Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede by Bradley Denton (my reading book .txt) 📕

wall. “Are you crazy?” I shrieked. “That’s the monster that bit off my tail pipe!”

Pete looked at me and back to the dog. “No kidding?”

Gretchen got down on her knees and began petting the Doberman. “I don’t care,” she said. “He saved my butt from the Bald Avenger, and yours too.”

“Only so he could have us for himself,” I said. “It was one killer battling another.”

“Yeah, some killer,” Gretchen said, reaching up to scratch behind Ringo’s ears. His eyes were closed, and his bobbed tail was wagging.

“He’s beautiful,” Laura said, joining Gretchen in petting him.

Mike crossed his arms. “Looks like a four-legged Gestapo officer.”

“Oh, shut up,” Laura said. “He can’t help that.”

“Who’s the Bald Avenger?” Pete asked.

“Somebody who’s after me,” I said. “Just like Ringo’s been after me.”

Mike gave me a look. “Ringo?”

“I told you, he belongs to my neighbors. That’s what they call him.”

Mike looked back at the Doberman. “I don’t see the resemblance. Still, a dog named Ringo isn’t likely to be a fascist.” He joined Gretchen and Laura in stroking the animal, which quivered with pleasure.

“Don’t trust him,” I said. I was beginning to feel foolish for standing against the wall while everyone else was falling all over the creature. “I’m telling you, this dog ate a chunk of my motorcycle and has been following me ever since.”

Pete went into the living room and sat on the couch. “Oliver, are you claiming that Ringo left Topeka at the same time as you and followed you all the way here?”

“That’s right.”

“I see. Do his owners mistreat him?”

“I have no idea,” I said, “but I don’t see how they could. Look at him!”

Pete did. “He’s big, but that doesn’t mean much. I know dogs, and I wouldn’t have let this one into my home if he hadn’t given me good vibes.”

“Good vibes? From a Doberman that bites through—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gretchen said. She was still petting Ringo. “You know, Vale, you’re a real eighties kind of guy—a complete pussy.”

“Can we keep him, Dad?” Mike asked. “The dog, I mean.”

“I knew who you meant,” Pete said.

“Well, can we?” Laura asked. “You’ve been saying ever since Puck died that we ought to have another dog.”

Pete leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “If Ringo has run this far from home since Thursday night, he either really hates his owners or really loves Oliver. And since he and Oliver don’t seem to be pals, I guess it’s the former. If he wants to stick around here, he’s welcome.”

Mike and Laura made various noises of thanks while Gretchen went to sit beside Pete. “Good decision,” she said, patting his knee.

“Look at his eyes!” I cried.

Laura took Ringo’s massive head in her hands. “Come on, boy,” she said. “Let’s reassure Mr. Vale. Open your eyes. Mike, stop petting him or he’ll keep them closed.”

Mike stopped petting, and Ringo opened his eyes. He looked at me, and I saw that his left eye was as I remembered—black, with a blue spark in its center. The right eye, though, had changed. It was blue, and almost human-looking.

“Dad, did you notice these before?” Laura asked. She turned Ringo’s head so that he was facing Pete.

Pete frowned. “Didn’t look straight at them until now.”

“Me either,” Gretchen said. She sounded less brash than usual.

Laura held Ringo’s eyelids open with her thumbs. “There, boy, it’s all right, I just want to look closer. That’s a good— Oh!”

Ringo’s right eye had popped out and was rolling across the carpet.

Mike picked it up. “Hey, it isn’t slimy.”

“And Ringo doesn’t seem to mind that it’s gone,” Laura said. The Doberman was licking her hands and wagging his stump so hard that he swayed back and forth. “In fact, he seems glad about it.”

Gretchen shuddered. “God, how gross!”

“Spoken like an eighties woman,” Mike said dryly.

I relaxed a little. “Laura, you’re the scientist,” I said. “Is the mutt a robot?”

She was probing gingerly around Ginger’s remaining eye. “Well, that might explain how he was able to bite through metal, if in fact he did….”

I remembered that I still had Ringo’s missing tooth in a Moonsuit pocket, so I ran back to the utility room to retrieve it. When I returned, Mike was shining a penlight into Ringo’s eye socket, and Laura was peering inside.

“It’s pink,” she said. “But there’s a Crosshatch of fine silver wires set into the flesh.”

“And the rear half of the eyeball has a silvery coating,” Mike said.

Ringo was standing stock-still. “That’s one patient dog,” Pete said. “Hard to believe he attacked you, Oliver.”

“I have evidence,” I said, holding up the tooth.

Laura took it from me, examined it, and then pushed her fingers in between Ringo’s lips.

I started toward her, intending to pull her away from those Doberman jaws, but Mike pointed the penlight at my face, stopping me. “She knows what she’s doing, Mr. Vale,” he said. “She knows animals, like Dad. Besides which, she’s a genius.”

“That’s the first compliment you’ve ever given me,” Laura said as she pried Ringo’s mouth open.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Mike said. “Both of the traits I mentioned are inherited, so you aren’t responsible for them. In all things for which you are responsible, such as social duty and political awareness, you’re a miserable failure.”

“Uh-huh,” Laura said. “Look, there’s the same silver Crosshatch on the roof of his mouth. And the upper right canine is missing.” She began screwing the tooth back into place. “Some of the socket threads are stripped, but it’s going in. It’ll be a little crooked, but I don’t think it’ll jab his lip.”

