Killer Kittens from Outer Space- Chapter Twenty Five

Tommy

Another day, another garden.

A waterfall of sweat poured down Tommy’s back as he pulled an armful of reticulation tubing up out of the bed of the van, slung it across his back, and hauled it down the short driveway.

They were returning to a house that Robert had visited the previous week. Apparently the owner had been so happy with his work in the front garden that she’d called them back to put in a drip system for her vegetables, though Tommy was beginning to suspect that the real reason was her fascination with his foster father. Her face had fallen when two of them arrived, though she’d bounced back quickly after Robert smiled at her.

They charged on top for reticulation work, and this was the first job Tommy had been on that asked for it, so as he set the bundle of hose down, his foster father beckoned him over to the tap for a quick rundown on the job.

“Hose splitter first, so they can still use the tap without disconnecting everything,” he said, and Tommy nodded, watching as the man started to fit parts. “Then the electronic timer, the backflow preventer, and the pressure regulator. After that, you need an adapter to fit the drip tubing. Everything else is digging and connecting tubes, which is easy. You use a clamp to connect the pieces, joins for cornering, and stakes to keep everything seated where you want it. Simple.”

The work was physical, and it required an amount of attention, but it was also intuitive, and as he worked, Tommy found himself nodding his head along to the beat of one of Robert’s old Cold Chisel albums. The burly weather from the previous day had blown over, but the moisture remained, trapped in loamy soil that sparkled in the morning sunshine, filling Tommy’s nostrils with the smell of petrichor.

“Try to keep the lawn intact,” Robert instructed as Tommy sunk the shovel in again, cutting out a wedge for the tubing to run beneath the grass. “All one solid strip if you can manage it. A week from now it should look like we were never here.”

“There’s some cordial out on the front patio for when you need a break!” the homeowner called, with eyes only for Robert and the man waved back, flashing an easy smile. After working with his foster father for the past few days, Tommy was beginning to become envious of that smile, and the way it came so naturally to the larger man. Given half a minute, the man could convince even the most paranoid of homeowners that he meant no harm, and he seemed to thrive on the social interaction in a way that Tommy could never imagine himself doing.

“Thank you darlin’” he drawled, and the woman giggled before averting her eyes shyly and heading back into the house.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Does Mary know you’re out here stealing hearts on the job?” he ribbed, and Robert shrugged with that same easy grin.

“She knows she’s the one for me, and that’s all either of us cares about,” he answered easily as he staked another joint in the reticulation and moved further down the line. “Gotta play the game to win, Tommy. If a smile and a bit of charm is what it takes to get a foot in the door, hey, that’s fine by me.”

“I don’t think it was your foot she was staring at earlier,” Tommy teased, but all he got back was another shrug. “Hey, Robert,”

Robert looked up from the shallow trench they’d been digging. “Hmm?”

“That whole conversation the other day got me thinking… when are they going to let us start moving around again?”

Robert paused to wipe the sweat off his brow, leaving a dark strip of muddy earth across his forehead and straightened up into a seated position on the grass. “Buggered if I know mate. A month or two ago they said it’d be soon, but something’s put their backs up recently.” He paused, considering. “Infrastructure’s probably shot to shit in lots of places too. Not much use being allowed to fly over if there’s no functioning airport or control towers where we’re going. That’s gonna take some time to figure out.”

“Right,” Tommy said, a hollow feeling in the back of his throat making the word come out thick and heavy. Robert stood up and walked the short distance over to Tommy, clapping him on the back.

“You know it won’t be forever though, right?” he asked, looking Tommy in the eyes. “We’ll figure it out sooner or later. You’ll see your home again mate.”

Tommy breathed in shakily, then let it go. “I don’t want to do this now,” he said. “Forget it.” I don’t even know why I asked, it’s not like I didn’t already know the answer.

“If you’re sure,” Robert quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” Tommy said.

