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A Strange Occurrence in the Desert
Reply to SnarlsnoutAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive October 28, 2003
FF: A Strange Occurrence in the Desert
Author/FB: A verbatim brainfart by firstname.lastname@example.org
Summary: Popular/Roswell x-over
Pairing/Rating: Sam/Maria (intended but I choked) Isabel/Mary Cherry; PG-13ish
Disclaimers: J. Katims et al (Roswell)/R. Murphy et al (Popular)
Spoilers: General Roswell/S2 Popular (Joe.../The News...etc)
A/N #1: First fic I ever wrote rescued from obscurity. Always considered Popular & Roswell as "sister" shows to the "wicked stepmother" that was The WB.
A/N #2: OK. So actually MC drives a Humvee, & the last K. Hiegl pix I've seen are as a brunette--neither "fact" is relevant. "Rosey fingers of dawn" is a shout-out to Snoopy & C. Schulz.
The rock out-cropping was familiar immediately, even before the rosey fingers of dawn...etc illuminated it. River Dog was familiar also, although the language he spoke at first was garbled as is often the case in dreams. Gradually the message became clearer--
"--and the time will soon be upon you. The merging of the two worlds; the birth of a new species. Look to the Holy Place for signs. Look to the west for the Golden One --the Mother of the new Race. She is your mate; your destiny." The Antarean awoke startled and bathed in sweat.
We'll open with dawn, but not your typical rosey fingered variety, because one moment it's "starless and bible-black" like only the desert night can be, and the next the sun is high overhead and it's 95 degrees in the shade...Except there is no shade and it's about 110. We see a glare in the distance, and as we draw near we see the heat ripples generating from a shiny Lincoln town car. As if to exemplify it's "out-of-placedness" in this pristine and barren terrain, it is nestled in a bed of barrel cacti (cactuses?) w/ 4 flat tires.
Closer inspection reveals 4 occupants, teen-agers, female. Two blondes asleep in the back seat, another behind the wheel; the vehicle's sole brunette riding shotgun. All are in early stages of carbon-monoxide poisoning. The car's exhaust system had suffered extensive damage several hours earlier, when the driver, Mary Cherry ran over an entire family/herd of armadillo.
"It's survival of the fittest" she'd reasoned, "and their defensive armour was no match for mah Michilen radials..." Thank God the others had been asleep at the time; in fact Mary Cherry had been driving for about 16 hours straight and was in advanced stages of road-hypnosis. As the engine sputtered on it's last dregs of petrol, MC woke with a start--Stomping on the brake pedal; leaning on the horn and screaming "Oh My Gawd, Noooooo!" at the top of her lungs...at which point her companions began to stir...no, correction, they peeled themselves off the headliner.
"I've-got-your-ice-cold-Bartles-and-James-you-brainless-twit" Nicole ~informed~ Mary Cherry, accenting every syllable with a slap to the back of her wincing head.
"Guys please..." Brooke bemoaned as they all staggered down the sweltering strip of asphalt. "This isn't helping anything..."
She cast a glance back at Sam, who was falling further and further behind, her shirt tied around her head, the look of bold, defiant determination on her face that's only found on the truly doomed...
Mary Cherry (maybe) in the initial grips of heat stroke entertained the mental image of tying Nicole to stakes in the desert sun and dropping live scorpions on her...
Several hours later finds our group separated and dispersed among the quant trappings of the sleepy desert community. Brooke increasingly aggravated by her friend's constant bickering and Sam's stoic, silent martyrdom is biding her time at the service station w/ the sheriff's son who'd stopped to pick them all up earlier. She had combated the relentless heat by parking herself in front of the station's decrepit rattling window A/C and it wasn't helping that Kyle was "all sweaty, muscular and physically into that pinball game..."
Her three companions took the Bitchapalooza tour live to the town's sole eatery. Sam had long since mentally retreated to "her special, happy place" and Nic was never sure if Mary Cherry was mentally there to begin with, so she took her venomous rage out on the yokel waitress--
"Yo Mabel, have you got any conidements in this greasy spittoon other than Tabasco sauce?"
"Sure thing..." ~bitch~ Maria huffed. She was working her ass off while her best friend/co-worker just sits there giggling and flirting with her boyfriend. Plus she'd just had another fight with Michael and dreaded being alone in the kitchen with him...
"...chicken-fried ~cow~ pattie's more like it..." Maria blocked out the verbal barrage from the "big city bitch" and stood transfixed watching the ditzy blonde w/the Southern accent moulding a big mound of mashed potatoes into one shape after another, mostly pornographic.
