Part 4: There goes the Wub

The rows of trees came to a halt, and up the narrow dusty path, Tucker slowed his pace. The little house came into view, and already Merrick could spot the couple shuffling out of their house. They were still some distance away, but he wanted to consider how to deal with the situation, keeping Tucker at a slow trot.

‘Is this the place?’ Jackson asked.

‘Yup, this is the house alright.’

Spying the couple that stood at the front of the house, Jackson said, ‘She looks like she means business!’ But he was laughing about it into Merrick’s ear.

As they neared the house and the vast farmland stood in a sepia silence the man stepped off the front porch, eyes ablaze. ‘You ‘ave come back this way when we told you not to!’ The man bellowed, his nostrils flared.

‘Me situation has forced me back this way, I’m afraid.’ Merrick dismounted.

The woman stood behind the man, holding the shot gun with Merrick in her sights. Merrick looked around and spat onto the pathway, spying the wubs that were hung up on an old tattered washing line slap-bang in the middle of the field at the front of the house.

‘What’s with them?’ Merrick jutted his chin toward the dead wubs.

The man turned his whole body to look back at the wubs then turned again to look at Merrick and Jackson. ‘Ya never tried Wub?’ The man asked them, looking at them through an angry glaze.

‘No,’ Jackson replied, stepping up next to Merrick. ‘What would a fella do that fer? I’d assume they’d be poison t’ us.’

‘They’re creatures from the divine.’ The woman said through gritted teeth, still looking down the barrel of the gun.

‘So why’d ya kill ‘em?’ Merrick asked.

‘The divine brought us the wub so that we could eat.’ The man told them.

‘What ‘bout the fishes in the sea and the rivers?’ Jackson asked.

The man laughed, ‘Ya seen any fish ‘ere?’  

‘We were outta fish long ‘fore those wubs came.’ Merrick butted in.

‘I ‘eard word it was us ‘umans that did ‘em in.’ Jackson said.

‘T’was when ‘uman society lost faith!’ The man said.

Merrick shook his head, ‘Nah. I ‘eard it was a capitalist thing, overfishin’ ‘t’ waters fer profit.’ Merrick scanned the line of wubs hanging from the line, ‘Anyway, ‘ow about ya let us try some fried wub then? And we can devise a plan fer ‘ow my friend and I can pass, eh?’

The man thought it over, tapping at his bottom lip. The woman held steady with the gun, her finger ready on the trigger. ‘Down!’ The man barked.

Merrick looked at Jackson, Jackson looked back at him; they both shrugged.

The woman lowered the gun reluctantly, growling as she did.

Merrick leaned against Tucker’s head and whispered reassuringly in his ear, ‘Ya a good boy Tuck. I’ll work somethin’ out.’ He ran a hand down his long nose, ‘You stay ‘ere boy, yea?’ He leaned closer to Tucker’s ear and whispered more quietly, ‘Stay ‘ere till I say.’ Tucker moved his head up and down, nuzzling Merrick’s neck. ‘Ah know Tuck! Ah know!’ He laughed at the sensation as Tuckers tongue lolled out and licked his face. ‘I’ll sort it out, Tuck, I’ll sort it out.’ Tucker snorted happily.

The husband and wife grimaced at him talking to the horse with the devil eye like that, their lips curling with disgust.

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Merrick and Jackson followed the couple into the little white house and into their kitchen and then into the dining room.  The man sliced up  a piece of wub and slapped it onto two plates, sliding them across to them on the table.

‘Go on,’ His fists thumped at the table.

Merrick looked up at him, nodded, cut himself a sliver and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed slowly, looking across at Jackson. ‘Tastes like fish.’ He smiled in surprise, ‘Teach a man t’ catch wub, and he’ll eat fer life!’ Merrick grinned.

Now the man and the woman looked at Jackson expectantly. Jackson took a piece reluctantly into his mouth, ‘Are ya sure this is safe? I mean, we’re eatin’ aliens!’

‘It’s fine!’ The woman barked.

‘Go on!’ The man spat impatiently.

Jackson looked across the table at Merrick, and Merrick tipped his head forward.

‘Alreet.’ Jackson said with a sigh, ‘’ere goes,’ he bit down on the wub meat and swallowed, then took another bite, ‘You’re right, it does taste like fish!’

The man and woman smiled at them both, showing gummy grins. Then they put their hands together and closed their eyes, saying some silent prayer.

