Living with Aliens by John DeChancie

Author:John DeChancie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1995-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

I should mention the abductions, or at least what abductions there were before I put a stop to them.

The "sport" of randomly nabbing people is part and parcel, I discovered, of the art of flarning. Zorg and Flez didn't look upon it as anything essentially harmful. I went along at first, thinking myself merely an observer; but when it became clear that further acquiescence could be interpreted as complicity, I put my foot down. To my surprise, Zorg and Flez valued my opinion, and honored my request.

Looking back, I suppose we flarned more times that summer than I've let on, but the omission isn't due to intentional dishonesty. No doubt I've done some repressing. (Or Kel, the ship, engineered my repression, before my increased intelligence allowed me to overcome Kel's machinations—but I digress. I'll get to that later.)

If memory serves (though it doesn't necessarily, as I mentioned), the first abductees were a teenage couple who were unlucky enough to be copulating on the grass of a public park when our ship swooped over them in the darkness. As near as I can pinpoint the location, this was somewhere near, or perhaps in, Mobile, Alabama.

The word for abduction, by the way, in Zorg and Flez's "language" (I wish I could go into the reason for the quotes, but there simply isn't room here, and I'm not sure I understand it myself completely. Would you take my word for it that the quotes are appropriate? Thanks.) is vlom. Right, you've noticed the tendency toward monosyllabism.

The floor dilated and up they came, she completely naked, he with his jeans around his ankles. This was an education for me, as you no doubt would guess. I had never seen people in the act before, except for soft-core approximations in slick magazines. But here was the real thing, two people caught in flagrante delicto, as it were. The boy's erection was impressive; however, it quickly wilted.

The bodies came up and floated, turning slowly like chickens on a rotisserie. I watched, fascinated. Neither of the abductees uttered a sound. The girl's face was frozen in a silent scream, the boy's in an expression of puzzlement mixed with fear.

I think they were conscious, or semiconscious. As I said, I was fascinated—at first. Then when I realized that I could be considered an accessory to a felonious act, I got scared.

What was the reaction of our galactic friends, the DeVito brothers? They were laughing themselves silly, sounding like two canaries who'd gobbled peyote buttons.

But I didn't say anything, that first time. Nor the second, either. The nabbee that time was an elderly man in a panama hat and tropical suit, out for an evening constitutional. He couldn't have been less than ninety years old. I was afraid he'd die on the spot, and was about to say something, when Zorg and Flez suddenly lost interest in him and let him go.

But the third time. . .

That was the jogger, a young woman. They stripped her of her

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