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They're trying to kill me with the stink. One of their experiments must have gone haywire. When they switched brains, the person died. That's what happened; that's what I smell. Rotting human flesh. Sickening. The aliens can't smell it. I asked them; they can't smell it. They said I was hallucinating. No way. They must smell different than I smell.
I shouldn't have asked. They stuck me with a needle. Fuckers. I hate that. I'll take their fucking pills, but I don't want their needles. The needles knock me out. While I'm out, they do weird things with me; I know they do. Anal probes, that sort of thing. Or worse. Probably planning to switch bodies again. Next time they knock me out, I'll wake up with a cunt. They'll put my brain in the body of a girl. He sneered. Don't want to be a pathetic, simpering cunt. This weak body is bad enough. A body with a pussy would be worse.
"Aaron, stand up," an alien said.
He stood up. Didn't want the goddamn needle. Didn't want to become a worthless female.
"Walk to the dining hall, Aaron."
He walked, wishing they'd bury that body. How can I fuckin' eat with that stink? I'll throw up.
He giggled. That'd teach them. No, if I threw up, they'd knock me out.
"Sit down, Aaron."
He sat down.
"Eat."
He put a bite of food in his mouth with a fork. Don't gag! Don't...
Vomit spewed all over the table. The fat man next to him threw up next, then the crazy old hag who pretended to hold a baby all the time.
He giggled. Shit happens. Should have buried that rotting body. Or burned it. Yvonne wanted to be cremated when she died. Sick. Stupid cunt.
We sat in a conference room in the administrative offices of the school. Someone was covering my English class; Tom handled that. Robyn Clark had accepted Tom's invitation to the meeting, and also at Tom's request, Sheriff Kenneth Hansen had joined us.
I'm a big man; Sheriff Ken is bigger. In appearance, he looks like a typical redneck, Southern cop, so much so that at first glance, I expected him to refer to me as Boy. Appearances can be deceiving. He was a well-spoken man, polite, logical, and level-headed. He also knew about my memory loss, so I didn't have to deal with that subject.
Robyn Clark was her typical self: stylishly dressed, beautiful, cynical, and aloof.
"Coach, you called this meeting," Tom said.
"I did. Friday, when I landed in Winnemucca for the game, I discovered that two of my first-string players had been suspended for dealing drugs."
"Humph," Robyn snorted. "What do you want? Their suspension lifted?"
I gave her a hard look. "I'm saddened that you have such a low opinion of my character, Robyn. I called this meeting because, with my memory loss, I was unaware of the drug problem in the high school." I slumped back in my chair and sighed. "I'm a football coach. A coach, especially a high school coach, should teach his players how to become better human beings first and better football players second. This afternoon at a team meeting, I planned to announce a zero-tolerance drug policy. If any of the boys on my team are involved with drugs, I want to know about it, not to protect them, but rather to remove them from the football team. However, upon reflection, I realized that a zero-tolerance drug policy has the potential of destroying the life of one of my boys before he can be salvaged. Accordingly, I wanted a discussion with each of you regarding the policy before it's announced this afternoon."
Robyn looked like I'd driven a railroad spike into her head.
I stifled a chuckle and turned to Tom. "From what I was told, the school doesn't have a zero-tolerance policy. You suspend a student the first time the student is caught using drugs on school property. The student isn't expelled until the second time. Correct?"
"That's correct for marijuana," Tom said. "For harder drugs, expulsion is immediate. Currently, other than marijuana, meth is the drug of choice."
"I believe there is a meth lab somewhere in the county," the sheriff said. "I also believe that at least one of the students in this school is a meth dealer. Coach, marijuana is relatively benign when compared to drugs like meth or heroin. We've got some of that, too, although so far, to our knowledge, none of the students in this school is a heroin addict. Cocaine has also filtered down to the students of this school, but it's nowhere near as prevalent as meth."
"What about designer drugs like ecstasy?" I said.
"We had a problem with ecstasy last year. So far, we've been lucky this year," Tom said.
I nodded. "I think I understand. Correct me if I'm wrong, but unless caught in the act on school property, the school turns a blind eye to marijuana use but comes down hard on students involved with harder drugs."
Tom said, "I suppose that's true for drug users, but dealing is another matter entirely. We place marijuana dealers in the same category as students using the harder drugs."
"Then why did you merely suspend Peter and Terry? Why didn't you expel them?" I said to Tom.
"They're innocent until proven guilty," Tom said. "After their day in court, they'll be expelled. Coach, they were caught red-handed, so to speak. They're guilty, no doubt about it, so neither of them will set foot on the school grounds again."