“If he’s a robot, what would it matter?” Mike asked.

Laura stood and patted Ringo, who nuzzled her hand.

“He’s not a robot,” Laura said. “He acts like a dog, smells like a dog, and slobbers like a dog.” She wiped her hand on Mike’s shirtsleeve, and he pretended to ignore it. “Dad, I’d like to take him to my room and try a few experiments. Nothing physical, just radio-frequency stuff. I want to see if that Crosshatch is an antenna. Also, I should try to reinsert his eye.”

“Be sure you don’t hurt him,” Pete said. “He’s got a sweet disposition, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get mad.”

Laura nodded. “C’mon, Ringo, let’s see what makes you tick.” She started for the basement door, and Ringo followed.

“I’d better go along to keep her humane,” Mike said. “She might cut his skull open just out of curiosity. Besides, I have the eye.” He went into the stairwell after Laura and Ringo, shutting the door behind him.

Pete stood and started for the kitchen. “He’s probably hungry and thirsty. I’ll see what I can find.” As he passed me, he said, “Oh, yeah—I got your spark plugs.”

Gretchen followed him. “Need a hand, Mr. Holden?” she asked.

“Sure, if you like,” he answered. “When we’re done with this, I’ll call the Lawton depot for tomorrow’s bus schedule. I thought about driving you in when I made my trip this afternoon, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“There’s no hurry,” Gretchen said, sounding bizarrely sweet.

I went to the couch and sat down, picking up the remote control for Pete’s TV from an end table. As long as I had to wait a bit longer for Peggy Sue to be repaired, I wanted to see what Buddy was up to. He might even take my mind off the fact that I was in the same house with Ringo. Vibes or no vibes, I still didn’t trust the beast.

The Sony wouldn’t come to life when I punched the button on the remote, and when I went to the set to investigate, I discovered that it was unplugged. I remembered then that my own remote-controlled Sony had refused to stay off for more than several seconds, while both of the nonremote-controlled motel televisions I had seen since leaving home had turned on and off with no trouble. Whoever or whatever had taken over video broadcasts had also managed to take over remote controls, perhaps by periodically zapping the planet with split-second bursts of infrared radiation. Except that infrared radiation couldn’t go through walls….

I stopped trying to figure it out. What was, was. How was irrelevant. That would be a bad attitude for someone like Laura, but for me, it was the only one possible.

I plugged in the set and returned to the couch while the picture tube resolved into an image of Buddy lying on his back in the dust. His hands were clasped behind his head and his knees were raised; his guitar lay beside him. As I watched, he crossed his right ankle over his left knee and began humming. His right foot bobbed.

I had never before heard the tune that he hummed. When he stopped and started over again, changing some notes, I realized that Buddy Holly was writing a new song before my eyes. I leaned forward, fascinated, and hardly noticed when Pete and Gretchen walked by and went downstairs.

Softly, Buddy began to sing. “I got a girl from Jupiter, she comes from outer space.” He paused, scratched the bridge of his nose under the glasses frame, and sat up cross-legged. Then he picked up the Strat and began strumming. “And if she had a mind to, she could change the human race.”

He stopped playing, frowned, then began again, faster. “And I’ll sing, whoa-oh! fly a little bit higher, gonna ride a rocket with a flame so bright. Whoa-oh! gonna let her take me with her, gonna ride a ragin’ rocket to the stars tonight.”

Buddy stopped strumming, then looked out and grinned at me. “Could be worse,” he said.

I grinned back, feeling as though I were up there with him.

Then somebody pounded on the front door, and I snapped back to Earth. I hit the remote, and Buddy disappeared.

“Hey, Pete!” a deep voice boomed. “Pete Holden! You home or what?”

I stood to head for another room, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of the man outside through the translucent curtain over the picture window. He was wearing a uniform and a gun.

The TV popped on again. Buddy was strumming.

The stairwell door opened, and Pete and Ringo came into the living room. Ringo’s ears were stiff, and his left eye was open wide. His right eye was still missing.

“Maybe you ought to go downstairs,” Pete said to me, gesturing toward the stairwell with his thumb.

I stepped onto the landing, shutting the door behind me. I didn’t go downstairs, though, because I wanted to hear what happened.

The front door opened. Ringo growled.

“Hello, Pete,” the deep voice said. “Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but the boss says deputy sheriffs ain’t got a Sabbath.”

“That’s okay, Curt. You want to come in?”

“Better not take the time. Your dog doesn’t seem to want me to anyway. How long’ve you had him?”

“Just today. He’s a stray, but I think we’re going to keep him. He and the kids hit it off.”

“Well, good. How are your kids these days, anyway?”

I was going nuts. Why couldn’t the guy just get to what he wanted, the way city Authorities did?

“The usual,” Pete said. “Laura’s brilliant, and Mike’s gonna change the world.”

The deputy chuckled. “If he were brilliant too, he’d know better.”

Buddy began singing his song about the girl from Jupiter again, at a faster tempo. I heard Pete walk across the room, and Buddy stopped abruptly. Ringo was growling steadily now.

“Uh, guess I’d better not waste too much more of your time,” the deputy said as Pete returned. “I just need