Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet

By

Matthew Kadish

Text
copyright © 2013 by Matthew Kadish

All
Rights Reserved

Earthman
Jack and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Matthew Kadish.

No part
of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise without permission of the publisher.

Printed
in the U.S.A.

First
American edition, May 2013

In the entire history of the
universe, there are many tales worth telling. 

Some are tales of great heroes and
leaders.  Others are tales of terrible villains and their dastardly deeds. 
Sometimes these stories intermingle; sometimes they do not.  But they all play
a role in shaping the universe in which we find ourselves.

In fact, if one were to travel to the grand repository of
the Hive Mind of Valghana VII, where the Central Galactic University houses all
of its meticulously recorded historical records, one would find approximately 2,789,998,376,882,945,671,567,002
entries – and those are just the completed works – recording the various
goings-on of people of interest from around this vast universe we call our home.

In these tales, we usually find many of the same things,
just told in different ways.  The best tales typically are the ones that
revolve around love.  And with love, there’s usually a healthy dose of its
counterpart, hate.  Sometimes, there are lessons to be learned and morals to be
taught.  Other times, there are just senseless acts of violence and cruelty.   Many
of the most popular accounts contain the obligatory elements of excitement,
action, and, of course, adventure.  Mix in a healthy dose of comedy, as well as
a bit of tragedy, and one has a tale that generations of sentient beings will
want to hear over and over again, until the end of time or the universe,
whichever happens first.

But if someone were to go to Valghana VII and ask the
Guardians of Knowledge which tale is the most popular of all two septillion
entries, he might be surprised to find that they, in fact, have an answer for him.

Even more surprising, would be that the tale is about a hero
who comes from a relatively obscure species, from an unknown planet in the
backwoods of the galaxy, in a region of space long dismissed as being utterly
devoid of life (or anything else interesting for that matter) and thus largely
ignored by most civilized space-faring races.

This rather insignificant planet, called “Earth” by those
who lived on it, was the home of a species so unremarkable in pretty much every
aspect by which we judge intelligent life, that the fact that one of the
Galaxy’s greatest heroes came from it is enough to boggle even an Egoi’s extremely
large mind.

And to make this tale even more bizarre, it starts with a
fleet of the most dreaded and feared military armada the universe has ever
known going out of its way to utterly annihilate this little blue-green planet
and every last one of the relatively undeveloped life-forms who lived there.

The first inkling the race of “Earthmen,” as they have come
to be called, might be in serious trouble started with an astrological
observation made by a group of amateur astronomers in a rural part of a place
called New Mexico, which existed in a governmental region known to those who
lived on the planet as the United States of America.

By the time these astronomers had called in the finding of a
strange cluster of light not far from the eastern side of an orbiting planet
they had dubbed “Jupiter,” and this finding had been checked and verified by
better astronomers with even bigger telescopes, the Earthmen couldn’t help but
notice this suspicious astrological anomaly seemed to be headed directly toward
their planet.

As this rather startling information made its way to the
government officials to whom the Earthmen entrusted their affairs, their
primitive satellites were able to snap a few pictures to give their leaders an
idea of what was heading toward them – namely a lot of massive unidentifiable
objects which seemed not only to be able to change direction at will, but also capable
of slowing down as they approached the planet – two characteristics which
immediately ruled out any possibility that what was coming their way was
anything but intelligent life, and lots of it to boot.

The Earthmen’s calculations led them to conclude that the
incoming Unidentified Flying Objects would arrive at their planet in a matter
of hours, giving them little to no time to warn any of the populace of their
planet what was headed their way.

Hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst, the leader
of the United States of America immediately began contacting other leaders from
around his planet to warn them of what was coming, and also issued an order for
his government’s military to be ready to defend their planet should these
visitors from outer space end up being hostile (which they most certainly were).

Considering this government’s military was widely regarded
as one of the best and most advanced on the planet, it would be natural to
assume that the hero of our story would be a part of it.

Such as Colonel Harry Jackson Stryker, United States Marine
Corps, for instance.

Colonel Stryker was a veteran of many wars.  He was a
fearless man, who knew how to fight and who took his job as a soldier more
seriously than any other man who had ever worn the uniform of a Marine.  What
made Stryker a good soldier was the fact that he’d do anything to accomplish
his mission – no matter what the cost to his own person.  In fact, it could even
be said that Colonel Stryker was one of the most selfless and courageous men on
Earth, willing to lay down his life to save the country, and the planet, that
he loved so much.

With a chiseled jaw, sandy blonde hair, and an astonishing
gift for leading men into battle, Colonel Stryker was the natural choice to guide
humanity through its darkest hour and defeat the oncoming alien menace.

It’s a shame he died, along with all the rest of the
planet’s inhabitants, only hours after being alerted to the alien threat.  I’m
sure his story would have been a good one – he was an interesting fellow. 

