Project 96

a teenager must choose to either return back to his home planet or stay and lead the future of mankind after earth endures a solar eruption that scorches every living thing on the planet

    McQueen walked down the rickety stairs of the cellar one step at a time, wobbling as he descended. He tried holding his shirt over his nose as the smell of ancient dust and old yellowed papers filled the air, smelling it through his mouth in spite of himself. Following him were several new pledges of the Alpha Cappa Delta Cappa fraternity, known in the area as AC/DC. Even though Cappa began with a K, they had somehow managed to bend the rules in order to name it after the SMC’s favorite band. That‘s just how rebellious they were.
    He had been roped into the idea by his older brother Nathan who had graduated from Occidental exactly three years before to the day. It was the only state school he knew of that even had a fraternity. Though he couldn’t see the allure, prestige, or even point of the whole charade, it was something his brother cherished with much pride, and he respected his brother very much.
    Nathan had always been there for him, especially since the desertion of their father when McQueen was only 7. Their mother worked a more than full time job at the factory, printing Callaway ink on Golf balls, and though she had always adorned them with an abundance of gifts and toys, they had always been referred to by their neighbors as latchkey kids.   
    One thing he liked about this particular frat, other than the fact that his brother was practically a legend among them, was that its members were a tad bit on the geekish side, much like himself. The Fraternity scene had evolved if you will, since the time of his forefathers, and appealed to a much more eclectic and dungeony crowd, possibly to do with the Revenge Of The Nerds movies.  It wasn’t all just jocks, hot heads, and drop outs, though the pranks, the drinking, and the various inanities pretty much stayed the same.
    When the pledges had reached the cold cement base of the cellar, the Dungeon Master (assuredly having no relation to D&D) blind-folded each one of them and asked them to perform a series of tasks. The first of which was to untie each others shoes and dress one another’s legs with panty hose and high heals, then spin around in circles making cat noises. They weren’t the most inventive or obstacle-packed of tasks, but they were tasks nonetheless, and all of them had to pass if they were to have any chance at notoriety among their peers.
    A pledge to the right of McQueen, shrimpy and pale with long wavy locks of red hair and freckles fell to the floor, collapsing under the weight of his poorly supported heels, thus disqualifying himself. The Dungeon Master immediately began pouring warm milk over the pledge’s face and body, staining his Charlie Brown shirt and skinny blue jeans while he whimpered meekly. Now it was only McQueen and three other boys, roughly between the ages of 18 and 21, all donning short shaggy brown hair save for McQueen, who wore thick black curls that shrouded over his storm-blue eyes. Nicknamed Black Irish he had creamy egg-white skin and faint suggestions of freckles upon his face and arms. He stood 6’2’’ but slouched down to a 5’9’’, and his build was semi-athletic at best, considering  his sport was track. His wrists were practically skinny enough to wrap the ring of a 2-gallon bottle of milk around and he had large piano fingers, though the only instrument he’d ever played was the Saxophone in his high school jazz band. He assumed, after watching several classic films featuring the instrument, that it would help him score with the ladies. It didn’t.    
    After a series of grueling and equally creative trials, he and two of the shaggy headed brunettes remained victorious, ending their final days as pledges. The house Captains stood circled around the surviving pledges in dark black robes, holding glasses of white gelatin candles in their hands while the SMC drank a plastic goblet of Sangria then spat it into the faces of McQueen and the two brunettes -- his half-assed attempt at a closing ceremony.

    After taking the time to wash cheap wine from his faces, McQuenn looked up to see the uncloaked SMC hovering in the doorway. He wore a thin cotton black and grey striped shirt and tight black jeans. His body was framed in the same build as McQueen’s with the exception of a large beer gut that hung under his solar plexus like an overstuffed fanny pack. Thick green braces stretched across his unnaturally white teeth and he sported a large golden hoop in the lower lobe of his left ear.
    “It was per my special request that you were brought to this fraternity, yet I never had the chance to formally meet you.  The name is Logan.” he said as he shook McQueen’s hand.  
    “McQueen.” he said as they walked side by side back to the common room.
