IMMATURITY DAY: ID3
Chapter One
(c) David Willis
Walkerton was shaken awake. He first looked at the shadowy figure above
him who had woken him, and then at the light switch near him. "Heyy....."
he whined.
Flipping the switch, he winced terribly and waited for his eyes to adjust
before identifying the intruder.
It was Dave. He had a decidedly freaked-out expression, and it looked as
if he had put his clothes and jetpack on in a few seconds.
Walkerton glanced out the lone window in his small room. The sun was barely
peeking from behind the horizon. "What'd you wake me up for, Dave?"
Dave needed only to speak but one word. "Aliens."
Huffing and puffing, Walkerton swung open Big Boss's office door and hurried
inside. Dave and Sal were already there. Both looked worried. Walkerton,
despite all his ignorance, knew something bad was up. He straightened his
hood around his neck and reached Big Boss's desk within a few steps.
Sal managed a weak smile. "Glad you got here, Walkerton," she
said. Dave nodded in agreement.
Big Boss returned their attentions to the matter at hand. "The aliens
have placed their ships around the globe." He looked down somberly.
"They're going to fire on the major civilation areas in a matter of
hours."
"That's not good, is it?" Walkerton asked. He reached into his
pocket and retrieved a mini-bag of Doritos. He'd need it to keep awake.
Big Boss uncharacteristically left his desk and moved toward a large map
of the world streched across the wall. Several circular patches littered
the map, most where large cities were located. He reached for it with his
pointing stick. "These are the locations of the ships. I've already
sent the majority of SEMY to the different sites." He pointed at the
middle of the United States. "A new one has just arrived a few miles
away over Denver. I want you to launch and attack them however possible.
Victory is necessary beyond imagination."
A sudden new realization sunk into Dave's mind. "Does this mean--"
"Yes," Big Boss answered before Dave could finish. "Apparently,
the majority of the human race is now aware that the aliens exist. SEMY
is out of the closet."
Big Boss dismissed them to their bombers. They couldn't help but dispair
at the current situation. The end of the world was truly at stake.
Before long, Squadron 128's two bombers were soaring over the Colorado
mountains. Mikewas in the back seat of Walkerton's stealth bomber, complaining
as usual. "Can't those stupid aliens find a better time to attack
other than five in the morning?!"
Walkerton shrugged. He was fully awake now, but that didn't stop him from
occasionally reaching away from the control yoke into the bag of Doritos
positioned between his and Dave's seats.
Dave looked up from the radar with a sense of dread. "Alien fighters
are approaching. We'd better ready the weapons." With that, he reached
toward the upper control box and flipped a few switches. A combat-ready
console swiveled out of the cockpit and formed around Walkerton. The pilot
grinned at the large red button labelled "FIRE" in the center
of the console. He loved pressing buttons, and this was one of the few
times he was allowed.
"There they are!" Dave shouted, pointing out the window. Small
black spots, like a swarm of flies, were visible over the icy mountain
tops.
"Fasten your safety seats!" Walkerton commanded as he fit his
harness around him.
Mike snuck him a mean glance. "You were supposed to do that when we
took off, Dorito Boy!" Mike tried to reach Walkerton's hair-covered
head to smack it, but his own harness prevented him.
Walkerton radioed Sal and Jason in the other bomber. "The aliens are
comin', sis," he warned.
The radio crackled. "I see 'em, Walkie." Determination was in
her sharp, southern- accented voice. Sal's bomber left formation and readied
itself for combat.
The first strike came sooner than they thought. A lone alien ship had
crept up from underneath, and phasers zipped up from below. "I'll
take 'im out," Sal said over the radio, and her bomber dove toward
the earth after the sleek metal ship.
Dave focused his thoughts back on the rest of the alien fleet, who were
within firing range. Walkerton pressed the "FIRE" button repeatedly
with glee, but the aimless shots were wasted.
Mike criticized, "Why don't you let someone else fire? If it weren't
for gravity, you couldn't even hit the ground!"
Walkerton swallowed his mouthful of nachos. "Can so!" he countered.
"Wanna see?" Before they could stop him, Walkerton pushed forward
on the yoke abruptly, and the bomber shifted into a downward spiral.
The air crashing against the wings gradually screamed at a higher and higher
pitch as they neared the distant ground. Dave barfed, sending the orange
puke flying up toward the back of the cockpit, and blacked-out. Walkerton
remained at the controls.
"Waaaalllk-----er--ton.." Mike cried through his clenched teeth.
His yellow bangs left his forehead and slapped up against the back of his
black seat."You're---gon----na get----us----KILLED!!!!!!!!"
Finally, Walkerton pounded on the red button viciously, and lasers shot
from the front of the bomber and pelted the green patches of land below.
Smiling triumphantly, the pilot yanked back on the controls, and the bomber
swirved, repelling from the land and launching into the sky.
Glancing over, he noticed Dave was still unconsious and drooling on his
shirt. Mike was out as well. "Some time to take a nap!" Walkerton
frowned.