I looked at Robyn. "Have you been able to save anyone?"
My question surprised her, but she recovered quickly and said, "Yes."
"Good," I said. "What about alcohol?"
"What about it?" Tom said.
"It's a drug. It's illegal for students to drink alcohol. Does the school have a policy regarding beer and hard liquor?"
"We treat alcohol like we treat marijuana," Tom said.
"Orville classifies cigarettes as a drug," I said.
"Smoking on school grounds will get a student suspended," Tom said.
I chuckled. "Is that why crowds gather across the street from the school between classes?"
"Yes, and some of the smoke coming from their mouths is from burning marijuana, not cigarettes," Tom said.
I nodded. "Are these policies working?"
"Yes," Tom said.
"No," Robyn said at the same time. All eyes turned toward her. She shrugged and said, "Drug use is increasing, not decreasing."
"That's not a result of school policy, Robyn," Tom said.
She said nothing.
"Do you think our policies should be altered?" Tom said to her.
"I don't know, maybe." She looked at me. "Are you serious about initiating a zero-tolerance drug policy for the football team?"
"I was; I'm not so certain now."
"If you do it, would the policy include alcohol and cigarettes?" she asked.
"No," I said without hesitation. "Alcohol and cigarettes are not illegal substances. Granted they're illegal for teenagers, but not for adults. But I've found that if you treat teenagers as adults, they'll respond accordingly. If you treat them as children, they'll rebel. The zero-tolerance drug policy would include any drug illegal for adult use. I would, of course, stress that the school policy regarding alcohol and cigarettes would still be enforced. If any of my football players is caught drinking booze or smoking cigarettes on school property, which to my mind includes motel rooms during away games, that player would be turned over to Tom for suspension from school. The player would be allowed back on the team at the expiration of his suspension. On the other hand, a player caught using an illegal drug, including marijuana, relatively benign or not, would be kicked off the team permanently, and then turned over to Tom for punishment in accordance with school policy."
Robyn nodded and said, "Do it."
Tom held up his hands, palms out. "Hold it right there," he said. "That policy would decimate the team, Coach. I think marijuana use is more prevalent than you realize."
"What's more important to the school, Tom? Teaching our athletes how to succeed at life or winning football games?" I said. "Condoning drug use, including marijuana, lends tacit acceptance by authority figures to perform illegal acts. I don't believe that's the lesson we want our athletes to learn."
"He's right, Tom," Sheriff Ken said.
Tom slumped in his chair, and said, "Okay, I'll go along with your zero-tolerance drug policy for the football team, Coach."
"Tom, I'm probably going to lose some players for another reason," I said.
He frowned. "What reason?"
"Football players, for the most part, are bigger and stronger than the rest of the students in the school. Some of them tend to be bullies. Orville tells me that in the past before my memory loss, that I protected some bullies on the team. That changes right now. I won't have a bully on my football team."
Tom groaned and said, "Coach, where are you keeping your pod?"
Robyn and I laughed. The sheriff smiled.
I looked at the sheriff. "Sooner or later, do bullies end up in your jail?"
"Yep," he said. "Sooner more often than later, and some of them end up in prison doing hard time."
I said, "The bullies on the team—I have the names of two of them—will be given an opportunity to change their behavior. If they don't learn how to treat others with respect, they won't be welcome on the team. After the team meeting when I'll be announcing my modified zero-tolerance drug policy that will include marijuana use but won't include alcohol and cigarettes, I plan to have a little chat with Cal Jensen and Larry Foreman. It's possible that one or both of them will not be suiting up this afternoon." I turned to Robyn. "Do you know of any other bullies on the team? If so, I'll include them in the conversation I plan for Cal and Larry."
She nodded. "Cory Tidwell is probably a bigger bully than Cal or Larry, although Larry is almost as bad as Cory."
I looked at Tom. "She's got Cory pegged, Coach," he said.
"At least he's second string," I muttered, which elicited some chuckles from around the table.
I tossed a football to Jeff Weaver. "That's the game ball from Friday, Jeff. I've signed it, Orville, too. Perhaps other team members will sign it, as well. You earned it. You stepped up after Terry was suspended for dealing drugs. You gave the game everything you had in you. In fact, you stopped Winnemucca at the goal line seconds before the game ended. I'm proud of you."
Orville started the applause, which quickly morphed into hoots and hollers. Jeff fondled the ball and looked like he could leap tall buildings.
