Margherita pizza boxes.
Frank caught himself saying “Nighty night.” as he took off the mask and gloves, climbed up the stairs to his bedroom and blacked out as his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Six

Soggy

Frank awoke from a dreamless sleep with his head to the window. It was a beautiful sunny day outside.
The drinking hadn’t caught up with him until he sat up in his bed; and then the splitting headache came. This may have been one of the worst hangovers of his life.
He promised himself, as he often did on such occasions, to never drink again. These promises lasted four weeks at the most. He glanced at the alarm clock to find that it was 3 in the afternoon.

Though late, this wasn’t completely out of the ordinary after a night of drinking. A creeping feeling came over him when he started remembering what happened the night prior. He made his way down the stairs into the kitchen.
His mind was far from breakfast now.
Each hesitant step he took toward the refrigerator echoed in his head, like a nail of pain into the base of his skull. He reached for the freezer door to find a large frozen shapeless mass covering the pizza boxes where a body of unknown species lied mere hours earlier.
The finding was followed by a sudden drop of heart.
It seemed that his evidence first liquified, then froze. The evidence he worked so hard to hide last night, the specimen that might have just proven existence of as of yet undiscovered species was now the consistency of a spilled frozen milkshake, with just about as few barely recognizable features.

He took the top pizza box out of the freezer and carefully lifted up the frozen flat puddle of remains. It promptly broke. There were no skeletal pieces and the puddle separated with the inks from the box, parting with a print stuck to the alien from underneath.

Broken up into pieces with images of the ‘Little Chef’ pizza mascot, he fit it into a large beer glass before he returned it to the freezer. What a letdown.

The phone rang but Frank hadn’t the slightest interest in picking up. First he needed to collect his thoughts and figure out where to go from here. When he saw where it lay, he was suddenly reminded of last night’s kitchen alien autopsy video.
The voice on the phone was Kathy, who was calling because Frank hadn’t called her in a while.
She’d have to address the answering machine.
There are bigger fish to fry right now.

His hope for evidence quickly shattered when the video only showed a blobby silhouette and Frank, sweaty and dressed fit for washing the dishes, before falling over and recording only his voice. No proof. Then his heart once again sank to the fathoms of his pants along with his hope for standing on the path of discovery.

Lost again. Rotten luck.

Much like his father, when stressed or agitated, Frank would walk out of the house for a brisk walk.
Whenever he inquired as to where Walter was going, he was given the most scientific answer he could muster so he wouldn’t have any explaining to do.

They were always on familiar terms, at best.
“I have a lot of potential energy built up inside, so I have to go spend it. Otherwise I might be ill.”

Such pseudo-scientific explanations motivated young Frank to pursue science so he can understand his own dad, but they also helped him avoid explaining anything in terms he could understand. Over the years, this built up a void in their relationship and essentially alienated Frank from his father, until, when one day when he realized that his dad might not be able to do otherwise, it was already too late. Frank’s dad had vanished along with his brother and their research on an archeological dig in Peru.

Before he vanished, Lyle, Franks younger brother,
had developed a keen interest in Archeology.
When he came back several years later, he hould never even recall what happened to his dad.
The brisk walk helped clear his mind and to relieve his stress at all; not in the same way alcohol had served in the past decade, but it helped him bring a fresh perspective on the situation.
 
He realized, that although he would surely be scrutinized for bringing attention to something as seemingly ridiculous as an “extraterrestrial-in-a-puddle”, he could use the severe resources at his disposal and conduct some tests on the recovered tissue. Surely the tissue would provide some sort of a scientific oddity, perhaps enough to fund an expedition out to the coordinates where he along with his colleagues tagged the Humboldt squid so successfully just the day before.
The Research Lab would not have even had time to review their findings from Saturday. And he wondered if either Steve or Allen bothered to email the records to them anyway. Come tomorrow, he would inform
Dr. Harding of the routine squid sampling and he could present his case to reinstate the research.

