By Dave Garrison
“Did you find everything you needed today sir?” I asked mechanically, not actually caring if he did.
“What?” He looked at me, and then from side to side -- he was nervous about something. This was quite funny because with his large six-and-a-half foot muscular build he did not look as if he had to fear much. “What did you say, little man?” His words were slathered with a thick Austrian accent.
“I
was just asking if you found everything ok.”
I worked in the shoe department at Marvyn’s, a retail store that
offered about as much excitement as Al Gore’s Rolling
Stone interview. Even so, it
was not that bad because the
scheduling was flexible with my community college hours and I had the illusion
of some authority. I really
didn’t mind it that much, but it was dumb-ass customers like these that really
irritated me. And besides, I
wasn’t that little.
“No,
I am ok.” He took out a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, flicking them open with one hand as he donned
them. He began popping his knuckles
as if expecting something.
“Here
is your card back Mr. Swiggenfurter.” I
handed him his worn Marvyn’s store credit card back and began to bag the Nike Air Delta Force shoes that he had just purchased.
He
stopped me. “No, I am going to
wear them. And do not call me that,
it makes me feel old. Call me Ah-nold.”
He took the shoes from the box and quickly placed them on his feet.
“Ok
Arnold, as long as you know our return policy will not be valid once
you step out – “
“Shut
up. I do not care. I need them to battle the evil cyborg-robot-alien that is
trying to steal my identity and blow up the President. Do not bother me.”
Oh! And I’m sure those shoes will help you!
“Well you made a good choice sir, those shoes are great for that.
Now, you have a nice day and I hope that thing works out for you.”
What a moron.
“Do
not patronize me.”
Then don’t be a dip-shit. “Oh I wasn’t, I sincerely hope that you and the
President and all that is ok.”
Just
then a loud crashing noise made me look up and I saw that across the store in
the home department something had busted through the outside wall.
What it was, I couldn’t tell because of the massive amount of smoke
swirling from the rubble. This
was just great.
“Oh,
and I’ll bet that’s him.” I
said sarcastically while walking out from behind the counter in curiosity. What was that?
It didn’t look like anyone was hurt, which was good.
“I’ll
be back,” Arnold said as he began running towards the gaping hole in the wall
while grabbing at something on his leg. As
he pulled it out I saw that he had had a shotgun concealed under his pants.
This should be interesting.
A figure began his way through the hole.
I
could see the figure lift an arm then I dove behind the nearest merchandise
fixture as he peppered machine-gun fire around the store.
Holy shit this was crazy!
I
cowered on the floor as I heard Arnold firing back with his shotgun, and then
both guns abruptly halted. I peeked
above my shelter and saw that their proximity had become too close for gunfire
as they began to duke it out. Evidently they have really bad aim, I mean c’mon, a machine gun and a shotgun? How good do you have to be?
The
hostile visitor was about equal in size and build to Arnold, and it looked like
this was going to be one heck of a brawl. In
fact, they looked pretty damned similar.
“What’s
going on? What’s happening?” I turned around and saw
that Neil and Kristin, fellow shoe department workers at the store, had joined
me in my shelter.
“I
don’t know, I was just ringing this fruit up and he turned around and started
fighting a guy who had crashed through the wall.
I think they are brothers or something.”
“Which
one is he?” Kristin inquired.
I
snuck a peek at the fight. “The
only difference I can tell is that the guy I helped is wearing those dorky Air Delta Force shoes.”
Neil
and Kristin looked at each other knowingly.
“Should we tell him?” Kristin
asked.
“Yeah,
I think he is cool. He seems like
he is on the level and has a good head on his shoulders.”
Neil then turned to me, “We have something we are going to let you in
on…we’re not what we seem.”
“What
size shoe do you wear?” Kristin
asked.
“Uh,
size eleven and a half. Why?” What a strange
question.
Kristin
stood up and crept across the department, returning with three boxes of the Air Delta Force. “Put
these on,” she said, handing me one of the boxes.
They immediately began to put on their own as well.
“Why?
What the fu-“
Neil
cut me off. “Just do it, we’ll
explain in a minute.”
“But
why?” I started to ask.
“Just
do it damnit, we don’t have time for this.”
Kristin agreed.
“Okay,
okay,” I said. Neil and Kristin
had always seemed a little odd, but this was insane.
I
put the shoes on and they were surprisingly comfortable, in fact they were very comfortable. My
feet seemed lighter; I felt as if I could run faster and jump higher.
Wow, These shoes were amazing. Who
would have thought that these ugly sneakers could be so wonderful?
