Scrapyard Ship (4 page)

“I played in that car-spot a hundred times, and that’s not the same car. For one thing, it’s the wrong color. The car I played in was sea-green… and it was a convertible.”

“Maybe Grandpa Gus moved it,” Mollie said, not understanding his over-preoccupation with the old car.

“Maybe. But let’s check it out anyway. Come on.” They crossed over onto a perpendicular pathway that led them in the direction of the big red Caddy. Yeah, this was definitely a different car. And something else was strange. The undercarriage axles and wheels were gone; the car was sitting flat on a concrete pad, making it impossible to see beneath it. Recalling how Gus stretched a dollar, it didn’t seem like something he’d do. As they got closer, the monitor on Jason’s ankle restraint beeped twice, letting him know he was at the limit of his house-arrest parameters. Mollie looked down at his ankle and smiled.

“Mom told me you had that thing on your leg. She said you had to wear it instead of going to jail. She said you killed some bad men and that’s part of your punishment.”

“She told you all that, huh?” Jason asked.

“Yep, that’s what she said.”

Jason saw movement up ahead. The driver’s side door on the Cadillac flew open and the little man in the baseball cap climbed out. He was holding some kind of rifle, which was loosely pointed toward the ground. Jason was familiar with most weaponry, but not this one. It was a small rifle of sorts, well suited for the little man. But less mechanical—futuristic. Perhaps an energy-type weapon?
Why on earth would he need a weapon?
Also, there was something strange about the way he moved, something Jason couldn’t put his finger on. The little man stood there for a moment, taking in his surroundings. His head suddenly jerked up towards the sky—giving extra attention to a commercial passenger jet. With the door wide open, Jason could see into the interior of the car; it had been completely gutted—seats, steering wheel, dashboard—everything had been removed.

“Hide,” he whispered to Mollie, crouching down behind a rusted old Chevy school bus. She crouched down next to him and they watched as the little man proceeded to shut the car door and head in their direction. It was then, once he had gotten closer, that Jason realized the little fellow wasn’t quite human.

Up until then Jason hadn’t actually seen his face. He’d been walking or running away from Jason and the baseball cap had obscured his misshapen head. He looked like the character in the popular Spielberg movie, ET: Oversized-almond-shaped eyes, a rounded triangular-shaped head, little stubby arms. All that but with a unique, defining difference: This alien was also part machine. From ten yards out, Jason could clearly see he was more mechanical than organic; strange too, since he was whistling a tune and acting anything but machine-like. Jason flattened himself closer against the old bus, hoping the now-armed robot-man-thing would pass by them without noticing their presence. He pulled Mollie closer to him and motioned for her to do the same.

His ankle monitor chose that particular instant to make a single ‘beep’ sound. Jason cringed and stole a quick glance at Mollie, who was scowling and shaking her head at him. The robot creature, clearly on edge, spun to see what the noise was. Startled, a knee-jerk reaction caused him to pull the trigger—sending a bright blue bolt of energy in their direction. The mechanical man stood there transfixed—his weapon’s muzzle pointing in their direction. 

Somehow Jason knew, even before he turned to Mollie, that she’d been hit. Turning to look at her, his eyes were drawn to a small, still smoldering burn hole in the middle of her chest, ruining her Little Kitty T-shirt. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, a mixture of astonishment and fear. Only one word escaped her lips, “Daddy?” before she crumpled to the ground.

Jason grabbed for her. Took her in his arms—hoped that if he held her tight enough, long enough, the truth of what had just happened would somehow change—that his little girl would come back to him. He’d seen death on a regular basis: The vacant gaze—when spirit has left the body—when a person’s life is over. Jason fell to his knees and cried out, “Mollie, Mollie, Oh God Mollie…” He continued rocking her lifeless body—there in that grimy graveyard of rusted-out old cars, buses, and scrap metal. He set her body gently down on the ground and closed her eyes, then moved several wayward strands of hair off her face. The dread now rushed in at him from all directions. Why now, after all their years of being apart? Away at sea, then the divorce. Why now when they were just getting to know each other again? Jason looked down at Mollie.

The only person who had loved him unconditionally was now dead. He felt the rage build from his core. He wanted blood.