Mary Cherry was in a maniacal, possessed state now--even more than usual...She cleared the table with a sweep of her arm, the clatter drawing the attention of the 3 teens at the next table, as well as the mirror-shaded sheriff at the counter. Nicole shocked into immobility; Sam, miles away, humming along with Big Bird, Bert and Ernie. None of the Crashdown's customers dared object as MC added all of their "today's special" to her growing mound. Finally, with potatoes and gravy smeared all the way to her elbows, Mary Cherry stepped back from her creation--a rock-outcropping familiar to the locals...
"I know this place..." the dark, quiet one muttered, darkly, quietly.
"No s**t Sherlock," his sister quipped, "But how does ~she~ know it!?!"
"Ah bear prophecies of the Omnipotent Ones," Mary Cherry bellowed, "Ah am the Messenger of Destiny!"
Michael emerges from the kitchen; stripping, wadding and tossing his apron behind him. Maria the only one to see it land on the grill, smoulder a moment, then burst into flames...
As Sheriff Valenti reaches for his radio; Max, Isabel and Liz lead the entranced, babbling blonde outside. Michael grabs Nicole by the arm and follows. Sam has meanwhile curled into a fetal position under the table and no one has noticed her absence...
"Y'all must carry me into the desert like the ain-shunt Fay-rose..." Mary Cherry instructed.
"F**k that, get in the jeep"
"Michael..." the quiet one chastised w/ a single word.
"Michael!" Isabel & Liz simultaneously scolding...
"Michael?" Nicole purrs inwardly, as if adding her captor's name to her Rolodex of conquests...
"Michael!" a frustrated Maria yells at the diminishing outline of the jeep...
"Mommy?" Sam ventures as Maria peers under the table.
"Miss! Miss! Your friends-what is their mission!?!" Sheriff Valenti spat at Sam as he shook her relentlessly. 47 cups of coffee will do that to you...
"Sheriff! Please!" Maria pried the lawman's death-grip from the terrified brunette's arms. "She's obviously in no condition to help...My suggestion would be to follow them, I'll calm down Ms. Personality here; get what I can from her...then I'll lock up, grab Kyle and Alex and you can radio us where to meet you..."
"Huh? Yea...Right!" as if it'd been his idea to begin with, "And let me know the minute she says anything...er, anything intelligible."
Maria shooed the remaining few customers from the cafe and locked the doors. She guided the shaken brunette to the kitchen and got a cold compress for her head and as she fawned over and comforted her, Sam slowly brought the present world back into focus...
"Nicole? Mary Cherry?" Sam looked around w/ a start.
"Whoa, whoa. Easy there chica. you're friends aren't here..."
"Yea, well, they're not exactly my friends...it's more like I'm their hostage on this bizarre, hare-brained pilgrimage---"
"Oh My God! I knew it! I knew those 2 were "not of this earth"! So what? Is this like some migration thing? A gathering? A Summit?"
Sam just shook her head uncomprehendingly at the agitated waitress.
"Czechoslovakian!?! Right--God! I mean that's what Liz & I--she's my friend--call them. You know, like code for--you know--(coaxing the confused city-girl as best as she could)--Extraterrestrials!"
The blonde turned and started slamming pots, pans and plates in all directions; ranting incoherently about "that dog Michael" and "alien orgies" while a rapidly recovering Sam rolled her eyes, whistled and mentally mapped out the exits...
Maria grabbed her school book-bag from her locker, spilled it's con-tents, and refilled it w/ various meat cleavers and butcher knives in an example of foreshadowing I may or may not come back to....
"C'mon," she said, steering the wide-eyed brunette by the arm. "My Jetta's right outside..."
(Existential story insert; and a shout-out to fellow Duckman fans--)
Maria turns full-face to the pursuer-"The new Volkswagen Jetta, fuel injection, front wheel drive, dual air-bags, AM/Fm/Cassette; German engineering made affordable." Jason K smiles as he finishes typing and returns to the window for another glimpse at his driveway--he had to remember to take that big bow off the roof...ah, the perks...Yours Truly glimpses the ratty Sportster w/ the duct-tape seat, leaking oil like a sieve in his driveway...ah, the merciless fates...
Said Jetta barely beats a huge cloud of dust as it skids to a stop, horn blaring. Maria launches into her "all men are dogs" remix/extended dance version as Kyle runs to the car with a gorgeous blonde in tow. He hurriedly throws her in the backseat where she collides w/ her future-step-sibling as Kyle climbs in front with Maria.
