Chapter 90
IF I THOUGHT the first feast at my grandma’s was something, I hadn’t seen anything yet. There were twelve straight days of dancing and music, celebrating, eating, storytelling, you name it. Except that you couldn’t possibly imagine a blowout party on Alpar Nok, could you?
For hours and hours, total strangers came up and embraced me. My arms were sore from shaking hands. And my cheeks, from being pinched. I was told that I met every single inhabitant of Alpar Nok. Twice.
At one point during the final fireworks show-really, this was the final-I found my grandma and sat her down for a heart-to-heart.
“Let me help you rebuild the city,” I said. “Where do we start? When?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve done enough here, Daniel. You have to go back to Earth. Finish the work your parents started. And I’d go now, if I were you. Make the Outer Ones take you and the rest of the abducted kids back. Before those blackguards can think about it, and do something deceitful and treacherous.”
“But when will I see you again?” I said. “Will I see you again?”
“Of course you will, Daniel,” she said. “In your dreams, in your mind’s eye, and always in your heart.”
“One question,” I finally said. “Seriously now. Are you a doctor?”
She shrugged. “Gardener,” she said.
Epilogue
Chapter 91
THE SUN WAS JUST STARTING to set as we crossed a cornfield near Huxley, Iowa, where I had the Outer Ones drop us off after we’d delivered the last of the abducted Earth children safely home. I was watching the departing spaceship when I almost tripped over a football lying in the grass.
You wouldn’t think that a scuffed-up, oblong ball with NFL written in jazzy script under its laces could actually fill a person with unbridled joy, but I almost started crying.
Something good had just happened. I was back on Terra Firma, and I’d missed it like crazy, more than I ever could have imagined.
This is my home, I realized. I love it here. It’s a great, great planet.
I bent and lifted the football.
“Joe,” I said, hefting it. “Go long, my man.”
Willy, Dana, Emma, and I cracked up as we watched Joe run. Fewer things in life are funnier than watching Joe-Joe put the pedal to the metal. When he got about eighty yards away, he yelled back.
“I’m open, Daniel! Throw it! Chuck it! Montana to Jerry Rice, Brady to Randy Moss, Brett Favre to anybody!”
“You call that long?” I yelled at him.
Joe kept running, and talking. About four minutes later, when he was basically a blip on the horizon, my cell phone rang.
“This long enough for you, wise guy?” Joe said, breathing heavily into the phone.
“That’ll do it,” I said, and let the football fly. It made a hissing sound through the golden, early evening sky as it spiraled toward Joe and the sun. I was glad there weren’t any passing aircraft, because I had to put some arc on that sucker.
Joe was standing about half a mile away. We burst into loud applause as he caught it and then got knocked onto his butt.
“Now that’s what I call a catch, Joe,” I said as I ran up and saw my bud sitting smack-dab in the middle of a cow pie. Willy was punching his thighs, he was laughing so hard.
“And check it out,” I said, pointing toward the field behind Joe. “We’re not the only ones impressed.”
Chapter 92
THERE WERE COWS in the field, a herd of black-and-white Holsteins. Joe’s mouth went wide as the moo-cows stood on their hind legs with their hooves at their waists.
With a little help from me, of course. My last trick of this story, I swear.
“Give me a J!” I yelled.
“Moooo,” the cows bawled, and made a J with their front hooves.
“Give me an O!”
The hooves made an O.
“Moooo!”
“Give me an E!”
Thirty Holsteins bent sideways, their front hooves and one rear hoof extended. Very cool to watch.
“Mooooo!”
Even Emma, who rarely approved of doing anything with animals except setting them free, looked like she was about to wet her pants with the excitement.
The grand finale of the routine came as they assembled in a four-base cheerleading pyramid. The two Holsteins at the top had extended their hooves skyward.
“What does it spell?” we all yelled out.
“MOOOOO!” the cows bawled as they did these totally impossible cheerleader jumps and basket catches and back handsprings.
My sides were aching from laughing so hard. It was good to be on Terra Firma. And to have my powers again.
“Be afraid, aliens,” Dana said, hopping up on my back, pumping her fist at the sky. The sun was dipping over the rise of the country road in front of us. I began to run faster and faster and faster. You wouldn’t believe how fast.
“Be very, very afraid!” I screamed to this blurring, wonderful world of ours.
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON is the author of the highly praised Maximum Ride novels and of bestselling detective series featuring Alex Cross and the Women’s Murder Club. His novels have sold more than 140 million copies worldwide. He lives in Florida.
MICHAEL LEDWIDGE is a novelist who has coauthored two #1 bestsellers with James Patterson. He lives in New York City.
![Dangerous Days of Daniel X pic_2.jpg](https://litlife.club/books/97750/read/images/pic_2.jpg)