“C’mon, we have to go. Now.” Neil grabbed me and I began running with them. Running just seemed so right in those shoes. I even jumped once, just for good measure.
We
ran toward the hole in the wall, passing the body of Arnold on the way out –
the Arnold wearing the Air Delta Force.
Nobody seemed to even notice us as we passed the growing group of people
around the body. I could hear Mike,
the manager on duty, say something about how the accident report was “going to
be a bitch.”
We
ran towards Neil’s car as if in fast-forward, the shoes giving us an unearthly
extra burst of speed. He drove a
dilapidated 1976 Cadillac El Dorado, a real piece of shit.
“Alright,
where are we going?” I asked,
stopped a few feet from the car.
“Just
get in, we’ll explain.” Neil
answered while hitting a button on his key-chain, which opened all four doors to
reveal an interior that looked like a dream from the mind of a cheesy 1960’s
science fiction movie director. The
dashboard was made of polished stainless steel and devoid of instrumentation
except for a digital speedometer, only breaking its form for the steering wheel,
which despite its connection appeared to defy gravity.
The strangely camouflaged vehicle peaked my interest, so I climbed into
the backseat and restrained from further protest for the moment.
After
getting inside my astonishment compounded.
The seats had no seams and were made out of an ultra-soft leather type
material. As Neil started the car
it purred to life, issuing a low vibration that indicated a level of power far
above that of any Cadillac. I
resumed my inquiry, “ok, somebody start talking, I want to find out what in
the hell is going on here, and what is up with these friggin shoes – damn,
they feel good!”
Neil began.
“Ok, here is the deal. Arnold
is a Secret Service agent on the President’s detail. A look-alike evil cyborg-robot-alien was sent here to take
Arnold’s place in order to get close to the President and kill him.”
“But
why? The President is a putz, what
could he possibly do that is so important?”
“I
know, but after leaving office, he will be instrumental in diplomacy with alien
life that will contact humanity, the Atlanteans.
A sub-faction of the Atlanteans, the Black
Claw Cult of Death, does not favor good relations with humanity because
their religion believes that an alien civilization will destroy their race.
They think that the Earth civilization is the one in their doomsday
prophecy. So…they’ve been doing
all they can to stop contact, and this was just their latest scheme.”
“Latest
scheme?”
Kristin
interjected, “yeah, they try shit like this all of the time, they really
should get more original - this is getting old.
But anyways, we have to stop the evil cyborg-robot-alien, known by their
acronym ‘ECRA’, before he gets too close to the President.”
“And
the shoes?”
Neil
continued, “Well let’s start at the beginning.
The fact that you could see all of this happen is indicative of your
power to resist mind control.”
“Whoa,
so hold on. You’re telling me
that all of those people in the store didn’t see all that?”
“Yeah,
the ECRA have the ability to control the minds of most people and so they go
largely unnoticed. It is a kind of
psychological shroud that they use. The
Air Delta Force shoes have the same
effect.”
“So
why are these robot guys doing this?”
“You
ever hear of Atlantis?” Kristin
asked.
“Yeah,
a mythical city in the Mediterranean, written about by Plato in his dialogues.
It was supposedly really advanced but mysteriously destroyed in an
instant. Populated by a super
race. Thought to be only a myth
though because no evidence was ever found for its existence.”
I said, regurgitating what I learned from “In
Search Of…” on the History Channel.
“Well
Atlantis did exist, it does exist. Just
not on Earth. Atlantis is actually
a planet populated by a highly evolved human-like race.
The Atlanteans were experimenting in time travel several years ago and in
one of their preliminary runs accidentally sent one of their people through time
and space to ancient Greece here on
Earth.” Neil said this so
earnestly that I found myself actually almost believing it.
“And
let me guess, he started an extremely advanced civilization named Atlantis…”
I said sarcastically, not wanting to hint that I believed him yet.
“No,
he got drunk one night with Plato the philosopher and told him all about his
home planet. Plato simply took some
dramatic liberty and the story compounded.
The Atlanteans tracked him though and became aware of life here on Earth.
So in the Earth year of 2010, explorers will be sent to establish
contact.”
Kristin added, “The problem
is that prophecy that we mentioned is strongly believed by the Black Claw Cult of Death. To
add to this they have access to time travel technology, and so they have been
using it to attempt to thwart successful relations with Earth.”
“And how do you two fit into
all of this?”
Neil answered, “we are
Atlanteans, in the military in fact, in a special forces division known as Shoe Team Delta Force – in reference to our undercover disguises
as shoe salesmen.”
“Sales-people,”
Kristin corrected.
“Yeah, ok, whatever.
