Kilroy was Here Read online

  “The video you obtained from Taco Haus,” Max says, “is Jeff stealing the Araneae plans last night. It is our belief he is stealing them for Grandor in exchange for his girlfriend.”

  “Leigh Ann,” I say. “Her name is Leigh Ann.”

  He scribbles more on the whiteboard while Randi puts her hand on my back to calm me. I don’t think it’s working because the pineapple and watermelon I ate are threatening to escape my stomach and splat on the floor.

  “I can’t go through the portal,” I say. “No freaking way.”

  “Tony.” Randi gently pulls me upright. “You need to tell him about the Kwench-Aid.”

  “Kwench-Aid?” Max puts down the marker. “What Kwench-Aid?”

  “I saw Jeff last night. He was stealing Kwench-Aid from the plant my dad works at.”

  “I’m sorry,” Max says. “Did you say stealing Kwench-Aid?”

  “I know, right?” Randi says.

  “This is a radically facilitated paradigm shift,” Max says.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Meet me tonight at the portal,” Randi says, handing me the THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME! gifts. “10:00 p.m.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “This is feels so much bigger than me.”

  “Of course it is,” she tells me.

  “This is so much to take in at once. I’m not sure if I can do this.”

  “I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations –”

  “Don’t say it.” I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent.” Max shuts off the flat screen and walks toward the door. “I need to close the loop here and get to a meeting with our fleet operations folks. Tony, I have no doubt you will competently model principle-centered expertise. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Agreed.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I drive through Poplar Bluff after my meeting at Corporate. It is now after 5:00 p.m. and I’m still full after devouring more pineapple, watermelon, and cantaloupe in one sitting than the entire population of Delaware consumed in 2015. My brain reels from the information presented to me during the Jeff Stole Nanotech Reveal and the Meet Randi At The Portal Directive. My best friend, the one with an obsession over a classic rock band and a tendency to clean his ears with his car keys, not only survived the portal, but is actively engaging in larceny. I stop at a red light in downtown and glance over at the copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes laying in the passenger seat. The packet of green Kwench-Aid sits next to it and I pick it up. Why is Jeff stealing Kwench-Aid? Why did he steal the nanotech?

  A caravan of trucks hauling carnival attractions and rides barrels through the intersection. Among the trucks is the black RV with orange flames I saw at Taco Haus. I assume they are headed to the River Luau to set up shop and unleash their unsafe rides and array of deep-fried diabetes on our town. I’ve never been a fan of the River Luau, despite my mom’s participation in its planning. I can’t stand its cultural appropriation. I dislike the rides which appear to be assembled with duct tape, toothpicks, and wishful thinking. One ride in particular, Mo-Mo the Monster, is a nightmarish contraption with eight legs. Attached to each leg is a two-person car which spins as the legs move up and down. Mo-Mo the Monster exists only to induce vomiting. I enjoy nothing about the River Luau except the frozen lemonade and roasted turkey legs. Marlene loves the River Luau. She dragged me there last summer against my better judgment and I spent the evening making excuses for not getting on the rides and watching her eat her body weight in funnel cakes and foot-long corndogs. That was the night we said we loved each other for the first time.

  The memory triggers my other issue: seeing Marlene visit Someone Else’s Books last night and whether or I should look further into this. I make a couple of turns and park outside Someone Else’s Books. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do when I go in. Should I ask Kevin about seeing Marlene here last night? Would he then ask why I was following Marlene? Would I feel compelled to admit to stalking the girlfriend I broke up with before prom because I’m a jackass? I should drive away.

  “The hell with it,” I mutter to myself and head to the front door.

  “Tone-Man!” Kevin Raulston waves to me from his desk behind the counter as I enter. “I’m about to close, so please tell me you’re here to contribute to my livelihood.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” I’m a terrible liar. He can see right through me, I know it. I look around for the current events section. “Do you have any books on dream interpretation?”

  “Whatcha been dreaming about, me compadre?”

  “Apricots.”

