Writer's Voice Contest Entry #197

Alien Invasion! 

Middle Grade Science Fiction

Plot Summary: 

Fourteen-year-old football jock Sam Goodson needs to get his little bro, boy genius Jake, and his mom into an underground seed bank where they can ride out the 6^th mass extinction level event and rapid climate change with the rest of the super-nerds.

When alien robots invade the planet offering to “help” the human race survive, one of the robots saves Jake’s life.  In doing so, he alters Sam and Jake’s genetic makeup.   Sam beefs up over night without lifting a single weight.   Jake can see a few seconds into the future.  Cool side effects, but they come with a price.

 “Altereds” are prohibited from entering a bank.  Their mom’s cancer is spreading.  A creepy mercury-skinned robot who calls himself “Numerical Equivalent 143” is hiding in their garage.  Sam will have to step up his “A” game to keep his family safe, and do the one thing he’d rather not – become the leader his father charged him to be.  The future of the entire world depends on it.

First 250:

Images of bloated bodies face down in a landscape of mud and debris flashed across the screen.  The coverage of the latest tsunami, or maybe a mudslide.  I snagged the remote out of my brother’s hand and hit the power button.  “Dude, what are you watching?”

Jake blinked up at me from the couch.  “The news, what does it look like?”

“You’re ten years old, bro.  You’re not allowed to watch the news.”

“It’s better than watching your ugly face,” Jake said.  He clutched his stomach and laughed like a maniac. 

“Hilarious.”  I tossed the remote to him.  “Don’t let Mom catch you.”

I couldn’t blame him for being immune to the horrible stuff on TV.  We all were.  Global warming had messed us up big time. 

Jake shot me a serious look.  “The aliens might have heard my message.  When they come to save us, it will be on the news.”

The kid built a radio for his school science fair.  He thought he could send messages into outer space with it.  I held up two fingers, one on each side of my head.  I wiggled them like antennae.   “Jake Goodson, it’s the aliens calling.  We’re on our way.  To eat your tasty brains!”

Jake smirked.  “If that’s true, you won’t have to worry.  You don’t have any brains for them to eat.”

“Try the sci-fi channel if you want aliens."  I hefted my backpack over my shoulder.  "I'm late for practice.  Catch you later.”