    “That’s a heck of a handle.” Logan stated as his eyes grew slightly wide.
    “Yep. Just a side-effect of being the son of a Steve McQueen fanatic.”
    “Was your father at least named Steve?” Logan asked with a withdrawn sense of curiosity.
    “Yeah. He was. But that doesn’t make it anymore justifiable.” McQueen said in a bitter tone.

    When they again reached the common room, there were nearly a hundred new pledges and house brothers alike, all indulging in the usual scene of beer pong, quarters, and just regular beer drinking. It was an old house built in the 1930’s that stayed within a certain family of Socha’s for 70 years, until the young Joey Socha--grand nephew of Leo Socha (the original owner) decided to turn it into a frathouse upon inheriting it. And so it was born--the legendary AC/DC, that bread the legendary Nathanial Munchen, leaving his younger brother with quite large shoes to fill.
    Logan and McQueen sat in a frumpy old brown couch casually knocking back bottles of Hefeweisen, observing the flocks of people pouring in and out of the room, all with their own agendas.
    “Welp.” Logan said with a grim look on his face. “Now that you’ve been accepted into our wicked little click, I guess it’s time to enlighten you about the real reason why we’re all here.”
    McQueen shot him a quirky look as Logan’s expression remained stone serious.  
    “And what reason would that be?” he asked as he downed the remainder of his beer.
    “You know it’s no coincidence why you chose this frat, out of the dozens available and incredibly more popular ones around. Or rather why this frat chose you…”
    “Well of course.” McQueen said without thinking too hard about it.  “I mean, my brother went here, so there’s some clout. And besides, I don’t gravitate towards the popular crowds. My fanatic lust for science-fiction, mathematics, and comic books don’t mix well with the norm. And I like how these guys are equally into that kinda stuff, it gives me hope for the future of fraternities.”
    Logan paused for awhile, glaring at a crowd in front of him like an angry farmer would at a field of gophers picking at his crops.
    “Yeah…But that’s just the obvious. It’s deeper than that. Regardless of your eccentric hobbies, I bet you’ve spent most of your life wondering what makes you so different from others. Surely you‘ve realized by now that among this crowd of strangers, you feel more at home than ever. When before you felt so alien.”
    Of this McQueen pondered more thoroughly, and waited awhile before giving Logan a response.
    “Alright.” McQueen said, as if giving up on a riddle.  “Why is it then that this frat chose me, or I chose it, out of all the other ones?”
    “Because you are.” Logan said without a single second of silence to spare.  “Alien, I mean.” and then he too chugged the last of his beer.
    “Yeah, tell me about it.” McQueen said sympathetically, getting up to grab another bottle out of the cooler.  “Do you want another?” he asked Logan, who stared on at McQueen in a focused gaze.
    “Just wait.” he said, as if not hearing the question.  “You will see soon enough when they come to give us the final test tonight…”
    The words slithered through McQueen’s ears and shivered down his spine, freezing him where he stood.
    “Indulge me.“ McQueen said moments later as he mustered the courage to sit back down, trying to keep his cool, hoping it was some strange joke.
    “You are an alien, like me, like most of us here. Your brother wasn’t, by the way. It’s kind of like the dwarf gene, but anyway...  We are one of three species of aliens that have lived on this earth since the dawn of humanity.”
    McQueen sat in silence, trying to understand the butt of the joke, waiting for Logan to get to the punch line.
    “I’m sure you’ve realized in all your avid research of the paranormal and what common science teaches us that there was a mysterious acceleration in the evolution of mankind from the beginning of homosapians to the sudden genesis of the Sumerian civilization a mere 6,000 years ago.”
    McQueen was very familiar with the subject matter to which he was referring. He believed, being purely of scientific mind, that there was a species of man that bared a stunning resemblance to the ape species some time ago. He believed, according to Darwin’s theory, that the process of evolution took several million years before any significant change could occur. This alone left the mystery of  how we went from chromagnan men to a highly advanced society in such a short period of time unsolved. The correlation (or rather lack there of) between each event was the single missing link that rendered the theory of evolution unproven all these years.
