Chapter One

On the hunt

Due to their immense age and great maturity, adults do not believe everything they hear or see. As a general rule, unless it is published in a reputable source such as a newspaper or supermarket tabloid, with all claims corroborated by experts, adults will not believe anything. Children, on the other hand, are very willing to believe any and everything which is presented to them. In fact, the more outrageous and fantastic something seems, the more likely they are to believe it.

So when a large alien monster climbed out of Als' closet -declaring that he was her imaginary friend and could he please have something to eat- she took it in stride.

Not that he did not take some getting used to. Rezul was quite tall but not bulky, and his blackish brown skin was hard and smooth like armor. His skull was elongated, curving slightly back above huge, black eyes. His smile was filled with pointy teeth, and long black claws sprouted from his hands and feet. Like the truly nightmarish monster he was, Rezul loomed rather well without apparent effort and seemed to take particular pleasure in popping up behind Als in the bathroom mirror while she brushed her teeth. Altogether, he was the scariest thing Als had ever seen in her life.

Now, she had known about the monsters in her closet even if she had never seen one before. Als tried all the regular methods of dealing with them in accordance with the Rules. She knew that if she shut both of the closet doors tightly and opened the bedroom door at least six inches, the monsters were not allowed to come out. Her mother had supplied a younger Als with a large bottle of lemon-scented Anti-Monster spray, whose powers lasted as long as it could be smelt. Night-lights were another powerful tool, and everyone knows that covers pulled up over the head present a impenetrable barrier. To these tried and true methods, Als added stuffed bunnies as potential monster deterrents.

As it turned out, very little deterred Rezul. Not that he broke the Rules, exactly, but he had ways. So after a few nights suffocating under her covers, Als came to a decision. She put away the anti-monster spray and gave the stuffed bunnies back to her little sister. She left the closet door open and the bedroom mostly shut, though she did leave a small nightlight on. Then, she lay down and closed her eyes. If he was going to eat her, than he was just going to eat her.

Even if he was very scary looking, (really scary looking), Als decided it was much better to be friends with a monster than not. Actually, having met one and survived the encounter, she felt much better about monsters in general. He did not eat her after all, and she started to like having Rezul around. Well, most of the time. Then there were times, like one Saturday morning, when he made Als wish she had never watched that stupid movie.

She woke that fateful morning to the sound of Rezul greeting the glorious day in a very loud voice.

"Hail, O newly risen sun! Hail, O puffy white clouds! Hail, O warm summer breezes and singing birds!"

"Rezul," Als's voice was muffled by the pillow clamped firmly over her head," what time is it?"

Rezul ceased his triumphant dance in the middle of her room and spun to the wall-clock. "Exactly six forty-five antes meridian," he reported.

"Yes," Als agreed. She lifted her head, pillow balanced precariously on top. "Now, what are you doing up and why, why, why did you wake me up?"

"It is," Rezul pronounced, face drawn and somber as he turned back to Als," that time of year which only comes once annually. It is that most august season-"

"Rezul," the girl interrupted," is is July, not August, which is a month and not an entire season."

"Most important season," Rezul said tapping his claws together, eyes alight with excitement. "It is that most important season which calls out the strong and divides the weak from the not-weak. Arise, fair Als: It is hunting season!"

The girl rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the bed. Rezul was apparently confused. "Isn't that in the fall?" She asked, still unhappy to be awake so early but happy that she would shortly be allowed to go back to sleep. It is a widely acknowledged fact that nothing good has ever come of getting out of bed before in the morning, unless that morning is Christmas morning.

"Not the type of prey we will be hunting."

Als raised her head again as her heart sank. "'We'?" She asked. "'We' will?"

Rezul looked hurt. "You promised," he insisted, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. This looked more ghastly than cute and pathetic; he was an alien monster after all.

"Oh alright. Just go away so I can get dressed." Als swallowed as Rezul came over to the bunk bed. He bent over the rail and peered at her suspiciously.

"You won't try to climb out the window again, will you?" He asked, voice low.

Als frowned at him, her eyebrows twitching in exasperation. "I did not try to climb out the window, and I'll be a moment."

