Free Invaders From Mars by Ray Garton Page A

being so quiet? Are you sick?”
    “No. But I think my dad might be. I’m worried about him.”
    “How come?”
    “Well, he . . . I don’t know, he just kinda got weird this morning.”
    “Oh, jeez, don’t worry about that.”
    David turned to him for an explanation.
    “My dad does that all the time. So does Mom. All parents do. Parents are weird,” he said with a wave of his hand. “They go through these moods, you know? My mom tells me I’ll understand when I grow up. But I don’t think I want to understand the way they act sometimes. Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothin’.”
    “You think so?”
    “Sure.” Doug poked him in the ribs with his elbow. “Cheer up.”
    David smiled, feeling a little better. But his smile disappeared as soon his house came into view.
    Dad’s pickup truck was in the driveway.
    Mom’s car was nowhere in sight, but David realized it could be in the garage. David walked to the front of the bus and held onto a rail as it stopped. The doors opened. David couldn’t move his feet from the top step. He held the cold rail and stared at his house. It was usually a welcome sight with its cheery windows and well-kept yard. Now it seemed threatening. The windows were like eyes that watched his every move and the front door, which was open wide, was a mouth patiently waiting for David to step inside.
    “David . . .”
    He turned to Mr. Bob. The driver waved a meaty hand at the door, motioning for him to get off.
    “See ya tomorrow,” Mr. Bob said.
    David nodded. Before stepping down, he glanced toward the back of the bus at Doug. He was laughing with someone; David was forgotten. As the doors closed behind him and the bus rumbled away, David felt very alone. He watched the bus disappear down the road, then turned toward the house.
    As he walked up the driveway, David looked around the yard for some sign of his parents, but saw nothing.
    A soft breeze made hushed sounds in the trees.
    Somewhere a bird sang.
    As David neared the open door, he heard a strange hissing sound coming from inside the house. Frowning, he climbed the front steps and peeked inside. The living room was empty; the television was on.
    “Dad?” David asked, taking a step inside.
    No reply, no sound except for the hissing crackle of static from the television.
    As David walked into the living room, the front door slammed explosively behind him and he jumped as if kicked. When he spun around, there was no one there.
    The breeze? It wasn’t strong enough.
    “Dad?” he asked again, his voice cracking. He looked around again but the only eyes he met were the red bulbs of his toy robot standing against the wall, still and lifeless.
    He turned to the television and reached for the button to turn it off, but the snowy fuzz that filled the screen suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a clear, colorful picture. On the screen, screaming crowds ran frantically through city streets as deadly beams shot back and forth over their heads. Buildings exploded, cars crashed. David frowned at the movie; he couldn’t remember if he’d seen it or not. He folded his arms before him, allowing himself to become engrossed in the destruction, forgetting, for a moment, his anxiety.
    Something began to whir mechanically behind him and a flat, emotionless voice said, “David Gardiner!”
    David whirled around to see the foot-and-a-half-tall robot rolling toward him, arms waving, red eyes flashing, and a scream escaped him before he could stop it. He stepped back toward the television just before he saw Mom peek around the corner, grinning, the robot’s remote control in her hand. The robot stopped.
    “Mom!” David snapped, his heart pounding. “Don’t do that!”
    “Ha-ha, gotcha,” she laughed, crossing the room and giving him a hug.
    “Where’s Dad?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. He’s probably around here somewhere.”
    “No, he’s not. I looked around.”
    Mom plopped onto the sofa and faced the television. “Oh,