But, alas, this is not his story.

No, the hero of our story was actually the most unlikely
candidate for the job.  He wasn’t the smartest Earthman there was, nor the strongest,
nor the best leader the planet had to offer.  Some of his critics would call
him the
luckiest
of his species, though (which is not entirely unfounded
considering some of the situations he was able to survive).  However, in this
narrator’s humble opinion, in addition to a good amount of luck, this Earthman
persevered against all odds due to his amazing resourcefulness in harrowing
situations, boundless courage in the face of danger, and undying loyalty to
those he would call his friends – even if they did not regard him in the same
way.

And though he would arguably become one of the greatest
heroes this universe has ever known, he did not start out that way.

In fact, his story really starts the morning of the invasion
of the alien menace, in a very modest trailer home, in a small town known as River
Heights, in a place known as Ohio (again, in the United States of America) when
he was only 15 years old.

This is the story of Earthman Jack.

Once upon a time, in a quaint stretch
of land overlooking one of the many cornfields of the neighboring town of Red
Mills, was a place known as the Eagle Hill Trailer Community.  But the locals
simply called it “The Hill.”

Located not far from the main road
of Detroit Street, which connected River Heights with its neighbor to the east,
The Hill was a haven for many of the less fortunate members of the local
community who could not afford one of the modest homes the rest of the town’s inhabitants
tended to reside in.  Instead, the people who lived on The Hill made due with
long, rectangular shaped dwellings often referred to as “trailer homes.”  It
was in one of these structures that Earthman Jack Finnegan lived.

For 10 of his 15 years, Jack regarded the trailer on Eagle
Hill’s lot number 7 as his home.  An army of frequently neglected potted plants
were stationed out front among the weeds and crabgrass in an attempt to
beautify the shabby lot on which the trailer was located.  Despite its
yellowing, discolored exterior, and its rickety, homemade, wooden carport, which
was perpetually leaning ever so slightly to the left, one could say that the
trailer was, without a doubt, the best kept dwelling in Eagle Hill.

By Earth standards, the trailer on lot #7 was looked down
upon as being rather “low class.” After all, only the poorest and least fortunate
of River Heights’ residents would live in such a place.  But even if the
trailer did not afford its inhabitants a life of luxury, the dwelling was big
enough to house both Jack and his mother, store all their earthly possessions,
and protect them from the elements of nature.  Though it performed all three of
those tasks rather poorly, it still did them, and that at least was good enough
for Jack.

And if an outside passer-by were to look upon the trailer in
lot #7 and regard it as a sad, modest dwelling, then the room in which Jack
slept every night was even more cause for pity.

No bigger than most people’s bathrooms, Jack’s room was able
to house a single bed and a tiny closet overflowing with unwashed and worn-out
clothes. The rest of it was littered with posters featuring professional
wrestlers, kung fu movies, and the occasional “hot babe.”

It was here that Jack sprawled out, tangled in a mess of
faded blankets with starships and superheroes stitched onto them, snoring
loudly, with just a hint of drool staining his pillow.

Light from the morning sun shone through the single, small
window located in Jack’s room, hitting him squarely in the face.  As the light
lingered on Jack, his snoring suddenly subsided, and he opened one of his eyes,
only to be blinded by the sun.  Instinctively, he rolled his face back into his
pillow and was about to enjoy more of his much valued slumber when a thought
suddenly leapt into his head, and that thought went something like this…

Oh, crap.

Jack shot up in bed, his light brown hair sticking up at odd
angles, his green eyes puffy and half-closed from sleep.  He turned his head toward
the window. From ten years of sleeping in the same bed, next to the same
window, Jack instantly knew that if light were coming in, he had, in fact,
overslept.

Jack groggily turned to the digital clock duct-taped to his
wall.  The big red numbers on it read
8:26
.  Sure enough – he
was
late.  This time, Jack’s previous thought became so urgent, he was forced to
verbalize it.

“Oh, CRAP!”

At that, Jack leapt out of bed, stubbing his big toe in the
process.  Trying to ignore the pain, and not bothering to change out of the
black boxer shorts he had slept in (the ones with pink dollar signs stitched on
them), he kicked up the nearest pair of jeans he could find and yanked them
on.  He frantically rummaged through a pile of shirts on the floor (taking care
to choose the one which was the least smelly), and slipped one on.  He then
quickly grabbed a pair of socks and stuffed them into a raggedy old ink-stained
bookbag, along with a textbook and a notebook or two.

Wasting no time, Jack rushed out of his bedroom, grabbing
his shoes on the way out the front door.  He was in such a rush, he didn’t even
notice the sweet note his mother had taped there, reminding him that his lunch
was packed in the refrigerator and not to be late for school (again!).