The pilot looked ahead. He was flying directly up into the clouds, and
patterns of alien ships were above him. He spotted the other bomber, the
size of a speck, doing battle in a corner of the sky. He hit the "GO"
button a few more times, and his bomber gained speed. There were countless
alien craft, and this battle would take a while.
With a POOF and a mild explosion, the last alien fighter fell victim to
Walkerton's bomber's lasers. The sky was freckle-free. He radioed Sal.
"No sign of any more aliens, sis!"
"Right!" Sal said back. "We'd better high-tail it ta Denver
then! We don't have much time."
Walkerton looked down at the radar in front of comatose Dave. The small
spot that symbolized Sal and Jason suddenly accelerated and zipped off
the charts. Walkerton held down the "GO" button and followed
her.
Within minutes they were over the metropolis Denver. Buildings, skyscrapers,
highways --all was normal.
Until the fog lifted over the center of the city.
Hovering in the sky, held up by some unknown force, lay the largest spacecraft
Walkerton had ever seen. The dark, black slab of machinery stretched into
both sides of the horizon. "Spiffy," Sal said over the radio,
obviously awestruck.
"Yeah," Walkerton broke the silence, "which side is the
front?"
Pause. "Pick a side, bro."
Walkerton counted on his fingers, "Eeny meeny miny mo, catcha tiger
by its toe-"
"Be a lil' more scientific than that!!"
Walkerton grinned sheepishly. "Well, I choose THAT side then."
He pointed at the side with the large sign that read: "Front of ship."
"Works fer me, bro," Sal smiled. Under the sign was a large opening,
and several other ships were entering. The two bombers joined them. They
were inside.
Walkerton was finally able to exit his bomber. Dave and Mike limped off
the ramp and fell dizzily to the ground, kissing it. The pilot simply opened
another bag of Doritos and ate its cheddar-flavored contents.
Sal's bomber gently landed beside them, and she and Jason were soon outside.
Jason brushed himself off and straightened his tie. "This place doesn't
look very tidy to me," he observed. They were in the alien's parking
area, somewhere in the maze of the ship's insides. The black walls and
foreboding architecture didn't appear to be user-friendly.
Dave whistled as he looked up. The metal stalactyte-like ceiling was several
hundred feet above them. He smiled, "Watch this." Cupping his
hands around his mouth, he shouted, "Hello!" There was a satisfying
echo, which rumbled throughout the ship.
Walkerton stepped up. He cupped his own hands to his face and screamed
even louder. "HEEELLLLOOOOO!!!!!!!" The ground, walls, and the
rest of their jagged surroundings shook.
Sal slapped him a "high-five," and they headed for what looked
like a door on the other side of the room, which was about fifty feet away.
Suddenly, a large metal rod fell and conked Dave on the head. He collapsed
to the floor. Sal slapped her forehead in disbelief. "We'd better
split up, team. It may take a while to find what stops the missiles."
Mike and Jason heaved Dave up onto their shoulders. "Man," Mike
complained to the comatose pilot, "How many SEMY Chips have you been
eating?!" Dave, of course, didn't answer.
"Very gluttonous," Jason frowned. He made sure that his snoozing
comrade didn't wrinkle his freshly-pressed SEMY shirt. They headed out
the door and towards the left.
Sal reached for her laser gun. "I guess that leaves the right."
She turned around to look for her brother. Not surprisingly, he was munching
on his Doritos like always.
Jason and Mike finally tired out from carrying Dave and set him down. They
were in one of the aliens' hallways, but the jagged decor was the same.
Mike and Jason didn't speak much, so no one said anything for a while.
An alien broke the silence, entering the room with guns blazing. The two
dove behind a tall purple structure instinctively. The firepower chipped
off parts of their cover, but the structure kept up well. Then they remembered
Dave, who was still laying there.
Jason looked over at Mike. "You get him," he said, nudging the
blonde-haired grump a bit.
Mike glared. "Oh, like we NEED him or something."
At this point the purple opponent stopped firing madly and looked around,
spotting Dave's body limp on the ground. He looked around a wall, motioned,
and a few more aliens joined him. "Hey, look! Free human!"
Mike and Jason exchanged glances. "We should do something, I guess."
"Nah," Mike frowned. "Dave isn't any use to us anyway."
Jason didn't like Mike's attitude, but he still didn't like the idea of
putting himself at risk.
The aliens collectively picked up Dave and carried him off.
Finally, when the aliens were out of view, Jason stood into the open. He
fixed his bow tie carefully and tip-toed up to the corner. Looking around,
he spotted the aliens pulling Dave up a set of short stairs. Jason turned
around. Mike was out from behind the structure as well, but he was sitting
in front of it, arms folded.
Suddenly the reality of what just happened hit Jason like the rod on Dave's
head. Dave was gone, comatose, and carried away by aliens. Jason was going
to be in big trouble.
A thunk sounded from behind. Jason swerved around and looked. No one, except
Mike, who was still sulking as usual. Jason shrugged and returned to his
thoughts. He pulled out his laser gun, which was an abnormal action for
him. Although he never used it, the firearm was well-polished and well-kept.