It was no secret that when any scientist mentioned the abbreviation UFO, their career turns from promising to has-been. He could almost present to Marlon, the head of the biology department, with some form of proof with which he could reactivate oceanic research. Which meant he had a lot of work to do.

He quickly returned home to collect what was left of the most amazing popsicle he’d ever seen and head out to the lab in the Cabriola building.

 
As it was Sunday, his colleagues were concerned with academic grading and grilling, not his discovery. He would have total privacy while working and could slip vastly unnoticed.

The chunked frozen tissue was still in the glass stein in his freezer, awaiting examination.
 

For safety, he filled a beer-cooler box with ice and set the stein square in the middle, assuring its refrigeration on his way to the campus.

Finally he reached the Cabriola building, in front of which he ran into his tenured rival,
 

Dr. Hector Weiss.

Despite the unfortunate name, Weiss’ findings were based in fact but always differed from Frank’s.
He was always two steps behind.
The forty-two year old notorious for making inappropriate advances on his students, bartering to propel them academically. Frank favored the idea that global oceanic developments were a result of global warming, while Weiss' view was more geared towards man’s effect on the oceans through over-fishing
and thus tampering with the food chain.

“What’s that you got there, Cabella?

 
Having a picnic?” Hector said mockingly. He and Frank were never on a first name basis, actually, Frank had never even learned Weiss' name until he heard about the scandals from several colleagues.

“A Humboldt specimen from last night’s tagging
…
” he quickly retorted, hoping to avoid further questions, but Weiss couldn’t care less. He was never threatened by Frank and was already on his way home to microwave his TV dinner.

 
Once again Frank’s alcohol consumption caught up with him on top of the third floor staircase. It did not slow him down however.

The building was empty.
The only person around was a friendly japanese security guard who was busy playing Mahjongg with beautiful ivory pieces underneath the reception desk.
The hallways always seemed to repeat, with the only varying factor being what announcements were stapled to the cork boards, and even those were mostly the same. When he finally reached 22G, the genetics lab, he breathed a sigh of relief and had to sit down for a few minutes before continuing. His physical shape was worse than he realized as he failed to exercise and only filled his body with poisons of various kinds.

After a short breather he got three vacuum containers from out of the fridge to store his specimen and kept one outside to defrost. He set aside a tiny sample of tissue on a petri dish and another small sample between two sheets of glass under the microscope. Up close, it seemed there might have been cells at one time, which have since imploded into bits. In the corner of the sample the cells changed as they thawed. This explained how the body decomposed, but why so quickly?

The DNA sequencer was there and it barely made any sounds. To tell what genes a tissue is made of was the in a sense the pinnacle of the human evolution. To question oneself and have the power to alter was a responsibility too big.

He sent another small sample through the DNA sequencer. The process took up to 40 minutes, so he had time to spare. As the tissue exposed to air defrosted, it changed color to purple,
possibly due to oxidization
, Frank noted, while the samples in vacuum tubes remained a constant azure blue.

As it was done, he sent a small sample of the skin that came off. Most of the skin he still kept that was the only thing containing the almost-liquified alien, otherwise he’d be all over the place.

Frank withdrew a human DNA chart and compared the two against a light-board on the wall. The chart of the creature matched that of a human perfectly. At least in the parts that weren’t blank on the human genome. Information as such was beyond belief, and indeed, even after he’d check for errors several times, with two more samples, the results were the same. The second sample, assuming it the machine read it correctly, had even a few more, previously missing genomes that were a match.

A creeping feeling came over Frank, running down his spine. If the code was exact, it meant two things:

1. The creature was related to humans or the other way round.

2. The chart looked like that of a decomposing human.

A sudden onset of a popping headache to Frank’s nape caused him to sit down and dread his lack of careful conduct in this research once again. The carcass may have contained had some kind of a foreign contaminant.
It may have even been part of the reason for the being’s death in the first place. And he could’ve contracted it.

It could’ve even been the very reason the body decomposed so quickly.
 
Maybe even flesh-eating bacteria.