Game Over

Chapter 46





“DANIEL, THEY’RE GOING to try to demoralize you. Don’t let them, okay? No matter what they say.”

“I don’t demoralize easily,” I replied. Still, I had to admit I was more than a little freaked out that they somehow knew we were here and were approaching us in broad daylight!

“Good,” Kildare said. “Now just stick with me.”

My mind was exploding with questions, but I nodded at him as his parents came up to us, looking like some snooty, well-dressed professional couple.

“We can do this right here, right now, in the middle of Tokyo, Alien Hunter,” said Number 7, striding up and attempting to grab Kildare’s hand. Kildare was having none of it and backed up next to me.

“Of course, given the crowds today, a few hundred humans would doubtless be killed or injured in the melee,” chimed in Number 8. “Minimum.”

“Like that’s a big concern for you guys,” I muttered.

They ignored me, and Number 7 went on. “And we’d doubtless end up wrecking some of this park’s lovely cultural treasures—”

“We mean, if you still want to hunt us, that is.”

“You’re calling him a hunter?” demanded Kildare.

“Why else would he have been conducting surveillance on us?”

“Shopping in our store—”

“Watching us from window-washing platforms—”

“Turning himself into a fly—”

My mind was reeling. How did they know all this? How had they been spying on me even as I was trying to spy on them?

“Even,” said Number 8, “going as far as pretending to care about our son.”

“He does care about me,” protested Kildare. “Way more than either of you do.”

“Sure he does, son,” said Number 7. “That must be why they call him the Alien Hunter.”

“It’s not very nice pretending to be somebody’s friend like that,” said Number 8, casting a reproachful glance my way. “But what would you expect from an Alpar Nokian?”

“Yes, cold-blooded killers, all of them. He was just using you so he could find out more about us—so he could more easily hunt our family,” said Number 7.

“Yes, isn’t that one of the first things they teach you as an Alien Hunter—to know your prey?”

“At least his version of hunting involves saving lives; not killing for sport,” Kildare shouted.

“So he wants to kill us to save lives?” replied Number 7. “Perhaps he should consider taking a course in logic?”

“Or,” continued Number 8, “perhaps now that he knows more about us, he should just throw in the towel?”

“Yes, perhaps,” said Number 7, “he’s beginning to realize we’re a bit more trouble than we’re worth.”

“Unless,” continued Number 8, suddenly turning to me, “you need some more convincing?”

“Like,” said Number 7, “maybe it would help you to know that we’re not who we appear to be?”

“That we’re colonial beings,” said Number 8, “composed of billions of intelligent particles—”

“Which can combine,” continued Number 7 as he took his wife’s hand, “and take on any shape we wish—”

His voice suddenly sounded not so much like a single voice but a whole crowd of people talking at once. And then the two of them suddenly flickered gray and began to merge, effectively doubling in size and taking on a massive cloudlike swarm. It was kind of like somebody had just kicked over the world’s biggest hornet nest, and the hornets were on steroids and under the control of an evil supergenius. The cloud descended on a nearby pine tree and, with a stomach-turning buzzing noise, consumed every single branch and needle, leaving behind a burnt-looking stump.

At the top of the shrine’s stairs, out of earshot but still within view of us, the attending monk let out a small yelp and fled into the park.

Number 7 and Number 8 morphed back into their usual separate forms as I tried to lift my jaw from the ground and not look quite as surprised as I was. The implications of their being colonial creatures were past alarming to consider. Shape-shifting, immunity to projectiles, immunity to blunt trauma, able to disperse and reassemble at any time—

“So, tell us, have you ever fought a cloud that can take any form it wants and has a collective intelligence higher than any army the universe has ever known?” asked Number 7.

“It has its challenges, we assure you,” said Number 8.

They didn’t need to tell me. What was I going to do? Drop a bomb on them in the middle of a Tokyo park?

“Yes, why don’t you be a smart little Alien Hunter and leave us alone?”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” yelled Kildare. “And I’m going to help him!”

“But surely not right now—not in this crowded park, not where so many innocents might be hurt?”

I nodded at them coolly.

Just then Number 7’s cell phone began to ring, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Is it him?” asked Number 8.

“It is,” said Number 7 looking down at the readout of his smartphone.

“We’ll continue this later,” said Number 8 as Number 7 put the phone to his ear. And, just like that, the two of them turned and walked back down the path, out of the now quiet sanctuary and into the crowded, blossom-filled park.