The Dangerous Days of Daniel X

  Then I heard his thoughts in my head. Ugh. My sneakers are so six months ago. Everybody’s checking out my shoes. Everybody’s looking at me! Don’t look at me. Please!

  I shook my head like a swimmer trying to get water out of his ears. I guess I was tired and my telepathic mental filters were shot. The thoughts of the students swirling around in the corridor were leaking into my head.

  Well, well. Amanda’s definitely flirting with me, I overheard a good-looking jock in a football jacket think as he winked at a pretty girl. Back at you, baby.

  I quickened my pace, trying to get out of there. I can promise you that knowing everybody’s secrets is nowhere near as cool as it sounds.

  First day’s over, and I haven’t even talked to anybody, I suddenly heard in my head, and it wasn’t my own voice. I don’t want to do this anymore. I hate this school.

  I stopped suddenly, looking around to see whose thoughts I’d just intercepted.

  I spotted a tall, black-haired girl trying to lift a bulky backpack while also balancing a clarinet case. She turned around and I saw her face.

  What felt like an invisible wall toppled over on me. She was really cute. Her eyes were amazing. So why was she so sad?

  “Hi,” I said, stepping in her direction. “Sorry to bother you. Uhmm, could you tell me where the library is?”

  “No idea,” she said quietly as she averted her eyes from mine. “I’m new here.”

  I shrugged. “So am I. Say, could I give you a hand with those books? I’m Daniel. Not that you asked.”

  She actually smiled, a half smile anyway. “I’m Phoebe Cook,” she said. Those eyes of hers were deep blue, flecked with silver. Gorgeous—and friendly. “So do you have a last name too, Daniel?”

  I paused. Of course, I had a fake last name, but it never really feels like me somehow. It felt a little strange to say it to someone as genuine as Phoebe.

  “Daniel Hopper.”

  “Nice to meet you, Daniel Hopper. I actually could use some help. Just to get my locker back open,” Phoebe said. “Frankly, I don’t know if I can lug all these books home.”

  I slid her bag off the floor and onto my shoulder.

  “You’re in luck,” I said. “Lugging is one of my better talents.”

  She smiled again. “I thought you were looking for the library, Daniel.”

  She had me there. “I got a better offer, I guess.”

  “I guess you did. Well, let’s see how you lug.”

  Chapter 21

  I WALKED PHOEBE all the way home, and I enjoyed every second of it. She lived on South Cedar, about ten blocks from the high school. Her father was a computer salesman, and she told me they moved around a lot.

  “Too much,” said Phoebe with a wistful look that got to me. One of the really nice things about her—she was practically unconscious about how pretty she was. I completely understood her feeling about moving.

  “My family moves a lot too,” I said. “They’re kind of free spirits.” Definitely.

  Daniel is gorgeous! I wonder if he would maybe ask me out? she thought as we stopped in front of her house. It’s okay, Daniel. Go for it, I heard Phoebe thinking. Wishing . . . encouraging.

  I smiled, and felt a little light-headed, actually. News flash: I had never had a date with a human girl. So I’d never actually asked a girl out before. But Phoebe seemed so regular and nice, plus I’d just read her mind and she was interested in me. Still, I was afraid.

  “Why don’t we go to a movie, or maybe explore Glendale sometime?” I finally blurted out. Our hands grazed as I gave her back her bag.

  “Okay,” Phoebe said. “The movies, whatever. That’d be great. Good. You know what I mean.”

  She started up the stairs of her house, then stopped and turned back. Her blue eyes settled on me.

  “Were you really looking for the library?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Nope, I was looking for you.”

  “Good answer,” she said, then disappeared inside.

  And no, I didn’t create Phoebe Cook, in case you’re one of those people who like to look ahead in a story.

  Chapter 22

  I CAME THROUGH the front door of my rental house, checked everywhere for trouble, then collapsed on the couch. I knew high school was going to be a change of pace, maybe challenging, maybe anxiety producing, but I wasn’t expecting boring—everything except Phoebe Cook, anyway.