"Okay, settle down," I said. "I have an announcement. Starting today, each member of this football team is subject to a zero-tolerance drug policy. That being said, let me explain the policy in detail." I went on to describe the policy as I'd developed it during my morning meeting with the sheriff, Tom, and Robyn. "If any of you feel that you can't abide by this policy, there's the door."
No one stood up and walked out.
"Any questions about the policy?" I said.
"I have a statement, not a question," Paul Williams said. Paul was our first-string center.
My nod indicated that he should continue. He said, "To my way of thinking, booze is worse than marijuana."
I heard murmurs of agreement.
"Your thinking is probably accurate, but I didn't want to treat any of you as children," I said.
"Huh?" Paul said.
"You might be a teenager and therefore too young to drink, but to my way of thinking, you're a young adult, and that's the way I'll treat you. Adults can legally use alcohol. Adults cannot legally use marijuana. In crafting the drug policy I had to consider whether I would treat you as adults or children. I chose the former. If you don't like the marijuana laws, after you graduate from high school and go out into the world to meet your future, get involved and change the law."
Greg, our quarterback, said, "Will you do random drug testing?"
"No," I said. "What I'm going to do is trust each of you to abide by the policy ... until I can no longer trust one of you. If by your actions you lose my trust, you will also lose the privilege to play on this football team." I looked around the room. "Any other questions or statements?"
The room remained silent. "Okay, go suit up."
By prior agreement, Orville stopped Cal, Larry, and Cory from leaving. Then Orville left the room. Once alone with the three young men, I said, "It has been brought to my attention that the three of you think you are tough guys. Was I misled?"
Silence.
"Come on, are you tough or not?" I said.
"I'm tough," Cory said.
"Me, too," Larry said.
"What's this about, Coach?" Cal said.
I walked up to Cal and slapped his face, not with brutal force; the blow wouldn't leave a bruise, but he knew he'd been slapped. I watched intense anger fill his eyes.
"That pissed you off, didn't it?" I said.
He was too angry to speak, but he nodded.
"Would it surprise any of you if I said that I'm tougher than you, all three of you, combined?"
They said nothing.
"I am, you know. I'm bigger than any of you, and stronger. I'm also proficient in krav maga, a form of martial arts developed for the Mossad, Israel's equivalent to our CIA. Krav maga is one of the skill sets that survived my memory loss." I had, in fact, studied krav maga for five years when I was Aaron MacDonald. "If the three of you attacked me at the same time, I'd take all three of you. If you don't believe me, you can try. We can go to the mats in the gym right now. Want to try?"
None of them took me up on the offer.
"Cal, did my slapping you show disrespect?" I said.
He nodded, and then said out loud, "Yes."
"Do you believe what I did was wrong? As a moral issue, I mean. Did I do a right thing or a wrong thing?"
"It was wrong."
"How did you feel after I slapped you?"
"Angry. And confused. And I wondered why you did it," he said.
I looked at Larry. "How would you feel if I slapped you?"
He said nothing. I turned to Cory. "What about you, Cory?" Cory remained silent, as well.
"I don't remember what I was like before I tangled with lightning, but I've been told I was a bully," I said. "I have no way of knowing if the characterization was accurate. I do know that the label, accurate or not, disturbed me. Can any of you guess why I was disturbed by the label?"
Cal said, "Because the label made you less of a man, not more of a man."
"Precisely," I said. "I was upset because I also believe that a bully is a coward. I didn't like to think of myself as a cowardly bully. I prefer to think of myself as a good and decent man. Just as important, I'd prefer that others consider me a good and decent man." I sat down on a bench facing the three young men. "I've been told that the three of you are bullies. Would any of you agree with that assessment?"
"I'm not a bully," Larry said.
"Neither am I," Cory said. "I just won't take any shit."
Cal lowered his eyes. He didn't speak, and he wouldn't look directly at me. Cal, I believed, could be salvaged. I wasn't confident the other two were salvageable.
"Since the moment I opened my eyes after getting struck by lightning, I've tried to treat everyone I meet with respect. If I was a bully before, I am a bully no longer. Cal, I apologize for slapping you. I did it to make a point. Will you accept my apology?"
"Yes," he said.
"Here's the deal, men. I won't tolerate druggies, and I won't tolerate bullies, not on my football team. From this moment forward, I want each of you to treat everyone around you with respect. Do not physically or verbally abuse anyone. Got it?"
"Got it, Coach," Cal said.
I looked Larry in the eye. "Yeah, I got it, Coach," he said, but reluctantly.
I switched my gaze to Cory. "I got it, but I still won't take any shit," he said.
I sighed. "Cal, Larry, go suit up."
After they left, I said to Cory, "What do you mean when you say that you won't take any shit?"
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