Alien Advantage by Lorain O'Neil $0.99
Eager excitement launched Mark Hemmings from his apartment one balmy Florida night, to foolishly gawk up at that thing in the sky. Zap! Mark was kidnapped by space aliens! Accidentally stealing their spaceship, Mark plunges back to Earth only to land ("all right, crashed then") smack into the clutches of the warring General Peerless and Dr. Montgomery. Being the only person who can --sort of-- fly the spacecraft, Mark must flee, but 'the boys from Little Island' are in relentless pursuit. A humorous novel of chase and determination, and above all else, refusing to forget who you are, despite the craftiest of temptations.
"It shows some real creativity of story line and decent character development. It's a fun and generally lighthearted book with some twists and turns. I enjoyed it enough to download and read the author's other book."
"[A] nice, light romp with a good dash of humor and adventure thrown in."
"I enjoyed the subject matter of the book and was intrigued by the twists and turns that were layered throughout."
They did not speak, but several at once surrounded me, keeping their lights concentrated on me. I saw no weapons. Seizing the last of my courage in my hands, I searched for a statement, some incredibly brilliant opening words of greeting that explained my circumstances reasonably and understandably.
"Heh!" I called out.
"Remain still, Sir," one of them commanded. "Help is coming."
Did he mean help for me or help for them?
"I'm hurt," I shouted back. "I think my head's bashed in! I need an ambulance!"
"Help is coming, Sir."
"Who are you guys? Forest rangers? Where am I? Oregon?"
No response. I dared a small step forward. They were, I saw, all wearing some kind of uniform-type jumpsuit that looked military to me, though I couldn't place what. Through my bumbling and disorientation I did manage to figure out that I was in the hands of some special kind of group which sent my heart thumping even more wildly as I pictured what kind of kill-em-all good ol' boy militia might be calling these woods home. The kind of folks who don't take kindly to a spaceship dropping in on them.
"Look," I said in forced rigid calm. "I'm Floridian! My name's Mark Hemmings. I'm hurt, dammit! Don't you have a medic or something?"
"Certainly, Mr. Hemmings," a warm and reassuring voice called over the din of the still rotating helicopter blades. "As a matter of fact," the man said slipping through the cordon of men around me, "I'm a doctor. And I'm here to help you." His voice was compelling and earnest, just the sort you wanted to hear when you were in dire need.
"You won't believe what happened to me," I jabbered in a rush of relief, "but that spaceship over there proves it. I was kidnapped, I was taken by--"
"By aliens, Mr. Hemmings, we know. We are quite knowledgeable about this sort of thing. Who else is in the craft?"
"No one. I stole it. I need help here. Take me to a hospital. I've got insurance. I don't have the card with me, but I've got student insurance."
"Don't worry about that, Mr. Hemmings. We are going to take care of you."
The way he said that made me wince. He was being too patient, too determined to control the excitement in his voice. His eyes shifted from me to the ship and back again like a kid greedily sizing up presents under the Christmas tree. He appeared to be about forty-five years old, twenty years older than me. He wasn't wearing a jumpsuit like the others but a white lab coat. Who wears a white lab coat into a forest at night? It was as if he was deliberately announcing he was a doctor, sort of a have-faith-in-me statement. His salt and pepper hair was a bit too long, curling around at the nape of his neck trying too hard to still look the rebel. His face was both handsome and fatherly though, and his build was solid. A cut glass brandy decanter kind of man. He was six feet tall and looked like he could take any of the younger men about him easily, or even me for that matter, and I'm no slouch. When he looked at me, however, his smile was genuine and friendly.
"If there's no one else in that ship, who flew it here?" another voice demanded.
I turned and saw a bear of a man, about fifty years old. He was dressed in what was unmistakably an Air Force uniform. I didn't know how to tell rank from such a uniform, but from the glittering metal on his, I knew he had to be pretty high up there. Unlike the doctor, his hair was a standard military cut. His face was puffy. It was his hands I noticed the most though, they looked like giant meat cleavers that could crush my skull like an eggshell. Something about him was reptilian --his eyes I think-- but his voice was the most pleasant silken voice I've ever heard. It forced me into answering.
"I did," I said as agreeably as possible. Here was every I-am-God law professor I had ever miserably faced. "I stole it from the aliens."
"We're here to help you," he smiled congenially while his eyes bored into me. "I'm General Peerless and this is Dr. Montgomery."
I wasn't so sure I wanted their help. Something felt wrong. The Doctor and the General must have sensed my apprehension because without warning I was seized, a needle plunged into my arm, and I was laid down on a large cradle-like device, strapped in and carried off toward a helicopter.
"This is it," I heard the Doctor say quietly to the General. "This is the break we've been waiting for."
"Incredible," the General said. Before I drifted off, I saw his stare fixed on me in delighted fascination.