    Before McQueen’s train of thought drifted too far, Logan continued his speech, bringing his attention back to the room.
    “Our species is known as Shifters.” Logan continued.
    “The God known in ancient mythology as “Hermes” was the first among our species to land on this earth from the planet Mercury. Our kind bred with the homosapians--genetically engineering them into a superior race. We then taught them our technology and gave birth to the construction of the first human civilization.”
    McQueen was no longer the least bit amused, but rather strongly fascinated by the idea, clinging dearly to every word with a wide-eyed sense of wonder.
     “Granted, through the generations of breading, we are merely hybrid forms of our once pure ancestors, but we still carry the gene.”
    McQueen continued guzzling bottle after bottle of beer as Logan went on, not wanting to either consider nor deeply oppose what the weird little dude was saying.
    “This world is coming to an end. Our studies have shown that a solar eruption, large enough to scorch the earth, will soon strike the planet, killing every living thing upon it.”
    Seven beers deep into dialoguing, McQueen began to feel a strong buzz, and he could no longer tell whether it was the alcohol or his sincere bemusement for the story that kept him entertained. As Logan went on, more and more people gave them suspicious looks, not knowing what to make of the small bits of the conversation they were overhearing.
    “It has been concluded that there is nothing more we can do for mankind to save them from the eruption. It is time to retreat back to our home land. Only the strongest of our kind, who still carry large traces of the Shifter gene will be transported back. Tonight’s final test is to determine which of us that is…”
    An uproar of questions filled McQueen’s mind, some quite whimsical and some drastically serious. He could not decide which to ask first, so just randomly shot out the first one that came to mind.
    “So why are we called Shifters?” McQueen asked in a slightly slurred voice.
    “Simple.” Logan replied. “Because of our ability to shift into any shape. ”
    “And what exactly is this test that will supposedly determine which of us are of the purest bloodline?”
    Before Logan had a chance to answer his question, a large clanging noise exploded from the roof and the distinct sound of a latch moving across rusted hinges echoed through the beams above them.     Moments later, a group of tall figures covered in velvet black robes came marching down the cellar stairs, chanting as they walked in unison with one another. Immediately the mass became silent. Only the sound of a single ping pong ball rolling across the cold cement floor could be heard.
    “Gather!” the robed figure in front shouted, and the ones who knew their place stood in a circle around the table in the center of the room, while the rest followed like flustered deer. McQueen stood next to Logan in the circle of people, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety pulsing through his nerves as the figures in robes made their way to the center. Suddenly the leader pushed back the cloak of one of  his followers and McQueen was startled to see that it was not a person at all, but a goat. It stood calmly in stark white fur, blowing harsh pellets of air through its nostrils. McQueen stared on, dumbfounded at the site. He wondered how he had not noticed the large white goat among them, how he had not heard its hooves clanking against the wood and cement, how he had not seen the difference in its shape and size among the others.
    The cloaked leader called the first among them to enter the center of the circle--Logan.
    “See you on the other side, brother.” were Logan’s final words to McQueen as he made his way towards the goat. Without hesitation the goat began ferociously tearing at Logan’s clothes with its teeth, pushing him to the floor.  It then began to repeatedly bash its rock-solid head into Logan’s until blood shot from his ears and face. The crowd stared on in horror at the savage spectacle, not making a sound or moving an inch. Moments later Logan was dead, and the same robed figure called forth its next victim.
    In the beat of a heart the crowd shattered into a wave of panic and disarray, climbing, crawling, and colliding into and over one another in a desperate effort to escape. As McQueen stood frozen in his place like a deer in headlights, not entirely sure that he hadn’t passed out hours ago and was currently in the midst of some extremely strange dream, a clammy petite hand clamped powerfully around his wrist and jerked him in a direction opposite to the flow of the masses. All he could see was a thin pale white arm and a long ample mane of cinnamon-blonde hair guiding him toward a solid wall. When they approached the wall, the figure pushed its fingers into a groove along the wooden beam in front of them and suddenly the wall opened into a door.
