Author: Margaret Lashley
Category: Humorous
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/margaret-lashley/page,10,588309-scatman_dues_freaky_florida_mystery_adventures_book_6.html
“It’s called an investigation for a reason,” Grayson said. “You know. We investigate stuff.”
“I know,” I grumbled. “But you said last night this thing could be emitting microwave radiation. Shouldn’t we be wearing some kind of protective gear? I’m not exactly in the mood to have my ovaries turned into Hot Pockets.”
“That was just a working theory I espoused at the time, due to lack of data,” Grayson said, tucking the EMF detector into his jacket. “It’s far more likely we’re looking at some sort of natural phosphorescent phenomenon.”
I shot him a skeptical look. “So now you’re saying phosphorous can drain cellphone batteries, bellow like a mad cow, and then come charging after us?”
Grayson shrugged. “The batteries could’ve malfunctioned.”
“Mr. G.’s right,” Earl said. “And as far as the bellerin’, you could a just been chased by an ugly old boar.”
I sighed.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.
AFTER TWENTY MINUTES of slogging through the swampy cypress woods in galoshes, the glowing spot we were searching for was beginning to seem like a mirage. Despite our best efforts to locate it, the thing remained elusive and out of sight.
If only Earl had.
My cousin had made it his mission to pester the living daylights out of me since we’d left the truck. Correction—since he’d left the birth canal.
“If you snort like a pig one more time, Earl, I’m gonna skewer you clean through and serve you with fried green tomatoes.”
Earl sidled up to me and whispered, “That last one weren’t me.”
My heart pinged with fear. Was something out here with us? I glanced around at the dark woods, then realized I’d been had yet again.
“Yeah, right,” I said sourly.
“I mean, it was me,” Earl said. “But it weren’t voluntary. That was my stomach a growlin.’ I’m about slap starved to death.”
“Ugh!” I said, relief filling my lungs. “Why didn’t you eat a snack or something while we were at the RV?”
“You kiddin’ me?” Earl said. “I checked y’all’s fridge. You ain’t got nothin’ in there ’cept ingredients.”
“Quiet!” Grayson hissed. “I think we’re getting close.”
I shot Earl some side eye. “We’d better be, for your sake.”
Grayson climbed a steep ridge about ten feet high, then stopped at the top.
“See anything?” Earl whispered.
Grayson didn’t answer.
Earl turned and looked at me, his eyes wide. “Maybe he’s done got zapped by aliens.”
“Right. Or maybe he just didn’t hear you, boy genius,” I said, trudging past him up the ridge.
BY THE TIME I REACHED Grayson, the climb up the ridge had my heart beating in my throat. But what I saw at the top nearly stopped it cold.
I stared, mouth agape, at what looked like the ghost of a solar eclipse. It was that weird, orange ring again. It hovered, silent and stationary, a few feet off the ground.
“What in Hell is that?” I squeaked, my lungs so tight I could barely breathe.
“Uncertain,” Grayson replied robotically, his gaze never leaving the radiating orb. “But whatever it is, it’s not from Hell.”
“How do you know?” I said.
“Easy,” Earl said, coming to stand beside me. “No horns.”
Stupefied by the strange orb and my cousin’s otherworldly stupidity, I stood motionless beside Grayson as he shone his flashlight into the dark middle of the orb. From within its center shadow, the vague silhouette of an oblong, silvery object came into view.
“Hoo doggy!” Earl said. “What you think that is, Mr. G?”
Grayson rubbed his chin. “Based on the information Garth provided, I’d say it’s most likely an ambassador ship from the planet Krull.”
My knees began to shake with sheer terror.
Dear God! If these two idiots are who make first contact, we Earthlings are doomed!
Chapter Twenty
“A ... sss ... spaceship?” I stuttered, my brain frozen with fright.
“It would appear so,” Grayson said, aiming his flashlight beam at the metallic-looking object in the center of the glowing ring.
As a block of ice replaced my once-functioning brain cells, I noted a band encircling the craft. Strange hieroglyphic symbols adorned the raised strip around its middle.
