Terror on Arrival: An Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novel
Just When You Think It’s Over...

Cheauflux went to its original arrival point. You couldn’t call it home. It was like the visiting team returning to the visitor’s locker room. That was where all of its stuff was, but residence was extremely temporary.

It appeared in the laboratory. It was 0500 hours, however, Doctor Chalet was working feverishly on amino acid compounds.

“Your voracious visitors have migrated to a different planet, Deveauxn Chalet,” Cheauflux announced.

Deveauxn jumped from his microscope. “Jou do not ztartle a zientist zat vey!”

“I thought you would be elated, Deveauxn. You don’t have to worry about Armageddon anymore,” Cheauflux said.

Chalet dismissed the shock. It was replaced with delight. “Jou eeveekted zose monzterz?”

“The only thing they are threatening is the surface of Mars, Deveauxn,” Cheauflux said.

“’Ave jou told Alexi, und Jayde?” Chalet asked.

“I just got here one minute ago. I would want to tell them. Could you summon them?” Cheauflux asked.

Eet’s five O’clock een zee morneeng. Zey ur meelitaree. Zey ur probablee ’aving zeir coffee anyvey. I tink zees eez more eemportant zhan coffee. I vill alert zhem.” Chalet was excited.

He went to the intercom to call Jayde. She answered quickly.

“Whats the problem, Doc?” she asked.

“Vake Alexi, und come to zee laboratoree. I ’ave en eemergencee matter to deescuz vit jou!” Chalet feigned desperation.

“We’re already dressed, Doc. We’ll be down in five!” Jayde transmitted.

Chalet turned, and smiled at Cheauflux. “Zometimez jou ’ave to josh jour freendz.”

“I’m trying to understand your social idiosyncrasies, however, it doesn’t have rules, so science is inert,” Cheauflux said.

“Jou ’ave to be ‘een countree’ for a vile before jou can catch zheir qirkz,” Chalet said.

Cheauflux was a far superior entity, but the human condition was a quagmire to it. It was strange, not knowing everything. It, literally, stuck in its craw.

The elevator opened, and Jayde bounded out, with Alexi following. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Cheauflux.

Cheauflux couldn’t display emotions, and Chalet was a master at controlling his, so Jayde couldn’t read them at all.

“After all that work, those monsters eluded you!?” Despair creeped into Jayde’s psyche.

“Akshuallee, zhey ur oon zheir vey tu Marz. I zaid eemergencee, not eerroneeouz.” Chalet began to smile.

Jayde’s excitement took over. “You aren’t playing with me, are you Doc?”

“Ven eet comez down to telleeng a voman goot newz, I learned playeeng culd bee dangeruz,” Chalet said.

“Time for celebration!” Alexi yelled. “I was lucky I was next door to Jayde when she heard of your emergency.”

Chalet looked at Alexi. “Culd I zee jou een private again, Alexi? I ’ave another nashonal zecuritee breech.”

Alexi knew that was their code for talking about his relatonship.

Alexi pointed at a room. “Research room 8?”

Chalet nodded, and walked towards the room. Alexi followed.

“Do they do that all the time?” Cheauflux asked Jayde.

“Only when they want to have girl-talk,” Jayde said. “They act like I don’t know.”

“That is the last leg of my mission. I understand some of your colloquialisms as you heard me speak your metaphors before. I need to explore this world. I need to understand human aberrations, idiosyncrasies, and equivocations. I am computation smart, not mannerism smart. For example, you know they are speaking about you and Alexi’s relationship. Why not bring the matter to fruition?” Cheauflux was curious.

“There’s another quirk humans relish, Cheauflux,” Jayde explained. “Men need to have their secrets. It makes them feel all ‘secret agent’ like,” Jayde answered Cheauflux’s question.

“So, you’re going to live the fallacy of naivety?” Cheauflux asked another question. He was a scientist also.

“We have an old saying on Earth, it’s a human thing. You wouldn’t understand,” Jayde summed it up.

They waited for the boys to leave the Secret Agent Club.

“Zee reason I called Jayde first, iz because I knew jou vere een bed vit ’er,” Chalet revealed to Alexi.

“I was next door, Deveauxn!” Alexi defended himself.

Chalet had disbelief plastered on his face. ”By now, jou zhould know, jou kinot keed a keeder, and jou kinot treek a luver,” Chalet said. “Jou culd, et leaze, teell zee rezearch team.”

“I need one very important thing to do that, Deveauxn. I need Jayde’s permission,” Alexi said. “I’ve been in a relationship long enough to know how to keep one.”

Chalet looked at Alexi like he just graduated college. He proudly put his hand on Alexi’s shoulder.

“Jou know, manee men vonder vhy zeir relashonsheepz do not last. Jou ’ave zee geeft of avoideeng zee elefant in zee room.” Chalet was dignified.

“You have to learn many things to stay Spetsnaz,” Alexi said.

“Our zecuritee breech eez over. Ve zhould geet back tu Jayde und Cheauflux,” Chalet said.

They walked back to the two. It was amazing to Cheauflux that Jayde acted like she didn’t know at all, but knew all too well.

Remy Boedecker was a Cajun with an American profession. Remy was a methamphetamine dealer. He lived deep in the heart of the Everglades—a place where Army rangers wouldn’t brave, let alone the local sheriff. He was in Southern comfort.

He was concocting some meth in his trailer, while his whiskey still was brewing some potent moonshine outside of his trailer. He had to keep both contraband away from each other. Being adjacent, a spark could produce a gargantuan fireball, and Remy wanted to keep his eyebrows, not to mention his life.

