A Starman story by Zena Uzep
Some days a man should just stay in bed. That's what Federal Security Agent, George Fox was thinking as he sat in the passenger seat of the rented sedan with his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the headrest. He softly cursed to himself.
“What, sir?” Agent Wiley asked without taking his eyes off the road.
“Shut up and drive,” Fox said bluntly, not wishing to engage in any conversation whatsoever. It was the end of a day that had started out badly, only to get progressively worse. He allowed his thoughts to drift back to the events of this morning….
Wiley pulled up to the speaker of the local drive-thru doughnut shop.
“May I take your order?” the voice asked.
“Yes. I want a jelly and a chocolate-frosted doughnut, and an extra large coffee, black.”
The order taker repeated his request for confirmation. “That’ll be $4.85. Drive up to the second window.”
Fox pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to Wiley while they waited for their turn in the long line.
“Two doughnuts and an extra large coffee.$4.85 please,” the cashier said.
Wiley handed the young man the money. A moment later he received the change, which he handed to Fox. The young man passed him a waxed paper bag and tall Styrofoam cup, which Ben also gave to his boss. He drove up to the exit.
Wiley looked both ways at the early morning traffic speeding by. There was a sizeable gap in the left hand side after the fifth car. He looked to the right and saw a large space between two pickup trucks. If the timing were right, there would be just enough time to pull out across the road and merge in. Ben looked left and right again, assessing the situation. Yes, it looked like he was going to have a chance to pull out. One more car remained to pass them coming from the left.
George was busy putting his change into his pocket, tearing open the lid and securing the tab over the center button to leave a clear space with which to sip his very hot coffee. He never looked to see what his partner was planning to-do.
Wiley stepped on the gas pedal, hard.
Fox was pushed back into the seat by the sudden acceleration. His cup of java followed the same rules of physics, sloshing back and up through the open space of the lid. Then gravity took over. The steaming liquid splashed down over his hand and onto his right thigh. “Aahhh!” George screamed. “Wiley! You idiot! Look what you made me do! Why the hell did you pull out like that?”
“I…I’m sorry, sir,” Ben stammered and glanced a moment at his now, very angry boss. "Are you burned bad? Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“No! Just find me a place where I can change my pants,” George growled.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” The second apology was even more earnest than the first, and Wiley waited hopefully for a sign of forgiveness.
Fox said nothing, instead shooting a scathing glance at the other man before shifting his body away to stare out the window.
Ben found an empty parking lot and pulled up beside the closed building. He got out and opened the trunk. He went through Fox’s luggage and found his spare pair of trousers. “Here, sir,” he said and handed them to his boss. Ben stood waiting outside while George changed in the car.
Fox saw the bright red mark on his leg where the coffee had landed. It was a second-degree burn. He tried to ignore the pain while he slipped on the other pair of pants. He threw the stained pair at Ben, who sheepishly took them and tossed them in the trunk.
“I really am sorry, sir,” Wiley said again as he sat behind the wheel and fastened his seatbelt.
“Just shut up and drive,” George answered. "And warn me the next time you plan to pull another stunt like that!”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said as he pulled out of the vacant lot.
Fox took a sip of what remained of his coffee and grimaced. Shoe polish would have tasted better. He tossed the cup, with its contents, out the window and reached for the bag with his doughnut. Maybe they would taste better. But then, if the coffee was bad….
Ben parked the car and switched off the ignition. He and George sat and watched the pedestrians on the opposite side of the street as they shopped in the open-air flea market. Young teens flocked to vendors with the latest in t-shirt fads, sporting equipment and music CD’s. Older folks eyed the fresh fruit and vegetables on sale from local farmers and hunted for the greatest bargain. There was quite a sizeable crowd around. This was just the kind of place a newcomer like Paul Forrester and Scott Hayden would be drawn to in the small beachside town.
Fox and Wiley had come close to catching the fugitive pair last month. It was a coin toss deciding which direction to go to try to find them again.
They got out of the car.
“Wiley. You go that way,” George ordered, pointing. “ I’ll go the other way. If you spot them, use your cell phone and call me. Hopefully I can make it back to you before they notice you.”
