THANK GOODNESS FOR open-back hospital gowns that leave your butt hanging out in the breeze.
A sudden gust of cold air spanked my rear end so hard it shook me out of the little pity party I’d been throwing myself underneath the picnic table.
Snap out of it, Daniel! I said to myself, because—hey, somebody sure needed to say it. You are Daniel X. The Alien Hunter. You’re not a three-year-old kid hiding from monsters in the cellar anymore.
And even when I was three, I wasn’t a total wimp. I remember tricking The Prayer out of his third victim that day by turning into a tiny tick.
The memory made me smile for the first time in what seemed like hours.
Hadn’t I been planning to take the fight to Number 1? Maybe his desire to hunt me down would turn out to be a good thing. It would definitely save me all sorts of time doing recon and gathering intelligence. I wouldn’t need to track down The Prayer because I already had the perfect bait to lure him into whatever trap I set: me!
I quickly tested my external transformative powers by whipping myself up a new set of clothes, including shoes and a proper pair of jeans.
The jeans weren’t perfect, a little baggy in the seat and totally not this year’s hot style, but it was a start. My powers weren’t functioning at the peak of perfection, but they were definitely on the mend.
I might still be vulnerable, but I was no longer completely defenseless.
I flashed back to when I was dealing with Number 2, a demonic alien who turned out to be the same creature earthlings have called Satan or Beelzebub. I remember asking my dad, “If Number 2 is the devil, what’s Number 1?”
His answer still gave me chills: “Something much worse. He is a deity, Daniel. A god.”
So, to summarize, I—Daniel X—was currently being hunted by some sort of giant, all-powerful, omnipotent, insect-like god. One that clearly wanted to use some of its omnipotence to slay me and then destroy the adopted planet that I loved.
I was going to need backup.
Serious backup.
It was time to summon the real (and by real I mean imaginary) Willy, Dana, Joe, and Emma.
I focused on their spiritual essences.
Nothing happened.
So I focused again.
Nothing. Nada. Zip. I was still completely alone.
But not for long.
A big truck came rumbling down the highway. Its twin headlights cut across the darkness as it swung off the road and onto the rest area exit ramp.
I zoomed in on its front grille. Caught the glint of a sharply angled bulldog hood ornament.
It was another Mack truck.
The kind that nearly killed me in Kentucky.
And it wasn’t alone.