Jack emerged from the chain-linked enclosure of Eagle Hill
onto Detroit Street, hopping and skipping as fast as he could as he tried in
vain to slip on his worn sneakers while still keeping forward momentum. 

Having just missed it a minute or two earlier, Jack could
see the bright orange-yellow school bus in the distance as it rumbled down the
road.

“Stop!” Jack yelled as he continued to run and put on his
shoes at the same time.  “Stop the bus!  Please don’t make me run after – ah,
crap…” 

Once it became clear that the bus had, in fact, not heard
his plea, Jack had no choice but to take off after the vehicle as fast as he
could.  The next stop was only a few blocks away; if he could run fast enough,
he’d be able to catch it.

On the bus, in the typical social order carved out in every
high school on the planet Earth, only the so-called “coolest” and most
important upperclassmen sat in the back, furthest from the bus driver’s gaze. 
In this case, that honor belonged to one J.C. Rowdey and his friends Kev,
Jimbo, and Moose – four guys who seemed to pride themselves on how big their
muscles were, how perfect their hair looked, and how much grief they could
inflict on others not deemed as “cool” as they were.

At the back window, Kev turned his pug-like face and saw
Jack in the distance running after the bus and waving his arms in the vain hope
of catching the driver’s attention.

He snorted in amusement and ribbed J.C. with his elbow.

“Yo, dude,” said Kev.  “Check it out.  It’s Finnegan.”

J.C. turned his attention from the wet-willy he was currently
giving the poor junior with the skin problem in the seat in front of him and,
along with Jimbo and Moose who were in the process of sniffing magic markers in
the seat directly across the isle, looked out the back window.

“Looks like Loser McLose-a-lot overslept again,” chuckled J.C.

“Daaaaaang,” droned Moose.  “That dude is haulin’.  Lookit him
go!”

“You got that right,” interjected Jimbo, lifting his fatty
upper body toward the window to get a better look.  “Who knew the little booger
could run so fast?”

“Maybe he mistook the bus for his home and thinks we’re
driving away with it,” said J.C., causing his crew to chortle and guffaw.

“Looks like he’s catching up,” said Kev.  Sure enough, Jack
was running his heart out and gaining on the slow moving vehicle.  “Ten bucks
says he makes it.”

J.C. smiled at Kev mischievously.  “You’re on, dumb-nuts,”
he said, punching Kev in the shoulder not very softly.  “Yo, Moose…”

“Huh?” Moose lit up, as if the sound of his name was barely
enough to register with his meager brain.

“Go up to the driver and keep her distracted,” ordered J.C.

“Okay,” said Moose, moving to get to his feet before
stopping, a confused look crawling across his face.  “Uh… how?”

“Tell her your butt hurts from the kicking I’m about to give
it if you don’t get up there right now,” snapped J.C.  “Make something up; I
don’t care!”

Moose lumbered to his feet and began walking toward the
front of the bus to talk to the driver.

“No fair, dude,” said Kev.  “You can’t have help…”

“Shut up,” responded J.C. He then proceeded to flick the junior’s
ear in the seat in front of him.  “Hey – hey, loser…”

“Stop it!” whined the junior.  “Just leave me alone!”

“Give me your shoe, and I’ll leave you alone the rest of the
way to school.”

“My shoe?  What?  No!”

“Look,” J.C. sneered.  “Either give me your shoe, or I’ll
take it from you.”

Outside, Jack’s lungs were burning from the chilled morning
air.  The bus had made its next stop, picking up the kids from the Johnson
farm, giving him the chance he needed to close the distance.  As he was about to
reach the lumbering vehicle, the upper body of a young man with rippling blonde
hair and a red-and-gold letterman’s jacket suddenly emerged from one of the rear
side windows.  Just before Jack’s brain could register the face of J.C. Rowdey,
the boy cocked his arm back and chucked an orthopedically enhanced sneaker
right at him, catching him dead in the forehead.

Jack stumbled and fell, holding his throbbing head as he hit
the ground.  In the distance, he could hear J.C.’s mocking laughter as the bus groaned
and rolled away, continuing its journey down Detroit Street.

Jack lay on the side of the road, breathing deeply of the
crisp, cold morning air, and rubbing his noggin where the shoe had tagged him. 
There was no doubt about it now; he was going to be late.  And if experience had
taught him anything, it was that his dreaded homeroom teacher, Mr. Shepherd,
was going to smack him with yet another detention for his tardiness.

Before getting up and continuing the long walk to school,
Jack took a moment to relax and let his legs recover from the workout they had
just gotten.  As he stared up at the cloudless blue sky, he thought to himself:

Today is totally going to suck.

If only Jack had known what the future had in store for him,
he’d no doubt have realized how much of an understatement that was.  Because
though his morning started out bad, things were going to get much, much worse…