Free Far-out Show (9781465735829) by Thomas Hanna Page B

store when Ricky noticed what looked like a rather
beat-up football on the ground. He ran to it and grabbed it up,
shouting playfully, “Go long, Man.”
    Brad broke into a run, signaling that he was
ready to receive the ball. But to Ricky’s surprise when he threw
the “ball” it soared over a solid fence behind his pal out of
sight.
    Over there the “ball” suddenly imploded,
seeming to be sucked into itself in a way that would have made no
sense to any witnesses but conveniently there were none of
those.
    When the boys came around the fence looking
for the thrown item it was nowhere to be found. Ricky said, “It
went way farther than I expected. I want to see what’s so weird
about it.”
    Brad agreed. “You can’t throw very good so
that made no sense but I was ready for it if it acted right. I’m a
good receiver even if I didn’t go out for the team. Where is
it?”
    “I don’t see it. That’s even weirder.”
    “Hey, maybe that was the alien everybody
seems so spooked about. It saw what it’d be up against dealing with
jocks like us and took the fast shuttle home.”
    They both laughed.
    Ricky got out his cell phone. “I should
spread the word to watch for disappearing aliens. This could be
worth a few laughs. What the hell, if the news guys want an
interview about my close encounter of the grungy football kind I’ll
go along with that.”
    “The big question will be whether the girls
want to be touched by the hand that touched an alien or want to
stay far away from that hand.”
    “Yeah. But it’d be about groping, not just
touching.”
    “Of course. I know you.”
     
     
     

Chapter 08
    Well kept, good-sized older single houses
lined both sides of tree-lined Elmworm Street that intersected
Oakline Street two blocks from the park. The corner properties had
noteworthy clumps of mature shrubs and a tree or two on the lawns
and near the sidewalks.
    Nerber, toting Wilburps backpack-style, came
up Oakline Street hoping to talk to Adam Parker whom he could see
from a distance as the man trudged across the intersection toting
six plastic bags of groceries. Pale and weak because of an illness,
Parker was thirty but looked older. The faded old baggy trousers
and shirt he wore didn’t help him look hale or hearty.
    Parker glanced to the side and saw Nerber.
With an exaggerated sigh of relief the man set his bags down. He
didn’t look directly toward Nerber, only sneaked a glance to see if
this person would try to avoid him. A tiny bit of a smile crossed
his face when it was clear Nerber wanted to talk.
    “Is it a nice day today, yes?” Nerber asked
pleasantly.
    “Not if you made the mistake of trying to
carry too much home in one trip,” Adam replied with hint,
hint dripping from the words and his sigh.
    “I gladly meet you. I am called Nerber.”
    “I'm Adam Parker. I live not far down the
street but I haven't been well. I'm not sure I can carry all these
bags there myself.”
    Nerber stared hard at Parker, ready to smile
but not sure if he was being teased.
    Parker was confused by this reaction. “What's
the matter?”
    “This is for reality? You are Adam, the first
of yours by your book?”
    Parker thought about that for a moment then
responded, “My name is Adam but no, I'm not the one from the garden
of Eden. There are a lot of men named Adam around these days. But I am a man so tuckered out he may not make it down this street
with all his heavy bags though.”
    “With not much information about your kind I
get... Is befuddled a word?” Nerber asked.
    “Sure. I know that feeling. Like when you're
all but hitting a guy over the head with hints and he’s not getting
it.”
    Nerber listened to Wilburps's comment in his
head, then reacted as if surprised by the idea the zerpy now
silently suggested. “Would it make you ready to talk with me if I
carry some bags to your destination?”
    “Yes, I'd appreciate any help, thanks.”
Parker picked up three of his bags and waited for Nerber to