  After a while, I managed to peel myself up to start dinner. I didn’t want to go too crazy, so I settled on a rosemary-crusted rack of lamb with truffle-spiked potato puree. As I cooked, I listened to a concerto by a classical guitarist named Rémi Boucher. The guy is not of this world, and I wondered if he was maybe another alien.

  I’ve had the same thought about Tiger Woods, Bono, and, of course, Sanjaya Malakar.

  After dinner I put on a fire and lay in front of it reading Water for Elephants. Ten minutes later, I put the book down, unable to concentrate the way I usually can.

  I thought about Phoebe Cook.

  I thought about Dana, my dream girlfriend.

  Should I feel guilty? I didn’t think so. I hadn’t even kissed Phoebe. Yet.

  I finally got up and made myself a pot of coffee. Then I cracked my knuckles and opened my laptop. The same one I’d found near the house where my parents were killed. Nothing better to get your mind off girls than thinking about aliens.

  I brought up Ergent Seth’s file and read it over again.

  Alien: Ergent Seth, Number 6

  Human Alias(es): ? Changes names on an as-needed basis, often hourly.

  Area of Infestation: LA and Orange County, California. Central City, East LA. Arizona. Nevada. Mexico. South and Central America. And still branching out.

  Illegal Activities: Drug dealing, mass murder, abductions, torture, mind control and possession. Did we mention MASS MURDER?

  Planet of Origin: Gorto 4.

  Alien Species: Vermgypian (see footnote).

  Current Danger Level: Extremely high. Seth’s goal is to de-populate Earth, then colonize it with his species. This violates every moral and ethical code extant.

  Special Abilities: Telepathy, extraterrestrial Level 7 speed, Level 7 strength, shape-shifting, cunning, general viciousness.

  The Level 7 strength concerned me. I was maybe a 3 on my best day. The slug in Portland had been a 4. I read the footnote next. Vermgypians were beyond strange. No one knew what they looked like beneath their demonic-appearing, armored containment suits. They were best known for the lethal nerve gas they emitted. If you were exposed, your cells started to melt. Then you rotted from the inside out. It was an extremely painful way to die.

  Extremely.

  Chapter 23

  I LIKE THIS PLANET just the way it is, thank you very much—well, except for a few problems like poverty, war, polluted drinking water, and global warming—but I knew that Ergent Seth was on his way to making those crises seem like child’s play.

  It was time to check out LA, and hopefully do some surveillance. In particular, I wanted to see the areas where Number 6 did his nastiest scut work, usually late at night.

  “You sure you want me to drop you off here, mate?” the cabdriver said as we stopped at the corner of Sixth and San Pedro. Since I like to chat up a storm, I’d found out the cabby’s name was Clive. He was a good-looking Brit who’d come to LA to—surprise, surprise—become a movie star.

  “This part of town inn’t fit for man nor beast after dark,” Clive warned. “I’m not foolin’.”

  “I’ll be all right,” I told him. “This is where my job is. At Taco Bell. I’m a lettuce shredder. Love those chalupas.”

  I stood on the corner, probably looking a little lost, as the cab sped away. Truthfully, this part of LA seemed like a war zone with palm trees. Abandoned, deteriorating buildings and empty lots, plus a few single-occupancy hotels known as Homeless Hiltons. In the gutter at my feet, a rat was going to town inside a discarded Styrofoam tray from a local soup kitchen.
>
  I stuck to the shadows as I did my recon. I was turning onto Towne Avenue when I saw a silver minivan pull to the curb. I figured it was a drug user looking to score. Then the doors slid open. Half a dozen kids between nine and twelve hopped out.

  Isn’t it a little late for a class trip? I thought, watching them shuffle across the street and strike a pose on the stairs of an abandoned factory.

  “New stuff just in,” I heard one of the younger ones call to a chrome-yellow Hummer passing by slowly. “China, china, burning white. Pure as the driven snow. Guaranteed to get you where you want to go.”

  I’d seen drug dealing before, in New York, London, even Portland. But I’d never seen such little kids dealing poison. Who would use kids like this? Maybe Number 6?

  I hung back in a urine-scented doorway, watching as the kids did quick, hand-to-hand sales through car windows. What a disgrace. My blood was starting to boil.

