Pit Bulls vs Aliens Read online

  “Thank you.” Darren was glad to be in charge of that at least. “When do I leave?”

  “About noon tomorrow.”

  Darren stayed up late that night going over tons of data. Although the signal had now been verified by every SETI lab in the world, they still knew nothing about the signal, like what it was saying or why it was directed at the oceans.

  His two bosses slept in a rented RV while he and Roscoe had the lab to themselves.

  “What do you think?” Darren asked of Roscoe. “You’re the real one who discovered the signal. It should be called the ‘Roscoe Signal’ instead of the ‘Mitchell Signal.’”

  Roscoe yawned. Apparently he had no opinion at all.

  Darren finally got to bed around 2:00 a.m. but couldn’t sleep. This was, after all, the biggest thing that had ever happened to him, perhaps to anyone. He finally got up at six and continued packing his stuff.

  An hour later, Dr. De Luca and Dr. Zimmerman returned and helped him finish getting ready before they said their good-byes.

  After they left the lab, Darren took a look around. He hadn’t been here long enough to grow attached to anything and was glad to be leaving, but one thing had happened that he couldn’t forget. He decided to make one last trip into town, this time in the truck.

  As he drove around with Roscoe in the passenger side, he searched for the Chevrolet Impala, hoping to find Francisco before running into the other bunch. Finally he saw him standing beside his car on what would most likely be called the main street in town. He was talking to a beautiful Mexican girl. As the girl walked away, Darren pulled the truck up beside him.

  “Hey, Roscoe.” Francisco walked around to the passenger side and started petting Roscoe through the window. “Sorry, man, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “I’m Darren.”

  “So what’s going on out there?” Francisco asked while still playing with Roscoe. “I saw the big fancy travel lodge. You guys discover life on Mars finally?”

  “No, just a new star.”

  Francisco looked skeptical. “That fancy RV showed up for a star.” He shook his head in disbelief.

  Darren didn’t try to sell the lie. “I’m leaving this morning, so I wanted to come find you and thank you again and give you this.” He held out a small object.

  Francisco looked puzzled but took the object and looked at it. It appeared to be a stone in the shape of a tooth on a leather string. “What is it ?”

  “It’s a fossilized tooth from a prehistoric canine. I found it in Nevada.”

  Francisco smiled. “That’s very neat. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it. So you’re leaving, huh? Are you coming back?”

  “I don’t think so. They’re sending me to the office in Washington, DC.”

  “Of course,” Francisco said and chuckled, “to study this new star.”

  Darren smiled.

  Francisco rubbed Roscoe on both sides of his head. “You take care of this boy, you hear?”

  “I will,” Darren said.

  “I was talking to Roscoe.”

  Darren smiled and stuck out his hand. “Take care.”

  “You too, amigo.” Francisco shook his hand.

  As Francisco watched Darren drive away, he continued to his destination. He walked up to a small house and knocked on the door. A woman opened the door and smiled.

  “Hola, Mama.”

  Rosita Escamilla opened her arms and hugged her son. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. How can that be in a town this small? Why don’t you come see your mama more?”

  “I’ve been busy working.”

  “Work, huh?” His mama scoffed.

  “Sí, work.” Francisco took out a small stack of cash and handed it to his mama.

  “Where did you get this?”

  Francisco shook his head. “I told you—work. Now please get a refill on your medication. Please.”

  “Hey, Frankie.”

  Francisco smiled as his pretty ten-year-old sister ran into his arms, her long black hair shining in the light. He caught her in his arms and lifted her as high as he could. “How’s my Chiquita?”

  “Call me Maria. I’m not that small anymore,” she said.

  He stood her up and held his hand above her head. “Sí, you’re growing like a weed, Chiquita.”

  “Can you stay for lunch?” Ms. Escamilla asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Maria giggled. “Tell me a story, Frankie.”

  His mama went to finish cooking as he sat on the couch with his little sister. He took out his new gift from Darren and showed it to her.

  “Do you see this?”

  Maria’s eyes were wide open as she ran her little fingers over the fossilized tooth. “What is it?”