The rest of the day flew by, with a brief pause to secure some sausage rolls and a meat pie for Robert at lunchtime, and they finished up by mid-afternoon, much earlier than expected.

“Damn fine work,” Robert crowed as they stood back to survey the yard. Tidy rows of black tubing sprouted from the dirt alongside the vegetation, and with a flick of a switch, the system came to life, beads of moisture dribbling from the emitters and down into the garden bed below. “Look, there’s the corner you put in, working perfectly. I reckon it’s even neater than my work. Solid effort mate.”

Tommy cocked his head. It did look good. Something warm ballooned up in his sternum, and he coughed, looking down as he tried to hide a smile.

“Come on then,” Robert switched the water off at the tap and wiped his muddy hands off on his trousers. “Let’s tell the lady we’re done. I fancy a beer after all that.” He strode off towards the front of the house, whistling as he went, and Tommy took one last look over his shoulder at the freshly reticulated beds of earth. Bright green shoots of spring onions, glowing red cherry tomatoes, and freshly laid mulch. He breathed it in, the bright and fresh aroma of a summer garden.

Maybe I could get used to this job after all, he thought.

“Thank you again for the refreshments ma’am. I know I gave you my card last week, but here’s another, just to be safe.” Robert winked, working his charm as he held out a crisp white cardboard square, which the woman took bashfully. “You be sure to let all your friends know that we do house calls, all right? Anything goes wrong with that system, you give me a call and we’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you, I definitely will,” the woman replied, and Tommy shook his head as they walked back down to the end of the driveway, Robert leading the way with a bounce to his step.

“You know, I think she’s going to call anyway,” Tommy commented as they hopped up into the front seats of the van.

“She might,” Robert grinned back. “And she’ll be a mite disappointed if she thinks I’m doing anything but checking on the system. No need to look so concerned, mate. It’s part of the job.”

“But she knows you’re married, right? You’re wearing your wedding ring.”

“I assume so,” Robert said. “Although, with the way things are, she might have thought I’m faking it, same as you,” he frowned. “Maybe I did come on a little strong. You think Mary’d mind?”

“Well, how much did we make today?”

“After supplies, and a couple rounds of beer, about a grand.”

Tommy blinked. “Well then I don’t reckon she’ll mind at all. Also, really? Why don’t we just make a business out of reticulation at that point?”

Robert snorted, “You wanna do this every day?”

He looked down at himself. His trousers were soaked through, and his boots were caked in mud. The small of his back twinged in discomfort from being hunched over all morning and his elbow itched where he’d brushed up against some nettle. “Fair point.”

“Besides, there’s plenty of retic guys out there,” Robert stretched out his shoulders. “Different lanes for different folks and all. Better to keep it as a small part of what we— Bloody Hell!”

With a scream of rubber, a dark Ford wagon came to a screeching halt in front of their parked van, angled in from the road and coming to a stop inches from their front bumper. Half a second later, a large SUV pulled in behind them, close enough that Tommy could see the driver and front passenger in the rearview mirror, black ski masks and wild grins on their faces.

“Fuck!” Tommy swore, his eyes darting from side to side, looking for an escape, but they were well and truly blocked in. The only way out would be to open the doors and make a run for it, but the doors of the other two cars were already opening. “Are we being robbed?” His hand went to his waist. “Do we trip our alarms?”

“Just stay quiet,” Robert said in a low voice. “And keep your finger on that button. I’ll do the talking. If things get violent, you press it, all right?”

“Oi!” A man’s voice called out, one of several figures emerging from the SUV behind them. “Windows down! The boys and I want a chat.”

Robert complied, keeping his hands up around the top of the steering wheel as six men with faces covered crowded the van, splitting up to stand on either side of the vehicle. A wiry man in a black tank top and jeans approached the driver’s side window, slung his left elbow across the door ledge, and leaned into the car. He looked down at Tommy’s hand hovering over the panic button and then up into the young man’s eyes.

