by Luke Beling
Paul opened the Ya Mon Wireless, sipping a Mai Tai and nibbling on a Saltfish Fritter. The azure blue pool water of the Montego Bay Hotel reflected the bright sun. A gentle nod and Paul’s Dolce Gabbana shades slipped over his vision in a perfect fit to the shape of his head.
Jamaican Johnny’s Alien Adventure Tour — The Truth They Never Told You.
Paul slid the brochure in between Lisa and her selfie. “Seems right up your alley, babe.”
Lisa snapped her photo just in time, framing only her jade-Buddha necklace dangling above the cleavage of her recent double D expansion. “Five stars on Yelp! Over a thousand reviews. Guaranteed sighting.” She turned to Paul. “Can we?”
Paul smiled, showing his set of moon-white teeth, too clean to be real. “Nothing like an extraterrestrial encounter to celebrate twenty years of marriage.”
Paul rented a silver Land Rover the following day. Cyril, an old jewel-encrusted cornrow cat, offered emphatic advice. “Best tour on island. Some people call him a one-trick pony. But Johnny knows lotta shit ’bout aliens. Been playin’ the same tune over. But it’s a groove, mon. And a trip. Dig? Get swept up in his tune. And don’t be using one of those superphones to find your way. Even them satellites can’t pick up what’s cookin’ there. Follow this map. If you get lost, look for the black smoke. And tell Johnny I’m still firin’ on this side.”
The couple left their $800-a-night hotel room before the first rooster crow. Lisa stretched the smudged map across the leather dashboard, trying not to make eye contact with the people knocking on her window at the red lights. “What do they want? I know they’re staring at my boobs.”
Paul laughed, eyes on the street merchants. “I think I’m the only one who cares about silicone breasts in this part of the world.”
The busy roads with vendors selling car-phone chargers, umbrellas, and chicken feet turned into dirt-rutted ditches, swallowing the fat off-road tires of the Land Rover. Paul and Lisa’s heads bumped the car roof every two minutes. Lisa tried holding her boobs, but they slipped out from under her palms, bringing a pain the plastic surgeon never warned about.
She reached into her Versace handbag and tried to coat her lips with Bond No. 9, one of the small pre-anniversary day gifts from Paul. The road came to a dead end. Lisa hurled the lipstick back into the purse. “We’re lost! I knew this alien tour was too good to be true.”
Palm trees crisscrossed above the road in suffocating succession, only slivers of sunlight slipping through the dried yellow-brown fronds. Foot off the gas, Paul looked sharp-eyed into the mirror. “Cyril promised the map would get us there. Tell me if you see any black smoke.”
“Who?”
“The Concierge. Seemed to know the area. And Johnny too.”
Lisa leaned forward in her seat. “What I wouldn’t give to see a real-life alien. Just one encounter.” She squeezed the Buddha in her fingertips.
Paul parked the car, smiled, then placed his hand on her thigh, rubbing it. His big black beard stopped at his brown Italian eyes. He looked at Lisa until her face softened. “How about a stallion?”
Lisa frowned. Paul placed his hand on her breast. “Let’s leave the aliens and go back to the hotel room to find our own unidentified flying objects.”
He leaned in. Lisa pulled away. “I bet we’re close, Pauly. A little perseverance. Just like Dr. Alfred says.”
“She also says to get naked and have sex when you reach a dead end.”
The phone unclipped from the charger. Paul held it high out the window. “Nothing.”
He ambled out of the car, climbed on the hood, and stretched his iPhone 13 towards the sky. Nothing. Then as he was about to climb back in the driver’s seat, he noticed a steady flow of black smoke sailing above the coconut trees. Lisa knocked her fist on the windscreen. She’d seen it too. “Look”
They followed the smoke on foot. Paul squeezed Lisa’s hand, the band of her ten-carat diamond ring digging into his skin.
Their wide eyes circled the jungly area. Green vines looked like snakes slithering in and out of the knee-cap grass they waded through. Weeds and wildflowers painted a busy kaleidoscope of colors. Paul stopped. “Maybe take off your ring.”
Lisa handed it to him with care. “You think they’re interested in diamonds?”
“That’s my year-end bonus. Better safe than sorry, Babe.” The trail ended at a burning stack of tires next to a pink jungle jeep.
They stared at the odd sight, mouths agape.
“It’s the cyanide! Incinerates their skin. Just a little precaution in case of the reptilians.” A muscular man with box braids and a comb in his head appeared from behind the tires.
Paul extended his hand. “Are you Johnny?”