"Sam?" Brooke ventures, obviously as confused as the brunette...
"285 South" Kyle instructed, tweaking the radio.
"The familiar rock out-cropping?" Maria consulted.
"Yeah. Dad said they parked there about an hour ago and the Messenger wandered off into the desert..."
"Where's Michael?!" Maria fumed, "If he's hooked up with that..."
"Heinous bitch?" Sam offered, as Brooke poked her in the ribs.
"Exactly! Argh!" Then grabbing the radio, "Sheriff Valenti!? Look you tell Michael he is sooo dead--"
"Krawkle-klemph-mackackle!" Sheriff Valenti switched off the radio in disgust. Obviously out-of-range. Damn small-town budget. He needed back-up pronto. The group had dispersed the minute they arrived. He'd lost track of Michael and the "short, feisty blonde unit" as he was observing the strange mechanized behavior of what he determined to be the leader. Now Max and Liz were just sitting on the hood of the jeep watching her ever dwindling silhouette in the descending twilight...
"Do you think she's a shape-shifter, Max?" Liz queried, shifting hers slightly to face him.
"I'm not sure", Max pondered, "she seems so...retarded..."
"What do you think she's doing out there?" Liz asked trying to suppress the urge to ravish the dark, broody alien right there on the hood.
"Perhaps seeking perfect alignment for transmission..." Max babbled subliminally picking up Liz's vibe. Quickly using his manipulative alien super-powers to merge the two of them into--
"Damn teen-aged horn-dogs" Sheriff Valenti observed.
"Ditto" thought Isabel in disgust, as she wandered off in pursuit of the mysterious, other-worldly stranger.
"Her movements are so automaton-like" Isabel observed, having no trouble catching up with the spasmodic, gyrating blonde; momentarily tripping in the deep rut the girl had caused w/ her trance-induced shuffling...She searched her earthling memory-banks but found only old Soul Train re-runs. Maybe a dream-walk...? She ventured closer, and grabbed the other blonde's head in mid robotic pivot. She shuddered as she instantaneously downloaded a staccato barrage of images-huge, hideous lips pursed to kiss, then opening for tongue like the gaping maws of hell itself. Interspersed w/ booty-cam close-ups of in-your-face derriere undulations in leopard-print spandex. And finally, a blindingly bright, pulsating coup-de-grace in which her entire being seemed to "illuminate". The connection broke just as rapidly leaving Isabel on her ass in the desert sand...
"Whoa!" she muttered, visibly shaken, "This chick is frickin' ~out there~."
The aforementioned Jetta loses to the cloud of dust this time as it skids to a halt next to an ancient jeep. The hyper blonde bails out, grabbing her bag and stomping off towards the familiar rock out-cropping with a venomous rage approaching full boil. Kyle scours the horizon to determine his dad's obvious choice of observation locations.
Silence hung suspended in the still of the desert twilight for as long as it took Sam and Brooke to realize they were alone, and their faces to slowly turn towards one another...then it fell like a lead balloon---
"All I wanted was a quiet traditional Thanksgiving w/ Mom and Grams McPherson--but no!--Why don't you go along w/ Brooke they said; You'll have fun skiing in Telluride they said; You'll get to hob-nob w/ Gwenyth and all those movie-star friends of the Cherry's they said--"
"Look Sam," Brooke fumed "do you think I'm having a good time here? You think this is all one big frickin' frolic for me? Dragging you here--or anywhere for that matter--has never been one of my prerequisites for fun---"
Their conversation is rudely interrupted by something large & heavy landing on the roof of the car. Michael rolls off with a groan and attempts to zip his fly...Sam and Brooke follow his gaze to the side of the familiar rock out-cropping where an agitated Nicole is attempting to descend and get dressed simultaneously. As she scurries toward the car Sam could swear she saw Nicole's breasts...~glowing~...
Never one to back down from a challenge Nic turns to square off against Maria. Brooke and Sam both secretly rooting for the love spurned local girl; yet both taking the safe bet that the buzzards would be cleaning her bones tomorrow...
Hmmm...catfight...unbridled raw female fury...think brain think...Original spin on age-old woman scorned/revenge angle...Nic, no wait...Maria seemed to rise up and float above the desert floor, totally possessed, she is rage personified...
"I owe you pain" she snarled (that's good--I like that! Yea, wait) as her eyes dilated into impenetrable black orbs...(excellent...)
"What's that, you pathetic witch-your bag of tricks?" Nic scoffed...
"No...A bag of KNIVES!" (Cool-I ~knew~ I could use that later!)