“Yes, sir.”
The agents took off in opposite directions.
Ben was almost at the end of the street when he caught sight of the tall alien and his son. He ducked behind a shoe vendor’s display and pulled out his cell phone. "Mr. Fox. They’re here and heading my way,” he said when George answered.
“Don’t spook ‘em, Wiley. I'll be right there. Have they seen you yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Stay out of sight. Let ‘em walk past you if you can. When they do, you can come out of hiding and chase them toward me. We’ll catch ‘em in the middle.”
That was the plan, but it fell apart when Scott spotted Fox’s partner as he went to check out the shoe vendor's rack, almost walking right into the agent. " Dad! Run! It’s Wiley!” He barely managed to avoid getting caught by the tall agent as he did a lightning-quick about-face.
They turned back in the direction they’d just come from and ran as fast as they could.
Wiley pulled out his cell phone and called his boss again. “They spotted me, sir. I’m in foot pursuit,” he said as he ran after the boy and the Starman.
“Don’t lose ‘em!” Fox shouted as he did his best to catch up to his partner. He swore an expletive.
As George half expected, Paul and Scott had managed to elude Ben again. Fox called for police assistance and had all exits in and out of the town blocked, but somehow the alien and his son had simply vanished. Searches of cars, trucks and buses came up empty. George chose to blame the police being too slow to respond to his requests, and his simple-minded partner being too stupid to follow his orders, letting the fugitives slip through their fingers.
That night George Fox and Benjamin Wiley checked into a local motel.
“I have one room available,” the clerk said. " It has twin beds.”
“Fine,” George grumbled and signed the register.
As Fox prepared his next report for General Wade, Wiley busied himself with watching some movie on TV.
George’s ears perked when he heard a commercial comparing the Subaru Forester to the Ford Escape. It was just a car advertisement, but the models mentioned only served as a painful reminder of what happened with the alien and his son today. Fox gritted his teeth and went back to writing his report.
Over the next two hours, George heard the commercial repeated, not once, not twice, but a teeth-grindingly annoying five times, and his blood pressure rose a bit more with each airing. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed the remote control from the nightstand and threw it at the television screen with a yell.
Wiley covered his face with his arms as the glass exploded and sparks and smoke erupted from the damaged set. He stared at his boss in shock. He knew Fox had a short fuse where the alien was concerned, but he had never expected to see him lose it like he had just now.
The motel manager starting getting calls of complaint from the occupants on either side of his newest customers. He went to check out the disturbance.
Fox answered the knock on the door.
The manager took one look at the destroyed television and informed them he was calling the police.
George came out of his momentary loss of control and quickly tried to make amends. “I’ll pay the damages. Just send me the bill.”
“You’ll pay more than that,” the manager angrily said as he stepped into his office and followed up on his threat. He picked up the phone and placed the call to the local police. A cruiser arrived ten minutes later with two officers.
“What’s going on, Albert?” the first officer asked the manager.
“I want him arrested for disturbing the peace and destroying my property.”
“It was an accident,” George pleaded and pulled out his ID badge, showing it to the officers. Wiley did the same. " I've offered to pay for the damages in full.”
“They’re federal agents, Albert,” the second officer said.
“I don’t care who he is,” the manager spat. " It was no accident. I’m not dropping the charges.”
“My partner will have me out before the ink dries,” Fox challenged pulling clout. He took his wallet and laid a business card on the desk. “Send the bill to this address and my secretary will see that all damages will betaken care of.”
Albert looked at the police officers who strongly recommended he take the offer. He clenched his fists at having lost the battle. “I want both of you out of here tonight,” he said.
The officers stayed long enough to watch the federal agents put their belongings in the rented car and drive away.
Wiley turned on the radio to a local station playing oldie shits. A commercial came on.
“…The Subaru Forester has it, the Ford Escape doesn’t…”
Wiley quickly turned the radio off and glanced at his boss. George’s head rested against the seat and his eyes were closed, but Ben could see the muscles of his jaw clenching.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Just shut up and drive, Wiley. Just shut up and drive.”
The End
Written by Zena Uzep. If you have any comments on this story please E-mail them.