  About an hour later the silver van came around again. The driver-side door flew open.

  A wiry, red-bearded skinhead in a brown leather jacket and a ponytail jumped out. Not Ergent Seth, my sixth sense told me, but maybe an important lackey of his. The kids rushed up to him, handing over money from their dealing. He restocked them with more plastic bags and vials.

  I stared at the scene, fuming. Everything about the dealer was an abomination. Suddenly he backhanded a kid hard, knocking him onto the street, then went through his pockets for more money.

  That was it, I thought, stepping out of the doorway. I couldn’t take any more of this creepy, night-crawling, red-bearded vermin.

  Chapter 24

  “EXCUSE ME,” I said as I approached the scuzzy dealer and felt my skin start to crawl. “Haven’t I seen you on the TV show Miami Ink? No, my mistake. I think it was in the freak tent at the California State Fair. Or maybe Folsom Prison?”

  The dealer smiled, showing off crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. Smiling was a good sign, I thought. Smiling meant he had already underestimated me.

  “I’m looking for Ergent Seth,” I told him. “You seen him around anywhere tonight?”

  “Sounds to me like you’re lookin’ for Urgent Death.” And that was when the disgusting Dealer Man made his move.

  I had to hand it to him. His dental hygiene left something to be desired, but he did have fast hands. The ice pick he stabbed at my throat traveled forward in a blur.

  Fortunately I react pretty well to blurs.

  I took a half step back, waited for him to overextend himself, then offered up a blur of my own—a roundhouse kick across the side of his head. The dealer flew back, his skinhead cracking into the van with a loud, dull whump.

  He screeched and let go of the ice pick when I stepped down hard on the back of his hand. Then I kicked the weapon into the sewer.

  “You ever heard of child labor laws?” I said.

  He was going for a 9 millimeter automatic in his waistband when I had an inspiration.

  I reached out suddenly and laid my hands on the sides of his head.

  I stared into his eyes and unleashed a small fraction of my power of transformation.

  For a moment the drug dealer writhed like somebody with the world’s worst ice-cream headache. Then he tossed his gun into the sewer as if it burned his hand.

  Next the red-bearded wonder climbed to the top of the abandoned factory stairs and thrust his arms out.

  “I . . . HAVE . . . BEEN . . . SAVED!” the dealer screamed for all to hear.

  The kids who worked for him stared with their mouths open wide.

  “I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT!” the dealer yelled even louder. “AND I AM HERE IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR TO MAKE SURE THAT EACH AND EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU SEES THAT SAME LIGHT!”

  I chuckled. In a way, he was right. I had definitely saved him. If you consider erasing his memory and convincing him that he was a Pentecostal preacher being saved.

  The born-again dealer pointed at me as I backed away.

  “You there! Yes, you! Like the Angel in Joseph’s dream in the Holy Book, I say unto thee, Do not be afraid! Stay and hear the Good Word. For how else will you save your soul from the clutches of the devil himself?”

  “I must be off now.” I saluted him. “Maybe to do the Lord’s work myself.”

  Hopefully, like catching Ergent Seth and dispatching him to the everlasting fires.

  Chapter 25

  WELCOME TO ANOTHER of my creepy nightmares. I kind of wish this were a blank page and I had nothing to say. But it isn’t.

  No sooner had I drifted off to sleep that night than Number 6 was talking to me, Ergent Seth himself. Imagine a dead and diseased horse’s head on the body of a hairy, pasty white, six or seven-hundred-pound wrestler. Now make it twice as ugly and scary. Oh yeah, and with horrifyingly bad breath.

  “I have one word for you, Daniel—run! Because I have no plans of showing you the tender mercy The Prayer extended to your mama and papa.

  “I will torture you for a human eternity, during which time you will beg me for death by an Opus 24/24, or an ax, or a thousand snakebites. I can see the future, Daniel, and I am looking forward to it, every excruciating second of your murder and dismemberment. Isn’t that a wonderful English word, dis-member-ment?

  “Now, wake up, dear boy—and enjoy another sleepless night, compliments of Ergent Seth.”

