“Okay, gang,” I said after we sat through the final battle scenes and paused a couple of times to comment on things we could have done better. “Is that everything?”
“Oh, one last report,” said Joe, somberly.
I nodded for him to go on, though I couldn’t think what we hadn’t covered, and what would be making him look so glum.
“I’m still not certain that operational efficiencies have recovered one hundred percent at White Castle, Taco Bell, KFC, Burger King, Wendy’s, McDonald’s…”
“Well, I guess we can stop by and check a couple on our way out of town,” I conceded.
The strength of Joe’s embrace rivaled Number 5’s final squeeze.
Epilogue. GROK THIS
Chapter 91
ABOUT FIVE HUNDRED miles away, I finally stopped for lunch. The place kind of reminded me of the Holliswood Diner, although the waitstaff wasn’t nearly so cute.
I politely declined the waiter’s suggestion-a farm-raised catfish special-and ordered a bacon cheeseburger and a milkshake. Then I set about studying The List computer.
Number 3 was a real strange sucker from what I could tell from the few low-quality images I had on file. You know that crazy science fact about how your body’s 70 percent water? Well, his apparently is 70 percent fire.
Suddenly I detected a possible alien presence coming up behind me, and I got ready to spring into action. My first fourteen years on Earth may have contained some harrowing moments, but, until recently, they’d been pretty well spread out. I hadn’t met The Prayer till I was three, and I hadn’t met another top-ten baddie till just this past year… but these days it seemed I was barely getting time for a nap between serious encounters.
It was really starting to fray my nerves.
I got ready to leap out in the aisle to deliver a roundhouse kick at whoever was approaching.
“Don’t even think about it, Daniel,” said a familiar voice. It was Dad.
“I didn’t summon you,” I said, regaining my breath. “How’d you just show up like that?!”
“I think part of your brain must have known you needed some parental advice,” he said, sliding into the booth opposite me. “At any rate, let me do my fatherly duty and point out that there’s no way you should even think about going after Number 3.”
“Yeah, well I’d go after The Prayer himself if I thought I could find him.”
“Listen, son-you were lucky with Number 6. And you were beyond lucky with Number 5 just now. Believe me when I tell you that you won’t catch any breaks next time. The law of averages doesn’t allow for exceptions that big.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I mean it. He’ll roast you up like a kebab.”
And then a very bad thing happened. That grainy image of Number 3 on The List computer suddenly became crystal clear, as in 3-D high-def clear. In fact, he looked so real I moved my hands away from the keyboard out of some instinctive fear that he might reach out and burn my fingers.
But he didn’t reach out of the screen; instead, he spoke with a British-accented voice that reminded me of Anthony Hopkins from Silence of the Lambs: “Listen to your daddy, sonny boy. Why don’t you settle down with one of your imaginary friends and go to some nice American college with A &M or A &T in the name?”
“Now just hold on a second,” I said, thinking quickly to myself. This was my computer. And if he was trying to scare me off already, that probably meant he was worried about me. Otherwise, why should he bother?
I mean, sure, it was scary that he had been able to find me, to bypass The List’s formidable security programs, to overhear a conversation with my father, and to deliver his threat just like that… but I’d been through equally surprising circumstances just a couple times before, hadn’t I?
“Tell me,” I said, looking at his flickering face and acting as game as I could. “An interesting statistic I came across while reading about you: did you know that you have single-handedly contributed more to global warming than the entire industrial complex of Brazil?”
His flames visibly brightened in apparent self-satisfaction.
“Yes,” I went on. “Only, I’d always assumed that was a result of your flame throwing, your hundreds of acts of arson, etcetera.”
I had his attention and paused for maximum effect.
“You see, what I couldn’t have known, until I’d actually had a chance to speak with you, was that really it’s the tremendous quantities of hot air you release when speaking that explains it.”
His glow became white hot, and I could see he was about to try something, so I quickly switched off the computer.
“You’re really playing with fire now, Daniel.”
“Nice one, Dad,” I said, wondering what it was with him and his compulsion to make bad puns in all kinds of circumstances. “So, any chance we’ll be able to do a signal trace on him?”
“I’m way ahead of you,” he said, looking down at some weird cell-phone-type device with long, wiggling antennas. “And your mom will probably have my hide for telling you this… but I suppose you’d figure it out on your own anyhow… Um,” he said, slumping his shoulders, although I could tell he was secretly proud of me: “It looks like the signal was originating from London, England.”
“Good,” I said. “I’ll go book a flight. I can probably be there by tomorrow.”
“Or,” said Dad, “if you chose to really study the topographic data and teleport yourself, you could-in theory-be there in a few seconds.”
“Nah, I better not push my luck, right? And anyhow,” I continued as the waiter arrived and gestured for me to move my laptop out of the way, “I should probably eat some dinner first.”
“Good thinking,” he said, eyeing my French fries.
I summoned the rest of the family and my friends, and waved for the waiter. We clearly were going to need some more food.
“Who are we going after next?” asked Willy, sliding into the booth opposite me.
“I better not be hearing any single-digit List numbers from you this evening,” said Dana.
“How are the burgers here?” asked Joe, already scanning the laminated menu.
“Aren’t we supposed to take the rest of the summer off like normal kids?” asked Pork Chop. “Maybe we can go to camp!”
“Can we stop by the SPCA to thank that nice gray-haired lady again for adopting Lucky?” asked Emma.
“Next time I’m going to have to cut your hair myself,” said Mom, shaking her head sadly.
I must say, probably the best thing about being an Alien Hunter… is never having to be alone.
Stay tuned.
Beware of demons and druids.
And everyone else.
– Daniel
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON is the author of the highly praised Maximum Ride novels and of bestselling detective series featuring Alex Cross and the Women’s Murder Club. His novels have sold more than 170 million copies worldwide. He lives in Florida.
NED RUST lives in Croton, New York, with his family. His writing has appeared in Rolling Stone and McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.