He blew off a little dust from the barrel.
Not willing to go alone, he called, "Hey, Mike. Let's go get Dave."
"Why?"
Jason was about to say something about getting in trouble, but then he
remembered that Mike probably didn't care. He needed a different approach,
but what? He was finding that diplomacy was harder than he thought.
Jason shrugged. "Because."
Mike groaned and stood up. "Alright, Mr. Clean, but I don't think
this is necessary." Mike took out his own laser gun and followed Jason
around the corner and up the stairs.
Walkerton and Sal were spending most of their time shooting their way through
the lower levels of the ship. Sal did her usual fearless job, and Walkerton
fared pretty well since he realized the end of the world was at stake.
If there's no world, there's no Doritos, Walkerton reasoned.
Sal handily nailed a few aliens with some carefully placed shots. The room
was now filled with the dead purple-suited aliens. "Ewwww..."
she said in disgust.
"What's that smell?" Walkerton asked.
Sal turned toward her brother. "Don't ya even start," she frowned,
pinching her nose. She swung open the door and headed into the next room.
"Computers," she said. Walkerton caught up and looked inside.
"Onna the control rooms, obviously," she smiled, skipping up
to the small alien-size chair placed directly in the center of the console.
Walkerton retrieved a bag of Doritos to take his mind off the horrible
amount of buttons staring him in the face. He lowered his head into the
ripped-open top, and didn't dare look up.
Sal was typing furiously. The main screen suddenly lit up, showing a map
of the humungous spaceship. A small arrow and a "You are here"
display appeared in the lower left half.
"Where's the missiles?" Walkerton asked, still staring down into
his bag, eating.
Sal typed a bit more. Another arrow positioned on the opposite side of
the map, saying "You are NOT here." Her jaw dropped. They had
a few more miles to go.
"We needa quicker mode o' transpirtayshin." She dove deep into
thought.
Walkerton snuck a glance at the console. He was overwhelmed by the sheer
number of buttons he could press, each one doing a separate thing. The
urge was too much.
Startled, Sal jumped when a small door opened to the right. She automatically
turned to Walkerton. He tried to look innocent, but the pilot had no luck.
Not to mention he still had his finger on the large purple button.
Then Sal looked in the opened compartment. "A mini hover jet craft!"
she exclaimed. Resembling a motorcycle without wheels, it hovered in the
air, slowly vibrating. She hugged her brother and hopped into the driver's
postition. Walkerton grinned and hopped on behind her. His sister revved
up the engine and they zipped away.
The Head Alien turned to his minions with a furl of his cape. He was rather
haughty at the moment, considering he was just about to take over the world.
He postitioned his hand and claw at the sides of his hips and stood triumphantly.
Nothing could stop him now.
A messenger alien scurried up to his elevated platform outlooking the rest
of the throne room. He quickly saluted and and began his report. "Your
Destructive-ship, I bring you good news and bad news."
"Hmmm..." the Head Alien pondered. "Gimme the bad news first.
That way I
end up happy!" He waited for the bad news.
"Well, Your Leader-ness, it seems th--"
"No, wait," the alien commander interrupted. "Give me the
good news first. I don't feel like bad news yet."
The messenger bowed and apologized. "Okay, well, we have--"
The Head Alien cut him off. "Then again, that leaves the bad news
last. Whatever's last will leave the strongest impression on me, so I choose
the bad news first."
Scratching his helmet, the messenger alien continued. "Yes, the huma--"
"No, no! Never mind!"
"Please, your Helmet-ship, could you make up your mind? I'm having
a rather stressful day." The alien paused. "Good or bad?"
The Head Alien had an idea. "I know! Just give me the GOOD news!"
"Uh, yes, Your Masterness, whatever you say." He scratched his
helmet even harder and continued. "We have one of the humans from
SEMY captured."
The Head Alien's visor widened in surprise. He paced back and forth, thinking
feverishly. He suddenly faced the messenger alien and shouted, "What
do you mean, Good News?! You know what this means?! The rest of that blasted
squadron's on this ship as well!"
The messenger alien quivered and ducked a bit from his commander's outburst.
"Well, sir, that was the bad news."
"Oy!" the Head Alien exclaimed, throwing up his arms in dismay.
"Well, go do
something! I don't want anything going wrong!"
The alien nodded. "Yes, sir." And he left the room.
The aliens, now several floors higher, dropped Dave on the floor. They
looked around, looking for the source of the CLUNK that rang just seconds
before. Where they being followed?
"Heh. Probably just the wind," one alien remarked.
Another alien stuck his finger to the pointy bottom of his helmet comtemplatively.
"But there isn't any wind here. We're inside."
The first alien shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe we're all just breathing
really hard."
"We all have helmets!"
"Little green men?"
The third alien chimed in. "We ARE little green men!"
"Oh," the first said. "I guess that it was us, then."
The third and fourth picked up Dave's arms. "Well, let's move it!"
The others grabbed the rest of the co-pilot and continued on their way.