I giggled as hysteria set in. Whatever the thing inside the glowing orb was, my haywire mind had decided it was the basic shape of a Tootsie Pop. But even in my impaired state of consciousness, I still had enough functioning synapses to know that I had no desire whatsoever to find out what awaited me in the center of that thing.
I put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”
Suddenly, Grayson’s flashlight went out.
“For God’s sake! Turn the light back on!” I screeched.
“I can’t,” Grayson said. He slapped the bottom of the flashlight. “It’s not working!”
“That’s not possible!” I said, my knees wobbling so bad I nearly collapsed. “I put fresh batteries in it myself!”
“I should have anticipated this,” Grayson said, shaking his head. “The vast majority of abductees report power drains to their equipment.”
My knees nearly gave out. “Ab...ab...abductees?”
Just then, exactly like the night before, a strange, inhuman whine filled the air. Then came a thundering sound, like the pounding of a thousand horse hooves.
“Uh ... that sounds like a lot a boars, y’all,” Earl said, his eyes as big as boiled eggs.
In the darkness, a tree branch cracked somewhere near the spacecraft.
“Holy shit!” I squealed.
I grabbed my cellphone from my pocket and shot my reading light in the direction of the sound. To my utter horror, right before it blinked out, the beam landed on a white, triangular-headed form about six feet tall. Beside it, a dark figure loomed, sporting a headful of snake-like tentacles—a Medusa from Mars.
“Aaak!” I screeched. “It’s freaking aliens from the planet Krull!” Then I turned around and blew past Earl like a floozy in a brothel raid.
Grayson yelled something at me as I whizzed by—but I couldn’t hear him over the sound of my galoshes. They were squeaking like a flock of rubber ducks in a bathtub gangbanger.
“SO MUCH FOR THE THEORY that you’ve become desensitized to paranormal phenomena,” Grayson quipped as we piled into Bessie like a tragic, redneck version of The Three Stooges.
Earl stomped the gas pedal before Grayson could even get the door closed. Bessie’s tires spun, then grabbed the asphalt and lurched forward, plastering me to the bench seat with the G-force of a rocket launch.
Sandwiched between the two guys, I held on for dear life as Bessie hurtled down the narrow backroad, Earl’s foot jammed to the floorboard like it had been Superglued.
“Desensitized?” I gasped, as soon as I could catch my breath. “Excuse me, but I didn’t exactly see you hanging around to sign any peace treaty.”
“Fair enough,” Grayson said, pulling a device from his pocket. “But to my credit, I was able to obtain a fairly respectable reading on the EMF detector.”
“Oh, goody,” I said sourly, using my last speck of willpower to not slap the stupid gadget from Grayson’s hand.
“What’s that gizmo thang say, Mr. G.?” Earl asked. “Was them space critters for real?”
“To confirm that would be pure speculation at this point,” Grayson said. “But according to the detector, there’s definitely been some sort of EMF anomaly.”
“No, shit,” I said.
Earl laughed. “He didn’t mean what you done in your pants, Bobbie.”
“Hmm,” Grayson grunted. “We need to regroup and work out a better plan.”
“I repeat,” I said. “No shit.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Aliens?” Garth said, his nose as burgundy red
as the stripes on his flannel housecoat. Perched on the edge of the broken couch in the RV, he waved his damp hanky in the air like a NASCAR pro. “I knew it! What’d they look like?”
“Well ... uh,” I stammered, still woozy from my extraterrestrial encounter. I was hunched over the banquette booth. My wobbly head rested in my hands, propped up by my elbows on the table.
“They kinda looked like them Coneheads to me,” Earl said, taking a sip of Pepsi. “You know. What used to be on Saturday Night Live.” He opened a kitchen cabinet. “Hey, Garth, you got any more a them Twinkies up in that trailer a yore’s?”
Garth’s face went limp. He glanced over at me. “Is he serious? About the aliens, not the Twinkies.”