"Alright," said Rezul brightly, straightening back to his full eight foot height and turning to go," but you did promise and I'll be quite upset if you try to run away again."

"I did not try to run away!" Als shouted, but Rezul had already shut the door. Suddenly realizing that her parents and siblings, including her little sister on the bunk below her, were still asleep, Als clamped a hand over her mouth. All she needed, on top of having an insane imaginary friend dragging her on crazy adventures, was to get in trouble for being too loud too early in the morning. She spent an anxious moment listening for the sounds of interrupted slumberings, until it became clear that she had miraculously disturbed no one. Sighing with relief and consternation, Als climbed down from the bed.

"Hunting at six forty-five," she grumbled, pulling a wrinkled pair of jeans out of the lowest dresser drawer," I don't think I agreed to this. Even the early birds are probably still in bed." She tugged on the pants and stood in front of her closet for a moment, pondering what exactly one wore hunting. Should she wear green and brown to blend in? Or perhaps a brighter color like pink or orange, so that no one would shoot her by mistake. Als wondered who she thought would be hunting with them. More importantly: what would they be hunting?

"Rezul!" She called, careful to be quiet, as she pulled on a blue shirt. He returned, stomping up the stairs by the sound of it, and singing at the top of his lungs. She grabbed her sneakers just as he knocked on the door.

"You know, Als," he said, poking his head in," you really ought to be more quiet."

"You're the one who's shaking the walls," she retorted.

"I," Rezul informed her with magnificent patience," am a figment of your imagination. They cannot hear me."

"Happy ignorance," Als muttered. "Now," she said, straightening from her laces," what exactly are we hunting?"

Rezul beckoned her out into the hall. "Well, it's a most dangerous creature," he whispered, reaching past her to close the bedroom door. "The most dangerous creature, I would say."

Als gulped. "Tigers?"

"Much worse."

"Aardvarks?"

Rezul motioned her closer and lowered himself to her level. "It is," he whispered, eyes darting right and left," meatloaf."

Als stared at him as if he had grown a second head, which would have been a very strange thing for a human to do but not so odd for an alien. Only when she had decided, after a few moments of intense internal debate that he had in fact said what she thought he said did Als ask the obvious. "Meatloaf?"

"Shh!!!" Rezul hissed frantically. Als barely had time to squeak before he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Speak not the name of evil! You shall bring them down upon us!" His head whipped frantically around, eyes looking everywhere as if he expected meatloaf to jump out from behind the pictures on the walls.

"Re-Rezul!" Als manged to rip his hand from her face. "Stop it!" She shoved him away and stood, breathing hard and glaring. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in my life! We had, that, for dinner on Sunday."

"That was domesticated meatloaf," he insisted. "It is bred to lie quietly while it is consumed but, there are other kinds. Wild and vicious, they'd kill you as soon as look at you."

"Are, are you sure, Rezul?" Als asked. She was beginning to fear for his sanity. Maybe she had hit him too hard with that frying pan the other day. Perhaps repeated beatings with a bunny had done something to his brain.

"Poor Als," sniffed Rezul, and hugged her head fiercely to his chest. "One so young and so innocent has been sheltered from the true horrors of life."

"Like," Als began, struggling to keep from suffocating," meatloaf?"

"Hush child," he hugged her tighter. "It will be alright! Rezul is here to keep you alive! Now," he released her abruptly and she fell to the floor with a thump," we must preform the appropriate rituals while there is still time."

"Rituals?" Als scrambled to her feet and followed Rezul downstairs into the kitchen. He rummaged in the refrigerator for a moment before pulling out a jug of milk and an apple. "Isn't this a little silly? I mean, you can't expect me to believe that meatloaf is actually dangerous."

"It's not that hard to believe," the tall alien objected. "Isn't meatloaf traditionally mysterious, and also portrayed as somewhat frightening?"

Als had not considered the situation in exactly those terms. Now as she thought about it, all the kids at school dreaded meatloaf day in the cafeteria, and the lunch ladies refused to say where it came from.

