Touched by an Alien

attention to me. I slipped out of the car and started running toward the mass of exploded and melted superbeing parts, Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” revving in my ears.
    I had an aerosol in each hand, but it wasn’t too much of a problem. It might be hot, but I’d run track in high school and college in Pueblo Caliente—running in the midafternoon in the middle of a huge desert with the sun burning down wasn’t hot to me, it was normal. Sprinters had to run distance to build endurance, and my sadistic high school coach had made sure we learned to hold batons in either hand for relay training. My purse was an unhelpful addition, but I was more used to having it on than not.
    There were fugly parts all over, and the ground was muddy. No worries. I’d had to run in the monsoon season, and I was a hurdler. I was one of those rarities with a perfect four-step, so I’d had to learn to hurdle with either leg leading.
    I felt the ground pound and figured Mephistopheles was behind me. I didn’t turn around. Runners who turn around lose their race. “Enter Sandman” was a great song to run to—excellent beat, lyrics discussing the scary thing trying to kill you. I hadn’t realized it was based on real life before, but you learned something new every day.
    The ground was slippery and gross, and the smell was unreal. I’d thought Earwig was bad, but this was worse, all decayed body and boiled meat. I wondered if this was what haggis smelled like and vowed never to find out.
    The pounding was getting closer, but I was almost to the Humvee. It wasn’t shimmering, and if the tires weren’t melted, they were stuck in the sandy mud.
    I might never cook willingly, but I knew how. Experience told me metal that had had tons of boiling hot water poured onto it would be boiling hot. I skidded up to the driver’s door and sprayed the handle with the trusty Ever-Hold. I used the whole can, focusing on the door handle but also the lock.
    I threw the can behind me and wrenched the door open. Reader fell out. I managed to get under him and keep him in the seat and off the ground. He was unconscious but breathing. I sprayed another can in his face.
    “Ugh!” His eyes flickered and opened. “What the hell are you doing?”
    The ground shook. “Trying to save the only person I can relate to.”
    He managed a weak grin. “I’m not joking—if I were straight, we’d just run off, get married, and forget we ever knew Alpha Centauri had populated planets.”
    “Stop making me long for the impossible. Can you move? The big fugly’s coming, and we’re targets numbers one and two.”
    He nodded, and I helped him out of the car and put his arm around my shoulders, keeping him on the side opposite my purse. “Here, take a weapon.” I shoved an aerosol into his free hand.
    “Oh, God.”
    I looked where Reader was staring. Sure enough, there was my favorite fugly, standing in front of us.
    “Hey, Clifford the Big Red Monster! Get out of my way.”
    Mephistopheles leaned down, and his eyes changed. “You don’t fear me. Why?”
    Good question. I had no idea. “Because you’re stupid?” I sprayed his face.
    Reader reacted at the same time and also got Mephistopheles full in the kisser, to use that term loosely when applied in this case.
    “Gaaaahhhh!” Mephistopheles staggered backward, clawing at his face.
    “Time to move.” I dragged Reader in the opposite direction.
    “If we don’t find and destroy the parasites, all this was for nothing.”
    I hated it, but he was right. “Okay, eyes peeled, spray cans at the ready.” I tried not to think about how fast Mephistopheles was going to recover. I couldn’t move quickly with Reader hanging on me, and it was clear he couldn’t move without me.
    Jets flew over our heads, bullets spraying. They ricocheted off Mephistopheles. “I think I can move faster,” Reader said.
    “Good, let’s try trotting.” We moved a little better, but there was a lot of Fugly Stew on the ground.
    My walkie crackled. “Kitty, go to your right about fifty feet. The first parasite’s been spotted there.” Lorraine sounded tense. “It’s still moving, so be ready. It’ll try to connect with you or James.”
    “Oh, good.” We moved the way Lorraine told us. Mephistopheles was being driven away from us by the jets. “I’m kind of glad they stuck around.”
    “Yeah. Pilots are short, you know.”
    “You sound jealous. I’m touched, and wondering if you’re feeling