    In a flash they bolted rapidly out into the cold crisp air of the night and through the thick of dark woods before them. As they ran through the trees, McQueen caught a glimpse of the being and noticed that it was a girl, not any older than him, who he believed to be quite beautiful. She had large electric green eyes and tiny pursed pink lips that pressed out slightly beyond her perfectly shaped nose, pointy and miniature in size. She guide him through the darkness as if by intuition alone and eventually led him to a tiny dim-lit cabin in a clearing past the woods that was the headquarters to their sister sorority.
    When they made their way inside, they both stood for a moment to catch their breath as the warmth of the room melted the numbing cold from their noses. The girl turned on a light, illuminating a long shadowy corridor. They speedily made their way to the end and reached another door that led to a room filled with beautiful women. Each one of them was gorgeous and held their own unique and distinct sense of beauty. Varying slightly in age and height, they all shared locks of long, full, luscious hair in common and eyes of every tint and hue that sparkled like precious exotic diamonds found only in the cave of an island long forgotten.
    McQueen was the only boy among them, and between the beer, the unspeakable theatrics of an event he just witnessed yet could not believe, and the sudden sensation of blush and vulnerability he now felt, he stood like a statue--stupefied and entirely beside himself. This could be just a dream McQueen thought to himself, feeling reluctant only now toward waking up for this part.
    “Sisters, I have found him. I am sure he is the one.” his heroine said, breaking the silence of the girls surrounding them.
    “Is this still part of the test?” McQueen asked, suddenly considering the possibility that this was all just one sick prank, that maybe Logan wasn’t dead after all.
    “I’m afraid not.” she said, calmly grasping her hand around his and luring him to sit.”
    “My name is Lyra.” she said with a sweet and gentle voice that managed to slightly calm his nerves.
    “It is only by chance, or perhaps fate, that I stumbled upon you, talking with the one you called Logan, and was able to determine through the substance of your conversation that you were the one we were searching for.”
    “Alright.” McQueen responded.. “You can call it off. I’m out. I don’t even need to be in this stupid fraternity anyways. This is too much. I’m not Alpha Kappa Alpha material, or whatever.”
    “I am deeply sorry.” The girl said in a gentle tone.  “But there is no calling it off. Everything that boy professed to you is true. And he really is dead. That is the Shifters way of testing the authenticity of your bloodline. If you can shift as a means of survival, you are worthy among their clan, if not, you are of no use to them.  Our methods in determining your lineage are dramatically less brutal, as are we collectively as a species.”
    And before McQueen could ask, she answered.
    “We are the Agonians, otherwise known as the feline or bird race. Our queen, known in your mythology as Aphrodite was the first to come from our home planet Venus. She too bred with the homosapians, as well as the Shifters, creating a strong and sustainable race through mixing of the bloodlines. There was much peace and harmony among our kind, we gave rise to the Atlantian’s, the Mu, and several other highly evolved civilizations of hybrid man.”
    McQueen now felt utterly sick to his stomach. Whatever kind of gag or ploy or sick delusional trip he was on from whatever substance he suspected someone put in his drink, he had reached his limit and could hear no more.
    “Well this has been quite a show, but I must be going now.” he said, attempting to stand.
    “No!” she shouted as she braced her arm around him, pressing her firm and voluptuous breasts into his chest like two over-ripe grapefruits. His heart was aflutter and he felt waves of light and warmth vibrating through his body, bringing him to a state of calm. He had never been held so lovingly and tenderly by a woman that wasn’t his mother before, and he greatly enjoyed it. She pressed her satin-soft hair into the base of his neck and stroked her fingers down his back, pleading for him not to go.
    “It is not save for you out there, especially with The Grey’s still among us. You shall sleep with me tonight.” and she reached for the counter behind him, handing him a bottle of Coca-Cola.
    “ Here, drink this, so we can communicate through our dreams.”
    “Woah woah woah.” McQueen stated as if to fend off the bottle.
    “If I’m going to do this, whatever that even means, and I can’t believe I am, you’ve got to slow down a little bit.” and he took the bottle of Coke, inspecting it for anything unusual.