Sam and Brooke glanced quickly at each other, long enough to register the same "Oh sh*t" reaction and then dove to the floor of the car as it was pelted by a torrential metallic rain.
"OK Mabel, Fun and games are over," Nic growled. "I think I broke a nail on that last one which means...you're going to pay..."
Anti-climax; Of course we'll never know what powers Nicole actually has at her disposal (spawn of Satan indeed...) because she was wrestled to the ground and zip-cuffed by Sheriff Valenti and his son at this precise moment (Kyle being the obvious reason Nicole ceased struggling)
"Well, with this side-bar out of the way," Brooke reasoned, "we can continue with the main story..."
Nurse Ratchet sez "OK, 5 more minutes, Snarlsnout, other people would like to use the computer, too..."
Pairing/Rating; Alas, Sam/Maria have turned out to be merely eye-candy; Looks like the earth moves for Mary Cherry/Isabel (Rock on Blonde Attitude fans!)
Probably PG or something (for language; not a very slashy story after all...)
Disclaimer; Humble apologizes to everyone (most of all the readers *g*)
As the rosey fingers of dawn...etc.
"Remember, uncuff her ~after~ she's locked in the cell", the Sheriff instructed his son, after securing Nicole in the cage section of the Bronco.
Kyle nodded, his mind obviously more on Brooke McQueen who'd be riding back to town w/ them to make all those dreaded calls back home to the 'rents and the lawyers...
Sam circled the back of the vehicle, taunting the pent-up Nicole like a caged animal, making faces, just getting ready to moon her when Kyle drove off. She followed Maria back to her Jetta rather than stay with the sheriff--she has this thing about authority figures...and being alone in the middle of nowhere w/ grizzly, sweaty old men...
Exhausted they both leaned back against the car and absent-mindedly watched the sunrise, alone, together...
"So all your friends are heinous alien life-forms who are quite possibly here to destroy the earth and all it's inhabitants beginning w/ you?"
"Yep," Sam nodded wearily, "that about wraps it up..."
"God," the blonde sighed, "I can so totally relate...."
Sheriff Valenti squinted into the rising sun as he tried to spot the approaching helicopter.
"Damn," he muttered, "If it's that Agent Topolski trying to steal my thunder again I'll have her ass..."
He was still lost in that thought, like a fan-fic writer staring at the Julie Benz photo above his computer...
"Ah said-Are you the man in charge around he'ah?!?" Cherry Cherry hated repeating herself, it indicated that someone had dared to ignore her. However, she made allowances for whirl of the blade overhead--and for the fact that she couldn't resist a man w/ a badge.
Valenti slowly snapped out of his revelry to focus on the state-of-the-art Bell chopper w/ "Cherry Cherry Enterprises" muralled on it's sides. The pilot swung open a door and he ducked inside.
The roar of the ascending helicopter awoke both Max and Liz, and their desire, but before they could act upon it, Maria and Sam joined them to watch the search begin anew...They didn't have long to wait as the rosy fingers of dawn...etc revealed that Mary Cherry and Isabel had come full circle and lay exhausted in the gully below them...
"Oh my God!" Sam exclaimed as the four teens approached the two limp bodies of their friends. Both girls were naked & Mary Cherry's entire body seemed to be aglow with a luminous silver sheen. Max turned away embarrassed as Liz and Maria attempted to explain it to Sam...
"Just... just think of it like a hickey or something" Maria ventured.
"Sure, see" Liz popped open her blouse in that wholesome, honest way that all small-town girls are prone to do
"we all got 'em..."
"W-w-wait," Sam flustered, trying to comprehend "Ok, so you get these marks from intimate contact with... aliens. OK-say I accept that... but the part I'm trying to grasp is your friend... was intimate... with... Mary Cherry?!?"
The three desert-dwellers looked from the sleeping couple to the ranting brunette and back. They may be back-water "bumpkins" but apparently they were a little more open minded than some of these so-called Liberal California hypocrites...
"I'm just saying--I thought you seek out ~intelligent~ life!"
High above them the helicopter circled; it's 3 occupants witness to the prophecy carved into the pristine desert floor by the shuffling feet of two girls lost in the timelessness of an intergalactic mating dance...a symbol of the merging of 2 lives; 2 worlds...
A huge heart w/ an arrow thru it and "Isabel loves Mary Cherry"...
Unless of course, someone wants to continue w/ the saga of Isabel and Mary Cherry as the progenitors of a new race of human/alien/blonde hybrids...Yea, I didn't think so...
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