“Ew.”

Sammi stood beside Herbert in the doorway, hesitating at the sight of Alex’s incredibly messy bedroom. Taking a deep breath, they stepped over piles of clothes, toys, and leftover snacks, trying to avoid touching anything as they approached his closet.

“So if it’s in here, we can conclude he’s at camp, like his mom said,” Herbert said. “If it isn’t—”

“Just cross your fingers that it’s in here,” Sammi said.

“I don’t believe in superstition. It isn’t scientific.”

“Neither is Alex. Do you believe in him?”

Herbert looked at her as he put his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m more curious to see if he still believes in us.”

Herbert opened the door. Alex’s N.E.D. suit was gone. Taped to the hanger was a note, scribbled in Alex’s messy handwriting.

 

Alex popped out of the wormhole, rolled a few feet across the caveman diorama, jumped to his feet, and dusted himself off.

“Whoa! That was totally cosmic!”

A little boy about the age of Alex’s little sister stood alone at the railing. His mouth was opened wide, and he’d just dropped his NeonPop TurboSucker.

“Wow! A real live AlienSlayer!”

Alex reached behind one of the fake rocks and pulled out one of the rubber G’Dalien suits Chicago had stashed there. He looked down at the kid staring wide-eyed at him.

“We’ll see, kid.”

He hopped the railing, picked up the boy’s lollipop, and handed it to him. Then he ran down the Hallway of Human History, disappearing around the corner. The kid turned back to the caveman diorama and stared at the solid, black-painted, fake cave entrance, waiting for something else to pop out. A voice from far down the hall called to him.

“Sorry, son! That exhibit’s temporarily closed!”

Dallas jumped out of the AirCart and began setting up the barricade. EL-ROY helped the little kid to the other side of the hall as Sausalito drew the curtain back.

Chicago hopped the railing and looked back at the kid before disappearing behind the curtain. “Gotta make a few repairs.”

The kid turned to walk off down the hall. “No duh. It’s totally leaking AlienSlayers.”

 

Alex made his way through the squeaky-clean streets of Merwinsville, unnoticed in his baggy G’Dalien costume. He was trying not to look too panicked as he flopped his way toward Andretti’s Pizzeria. By the time he ducked behind the historically preserved building, he was sweating swamp buckets.

Up on the rooftop of Andretti’s, Alex shed his rubbery skin, stuck his hand inside the air-conditioning vent, and immediately pulled it back out. It was covered with cobwebs.

He took a deep breath. If he was going to be a solo AlienSlayer, he’d have to face much scarier things than cobwebs. He mustered his courage, reached back in, and yanked his duffel bag free from the sticky mess.

“Yes!” he said in a deep, action movie–type voice. “El Solo Libre triumphs once again!”

He shook off a century’s worth of dust and grime and zipped open the duffel bag. His heart sank—he was met with a stench so musty and nasty it would’ve made his bedroom smell like a perfume shop.

Alex stared into his bag. It was covered with slimy greenish-brown mold. He mustered more courage, shut his eyes, and reached into the muck.

SHHLORRP! He pulled out the striped beach towel, which was completely covered in cold, green slime. He tossed it aside. SPLAT! It stuck to the wall of the stairwell. Alex slid his hand into the goo again.

He pulled the ziplock plastic bag out of the same moldy filth, wiped it off, and smiled as he unzipped it. Out tumbled his tighty-whities, as clean as the day his mother bought them for him.

“Woo-hoo! El Solo Libre outwits the slimy green Mold Monster! Haven’t even suited up yet and I’m two for two!”

He slipped the tighty-whities on over his N.E.D. suit, then looked down at the last thing in the plastic bag—the shiny blue and silver Mexican wrestling mask his Uncle Davey had brought him back from Guadalupe.

“Hola, mi amigo.”

Alex pulled the mask on over his head.

His beach towel now a slimy heap of mold stuck to the wall, Alex was in need of a new cape. He came across a dusty old flour sack in a heap of pizzeria trash. The pull strings were torn and frayed but long enough for him to tie to the back of his N.E.D. suit. He fastened the cape, stepped back outside onto the roof, and walked over to the edge.

Feeling his mask on his face and hearing his flour sack cape fluttering in the breeze gave Alex a unique sensation, to say nothing of the newness of wearing underwear on the outside of his pants. He stepped to the ledge and looked out at the city of Future Merwinsville.

He stared out at the massive, glimmering G’Dalien-designed buildings he’d imagined being wiped out by Klapthorian Death Cruisers. As he stood there, he vowed to protect them.

Past, present, or future, he thought to himself, this is my town. My planet. My home.

“And no stink-suckin’ space shrimp is gonna kick me and my friends off it,” he suddenly blurted out. “Or my name isn’t…EL SOLO LIBRE!!!”^*