Jason spun around, arms outstretched, and leaped onto the small robot creature who had not moved. As with the bullets he’d fired into those pirates’ heads, there was no thinking, just raw primal action. His fingers wrapped around its thick metal-like neck and he squeezed with every bit of strength he possessed. He squeezed until his arms shook. But this metal didn’t react the same way as human flesh. Not to be deterred, Jason began banging its head against the concrete path. He did this repeatedly, over and over again, until its baseball hat flew off and he heard the satisfying crack of metal striking concrete.

A shrieking shrill emanated from the robot’s distorted mechanical-looking mouth. It was trying to say something, but Jason had little interest in what it had to say. It screamed even louder, just a single, choking, string of words.

“I…can…save…her….”

Jason stopped and looked into the robot’s two glowing amber orbs. There was concern there, pleading, which was surprising to see in a mechanized being. “What do you mean you can save her? Can’t you see? You’ve killed her!” He screamed, ready to resume his assault on this mechanical abomination.

“The ship,” the robot croaked, “we need to get her to the ship within five minutes.” The robot squirmed out from under him and rushed towards Mollie’s body.

“Don’t you touch her, don’t you go near her!” Jason yelled. The robot stopped and looked back at him. In a calm and deliberate voice it said: “There are many things you don’t comprehend yet, but believe me when I tell you, not all hope is lost. You need to pick her up and come with me… hurry, do it now!”

Jason had nothing to lose and somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that he was talking to some kind of creature that shouldn’t even exist. Maybe it, he, whatever it was, could do something for her. The alternative was too devastating to imagine. He picked up Mollie’s limp body and felt her head roll loosely to the crook of his arm. He felt incapacitated with dread. The robot, which seemed no worse for wear, darted off towards the Cadillac. Jason quickly followed behind.

He swung open the heavy car door. “Hurry, get in, get in!” the robot barked, prodding Jason to move faster.

“Where? In there? What the hell are you talking about?” Jason yelled back, but stooped down anyway and scurried into the Cadillac. The robot closed the door and pressed a small button. As the three of them tightly huddled together, the floor started to lower. It was an elevator of sorts and they were descending. The walls of the makeshift shaft were a patchwork of things pilfered from the scrapyard: automobile hoods, car doors, and even the side panel from an old ambulance.

“It’s already been a minute and thirty seconds, “Jason barked. “Come on, God damn it! How long are we going to be stuck in this thing?”

The mechanical man didn’t move and continued to stare forward. They dropped several hundred meters before the elevator slowed and came to a complete stop. It was an opening to a large tunnel. The robot, wasting no time, jumped out and signaled Jason to follow.

Jason’s mind raced,
three minutes and counting
. They ran through a large tunnel, sporadically-placed light fixtures flew by in a blur. Jason and the robot ran another full minute before the tunnel opened up into a massive underground chamber. Still at a dead run, Jason noticed the mechanical man was tiring. “Don’t you dare stop now!” Jason barked, passing him and looking back over his shoulder. Jason stole a glance down at Mollie’s face, her lips had turned blue, her mouth agape.

Workers in dark blue uniforms worked at consoles and workbenches; they looked up with surprised expressions. More strange electrical devices, much like those in the shed, were strewn about, being worked on. But as astonishing as everything seemed to Jason, they paled in comparison to the odd-looking spaceship parked in the center of the chamber. The ship was huge, over a football field in length and almost half of that in width.

Jason looked down at Mollie, lying lifeless in his arms, hoping that his running hadn’t disturbed her in some way.

“Come on! We’re over four minutes, where do I go. Where?” Jason screamed.

The robot ran past him and quickly scurried up a long ramp, disappearing into the back of the ship. Jason ran after him. Oh God, would they make it in time.
Time for what?
Would the robotic-creature really have some magical formula to bring her back to life? Then Jason noticed someone had hand-painted the words
The Lilly
in bright yellow lettering directly over the open hatch. Jason ran into the ship.