  “I was walking through the desert last week,” Francisco began, “when this huge dog started to chase me. It was like a dinosaur it was so big. It chased me and tried to eat me.” He grabbed Maria under each arm and tickled until she begged for mercy.

  “What did you do?” she asked when she finished laughing.

  “What do you think I did? I ran as fast as I could. Then it chased me up a big tree and stayed at the bottom waiting for me to come down. I stayed high in the tree until night came. I couldn’t wait to get away so I could tell everyone about the ferocious beast. But I knew they wouldn’t believe me, so when the monster dog was sleeping, I climbed back down the tree and took my knife and cut out his tooth.”

  “What did he do?” Maria asked.

  “He yelled, ‘Ouch!’ and tried harder to get me.”

  Francisco continued to spin a yarn of immense proportions, much to the delight of his little sister. Finally their mama called them to eat. They each went to the bathroom to wash their hands and joined their mama at the small Formica kitchen table.

  “Will you say grace, Francisco?” his mama asked.

  Francisco nodded. He asked the blessing, and they dined on homemade tamales and drank real lemonade until they were full. Afterward, they sat around the table and chatted for a long time. It was like they were a family again all under the same roof. They had a good time being together, until Francisco’s cell phone rang. His mama watched suspiciously.

  “Hola? Yes, I can come by. I’ll be there soon.”

  “More work?” his mama asked sarcastically.

  Francisco smiled. “No, Mama. That was Ms. Rhonda at the shelter. They have a new dog and need some help.”

  His mama dropped her head. “I’m sorry. Go help them. You know I worry about you.”

  “And I worry about you. Please get a refill. Okay?”

  Maria came up and hugged him around the waist.

  “And get Chiquita here some vitamins so she can finally grow.”

  His mama nodded as he left the house.

  Thirty minutes later, Francisco pulled his car up to the dog shelter outside of town. It was an old vegetable processing plant from years ago, but now it was just a large, rickety old shed that Ms. Rhonda, an old American woman, had converted into the only shelter for many towns around. No one knew where Ms. Rhonda came from. She just showed up one day about eight years ago with the deed to this property and a carload of pit bulls.

  It was hard to tell her age, because her skin was wrinkled more than normal due to hard work and the desert sun. She always wore a huge sombrero to protect herself from the harsh rays. She seemed to wear the same faded jeans and flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off every day. She was very short and thin and appeared very frail, but everyone knew better. Many times the citizens of El Triunfo had seen her carrying fifty-pound bags of dog food and more than once had witnessed her carrying a full-grown pit bull over her shoulders to bring to the doctor in town.

  She had paid someone to drag an old pop-up camper out here and it now represented her living quarters, although she spent much more time under the shed with the dogs. Word got around fast, and for many towns around if people found a stray or couldn’t take care of their own pit bulls, they brought them t
o Ms. Rhonda.

  Ms. Rhonda and her two volunteers met him at his car.

  “Where is he?” Francisco asked.

  “He’s back here,” Ms. Rhonda said and led him inside.

  They passed about fifteen stalls with unwanted or stray pits until they got to the last stall. Inside was a very large, very dirty, very scarred, and very angry pit bull. He was a unique color, white with feathered spots and a large circle that wrapped around his back like a saddle, which was a brindled brown with black stripes. Half of his huge head was the same brindled color. The rest was white with the little speckles. He wore a muzzle to keep him from biting anyone. He lunged at the gate as Francisco walked up.

  “We think he was a fighting dog,” Ms. Rhonda said.

  “Doubtful. He’s still alive. I’m betting he wouldn’t fight so they used him for training.” Francisco shook his head and wondered how anyone could do that to such a beautiful animal. “Come here,” he said.

  The dog lunged again and Francisco caught his collar. He held him tight and worked the buckle on the side of the muzzle and slid it off. He let go of the collar, and the dog seized the opportunity of no longer having the muzzle to growl and bite at Francisco.

  Francisco looked at Ms. Rhonda and the two young Mexican boys who helped her out.