"Don't you remember last year?" Rezul continued, breaking the apple in half and giving part to Als. "Your Uncle Mike got put in the hospital and almost died because he ate some 'bad' meatloaf. Imagine how much more dangerous it is when it's outside you."

She supposed that line of reasoning was sound, particularly considering who it was coming from. "So," Als said, biting into her half of the apple," why are we eating this?"

"I like apples," Rezul said, stuffing his part, seeds, stem and all into his mouth.. "Now, Als, we shall anoint ourselves behind the ears with milk and garlic to disguise our scent."

Als made a face. She had expected something a little more mystical and mysterious, and much less stinky. "No." She shook her head even when Rezul frowned at her. "Okay, meatloaf is dangerous. It might even be more dangerous than people think, but there is no way I am putting garlic behind my ears. Do you have any idea how long it will take to get the smell out of my hair?" Als might not have been the biggest fan of make-up, or getting all dressed up, but nobody messed with her hair.

"But Als-"

"No way, Rezul." She dipped a finger in the milk and dabbed it behind her ears. "There," she announced. "Now, let's go."

Rezul regarded her solemnly, and then closed the milk with a sigh. "Alright."

"Um," said Als, something occurring to her as she looked up at him. "Rezul? You don't have ears."

"Out, Als. Time to go."

The rest of the neighborhood still slept as the pair made their way down the street. No other souls stirred on porches or sidewalks, and only the hiss of someone's overly ambitious sprinkler system softened the quiet.

"Why are we hunting the meatloaf?" Als asked, careful to keep her voice down.

"Because it must be done," Rezul said, and his long strides became more determined. Als had to trot in order to keep up. "For the sake of the continued freedom and independence of people everywhere!"

That seemed like a good enough, if somewhat ambiguous reason, and the girl decided not to ask any more questions. She might not like the next answer so much.

The sidewalk led down to a tunnel underneath the road. The pair made their way through the echoing dark and emerged into a forest. Als followed Rezul off the path into the trees where they crawled on their bellies over sharp rocks, through mud and brambles. They rolled in the dirt and put leaves on their head. This, Rezul assured Als, would serve to confuse the meatloaf. After sidetracking, doubling back, and going circles, they arrived at a spot overlooking a slightly worn trail.

"Ah-ha!" Rezul exulted. He settled himself down behind a scraggly bush and motioned for Als to do likewise. After she had prostrate herself beside him, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "This is it."

Als peered between the branches of their bush at the faint trail. In all appearances, to her eyes at least, it seemed to be an ordinary trail worn, no doubt, by the many visitors to the forest. "What is it exactly?" She whispered.

"An old meatloaf migration route," Rezul returned as if mention that the trees had begun to put out leaves. Als blinked at him for a long moment before asking the logical question.

"Meatloaf. . . Migrate?"

"Well," said Rezul, craning his head to get a better look," only the South Italian Meatloaf. The Swedish Meatloaf are aquatic and the Chinese Meatloaf nest in trees."

"In trees?" Als murmured. "Of course, how silly of me."

"It does seem to suit them," her friend agreed. "Must make them happy, or something, for they are by far the least aggressive of all meatloaf."

Als bit her lip and plucked nervously at some moss. "Don't you think," she hazarded," maybe we should hunt those? I mean the ones that the least aggressive and therefore the least dangerous? The ones that migrate, they aren't very 'aggressive,' are they?"

Rezul turned to meet her eyes with a somber look. "Als," he said gravely," the Sacred Ritual of Garlic and Milk is not preformed for just any hunt, but only when there is the high probability of death."

"Death!?" Als squeaked, her eyes bulging. For a brief moment, she wavered between clobbering Rezul for not mention the mortal peril inherent in their mission, and clobbering Rezul for suggesting something so ridiculous as "death by meatloaf." She decided to hit him, hard, and decide her reasons later.

"This is not the time for violence," he whispered urgently as she nursed her newly bruised fist. "Als, one never knows when hunting meatloaf which breath might be the last. These might very well be our last moments: let us live them as comrades and friends!"