  “Interesting.” Kevin turns and taps the keys of his laptop. “Do you have any idea how many possible interpretations there are for a given dream?”

  “Curious about a nightmare I’ve been having. So, do you have any books? Are you checking your inventory there?”

  “No. The internet. It says here seeing apricots in a dream suggests something is not as it seems. But, dream interpretation is influenced by spiritual beliefs, psychological schools of thought, and whether or not you think everything is a penis or a vagina. So, really, it could be anything.”

  “The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind,” I tell him because it just popped into my head the way so many random things seem to be doing lately. “Freud said that.”

  “Reality is wrong.,” he counters. “Dreams are real. Tupac said that.” He moves toward the counter and leans into me. “You ok there, Tone-Man? Aura suggests you’re conflicted and experiencing some inner turmoil.”

  “It’s been an interesting few weeks.” My hands tremble so I shove them into my pockets. Kevin looks around the front room and leans in to me.

  “You haven’t run into any Herpezoids have you?” he whispers.

  “Herpezoids?” A flash of recognition from a part of my brain I don’t normally use surges and I begin speaking on a topic I know nothing about, except I do somehow. “They’re basically the out of control frat boys of the galaxy. They infiltrate a planet, take over human forms, and then wreak havoc.” I stop talking because I have no idea why or how I’m able to explain an alien life form I’ve never even heard of.

  “Oh, yeah, man. So, you’re hip to them. You know they exist.” Kevin’s eyes widen. “Herpezoids are everywhere. They want to take over the world. Conspiracy theorists believe they’ve infiltrated the highest levels of politics and Hollywood, but, I know better. They’re masked as everyday people.” He darts his eyes about the front room. “Could be one in this store right now. Watching us.”

  I turn slowly and watch a short, round elderly woman waddle up and set a stack of romance paperbacks on the counter.

  “Here, Kevin. I got me some more smut.” She giggles scandalously as she fishes in her purse for money, Kevin points at her and mouths a word at me.

  “Her. Puh. Zoid.”

  The short, round woman looks at me and offers a kind smile. She pats my forearm and her soft, baggy eyes lock on mine. She squeezes my forearm enough for me to think she might keep squeezing until she rips it from my elbow and beats me with it. Her grip loosens and she maintains that sweet smile as she walks past me and out the door. Kevin looks at me, eyes round with fear.

  “We’re lucky she didn’t feast on our flesh, man.”

  I blow out a sigh.

  “That was kinda weird,” I say.

  “Herpezoids, Tone-Man. They’re everywhere. Even in sweet little old ladies who read softcore erotica and eat dinner at 4:00.”

  The bell on the front door chimes and Marlene comes in. My heart pounds against my chest like it’s locked in a dark closet and crying for release. The moisture in my mouth evaporates.

  “Hi, Kevin,” she says. “I finished that book you ordered for me.”

  “And did you find the ending to your satisfaction?” Kevin asks.

  “Very much so. Do you have my new order?” Her voice is tense and c
urt. Her eyes show an intensity I’ve never noticed in her before.

  “Right here.” Kevin grabs a manila envelope from his desk and hands it to Marlene who hugs it and turns to me.

  “How are you, Tony?” She looks not so much at me as past me. She doesn’t smile.

  My heart winces. Whenever she was upset with me, she used my first name only. She told me once that whenever she was in trouble with her parents they would call her by her full name. She wanted to do the opposite, so, she would call me Tony Pershing when she was, as she put it, really feeling the love for me. I should tell her that I’m miserable and vomit emotionally all over the place.

  “You know. Fine.” That’s the best I can come up with. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t leave either. The intense gaze softens and she bites her delicate bottom lip, as if she’s daring me to seize this moment to dazzle her with a grand romantic gesture and woo her back away from the flat-billed cap wearing Clint. “What’s your book?” Again, the best I can come up with.

  “This? Oh, one of those supernatural YA novels. It’s stupid, but sometimes I need to turn my brain off and not think about things, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I’d like to not think about things. Shut everything off.”