  “Oh right. Let’s go, boys, and leave Francisco and Beast alone.” Ms. Rhonda knew how he liked to work, so they excused themselves. Francisco preferred no distractions when trying to gain a dog’s trust.

  “Beast, huh?” Francisco asked. “That sounds like a good name for you.”

  The dog ran circles inside the little stall, knocking over his food and water dish. Francisco waited for several minutes, letting the dog get used to his presence, then picked up the gallon jug outside the stall and opened the gate. He walked in as if he owned the stall and closed the gate behind him. The dog took a defensive stance and bared his teeth. Francisco ignored him and walked right past and turned the water bowl upright and filled it.

  The dog kept his head turned toward Francisco wherever he went. Francisco continued to ignore the dog and acted as if this were his home. After he filled the dish with water, he simply sat down on the ground with his back up against the back wall of the stall and did nothing. He didn’t address the dog or say anything at all. In fact, after about fifteen minutes, he started to doze off.

  Francisco woke up from a short nap. The dog was lying down now, still watching Francisco and breathing hard, but no longer growling. “See, I’m not going to hurt you. We’ll just hang out until you trust me.”

  Francisco took another nap. When he woke the next time, the dog was napping only a few feet from him. He smiled and drifted off again.

  The next time he woke, the dog was still sleeping but with his head in Francisco’s lap. He reached down and began rubbing the dog’s head, then his back, then his belly. The dog rolled onto its back to give him a better angle.

  When Francisco rose, the dog jumped up and growled.

  “It’s okay, big boy,” Francisco said in a reassuring tone. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked back to the front of the building and found Ms. Rhonda.

  “How goes it?” she asked.

  Francisco gave a thumbs-up. “Just came to get some treats.”

  Ms. Rhonda gladly gave him some. “How do you do it?”

  He shrugged. “Dogs have always liked me. Maybe I’m part dog.”

  They both laughed as Francisco turned to go back. He opened the gate and the large pit bull growled again. Once more, Francisco ignored him and took his seat, but this time he held up a doggie treat. The former fighter or bait dog cocked his head as if trying to figure this guy out. He inched closer and sniffed the treat. Finally he gingerly took the treat in his teeth and walked away to devour it.

  Francisco held up another. The dog was a little quicker this time and didn’t walk away to eat it.

  The day progressed until the sun was hanging lazily in the western sky. Ms. Rhonda figured enough time had passed, and she hadn’t heard any barking or growling, so she slowly walked to the back stall. “Oh my goodness,” she said as she saw Francisco lying on the ground wrestling with the big pit bull. They were having a good time together.

  Francisco looked up at Ms. Rhonda and smiled. “He’s just a big old teddy bear. Aren’t you, Gentle Beast?”

  “Gentle Beast, huh?” Ms. Rhonda asked.

  “Yeah, I think it fits him better.”

  The dog leaped up on the gate when Ms. Rhonda walked up, but with no aggression. She ran her hands along each side of his head and behind his ears. He was enjoying the attention.

  Francisco walked out of the stall. “He’ll be okay now.”

  “I don’t know how you do this, but thanks again.” Ms. Rhonda stuck her hand in her pocket. “I don’t have much, but please let me pay you this time.”

  He held up his hand. “I thought you were going to offer me a doggie treat.”

  They both laughed.

  “Seriously, I’m glad to do it. Call me whenever you need me.”

  Gentle Beast started to whine as Francisco walked away.

  “Don’t worry, boy, I’ll be back to see you.” He walked to his car, waved, and drove away.

  Chapter Eight

  “I can’t believe you always get up so early,” Dr. McNair said into the telephone.

  “I don’t have much choice,” Glenda Eagle said on the other end of the line. “Not when you have this many dogs to take care of.”

  “I can imagine. I just wanted to give you a call before going to work. I have to leave for my office in a few minutes.”

  “Do you still enjoy it?” Glenda asked.

  “No, I hate it,” Dr. McNair answered. “This office job is slowly killing me. I stare out of the window most of the time wishing I were still in the field. I am seriously considering retiring.”