They continued running down a narrow, brightly-lit corridor. Hatchways and divergent corridors flew by as they progressed deeper into the bowels of the ship. The robot abruptly stopped. “Hurry, through the DeckPort,” he prompted, pointing toward another open hatch. The little man-thing took hold of Jason’s wrists and they scurried across the threshold together. From the top of his head down to his toes, he felt a slight tingle run through his body. They were somehow, transported to another deck—another corridor. The robot ran ahead and made an abrupt turn up ahead. Jason followed.

Eventually, Jason caught up—ending up in a circular, medical-looking room. There were several long clamshell-type enclosures and what looked like monitoring devices—with connecting display units—mounted to a bulkhead. The robot pressed a button and one of the clamshells started to open. Showing his own desperation, the robot repeatedly hit the button over-and-over again. With it only halfway open, he gestured for Jason to set Mollie’s lifeless body inside. “In here, put her inside.”

Jason was quickly hustled out of the way and the robot started entering a series of commands onto a small touchpad device. The top portion of the clamshell began to close, culminating in a sucking thump sound. Several colorful displays became active; one display had a rotating virtual 3D representation of Mollie’s body.

“That’s it? That’s all your going to do?” Jason asked, fuming. He looked for an indication that it wasn’t just a ruse by the robot to avoid another beating.

“Now… we wait,” the robot said, turning away and quickly walking out of the room. Jason surveyed the space around him. Like the contours of the ship itself, the room was a mixture of fluid lines and gentle angles. Functional and purpose-oriented as this space was—it seemed almost artful in its architecture. Soft, indirect lighting highlighted cushioned wall panels. And super clean—no scrapes—no dings on the bulkheads. Jason stood still, his hand still rested on top of the clamshell-device capsule. Never one to pray or really contemplate on anything more than present-time physicality, the here and now, he prayed. He prayed for Mollie, he prayed for himself, and he prayed for second chances.

Jason could see Mollie’s illuminated face through a small rectangular window. He thought he noticed an eye-flutter. Was it merely his imagination? Then the 3D full-body representation changed slightly, showing the faintest indication of a beating heart. He must have stood there over an hour before he realized the robot was back in the room, checking the displays and making additional adjustments.

“Now she must rest; it will be a while longer. Please, you will come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, robot,” Jason snapped back. “I’m certainly not leaving Mollie alone in this place.”

“Do not worry, we’ll be close by. And you may refer to me as Ricket. That’s what your father called me.”

“What?”

“Please. Mollie will be fine here,” Ricket softly replied. The robot headed out into the corridor and gestured he should follow. Jason stole one more glance at Mollie and reluctantly left the room. He realized the mechanical man, Ricket, was talking to him again. “What? What did you say?” Jason asked, following him as they passed by several large equipment-filled compartments. Jason noticed that Ricket, at some point, had retrieved his baseball cap from up above. With it, the robot almost looked human again. They made their way to what seemed to be the ship’s bridge or command center. Slightly oblong, the surrounding bulkhead was more like a massive curved virtual display, completely encircling the room 360 degrees. Consoles were configured around the perimeter, as well as in several middle rows. “I think it’s time you tell me what the hell is going on here, robot.”

“ Please, refer to me as Ricket…”

“Whatever,” Jason interrupted. “Ricket, Robot, I really don’t give a shit what you’re called. Tell me, what is this place and who the hell are you people?”

Ricket moved to one of the console chairs and sat down. “Please, sit anywhere you like. Up top, I was already on my way to bring you here when—”

“When you shot and killed my daughter?”

Ricket was quiet for a moment, then said, “Your father will explain everything.”

“Really? That would be some trick, since he’s been missing more than fifteen years.”

Ricket started typing something at the console before looking up toward the large virtual display that encircled the room.

“Hello, Jason,” his father said, his smiling face filling the screen. “How are you son?”  

“What the hell is this? And who the hell are you?” Jason asked, looking first at Ricket and then at the man on the screen.

“I can’t even imagine what a shock this must be for you. So before I say anything else, let me begin by saying I’m truly sorry.” The man on the screen looked weary. He had salt and pepper hair—more salt than pepper. Wearing a dark grey uniform and what appeared to be admiral’s insignias on his collar, he continued, “I have very little time to talk, Jason. I’m asking you to put everything aside—all your questions, even your anger, and just listen to what I have to say. Can you do that for me?”