    “I apologize.” She stated.  “It’s just that the time for ascension is upon us. The Grey’s are the third race to have come down. Their motives were not of harmony nor of peace. They came from another galaxy all together in search of charcoal and fossil fuels needed to feed their dying planet. Their only motive is to gather enough materials before the solar eruption and retreat back to their planet. They own all government, all religion--everything to do with power and the manipulation of all mankind. They waged war among us and our civilizations fell. Their technology was too great. We have since gone into hiding, forming rebellions in secret, devising a plot to gather our remaining offspring before the sun erupts.”
    McQueen took a long swig of Coke and gazed around at the variety of gorgeous women that focused on him like a science experiment.
    “I see.” McQueen admitted, attempting to grasp the premise of their scheme.
    “So every God, Goddess, or being of great wisdom, genius, and power in our past has been an alien that either came from Mercury, Venus, or some other galaxy?” he asked as the group nodded their heads in agreement.
    “And The Grey’s I’m assuming have not bred with any of the humans, and want only to destroy us?”
    “Correct.” Lyra said, chiming in to elaborate.  “They have even created several highly addictively toxic substances:  fast food, cigarettes, alcohol, microwaves, etc. attempting to wipe us out on a massive scale. Though due to the high constitution of our anatomy, what would normally kill a simple human being didn’t, due to  their inbred nature.”
    “And what about the Coke?” McQueen asked, as if indifferently seeming to understand it all.
    “The Coke was a substance we created. The chemicals in it allow us to communicate with each other through dream time, beyond the comprehension of the Grey’s.”
    “Okay. So what do I have to do with all this?”
    Lyra looked deeply into his eyes, moving her face closer to his, giving him goosebumps.
    “We can see from the light of your eyes and the symbols in your aura that you carry the genes of us Agonian’s, and we would like to take you with us back to Venus to help breed with our females and expand our race.”
    “Very well.” McQueen stated with a dumbfounded grin.   “I think I’d better get some sleep now to prepare for our little trip in the morning.”
    “Yes. That is a great idea.” Lyra said.  “Would you prefer to lay with just myself or a selection of the other women?” she asked nonchalantly.”
    “Umm…” McQueen muttered, overwhelmed by the notion.  “I think just you will do fine thank you.” He said as he studied her magnificently fit and curvatious body for a moment.

    As they lied in bed, nestled under a pile of fluffed down covers, McQueen removed his pants and shirt and nervously began massaging his hands down Lyra’s arms and body. He awkwardly pressed his lips into hers and pushed his tongue through the gate of her teeth when she gently pressed her fingers to his forehead, motioning for him to stop.
    “I admire your dedication. But the mating will begin soon enough, for now we must get our rest, a great day is upon us.”    
    “Right.” McQueen said, pretending to understand, anxiously pushing his boner back through the opening in his boxers.  “Goodnight then.” he said as he drifted into a heavy mellow sleep.

    McQueen dreamed of caressing Lyra’s silky delicious body as they rolled across a golden cloud floating over a city of emerald pyramids and towers. They drifted through a lagoon of clear violet water and drank nectar from a rainbow-colored luminescent tree--then suddenly McQueen felt a cold hard grip of black fingers around his mouth and he couldn’t breathe. He awoke next to Lyra’s sleeping body to see a large shadowy figure looming over him in the darkness, pressing its massive hands against his face, muffling his cries.
    The being lifted McQueen up from his bed with little effort and carried him to the end of the room through a window. Its towering lanky body moved with fantastic agility and grace, holding McQueen like a kitten in its arms.
    As McQueen struggled recklessly for freedom the figure, covered in a long black robe, jostled McQueen’s body in its arms as it maneuvered through the woods at a frantic pace. Moments later they had reached a tall red-brick building that laid home to dozens of Beta Gamma Pie’s--the more prestigious fraternity house--west of AC/DC by three blocks.
    The figure entered into a small room laid with stone from top to bottom, accompanied by several other like-robed figures. The figure gently laid McQueen down on a large black leather couch propped against the stone wall closest to the door and unhooded itself, revealing the face of a tall slender bearded young man with short curly black hair and almond-brown eyes.