The whiskey still was around fifty yards away, surrounded by ferns, algae, and Spanish moss. No one could get there, let alone steal his moonshine. Anyone brave enough to navigate the water moccasins, mosquitos, and bobcats earned a swig of his ‘white lightening’.

Remy was deep into cooking his drug, when he heard the alarm he had rigged to his still. Once he heard the alert of pilfering, he grabbed his double barrel shotgun and walked outside. He thought it was another white-tailed deer nibbling on those ferns. At least he’ll have supper tonight.

Remy didn’t see supper. He saw a mutated gator chewing on his whiskey still! He knew catfish turned into monsters, eating everything spilling at the base of a dam, so mega-gator didn’t disturb him in any way. It did look strange, but he wrote that off as the mutation taking effect.

It didn’t matter how exotic the gator was. This thing was eating his still, severely crippling his income, and he owned a double barrel. It was gator steaks time.

Remy pointed his shotgun at the large animal.

“Git yer ass away from my still, gator!” Remy yelled.

The monster paid him no attention. Remy never realized the gator’s path had no reminiscence of Everglade. It was like the monster mowed the Everglades. Maybe if he saw that, he wouldn’t have fired.

That was when he made a choice without evaluating all known variables. He fired at the gator. The spray from the double barrel had limited range, so the buckshot wasn’t lethal.

The ‘gator’ finally noticed Remy. It turned toward him, and began to advance.

“What the... that gator should be full of buckshot!” Remy yelled, reloaded, and fired in the gator’s face. The buckshot ricocheted off the gator’s snout, glanced off its face, and killed some orchids. The gator kept coming.

“Not close enough.” Remy was a speedy shot. He quickly discarded the spent shells, reloaded, and fired once more.

The buckshot deflected again!

Maybe it was the meth, or the moonshine, but instead of running and regrouping, like all other rational people. He got what was called target fixation. Many A-10 Warthog pilots were afflicted with that disease. They locked in on their ground target, and ended up flying on a glide scope for harpooning the ground. None of the pilots survived, so Remy’s fate was already sealed.

“Die you giant lizard!” Remy fired once more.

It was closer. The buckshot almost had the same result. Oh, it did bounce off mega-gator’s hide. But this time Remy was considered a threat. Mega-gator was only five feet away from Remy, when Remy reloaded, and fired again.

The monster opened its massive jaws, and exposed the roof of its mouth. Remy thought he had an advantage. He reloaded, and fired both barrels into the inside of the monsters throat, hoping that would stop the beast.

Bad news for Remy. The monster swallowed the buckshot, as if it were consuming Chiclets. On the closing of its jaws, the razor sharp teeth caught Remy’s left leg! As Remy’s shin bone snapped in three places, he screamed a throaty wail. To augment the phrase; when in the heart of the Everglades, nobody can hear you scream.

The agony was swift. The gator continued. It got a vital part in seconds. Remy stopped screaming, because he couldn’t anymore. He switched from the go-to drug dealer to Chauzek fodder in an instant. The Chauzek thought nothing of the public service it performed. It just went about cleaning up. It destroyed the still. The trailer was next.

“You have to teach me human quirks,” Cheauflux told Jayde.

Jayde had a confused look on her face. “That’s like asking a kid to teach you English. They do it without thinking, they just can’t teach it. They grew up knowing English. It’s inherent to them. They don’t know how to teach what comes natural,” she explained.

“They also don’t have teaching skills, but you do. Who else could I go to for help, if you couldn’t help me, Jayde?” Cheauflux had desperation in its voice.

Jayde thought about it. Who else that knows what it is could help it? Alexi and Doc weren’t from around America, so their knowledge of American idiosyncrasies would be unsubstantiated, not to mention that guessing can’t be considered fact. She taught Alexi about the properties of peptides, so why couldn’t she teach Cheauflux American mannerisms?

“All right, Cheauflux, since you’re a fellow scientist, I’ll take a shot at it.”

“You can start right with that statement,” Cheauflux said. “I understand when to say things, I just don’t know what they mean. Why would you shoot at your attempt?”

That was when Jayde came up with her curriculum.

“In order to begin to understand human characteristics, you have to master the term figure of speech.” Her cultivation reared its ugly head. “A figure of speech is any expressive use of language as a metaphor. You do know what a metaphor is.”

“A metaphor is a term applied to something that isn’t literal, like I said in Cape Canaveral,” Cheauflux recited. “Remember, I’m academically smart, not socially smart.”

“Sorry Cheauflux, when I’m in professor mode, I carpet bomb knowledge,” Jayde said.

“Now, that was a metaphor,” Cheauflux said.

“I have to treat you like a student with Asperger’s Syndrome, and stop metaphoring.” Jayde caught herself.

“No, no, keep doing what comes naturally. I’m like a kid myself. Children don’t pick up social activities by studying a text book, they imitate their environment. Trust me, I’ll learn faster that way,” Cheauflux explained.

“Well, get ready for class, Cheauflux, because I’m going to teach you what I know.” Jayde tried to prepare Cheauflux. It was thirsty, and needed a drink.

This creature was what scientists would consider an alien discoverer, except it didn’t want to explore. The Chauzek was, literally, programmed to destroy. The creature would cogitate it as cleaning. Without the attribute of separation, it was acknowledged as destruction. It would take longer without its kindred there to assist it, but none the less, it headed for Naples.

The Naples residents would have no idea the annihilation coming for their town.

The Chauzek finished the last remnants of the meth lab and trailer. It ate a forage toward Naples, help them.

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