  She nods slightly as our eyes meet and I sense the same kind of telepathic communication I had with the caliente lederhosen-wearing drive-thru babe. Her eyes are telling me to keep talking, give her a reason to stay. They are practically screaming at me to take her into my arms, kiss her deeply, and tell her that she is the love of my life. I’ve never felt so strongly about anything. I step toward her, but she moves away.

  “Ok, I gotta go,” she blurts. “Thanks for the book, Kevin. How long do you think it’ll take me to read it?”

  “You’re a fast reader,” Kevin says. “You could probably have it done before tomorrow night.”

  Marlene nods and turns to leave. Before walking out the door, she spins back to me. “It’s good to see you, Tony Pershing.”

  A wide grin sweeps across my face and my heart dances. “She called me Tony Pershing,” I say.

  “Yes, she did,” Kevin says. “And if she had been a Herpezoid she would’ve eaten your throat.”

  *

  If the apricot nightmares are to be believed, then nothing is as it seems. What I have believed to be true is not. Why was Marlene at Someone Else’s Books the other night? What are these packages she keeps picking up? I think about the irony of being suspicious of the girl I love while I keep a major secret from her. I should come clean with her about everything, but I also should move on with my life.

  After the Another Impromptu Marlene Encounter at Someone Else’s Books, I drive home to grab a bite to eat and tell Mom and Dad about working late tonight. I walk in the door and find them in the living room gathering their journals and copies of A Feast of Crows.

  “Leaving for book club already?” I ask. “It’s only six o’clock.”

  “We’re going out to eat first,” Mom tells me. “Did you go to work?”

  “I met with my boss and she told me I was welcome back. I’m actually going to go in for the overnight tonight.”

  “Good to see you’re getting back into the swing of things.” Dad grabs his car keys from the coffee table. “Guess you’re not getting in until the morning.”

  “Yeah, they need some help sorting out some shipments in the mailroom.” I hate myself for lying to them about my job at Corporate. I know their lives. They work. They watch all the versions of Law & Order. They attend their book club. They’re transparent with me while I’m a big fat lying liar who lies. Add to it that I’m planning to go through a portal to outer space and my guilt is crushing.

  “I wish you weren’t working those overnights.” Mom squeezes my forearm. “You need to socialize more, honey. Get out and do fun stuff, too.”

  “Like joining a book club?” I tease. “You guys are really into it.”

  “It’s better than what she wanted to do,” Dad says. “She wanted to learn country line dancing. I’d rather be disemboweled with salad tongs than learn country line dancing.”

  “Oh, Chris.” Mom punches his shoulder. “You’re no fun.”

  The sight of them smiling together overwhelms me. I need to tell them what’s going on.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  They both look at me still wearing their playful smiles. They’re expecting something from me now and I know I should tell them everything. The whole wild, crazy, universe-altering truth is on the tip of my tongue ready to leap out and shatter their entire understanding of reality. Suddenly that seems like too much to lay on these sweet people who are about to go to a book club. I am now aware I’m staring at them with nothing to say.

  “What is it, honey?” Mom asks.

  “I love you guys,” I finally say. “Thanks for being here for me. Have fun tonight.”

  They smile and hug me before heading out the door. I flop onto the couch and close my eyes. Working overnights requires a nap if I’m going to be sharp. I draw and release a deep breath before drifting into a sleep I hope doesn’t involve apricots.

  *

  If you’re going to do something you truly will regret, I recommend a nap first. Nothing awakens your soul for the coming doom of poor decision-making like a good nap. A few z’s preceded my attempt to fly by jumping off the roof when I was seven. A short rest enabled me to fully embrace the stupidity of drinking a pizza Jeff pureed in a blender. A lovely afternoon siesta served as the prologue to breaking up with Marlene. Now that I’ve slept for a couple of hours, I’m ready to do something truly ill-advised.

  I’m going to go to Marlene’s house and try to tell her I want her back.