I winced and hiked my shoulders up to my ears. “Uh ... from what I saw, one of them did have a pointy head. But it was dark. And the other one sure as hell didn’t. It looked like it had snakes coming out of its—”
“Hold still, Drex!” Grayson barked.
I froze. “Come on, Grayson! Do we have to do this now?”
I reached up to scratch one of the pasty electrodes stuck to my forehead. On top of just getting the living crap scared out of me by a pair of ET goblins, Grayson had insisted on hooking me up to his stupid EEG machine as soon as we got back.
“Absolutely,” Grayson said. “This is a rare chance to collect actual field data for comparison.” He rubbed his chin and stared at the monitor. “Hmm. This thing must be broken.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Historically, your results have trended toward marked improvement in your alpha-wave levels. This is the lowest reading I’ve seen since we began testing.”
“Well excuuuse me,” I said, yanking an electrode off my forehead. “Can I help it if I’m allergic to alien life forms? Good grief. Are we done here?”
Grayson sighed. “I suppose.”
“Lemme try it, Chief!” Earl said.
“Knock yourself out,” I said, yanking off the remaining electrodes. “Sit over there.”
Earl plopped down opposite me at the banquette and wiggled like a puppy waiting for a treat as I pasted my used electrodes to his Neanderthal brow ridge.
Grayson frowned at me. “If this machine is functioning properly, you’re results are truly disappointing, Drex.”
I shot him a sour face. “Then why don’t you give your new protégé a shot at it? He’s all hooked up.”
Grayson glanced at Earl, blew out a sigh, then began resetting the dials on his EEG machine. “Fine.”
“I mean, really, Grayson,” I grumbled. “What kind of results did you expect? Who in their right mind could keep their shit together with aliens on their asses?”
Grayson’s eyebrow shot up. “Earl, apparently.”
I glared at Grayson. “I said in their right mind.”
“Intriguing,” Grayson said, staring at the monitor. “Earl, your alpha waves are impressively high.”
I scowled at my cousin. “Seriously? Those aliens didn’t scare you outta your stupid gourd?”
Earl shook his head. “Naw.”
My jaw flexed. “Why the hell not?”
“I don’t think they was after us,” Earl said nonchalantly. “And that white one looked kinda friendly, if you ask me.”
I shook my head. “That could only mean one thing.”
“That Earl’s a natural at this?” Grayson asked.
“No!” I hissed. “That Earl’s a big buffoon!”
“Uh...I hate to interrupt,” Garth said, raising a hand like a kid in class. “But these aliens. Do you think they might have my brother Jimmy trapped inside their spaceship?”
The three of us stopped our petty bickering and stared at poor Garth. Clad in a ratty flannel robe and coiffed in a bed-head mullet, the sad little dude looked like the star of a Nyquil ad—for new, Jack Daniels flavor.
“Uh ...,” I fumbled.
“Inconclusive,” Grayson said. “Our mission was cut short by unforeseen circumstances, Operative Garth. Due to the hasty retreat of one investigative member, we were unable to gather conclusive evidence one way or the other.”
“So this is my fault?” I hissed. “Excuse me for wanting to survive. How thoughtless of me!”
Grayson’s eyes darted to the ceiling, then returned to studying Earl’s results on the monitor. “Uncanny,” he said, then glanced up at Garth. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an oscilloscope, would you?”
Garth perked up. “You need to measure the speed of light?”
“Yes.”
Garth nodded. “You a Cathode or digital man?”
I blanched.
Seriously?
“Digital, if you’ve got it,” Grayson said.
Garth shook his head. “I don’t. But my buddy Sherman’s got a couple of sweet o-scopes back at his place.”
Grayson’s cheek dimpled beside his bushy moustache. “Excellent. Is your colleague nearby?”
“Just a mile or so down the street.”
“Let’s go, then.” Grayson got up from the monitor and took a step toward the front of the RV. “I’ll drive.”
“Hold on a minute!” I said. “Shouldn’t we be calling that Warren Engles guy at the FBI or something? I mean, we’re talking about space aliens here!”
“And have them come and lock down the site?” Grayson said, his face aghast.
