Touched by an Alien

Wet sand and fugly parts were starting to flip around. “See if you can spot number three,” I shouted to them as I put my iPod and the aerosol back into my purse. I pulled out another clip and put it into the back pocket of my jeans. I considered putting the safety on, but I realized I couldn’t get it off without two hands, so foolhardy was going to continue to be the watchword of the day. I stuck the Glock into the front of my pants and prayed it wouldn’t slip out or go off.
    Martini lifted me; I grabbed the end of the cable and moved up until I could hold on with my legs and feet as well. I could see Reader talking into his walkie, and then we flew off.
    It was an interesting view. The parts were spread what I guessed was at least a mile in radius, maybe more. Added to this were the carcasses of Earwig and the remains of the Slug, looking gray and greasy. It was easily the most repulsive sight I’d ever seen. And even high up the place stank beyond belief.
    My jet moved next to the one Claudia was in, and they sheared off. We were hovering, and I had to look closely. Finally I spotted it, moving like a big, fat worm. It was trying to get away. I would have felt pity, but there were lots of mammals in the desert, and the idea of some poor coyote getting turned into something like the Killer seemed like the height of cruelty to animals. In the fight between their world and mine, I was always going to pick mine.
    I aimed the Glock and fired. I missed, but I did hit the ground right in front of the parasite. It stopped moving and turned around. It didn’t have eyes, but I could feel it looking at me. I fired again, but I wasn’t hitting it.
    Someone must have told Lorraine I was having trouble, because the jet started to lower slowly. I had no idea how long the pilot could keep us hovering like this, but I had to guess not too long. I emptied the clip and managed to hit the parasite once. Not enough.
    I dropped the clip out and watched as it fell right onto the parasite. The clip was engulfed and didn’t show up again. I got the feeling this parasite was doing whatever its kind did when they wanted to indicate that their opponent was being invited to “bring it.”
    Now for the really tricky part. I shoved the Glock back into my pants and reached back for the clip. No matter how much I wanted to do it otherwise, I was going to have to use two hands to put the new clip in.
    I considered my options. My legs were well wrapped around the cable. Way back when, I used to practice hanging upside down from the rope. Never when the coach was around, of course. But several of my boyfriends had thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Of course, I was pretty limber in school, and this particular skill hadn’t been used for longer than I wanted to ponder. However, it would allow me to load the gun and possibly get a better shot at the same time.
    I slid my purse over and down, so it was around my body, hooked just above my knees. Then I took the Glock out of my pants, effectively letting go of the cable, and leaned backward. I couldn’t get my head to my heels any more, but it was close enough. I loaded the clip into the gun—it was weird but not impossible.
    I had to focus to find the parasite. It had moved right under me. I had fifteen shots, it had a lot of malevolence. Evenly matched.
    The jet wasn’t steady, but I was getting used to the movement. I forced myself to relax, even though it looked as though the parasite was getting ready to leap. Why I thought that I couldn’t say, but the feeling was strong, and I didn’t argue with it.
    I aimed and started firing. I hit it several times. It needed more shots than the one in Earwig had. I emptied the clip, and the thing was torn up but still alive. I shoved the Glock back into my pants and tucked my shirt in to keep it from moving. Then I felt around in my purse for the half-full aerosol can.
    I pulled it out and started spraying. Nothing, too far away. I considered my options as I went back to upright. My stomach muscles complained, and I got a head-rush, but I got back up without slipping. Oh, well, nothing for it.
    Holding on tightly to the cable, I shifted my legs and let my purse drop. Direct hit! The parasite splatted and burst apart as if it were a water balloon. Now my choice was to drop down or hang on. Conveniently, my arms shared that they were tired by having my hands release without my brain’s consent.
    I went down, but just as before, I