  I drive with “Bubbly” on repeat, and brainstorm what I’m going to say. Nothing plausible is really coming to mind, but I’m sure once I start talking it will flow naturally. A rush of panic envelops me and I question if I should do this. I don’t want to look stupid. I grip the steering wheel and remember Randi’s words once more from The Prom Night of Which We Shall Never Speak:

  I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations – one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it. You will regret both.

  I draw a deep breath to cleanse my nerves as I turn onto her street, slowing as I approach her driveway. My heart drops when she walks out her door with Clint. They kiss before he climbs into the Truck of Overcompensation. I can’t duck this time and we all make eye contact as I pass them uncomfortably. Clint shoots me a glance that suggests our next encounter will end violently. Marlene looks sad. I shut off “Bubbly” and drive in quiet.

  Kierkegaard is a dick.

  *

  The clock in my car reads 9:42 p.m. Time to go to work.

  I pull into a convenience store to get gas and pick up a hot dog, two taquitos, and a soda. No other cars on the parking lot, so I should be able to get my business done quickly. I likely won’t get a break tonight so I might as well get sustenance now. The selection of pre-portal guarding food is important. I approach the counter and set my stuff down. An older woman with a cup of coffee gets in line behind me and I recognize her as the short round lady Kevin accused of being a Herpezoid.

  “I remember you,” I tell her. “You bought some books at Kevin’s earlier.”

  “Oh, yes,” she smiles and touches my arm. “I do love going there. I simply must have my stories to read before going to bed.” Her eyes twinkle and nose scrunches as she smiles and it couldn’t possibly be more adorable.

  “I understand that.” I turn to the clerk behind the counter to pay. “Tell you what. Put her coffee on my tab. My treat.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she says. “Besides, I was going to get dip.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Dip. Chew. Smokeless tobacco.” She offers a sheepish grin. “My only vice.”

  “That’s okay.” I’m thrown, but I’m committed to seeing this nice gesture through to com
pletion. “Get the lady her dip, kind sir.”

  The clerk, who wears the facial expression of a disaffected mannequin, rings me up and I exit the store, the short round woman with the smokeless tobacco habit following. She stick a pinch between her cheek and gums before we’re even out the door. She thanks me once more and I simply nod and walk to my car at the pumps. A motor scooter ridden by someone in a dark t-shirt and jogging shorts enters the parking lot. They’ve made the wise choice to wear a helmet. I assume the rider is female due to their smooth, sexy legs, but I don’t want to make sexist assumptions. I toss my food in the passenger seat next to my copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes and take a swig of soda.

  I start to pull away but my path out of the store is blocked by the same short round elderly woman and a man I recognize as Life Coach Gilbert. Their expressions mirror the same vacuous, hollow one as the clerk in the store. I get out of the car and step toward them.

  “Life Coach Gilbert?” I ask him and then look to the woman with the bad tobacco habit. “Can I help you? Ma’am?”

  They don’t answer. Instead, they move toward me with urgent, determined steps. I back up, but trip on the front of my car and lose my balance. I try to steady myself, but Life Coach Gilbert is on me quickly. He grabs me by the throat and lifts me off the ground. I struggle to break his grip. The old woman produces a gun that looks like a chrome derringer from her purse and aims it at me.

  “What the hell?” I gurgle.

  “We are here to serve.” Life Coach Gilbert’s voice is empty and flat.

  “We are here to serve,” repeats the woman.

  Before she pulls the trigger, the scooter rider roundhouse kicks the old lady in the stomach. My would-be assailant drops her weapon and falls to her knees. Life Coach Gilbert releases his death grip and turns to the rider. I gasp and choke and run to my trunk to grab a laser pistol from my Corporate duffle bag. I hold the gun out in front and step toward the Good Samaritan on the motor scooter. She wields what looks like glowing nun chucks, swinging them with swift precision at Life Coach Gilbert. Streams of blue electricity zap with each blow to his torso and he recoils. She lands two wallops and he drops to the ground, convulses, and passes out. The old woman is now on her feet and punches the rider in the kidney. My hero cries out and for the first time I can see her fresh freckled face and blond hair in the light. My stomach drops and my breath stops.