    “I do apologize for the abrupt abduction.” the man said in a polite and mannerly tone as McQueen sat speechless, huffing air in and out his lungs.  “But we haven’t much time left.”
    “You must be the grey’s.” McQueen presumed, now fully awake and caught up with his breath.
    “Yes.” the man said with an impressed smile.
    “Not very grey at all, are you?” McQueen asked, noticing that they looked commonly human.
    “Don’t let looks fool you, or what you’ve heard about us. All rubbish.”
    The other figures gathered around McQueen and took off their hoods as well, showing the faces of very plain if not charming looking young men.
    “Would you care for a glass of wine?” the man asked.
    “Why not.” McQueen said, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to go with the ebb and flow of his enduring nightmare.
    “My name is Clarence. And you are, as we all well know, the infamous McQueen.”
    He sat next to McQueen, handing him a glass of wine, and stretched his legs across the ground, slouching into a comfortable position.
    “I know what you’ve endured must be very hard and confusing, and I’m sure  you’ve heard a great deal of information, some of it true, and some of it otherwise. But I would like to be the first to set things straight with you, in telling you that yes, there will be a solar eruption that will scorch the earth in less than 12 hours from now. And yes, your blood is royally linked to the lineage of a superior alien race. But it is not of a Shifter, or of an Agonian, but that of a grey. Not just of a grey, but of a grey that is heir to the throne and future leader of all alien and human kind alike, as prophesized in the book of creation.”
    McQueen took a long hard swig of wine as he soaked in Clarence’s words, knowing that this would be the longest night of his life.
    “This is information the others kept from you, for they fear your reign of power, as they have feared ours for generations upon generations. But they have not the responsibility nor the capacity to control forces they do not understand. It is us who have always had the wisdom, technology, and experience to know how to delegate the masses. Only the elite know what’s best.”
    “Wow. Okay.” McQueen said, feeling the wine set in.
    “So now I’m a grey, even though you supposedly haven’t bred with any humans, and I’m now supposed to be future leader of a world that’s about to end in less than 12 hours. Am I getting that right?”      
    “Well…” Clarence said, having the foresight to fetch him another glass.  “It won’t be the end for all of us. Our finest engineers have devised a compound that we have formulated into a single digestible capsule which will genetically alter the make-up of our anatomy, thus enabling us to withstand the blast and live a peaceful and civilized existence among ourselves as nature regains itself to its original beauty.”
    “Interesting…” McQueen said aloud as he sloshed the wine in his glass, pondering the depth of his situation.
    “Though it is prophesized that you shall lead us, and be king among the most sophisticated, advanced race that ever walked this earth, we are a just and fair race, and will only grant you the position if you choose to accept.”
    “Hmmm…” McQueen mumbled, as Clarence called the attention of the young man standing across from him. He brought over a small brass chest, concealed in the sleeve of his robe, and opened it, revealing a green absinthe-esque liquid sitting in a clear shot glass labeled “Project 96.”
    “It is true that two of the three races plan to leave this earth, returning to their planets in futile hopes of restoring the sense of balance they once held. So 1/3 of the races shall stay behind to inherit the earth. I must warn you however, before you decide, that there is a small side-effect, or rather necessary component to the compound. In order to endure the heat of the suns radiation, your skin will turn coarse and thorny, much like the skin of a hornitoad, and the effects are unable to be reversed.”

    It seemed McQueen had much to think about. He knew his chances with the Shifters were out, even if he was one of them. Now he had the choice of ascending with the Agonians and living out a heaven among goddesses on the planet Venus, or staying on earth, and being ruler of a highly evolved race, of which he was their king. It was also completely possible and the most likely scenario in his mind that he’d simply had an extremely bad run in with a large group of paranoid delusional conspiracy theorists that either seriously believed what they were saying or seriously screwing with his mind.
    Either way, he thought. All things being equal, McQueen would prefer to be a king among beasts over a slave among goddesses any day, and he simply couldn’t leave the planet, it was his home.
    “McQueen grabbed hold of the shot glass in his right hand and shot it carelessly into his mouth, chasing it down with a long and deep gulp of vintage 1908 Italian White Zinfandel.