As you can see Dave, the feminist movement is going strong even across
the galaxy.”
Kristin made a mock slapping
gesture at Neil and he smirked. “ANYWAYS,” he said, shrugging off Kristin,
“we were chosen to do this mission because we can blend in well on earth.
You see Atlanteans do not have eyelids.
This, as you might imagine, would look quite odd here - out of place.
Kristin and I have a genetic disorder that gives us eyelids, and so we
were selected to come here to stop the ECRA.
We work at Marvyn’s because the ‘Nike’ Air
Delta Force shoes designed by Atlantean basketball players, are hidden
there. We decided that locking them
up somewhere would be counterproductive - the ECRA’s have a notorious ability
to penetrate lockdowns, and so instead we hid them. Who would ever think of looking at Marvyn’s?
We had just told Arnold about them so he could help us and he was coming
to get them, when apparently the ECRA caught his scent.”
“So where are we going, the Bat
Cave?” I asked, despite the growing loss of my skepticism.
Something just felt right about this whole story.
It felt like the truth.
“No, we are going to
Dixon.” Neil answered.
“Why?”
“To pick up Adam, he plays
guitar.”
“So?”
“Did you happen to notice
that this car, despite all of this futuristic technology, doesn’t have a CD
player, or even a radio?”
“So?” I repeated myself.
“Well, it looks like we may
be getting into a car chase pretty damned quick here, and it has been
scientifically proven that music improves ones reflexes and thinking
capabilities. Going up against an
ECRA and all, we will need all the help that we can get.”
Neil ended this sentence by opening the door and getting out.
I had not even noticed that we had gotten on the freeway, but sure enough, here
we were, 20 miles down from where we had started.
We were in Dixon, sitting in the car in front of a house; Neil had walked
up to the front door. I saw that
Neil was returning with another guy. They
both got in the car, the other guy opposite to me in the back seat.
“You must be Adam,” I said.
“Yeah, what’s up dude,
who’re you?”
“I’m Dave.”
“He has the gift.” Neil
added.
“Right on.
Now what do you say we go find the sunofabitch.”
Adam said.
“Sounds good.”
“Where exactly are we going?
How do you know where to find him, or it,
or whatever? The robot guy.” I asked.
“ECRA’s have a weakness for
In ‘N’ Out Burgers. Organic
compounds power them and an In ‘N’ Out
three-by-three cheeseburger offers the precise balance of everything that they
need. They love the fries too.”
Neil explained, “So we are going to In ‘N’ Out.”
I sat in silence while the car
cruised back up the freeway to the closest In ‘N’ Out Burger. Upon arriving it appeared that Neil’s intuition had been
correct. There, sitting in the
window, was the ECRA. He was
munching down on the burger as if it was nobody’s business.
Here we go.
As we parked, nose out, Neil
looked back and told us to stay. He
got out of the car and entered the restaurant, walking over to the counter.
Meanwhile, Kristin transferred herself to the drivers seat.
The ECRA was so engulfed in his meal that he did not notice Neil’s presence.
I saw the cashier hand Neil a milkshake.
Neil then walked nonchalantly over to the ECRA, removed the lid, and
promptly dumped the shake’s contents into the ECRA’s lap.
Immediately after doing this,
Neil ran. He burst through the door
and sprinted to the car, lunging into the passenger seat.
Kristin already had the car moving as he entered, dragging his feet
briefly as she began to drive. Flying
through the exit of the parking lot, the Cadillac fishtailed as Kristin wrenched
the wheel to the right. As this was
happening, Adam jumped into the action on guitar.
He began with an excruciatingly fast flamenco-rock hybrid that slowly
evolved and seemed to fit in with the action, and Neil began singing in Spanish
– a language that I could recognize but not understand.
The ECRA was not far behind.
He was taking up pursuit on foot and matching our increasing speed.
We continued to accelerate, passing sixty miles-per-hour, and the ECRA
continued to keep pace.
“Quick!” I said, “He’s
gaining on us!”
“I know, just hold on, ok?”
Kristin replied.
“I just have a slight
question. Why are we running from
him? We sought him out,
remember?”
Neil broke his song to answer,
“We are luring him over to The Ravine of
Death, where we’ll cast him over the
edge into the great abyss. There he
will fall into the earth’s core.”
“Uh,” I said, “I hate to
brake it to you but that ravine is only like fifty feet deep.”
“Yes, but we positioned a
trans-matter portal at the bottom that is set to transport things into the solid
nickel core of the earth.”
I decided that I should just
stop asking questions and go with it. I
looked back and was surprised to see that the ECRA had almost caught up.
