Cuddy, now taking the lead, ran out from the line of trees as gunfire continued to fire. Cuddy, Jackie, and the orb entered the barn, quickly slowing down their pace. Out of breath, Cuddy and Jackie leaned over and, with hands on knees, heaved in deep lungfuls of air. The AI orb continued forward, moving toward the open doorway then hovered there. Still out of breath, Cuddy joined the orb in the barn doorway and peered out toward the house. Thank God, it’s still standing! Both the Maxima and VW bug were where they’d been parked. But near to the road was a landed spaceship, equal in size to the Evermore. It was supported above the ground by three landing struts. A gangway ramp extended out, beneath the ship’s underside. Fifty yards further down the road were two police vehicles parked at angles on the road. Cuddy recognized the vehicles as the sheriff’s and Officer Plumkin’s. Both driver-side doors were open—used for cover—as the officers periodically fired toward the spaceship. The sheriff was firing a rifle while Plumkin used his side arm.
Cuddy felt Jackie move up to stand close by his side. Placing a hand on his arm, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Sheriff and Plumkin are shooting.”
“So do you see them… what are they called, the Howsh?” Jackie asked.
“No, not yet. Wait… there… there’s one of them.”
They watched as a tall, furry creature came around the corner at the far side of the house, holding a weapon—a rifle of some sort. Then Cuddy noticed the front screen door of the house was partially open, hanging loosely on a single hinge. Momma!
Chapter 25
Standing outside on the porch—Rufus barked continuously. The dog was obviously highly agitated at what was going on inside. It took all Cuddy’s willpower not to charge forward—run full out toward the house. He didn’t know if Momma was still safe inside or if she’d already been taken. Was she even alive?
The alien beast, lurking by the side of the house, fired back toward the sheriff’s police cruiser. Bright red bolts of energy hit the open car door, leaving in their wake several charred—glowing hot—craters. A second, nearly identical Howsh joined the one at the side of the house. He too held an energy weapon, which he raised and began firing toward the second police SUV, parked farther back down the road. Cuddy heard Officer Plumkin make a yelping sound, then quickly duck his head back behind the open car door.
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.