The Klaatu Terminus by Pete Hautman Page B

joke — some kids had gotten hold of a pair of wire cutters and cut the circle out just to mess with Chuck’s head. But the wires didn’t look like they’d been cut. Wire cutters would have left the ends slightly uneven. These wires just . . . ended. And the circle was too precise to be the work of kids. Even Kosh, who was pretty handy, could not have performed such a flawless job of vandalism.
    “I figure we can just slap on a new piece,” Chuck said. “But I sure as shootin’ would like to know what the heck did this.”
    It took only a few minutes to repair the fence. Kosh wondered why Chuck had bothered to call him, then realized that Chuck had simply wanted to show somebody the hole. He couldn’t blame him — it wasn’t the sort of thing you could describe and have anybody believe you. After they finished the repair and returned the extra fencing and tools to the barn, Chuck asked Kosh what he owed him.
    Kosh waved him away. “Nothing,” he said. “It didn’t take but ten minutes.”
    “More closer to twenty some,” Chuck said. “But I ain’t going to force nothing on you. ’Less you want a chicken.”
    “Chicken?”
    “Yeah. You like chicken?”
    “A
live
chicken?”
    “Nope. She’s gutted, plucked, and ready for roasting. Had to thin the flock this morning.”
    “I have this chicken,” Kosh said.
    Emily laughed. He had never heard her laugh over the phone before.
    “That’s funny,” she said.
    “It is?”
    “Yes. Chickens are funny. Especially when somebody calls you out of the blue and the first thing they say is they have one.”
    “This chicken isn’t funny. It’s dead.”
    “What on Earth are you doing with a dead chicken?”
    “I was thinking I might eat it. I was thinking I might make it into chicken potpie tonight. Only I never made chicken potpie before.”
    “Are you asking me for a recipe, or inviting me to dinner?”
    “Dinner, I guess. Only I need your chicken potpie recipe.”
    “Do you have flour and butter?”
    “I think so.”
    “How about I come over around five?”
    “That’d be great.”
    Kosh hung up the phone. He noticed his hands were shaking. What was that about?

H OPEWELL , S EPTEMBER, 2012 CE
    K OSH CAME TO IN STARTS AND STUTTERS . F IRST, THE
voices — a distant, meaningless muttering, like waves breaking on a beach. Then the light, teasing at his eyelids. He opened his eyes. He was looking up at a ceiling. He had seen that ceiling before. He tried to sit up, but fell back when the pain hit, a racking ache from his neck to his feet. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut and waited for it to subside. After a few seconds, he was able to sit up. He recognized the room, and remembered. This was the house where he had grown up.
    The voices were coming from outside. Slowly, Kosh climbed to his feet and stood crouched for a few seconds as he waited for the dizziness to pass. When he felt able to move, he went to the window. A burly man wearing a yellow shirt was standing in the yard, talking. A black SUV with a dented front bumper and broken grille was parked in the driveway behind him. Kosh recognized the grille — he’d seen it last in his rearview mirror. The man had to be Tamm. Kosh shifted to the side and saw Emma sitting on the steps. She was holding the weapon Kosh had taken from the priest. Tamm took a step toward her. She pointed the weapon at him. He laughed, but didn’t come any closer.
    Ignoring the throbs and twinges from his battered body, Kosh made his way to the door and out onto the porch. His footsteps startled Emma. When she turned her head to look, Tamm darted forward and grabbed the weapon. Kosh threw himself at him before he could bring the tube to bear. Tamm staggered back and fell with Kosh on top of him. The weapon flew from his hands. Kosh pounded at him with both fists. He knew he was in no shape to win a prolonged fight — he had to knock the man senseless as quickly as possible. Already he could feel his strength draining