"I just can't believe you got me out of bed at six forty-five in the morning to get killed by a meatloaf," Als whimpered. "How am I going to explain this to my mom?" She was beginning to think about Uncle Mike again, and how he had almost died, and how Rezul had said that the wild meatloaf were even more dangerous. "I don't think I'm supposed to be down here without an adult."

"Shh," Rezul patted her back. "Don't worry, too much. We have the element of surprise on our side. So long as we keep a sharp eye on the trail and don't blink too much, we should be able to keep the maiming to a minimum."

"But, if Mom and Dad find out I was down here without them-"

"You are preforming a vital service to society," Rezul reasoned. "Surely if you tell them that it was a matter of enormous importance, one to ensure the continued flourishing of all humankind, they might let you off with a warning, or they might ground you until you're fifty-six and no dessert for three years, but that is a sacrifice we must be willing to make!"

Als wanted to protest, to say that she was not prepared to give up chocolate for such a long time, but Rezul hushed her again and indicated that she should watch. She glared at him, but then reluctantly turned her attention to the trail.

For the better part of a half an hour, they stared at the trail. The forest grew lighter around them as the sun came up, and birds began to call from the trees. It seemed so much like any other harmless Saturday morning that Als, though she had been filled with much fear and trembling, began to relax. As she relaxed, her mind wandered from the important matter at hand and she started admiring the forest, and the trees, and the pretty patterns the rising sun made on the ground.

It was as Als stared at a vine twining around a tree, trying to decide whether it was a honeysuckle or not, that she noticed something strange. The girl squinted: unsure of what she saw. Something, no, several somethings appeared to be creeping towards them. They were well-camouflaged, so well in fact that Als doubted her eyes for a moment, and vaguely box shaped.

"Um," she elbowed her companion," Rezul. . ."

"Shh," he muttered, large black eyes watering from staring so long. "I must concentrate."

"But Rezul," Als gulped and stopped. Her eyes darted all around as she confirmed her worst fears. "Rezul, we're surrounded."

Rezul blinked, and then looked around surreptitiously. "Als," he said solemnly after a cursory glance," it has been my great joy to be your friend. I am truly honored to be at your side in this, our final hour. Um, final minute."

"Rezul. . ."

"Above all," he continued, rather loftily," we must not panic." Als stared at him, for a full minute as the meatloaf crept ever closer, and then proceeded to panic. Loudly.

Howling strange war cries, the meatloaf fell on them.

Am I going to die? Als thought as she ran. She dodged behind a tree, and muffled a shriek as tomato sauce splattered on the bark by her face. And I always thought it would be Algebra that did me in.

She ripped her jeans diving over a rock. Her shirt caught and tore on thorns as she scrambled through a patch of bushes. All the while, bits of tomato whizzed around her and the battle screams of the meatloaf rang from every trying in the previously peaceful woods.

Als heard Rezul yelling things too. Mostly things like, "OW!" and "SPEEDY DIGESTION TO ALL MEATLOAF!" and "AHH!"

He yelled this last one as he tripped over Als.

"Come on!" He cried, not wasting a moment as he rolled to his feet and grabbed Als's arm. "This is no time to cower in the underbrush!" Rezul yanked her to her unsteady feet and they plunged off towards the tunnel.

Over fallen trees, slipping on moss and fallen leaves, onward they rushed. Als let out a great shriek as something bounced on her back. The blow would have sent her sprawling, but for Rezul's hand under her arm. The girl knew, with absolute certainty that she had narrowly escaped death, and relief rose in her throat so strongly that she could taste it. It tasted kind of like waffles, actually.

She turned, as they burst from the woods and raced for the tunnel, to thank Rezul for saving her life from the screaming berserks which pursued them. Then, she chanced to recall that it was mostly Rezul's fault anyway, and decided to save her breath for running until they were in the clear.

"Almost there," Rezul huffed encouragingly. "Keep going!" Sure enough, the vicious cries faded behind them as they ran into the tunnel.