“You call ‘em in yet?” he asked in a flat drone that sent a shiver down Tommy’s spine. Tommy shook his head slowly. “Good. Cos if I hear them jets coming down, they’ll be picking pieces of you out of the upholstery.” He drew his right hand up into view and with it came the dark twin circles of a shotgun’s muzzle, the stock sawed off into a pistol-like grip. He rested the twin barrels on the car door, aimed just off to the side of Robert’s head.

“I haven’t called them.” Tommy was surprised at the lack of quiver in his voice.

“Let’s keep it that way then,” the man said. “Now, we’re sorry to interrupt your work like this, but the boys and I have a little gripe to sort out with you. See, a little bird told me that the two of you have been getting all buddy-buddy with our alien friends.” He held up a hand as Robert opened his mouth. “Not done talking. Now, I couldn’t care less what you two get up to in your spare time. But my employer?”

The man chuckled lightly, dark brown eyes fixated on Tommy’s own. He shifted his attention to Robert, staring him down too, then continued. “He cares a lot. See, he’s been finding it hard to enjoy his favorite food establishment recently, what with the otherworldly presence, and he, unlike me, feels quite strongly about those pink bitches, on account of them being the ones who killed his family and all.”

“I can assure you—” Robert tried to speak, but as soon as he started, the gun inched over until it was pointed squarely between his eyes. He froze.

“Now, believe it or not, I’m here to play good cop,” the man carried on in the same monotone voice, an eerily fierce smile playing at his lips and his finger caressing the trigger. “I’ve been told to let you know that if my employer or any of his associates see your pink friends anywhere near that steakhouse, or if they spot you around here again, it’s gonna be bad news.” He grinned and tapped the foregrip of the weapon on the windowsill. “I don’t think I need to tell you what happens if I’m called out to see you again.”

“I don’t even have a way to contact—” Robert started, but the man cut him off again.

“Not my problem. If you’re here this time next week, or if your little friends show up there again though, it will be my problem, and then it will be your problem. I hear Tassie’s nice this time of year. Or you could head north, live up in the tropics, I don’t give a shit. Between you and me,” he leaned closer until nearly his whole head fit into the car. “Some of the boys think I should just make an example of youse both. Show people we don’t like pussy-licking traitors around here.” Behind him, several of the men stepped forward with equally eerie smiles, and Robert swallowed heavily.

The man leaned back. “Lucky for you, I get paid to do exactly what I’m told. And the boss man says I gotta give you a choice. Fuck off or find out.” He stared at them for a long moment, the grin growing wider and wider on his face, and then abruptly the gun disappeared, dipping back beneath his coat. He straightened up, and the rest of the men returned to their vehicles at some unseen cue. “You have a lovely house by the way,” he said, as he turned to join them. “I’m not usually a fan of the painted brick, but you made it work. Nice big garden out the front too, I’m sure the missus loves that.”

Robert’s hand tightened around the wheel, but he said nothing, staring directly ahead as the men piled back into the lead car, which straightened up and sped away, closely followed by the SUV. For the second time in a week, the pair sat next to each other in shell-shocked silence. Then, uncharacteristically, it was Robert who broke it.

“FUCK!” he yelled, slamming a hand down on the centre console. “Fucking bastards! For fucks sake!” He dropped his head into his hands. “They were some seriously bad dudes.” When he sat back up, his face was ashen and blotchy. “I need to talk to Mary, gotta figure something out.”

Tommy was still frozen. At his waist, the finger suspended over his panic button felt like it was encased in plaster, heavy and unmovable. He tried to pull it away from his hip, but it didn’t budge.

Why did there always have to be something?

He took deep breaths, trying to slow his heart rate down and keep his cool. What the fuck do we do? It wasn’t like they could even arm themselves properly, not in Australia. They’d either need to leave town or find another way to stay. Do I call someone? But who?

Two equally unpalatable options jumped out at him immediately.

Takling a steadying breath, he looked across to Robert, who was still staring ahead emptily, his face pale and clammy. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth.

“I… need to see a friend.”