“And remove all the evidence, then say it never happened?” Garth added, equally horrified.
The two conspiracy nutters locked eyes for a moment, then turned and stared at me, a determined look hardening on their faces.
“Not on my watch,” Grayson said.
“You got that right, Mr. Gray,” Garth said, then had a coughing fit.
Earl yanked off the electrodes. “I’m with you fellers!”
Outnumbered by idiots, I glanced at the clock above the banquette. It was nearly midnight. I was exhausted, sweaty, sticky with electrode paste, and totally not in the mood to be probed by extraterrestrials.
Not tonight, anyway.
“What’s the rush?” I asked, following Grayson to the front of the RV. “That spaceship’s probably already portal-letted back to Krull by now, anyway.”
“Perhaps,” Grayson said, fishing the motorhome’s keys from the visor above the driver’s seat. “But even if it has, with the oscilloscope, we should still be able to more accurately determine if there indeed was a distortion in time and space, and help zero-in on the its location.”
“How long does the distortion last?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Grayson said. “Perhaps millennia.”
“Then what’s the hurry?” I said, desperate to stall him at any cost. “Shouldn’t we think this through a bit more? Come on. What’s it gonna take to make you at least sleep on the idea?”
“A miracle,” Grayson said.
He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. The RV wouldn’t start.
I smiled up at the heavens.
Thank you, Universe!
“Uh, Mr. Gray?” Garth said, sticking his red nose into the driver’s cabin. “I hate to slow down the project, but Sherman’s not allowed visitors after 9:30.”
Seriously? You’ve outdone yourself, Universe!
I shot Garth a sideways smirk. “Let me guess. Psychiatric facility?”
Garth cocked his head like a bespectacled donkey. “Nope. His mom’s basement.”
I glanced over at Grayson and caught him wince as if he’d been shot through the temple.
“Gee. That’s too bad,” I said.
Grayson exhaled a long sigh. “Very well,” he said, and pulled the keys from the ignition. “It appears we’ll have to resume efforts in the morning. In the meantime, Earl, you’re in charge of diagnosing what’s wrong with the RV.”
“I’m on it, Chief!” Earl said, sticking his head in the driver’s cabin next to Garth’s. He turned and smirked at me. “So who’s the buffoon now, Bobbie?”
Given the prime choices around here
? Tough call.
“You are,” I said.
Earl showed me his suck it face. “That’s right, Cuz. And don’t you forget it!”
Like I ever could.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I stared blankly into a cup of coffee almost as black as Earl’s face and hands. I’d been up since 4:13 a.m.—the exact time my brilliant cousin had decided to start taking apart the engine on the RV.
I’d been sitting at the banquette drinking coffee and listening to him bang around for over two hours when he finally poked his grease-covered head inside the door and leered at me.
“I found it!” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“What?” I asked. “An oil slick?”
“Nope. That’s just occupational hazard. I had to take the dang engine apart. It’s the water pump what’s busted.”
I handed Earl a cup of coffee. “Where we gonna find a water pump around here?”
Earl took a steaming slurp. “Wake up and smell the junk, Bobbie.”
Ew! I’d rather not...
Earl poked a hitchhiker thumb over the left shoulder of his blue coveralls. I glanced out the door. The sun was just beginning to cast a faint, pink glow on the mountain of rusted-out stoves and refrigerators littering the compound.
“Oh,” I grunted. “That junk.”
“We can pr’olly find an old water pump somewheres in this heap a garbola Garth lives in,” Earl said.
“Ahem,” a voice sounded from amid the apocalyptic debris. Garth stepped out from behind an old Buick chassis and cleared his throat again. “It’s not all garbola.”
Earl winced. “Uh ... no offense, buddy.”
“None taken.” Garth started to say something else, but instead sneezed so loudly my hand instinctually moved to cover my coffee cup. He wiped his bulbous red nose with a hanky, then nodded toward his trailer. “I’d say your best bet for a water pump that’d fit the RV is in the hangar out back of the doublewide.”
“Thanks,” Earl said. “I’ll head over there soon as I finish my coffee.”