On the other side, back among the clustered town homes of blessedly familiar suburbia, the pair stopped to catch their breath. Rezul bent over, hands resting on his knees and mouth wide open as he gasped for breath. Als rubbed her aching sides and looked around. The street and houses were as ordinary and unassuming as they had always been. Somehow, she felt the familiar, mundane should have been more reassuring.

"Rezul?" She asked, remembering that something had greatly perplexed her. "The meatloaf were yelling something. It sounded very much like," but she hesitated to say it. The morning had been strange, very strange, but what she thought she had heard was stranger still. Ridiculous even. There was no way the meatloaf had been saying what she'd thought. Rezul waited patiently while she gathered herself. "It sounded like they were saying. . . 'watermelon.'"

"Oh," said Rezul. "That." He straightened and turned to peer back through the tunnel.

Als decided that she could wait for an answer while Rezul made certain they were in fact safe. She turned her attention to the many gobs of tomato pulp and bits of onion which clung to her shirt. Picking them off, Als grimaced as they squished between her fingers. Was that basil she smelled? And perhaps more than a smattering of garlic? Well, at least the meatloaf were probably tasty.

"They," Rezul said, motioning her to follow as he moved away from the tunnel," were not actually saying 'watermelon,' but their language is so complex, so transcendentally elegant and lovely that our poor ears can only interpret their speech in that way."

"You know an awful lot about meatloaf," Als observed as she pulled some parsley off her shirt," can't you translate?"

Rezul sighed. "It is not so simple. I have heard that there are ways, dark, secret ways, to understand the speech of meatloaf, but I choose not to pursue them. It is generally very bad for one's health to meddle too deeply in the affairs of meatloaf, and I prefer my ear unadulterated by meatloaf"

Als decided not to mention Rezul's definite lack of ears again. "Well, even if it was your fault that we almost got killed, I suppose that you did get us out alive."

"Yes, but we must consider our next move carefully." Rezul stopped and pivoted to face back towards the tunnel. "Perhaps we should go back. . ."

"But we were almost killed!" Als exclaimed, unable to believe her ears.

"What I can't understand is how the meatloaf knew we were there." Rezul frowned as he considered this enigma. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned to Als. "It pains me greatly to ask you this question but. . . did you conspire with the meatloaf?"

Mrs. Brian loved mornings, and Saturday mornings in particular. Her husband and two children still in their beds, and the rest of the neighborhood quiet while everyone slept off their Friday nights, she brewed a fresh pot of coffee and then went to sit on the front porch and read the paper. She made her way leisurely through the pages, sipping her coffee as she read about the local news. Mid-way through a fascinating story regarding the latest escapades of the governor and his infamous cheese grater, a flabbergasted silence reached her ears. Mrs. Brian looked up.

A girl was standing in the street, mouth gaping like a surprised fish as she stared up at the empty air. Mrs. Brian thought her name was Alysse, or something like that. One of the kids from up the street.

"No," said Alysse. "I did not conspire with the stupid little meatloaf"

At least, that was Mrs. Brian thought she heard, but perhaps her ears were stopped up.

Now the girl was scowling at air most ferociously. "I don't think it's because I didn't preform the 'Sacred Ritual' and how would smearing garlic behind my ears helped?"

Mrs. Brian peered into her mug. Perhaps something was wrong with the coffee? It did taste a little strange.

"Well if you had told me that was why we were supposed to smear garlic behind our ears, I might have done it! You need to explain these. . . You did not explain! You were just like, 'Als, smear garlic behind your ears!' What was I supposed to do!?"

Mrs. Brian cleared her throat politely, to let Alysse know that this private argument was not going unwitnessed, but the girl was clearly too irate to notice.

"You can go back to the stupid woods with the stupid meatloaf if you want to! I am going home!" She did just that, whirling and racing up the street to her house. She slammed the door behind her and, for a moment, peace and quiet returned to the neighborhood. Then, the door opened reluctantly and Alysse poked her head out. "Well, come in then," she said, to the noticeably empty air," but I just want you to know that I'm going to get in a lot of trouble, even if it was for the betterment of all humankind. . . Probably ground for life. . ."

The door shut again, and the street was silent.

"Hm," said Mrs. Brian, and returned to her newspaper.