They sat down and took some wub meat for themselves, scoffing it off their plates in haste.

‘Now,’ the man started to speak, his mouth full, ‘That there ‘orse,’ he pointed with his fork, a bit of wub meat falling off and back onto his plate, ‘’e is of this earth and not a part of the divine.’

‘What are ya on about?’ Merrick asked.

‘That ‘orse is like the cidy peope. God wanted us separated from those so-called pure bloods. We are not the freaks in God’s eyes! We are ‘is chosen ones!’

‘That’s a new one on me!’ Jackson baulked.

Merrick spun his fork on the plate in front of him, ‘I think man is of the earth too.’ He dropped the fork with a clatter and sat back in his chair, arms folded, ‘What’d ya say t’ that?’

‘I’d say ya ent got Jesus in ya ‘eart! And fer that you shall surely burn in hell!’ The woman replied.

The man closed his eyes, ‘Amen, Ize. Amen!’

Merrick leaned forward and looked the man square in the eyes, ‘Well, that ‘orse right there, is a descendent of a ‘orse from one of the spaceships.’

The man dabbed his mouth with an old stained cloth, ‘I’d say ah don’t believe ya.’

‘Well, me father told me there were two ‘orses on the spaceship, those two ‘orses they left behind.’

The man took another bite of wub.

The woman slammed her knife and fork on the plate with a clatter, ‘’es lyin’ ‘e is!’

The man waved a hand at her; she lowered her eyes and looked down at her plate.

‘’is father might be the liar, Ize.’ He nodded toward her, and she nodded back, picking her knife and fork back up.

‘Ya ‘eard me, didn’t ya?’ He asked Merrick.

‘Yea. Ya sayin’ me father is a liar. But see, I ‘ave proof.’

‘And what would this proof be?’

‘I’ve got a photograph of the ‘orses comin’ walking off t’ spaceship!’

A chair scraped against the floor as the man pushed it out below. He stood at the tables end, arm stretched, palm up expectant.

‘Well,’ Merrick looked from him to the woman and back again, taking another bite of wub, ‘I don’t ‘ave it on me!’

The man’s elbow cracked as he bent his arm back and slapped his hands together. Jackson, Merrick and the woman all jumped at the sound.

‘Liar!’ He shouted, spittle spraying from his mouth. His face was red with rage, ‘I let you liars into my ‘ouse, and fed you my food!’ He spun on his heels, picked up a gun that was leaning against the window at the end of the table.

‘I ‘ought to shoot ya both right ‘ere!’ He bellowed, pointing the gun at Merrick and Jackson, ‘But that would be too easy!’ He hissed, turning and marched out of the house.

Merrick made a blind rush to the window, his gun out of his holster and pulled the trigger. The glass smashed, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere. The first bullet had missed the man, as he marched toward a nervous Tucker.

‘Run!’ Merrick hollered at the top of his lungs.

The man glanced over his shoulder at Merrick before turning back and raising the gun, Tucker in his sights.

Merrick pulled the trigger again.

The man groaned loudly.

Tucker was running in the direction he’d come from, neighing loudly.

The man was down, holding his leg.

When he noticed Tucker getting away, he heaved himself up.

‘I don’t wanna kill ya,’ Merrick spat.

The man batted Merrick away and spun round; lifting his gun, ‘I’ll kill you…’

Merrick shot him in the bloody mess of his trousers. The man groaned and fell to the ground again, the gun landing away from him. He held his leg, grunting and breathing heavily. Merrick kicked the gun away.

There was a bang from behind; he spun on his heels and the woman had a shotgun pointed at him. He watched as her hands loosened their grip, and the gun fell to the ground before her body slumped down, blood running from her head.

Jackson stood over her, pistol in his hand, blood spattered on his face.

‘Jesus, Jack!’

‘She were about to shoot ya!’

‘Fuck!’ Merrick spat, ‘Fuck!’ He turned back to the man, and the man clawed over to his shotgun, one hand still holding onto his leg. He looked over at his dead wife on the grass.

‘Ya shot ‘er!’ Then his face contorted, ‘You shot my baby!’

Merrick and Jackson watched as he lifted the gun, both of them ready with their guns to shoot if they had to.

It looked as if the man would point the gun towards them. But then he turned it on himself, ‘I’ll meet ya in the heavens, Ize!’ Then a sudden look of peace pulled his face back together, and smiling, he pulled the trigger.