“That’s right! Jamaican Johnny. What’s cracking, my Brother?” Johnny gripped Paul’s clammy hand, then slung it to his side, sliding his palm down his home-cut Capri shorts. “You Americans sweat like pigs, don’t you? Them ETs don’t drip an ounce. Got no glands like we do.”
Paul put both hands in his pockets, wall-flower-like. “I’m glad we found you. We’re here for the tour.”
Johnny’s bony finger pointed to the sky. “I wish I could help you, Brother. But the blood-moon sings tonight. All tours canceled. Me and my lady going to hum harmony, getting ready for a special visitation.”
Lisa nudged Paul’s shoulder, caught his eyes then rubbed her thumb on her fingers.
“I’ll pay you twice your regular rate.” Paul grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and flashed a wad of hundred-dollar bills.
Johnny snarled, veins popping out of his skin. “Put that away! You think the ET’s care about your paper-shit? If my babies weren’t here, I kick your ass back to that fancy hotel.”
From a clearing in the jungle, a petite, fair-skinned woman holding a baby on either hip settled next to Johnny. She put a baby in his arms then walked towards Paul and Lisa. “Welcome! We are so glad you’ve decided to spend your day with us.”
“Told them to come back later, Minn. After the blood moon.”
“I’m Mendy. Johnny’s better half.” Mendy smiled, then curled her palm around Johnny’s shoulder. “Jirah needs his diaper changed. I’ll take care of our guests.”
Johnny set Jirah on a mat on the dirt, then reached for Paul’s hand. “I’m sorry I snapped at ya, my Brother—much love to you. Much love.” He wrapped his arms around Lisa, squeezed and kissed her cheek. “My lady, you have eyes for them. I can see it. Beautiful, my lady. Just beautiful.”
Johnny disappeared with Jirah into the jungle.
Mendy sat on a white plastic chair, unbuttoned her shirt, and placed her breast into her baby’s mouth. “He’s special. I’m sure you can see that. People pay a lot of money to listen to him talk about aliens. He’s an expert. They come here from all over the place.”
“The aliens?”
Mendy laughed. “Look, we’re throwing Johnny a surprise party later today. It’s his birthday in a week, but the blood moon means far more to him. We’re dressing up in some damn near believable alien costumes. I’ve got extra. Three times the regular tour rate, and you can come. It’ll kick the tour experience in the teeth, guaranteed.”
Lisa’s hand shoved into Paul’s back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “What about the aliens? Think we’ll see one? We read the reviews on Yelp.”
Mendy moved her baby to the other nipple, eyeing the cash in Lisa’s hand. “I’d bet my life on it.”
Later that evening, Paul and Lisa returned to the burning tire spot. Four ground spotlights lit the lot. Mendy was wearing a white silk dress and holding a plate of chocolate truffles. “Welcome back.” She handed Paul and Lisa a truffle. “These accompany every tour. The most delicious snack you’ll eat in Jamaica.”
Lisa shoved the entire ball into her mouth, and then another. “Very good!”
Paul held the truffle to his nose, smelled then nibbled like a rabbit. “What’s in these?”
Mendy smiled. “Let’s just say they’ll enhance your overall experience.”
Then she put her head in a big duffle bag, and pulled out a selection of costumes. “Any of these will do.”
A neon-colored selection of leather garments sprawled across the dirt. Paul picked up a striped green and black costume with horns protruding from the head and a lizard tongue poking out of the mouth.
Mendy dusted it with her hand as Paul measured it against his body. “The Reptilian King. You’ll pretend you’re here to talk peace.”
Paul flashed a confused look at Lisa. She was struggling to fit a black and pink outfit over her chest.
Mendy helped Lisa tug the costume in place. “I’m not sure any creature has this shape.”
Lisa laughed. “I hope they’ll like them.”
“The rest of the party is waiting for us in the tour cave. We’ll hide in there until Johnny arrives, then see if we can surprise the hell out of him.”
“What about your costume?” Paul asked.
Mendy curtsied. “You’re looking at it. I’ll be enjoying the visitation with Johnny.”
Fire torches lit the path to the cave. The trunks of the trees had rune-like inscriptions in them, and their foliage hung in lobes.
Lisa saw repeating flashes of light in the red-black sheet of the sky above. And every time she brushed through a long section of grass, it appeared to turn luminous. She squeezed Paul’s hand then immediately let it go, surprised at how scaly it felt. “We’re going to see them tonight. I can feel it.”
When they arrived at the cave, Paul and Lisa greeted the other guests with a sheepish raise of their hands.
Lisa whispered. “They look so real, don’t they? How are they all glowing like that?”