I let out a panicked gasp.
His hand grabbed into the
trunk, puncturing through and creating handholds as he climbed towards the back
window. Kristin then wrenched the
wheel to the right and the ECRA slid over to my side of the car, still holding
on. I could see his face peering
through the window at me. He
mouthed the words “Stop them.” Yeah, I’m gonna do that.
Kristin continued to drive, but
was unable to shake him. We soon
arrived at the ravine, and the ECRA let go, crouching in a defensive position.
Kristin backed the car up and dropped the car into third-gear while
revving the engine. This resulted
in the tires slightly breaking traction and the car lunging forward at the ECRA,
which now stood between the ravine and us.
Something here did not seem right.
Kristin then slammed on the
brakes and the ECRA flew over the edge. She
did not perform this braking soon enough however and the car began to go over
the edge itself. I quickly opened
the door and leapt out before it went over.
Recovering, I stood up and
peered over the edge as the car plummeted towards the bottom, only to disappear.
I saw Neil and the ECRA holding on to the sides of the ravine for their
lives. I lay down on the ground and
went to reach for Neil when the ECRA spoke, “Wait, you do not understand.
Do not do this.”
“What’s to understand?” I
replied, “I mean, you are a member of the Black
Claw Cult of Death.”
“Yes, but you don’t get it
– “ The ECRA continued.
“Shut up you dirty
sunofabitch,” Neil said, finishing the sentence by spitting on the ECRA’s
face. He then turned to me “He
lies. Now help me up.”
“The
Black Claw Cult of Death is actually
just what the name of our group sounds like in your language, un-translated.
What it actually means is Saviors
of Atlantean Values. My goal is
not to stop contact with your people, but rather to eliminate your President.
He will begin a mission to ‘civilize’ our culture and destroy it in
the process. The people you know as
‘Neil’ and ‘Kristin’ are actually Atlantean bounty hunters sent here by
your President to stop me. This portal leads to what was to be my prison at the center
of the earth.”
“All
lies,” Neil snarled under his breath. “Don’t
let him trick you Dave, I mean, he is an Evil
Cyborg Robot Alien for godsakes!”
“Please.
Why would we call ourselves ‘evil’ or ‘alien’?
This is stupid. The acronym
actually stands for my rank in the Atlantean army. Now you have to make a choice.
Me, or him.”
“What
about the shoes? We gave you the
shoes!” Neil pleaded.
“What
about them?” I asked. “Better yet, why don’t you explain to me why they would
call themselves ‘Evil Cyborg Robot Aliens’? He probably isn’t even a robot!”
“You’re
right – “ the ECRA began.
The
rock then crumbled under Neil’s grip and he fell.
His cries were cut off as he entered the portal.
What should I do?
I
closed my eyes to meditate. What would Luke
Skywalker do? I thought through
the Star Wars movies and remembered how he attempted to save Darth Vader from
the exploding Death Star. Even if
this story is bullshit and the ECRA was evil after all, I knew what I must do.
I slid over to where the ECRA was and offered him my hand.
He took it and I slowly pulled him up.
After
helping him up we sat on the ground. “That
was trippy,” I analyzed.
“Yes,
yes it was.”
“So
now that I know you are not an evil-cyborg-guy, I guess I should call you
something else. What is you
name?”
“Dave,”
he replied.
“That’s
strange, that’s my name too-“
“Yes,”
he began, “and I know what you are thinking and no, I am not your father.
You watch too many movies.”
Damn,
that would have been a neat end to this adventure.
He continued, “Now I am going
to have to ask you to take off those shoes.
While they grant you special powers, they start to sap your intelligence
if worn too long, sort of like GAP clothing or MTV.”
Then he grabbed his chin and removed what apparently was a mask, only to
reveal a featureless face with no eyelids.
“I hate these things,” he muttered.
I removed the shoes and handed
them to him, slightly saddened that I would no longer be able to run faster or
jump higher. “So what now?”
“Well now,” he smirked,
“I must be getting back home. The
Atlantean Basketball League playoffs are starting soon and I need to see how my
team is doing. But first I need to
go and plant my bomb in the White House.”
“What about me?” I asked.
“What about you?” he asked
mockingly, “You need to go and get a better job.
Besides, the shoe department over at Marvyn’s is in shambles because I
had to blow up the remaining Air Delta
Force shoes.”
He stood up straight, flipped
open a tiny metal box and said something indiscernible.
He lifted his hand in the classic two-finger-split Vulcan pose and said,
“May the force be with you” with a slight smirk on his face.
Then he vanished.