  Chapter 26

  SLEEP-DEPRIVED OR NOT, I forced myself to go to school the next day. Got to keep those priorities straight. It’s amazing how not having parents makes you be a parent to yourself. Most of the time, anyway.

  Two things happened when I was coming out of my last class. Two awesomely cool things, actually.

  “There you are,” Phoebe Cook said, smiling as she jogged over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Daniel.”

  Then she actually hooked my arm with hers, and I could feel pins and needles on the inside of my elbow where our skin touched. If it was a question before, it was now confirmed. I definitely had a bit of a crush on Phoebe. Dana wasn’t going to like this, but I couldn’t help what was happening. Sorry, Dana.

  “How about that movie? Maybe Friday?” I said as we walked. I think I was blushing. “Am I being too pushy?”

  This Friday? Yes! I heard Phoebe thinking. No, wait. Maybe I shouldn’t seem too eager to go out with Daniel. He might get the wrong idea.

  “Um, can I let you know?” Phoebe said. “I might have to babysit at home.”

  “Sure,” I said, not wanting Phoebe to feel the least bit uncomfortable. “No worries.”

  We stopped in the front of my house, and Phoebe suddenly pointed over my shoulder.

  “Awww! How cute,” she said, and smiled sweetly. Yep, I definitely had a crush on her. “What’s your cat’s name?” she asked.

  I turned and saw a large tabby standing on the sill of my open kitchen window. My jaw and stomach dropped simultaneously.

  Not only didn’t I have a cat—security nut that I am—I had made triple sure to lock all the windows.

  “Crap,” I said.

  “That’s a funny name for a cat,” Phoebe said, and rolled her eyes.

  “Isn’t it?” I mumbled, hustling up my front porch steps. “I have to go, Phoebe. I’ll see you tomorrow. Gotta feed the cat.”

  Or maybe get eaten by it.

  Chapter 27

  THE FRONT DOOR CREAKED OPEN by itself très creepily when I touched the knob.

  I stopped in the doorway and did a quick mental scan of the house to see if there was someone or something still inside. I didn’t sense anything—so I stepped all the way in.

  First thing I noticed was the ripped-apart couch cushions in the living room. Crap! Next was the waterfall rushing down the stairs. Double crap! I could hear an open tap in the upstairs bathroom, probably the bathtub.

  While I was assessing the water damage, I noticed burnt-rubber tire marks across the floor, as if someone had ridden a motorcycle through the house. I think someone had.

  “There goes the se
curity deposit,” I mumbled, nimbly stepping around my new indoor wading pool.

  Next I noticed something smoldering in the fireplace. It was my book Water for Elephants. What kind of thoughtless creep would burn a book?

  The kitchen had taken the worst of the attack. It looked like someone had removed everything from the fridge, item by item, and smashed the bottles and cartons against the wall. The alley cat that I’d seen in the shattered window was standing on the counter now, licking up spilt milk.

  “Oh, there you are,” I said. “Crap.”

  There was another cat on the floor, a cute calico that rubbed its cheek against my shin as it purred.

  “What happened here?” I mumbled. Suddenly Tabby leaped off the counter and attached itself to my face.

  I backpedaled, screaming as it hooked several claws into my lower lip and bit into my cheek. The smaller cat attacked too, wrapping itself around my leg like a python with claws, and sinking its teeth deep into my shin. I flicked off the kitten first, sending it through the air, then sliding across the counter and into a wall.

  There was a hideous Velcro-like rip of skin as I detached the tabby from my face and hurled it away.

  It hissed at me angrily, looking at me with strangely human eyes.

  “Get out of LA or die!” it croaked in a demonic voice.

  Before I could react, it hopped onto the counter and the two cats disappeared out the kitchen window. “We’ll be back . . . mouse-boy!” they said in chorus.

  Chapter 28

  WITHOUT YOUR FRIENDS, well, what are you?

  Willy, Joe, Emma, and Dana were only too happy to help me clean up after the crazy cat attack. Dana seemed a little distant, like maybe she knew about Phoebe Cook. She didn’t say much, though, as she tended to the bloody patch of raw flesh on my face.