Mendy began counting every face in the cave then she pulled out a wad of cash and thumbed through the hundred dollar notes, licking her thumb every so often.
Paul rubbed his eyes and stepped closer, Lisa in tow. “Hi. I’m Paul, and this is my wife, Lisa. Thanks for letting us join you tonight.”
The group didn’t say a word. Lisa thought she heard soft purring and droning. She tried to step in front of Paul, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Alright, everybody, move to the back corners. Johnny’s coming!” Mendy had a tray of truffles in her hands. She placed them on a large teak table dressed with a white silk cloth.
A deep baritone chant began just outside the cave.
“We know there ain’t no smart in the truth they start, so let’s listen to the speaking stars.
The forlorn gods keep singing us psalms cause they think they gonna turn our heads into nods.
But we done know the truth, and I’m here to show you I found the proof cause my lady and me tonight we groove.”
Johnny’s words formed a wave in front of Lisa’s eyes. She rode the rhythmic trance, her head gravitating up and out from her body in a floating ecstasy. Paul wrapped his arms around her waist, careful not to make a sound.
Johnny’s voice echoed in the cave. “I can smell all of you. Come out from your hiding place.”
Mendy lit the center candle, pressed play on a psychedelic hits playlist on her iPhone, and the group of aliens busted out from the corners in a frenzy.
Paul managed a muffled, “Surprise.” Lisa broke from his clutch, breasts popping out of her costume, legs ascending to the top of the table.
Deep slabs of bass and trippy shifting phases of synth delivered feelings of weightlessness.
Johnny held his hands in the air, eyes to the ground, moving his head and hips with the gentle cadence of a hoverstar. He pushed his palms together in the shape of praying hands. Mendy lowered the volume of the music.
“Welcome, my friends.” Johnny’s eyes circled the cave. “Greys, Hybrids, Nordics.” He paused, staring at Paul. “And even the Reptilian King is here tonight. In a moment, we will soften our souls to hear from him.”
The room cheered then quieted as Johnny raised his hands again. “My lady and I are but your servants to this world of lies and wicked men who seek to suppress your truth. Yet, this red night is the color of our hearts’ devotion to you.”
Standing bare-chested on the table, Lisa gazed at Paul with eyes he hadn’t seen for twenty years. Johnny turned his palms to Paul. “Reptilian King, enlighten our minds.” The room burst into applause. Johnny stepped back and motioned for Paul to come forward. Paul drifted with the loud clapping and the look in Lisa’s eyes. He could see she was mouthing something. As Paul stepped closer to Johnny, he heard Lisa whisper. “Come for me, Reptilian King.”
Paul’s spine shivered with excitement.
Pushing his flat chest into the seams of the lizard costume, he stood on a chair. He spun his gaze around the room then settled them in Lisa’s stare.
“My fellow extraterrestrials. The eons of time have given us more hardship than we were meant to withstand. Though abled with bodies of war and technology far beyond the pea-sized brains of our human kin, our destiny from here must be peace and love.” The room exploded with joy. Jamaican Johnny began break-dancing on the table, but all eyes remained on Paul, most notably Lisa’s. “Thank- you.” Paul raised his scaly hands. “So tonight, I will take one of you as my bride. As my prized possession of peace. We will be the sign of a unified alien race.” Loud screaming echoed off the walls. Lisa moved closer to Paul, took his hand, and orbited her breasts with it. “Take me, Reptilian King.”
Johnny grabbed Mendy with forearms the size of war trumpets. He forced her in front of Paul’s lizard tongue. “Humbly accept my offering, Reptilian King. May she serve as a bridge from my species to yours.”
Paul placed his small, lizard hands on Johnny’s broad shoulders. “You have done wonderful work, my Son. Continue on that path with your woman.” Paul turned Mendy face to face with Johnny. “Pleasure her tonight. Pleasure her well.” Mendy smiled and tilted her head.
Paul grabbed Lisa’s hand then looked hard into Johny’s eyes. “I will take this bare-chested black and pink creature and usher in a peace we have all been searching for.”
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Johnny embraced Paul. “I will continue as you command, my Brother.”
Paul acknowledged the rest of them, then pulled Lisa into the red-black night, her hands running wild, in and out of his alien skin.
South African born, Luke Beling, left home at 19. In 2007, he graduated from Campbellsville University with a BA in English. Luke has had several short stories published in magazines, including: Quiet Shorts (2012), Eyelands(2019), New Reader Magazine (2021), Salt Weekly (2022), and Impspired Magazine (2022). Luke is the director of tennis for a private club on the Big Island of Hawaii and a content writer for a popular surf brand. Luke is also an indie-folk singer-songwriter.