  “I think you just need a vacation. You know, somewhere nice and warm.”

  Dr. McNair laughed. “Tell me a place this day and age where it’s not warm. That’s my job, trying to find where the planet is not warm anymore, or at least discover why it’s not ever going to be cool again. And I apparently suck at it.”

  Glenda laughed. “Maybe you’re spending too much time looking out the window.”

  “Maybe. Maybe you’re right about that vacation.”

  Glenda went for the kill. “How about California? I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but that is actually a family favorite of states to visit during vacation. Heck, some people come every year.”

  “Really?” Dr. McNair said. “I did not know that. You guys have some cool stuff out that way?”

  “We’ve got some stuff. I know this great place where you can bury yourself up to your eyeballs in doggie kisses and forget about everything else.”

  “Sounds tempting,” Dr. McNair said. “But I have to be honest with you; I’ve never owned a dog.”

  “Never?” Glenda said, shocked. “How is that possible? Not even as a little boy?”

  “Nope. My dad wasn’t a big animal lover of any kind. When I got married, my wife and I talked about it a few times, but then she got pregnant and after the baby came along, we just didn’t think about it anymore.”

  “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Glenda said. “You definitely need to come spend some time here. You’ll leave here wanting to take a couple of these guys home with you.”

  Dr. McNair let that paint a picture in his mind. “I’m not sure how good a dog owner I would be. I can hardly take care of myself.”

  “Well, for one thing,” Glenda said, “you would stop referring to yourself as an ‘owner’ and start referring to yourself as a ‘parent.’ Dogs are members of the family, not possessions.”

  “See, I still have a lot to learn.”

  “Yes, you do,” Glenda said. “It’s a good thing we met, huh? Who better to guide you through this process?”

  Dr. McNair smiled. He certainly admired her pas
sion for dogs, especially pit bulls. “I wish we could talk vacations and dogs all day, but I have to go. I’ll give you a call this evening.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  Dr. McNair hung up the phone, got dressed for work, and walked out to his car. Even this early he cranked the air conditioning up to high for the daily commute. Once he got to his block, he navigated his car around the front of the US Climatology building and noticed the protestors were back. He couldn’t understand why they picketed his building. They were only scientists reporting the events of global warming, not creating it.

  After turning down beside the building and parking in the employee parking lot, he got out of the car with a bag carrying his fast-food breakfast. He was notorious for eating junk food on demand since he rarely had the time to get away from work or the inclination to cook at home.

  As he neared the coded front entrance, a young Asian woman with a briefcase was waiting by the door. She was short, athletic, and wearing a shapely pantsuit. Her short black hair came to her shoulders and reflected the morning sun.

  “Are you Dr. Stephen McNair?” she asked.

  Dr. McNair looked longingly at the bag in his hand carrying his first meal of the day. He nodded.

  She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sally Xie. I’ve been leaving you messages for several days now.”

  “Salacy?”

  She grinned. “No. First name: Sally. Last name: Xie. You can call me Sally. I’m a marine—”

  As she stopped and stared past him, Dr. McNair turned to see what had distracted her. A large man with a picket sign was strolling straight toward them. He was about six feet five, with long brown hair that came down in front of him well past his shoulders, and a matching beard. He wore baggy clothes but still presented a formidable appearance. His shoulders were broad and arms thick. He looked like Jesus on steroids.

  “Dr. McNair,” he shouted as he walked up, “do you really think you’re fooling anyone with your government cover-up? We know what’s really happening. The people have a right to know the truth. Don’t you agree?”

  Dr. McNair looked up at the sign, which read, “THEY are real.” Looking at some of the other signs, he noticed the general theme for all of them was of aliens and terraforming. He stuck out his hand to the big guy. “I’m all for the truth. Call me Stephen. I’m not sure who they are, but if you’re referring to aliens from another planet, I have no data at all on that, so there is no cover-up. As a scientist, however, I won’t rule out anything. If you have a few minutes, I’d love to hear what evidence you have.”