Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul (29 page)

Trying to keep George on the beam, Sikes said firmly, “The charge is kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?” Now Tivoli looked extremely amused. “How can I kidnap something that belongs to me?”

He looked for a long moment at the giant and infant. Although the giant looked as fearful as before, the infant was regarding him with gentle, even thoughtful eyes.

“It’s my child,” said Tivoli. “I created it.” And he indicated the jars. “Just like these.”

“What is all this?” demanded George.

Tivoli spoke with genuine pride, walking in a small circle and waving. “I’m advancing our species. Past you. Past me.” He pointed to the giant. “I came close with that—close to making a purely mental being. A being free of the baser needs of the body. Free to learn, to explore, to create . . .”

The giant stepped forward now, emboldened by the lack of fear in the infant. As the infant’s gaze locked with Tivoli’s, the giant said proudly, “The body is partner to the mind. It is its vehicle . . . its instrument.”

“The body is corrupt,” said Tivoli disdainfully. “IT is a prison to the mind.”

This is insane. He needs a sex class,
Sikes thought giddily.

“We cannot be separated,” said the giant firmly. “We are meant to be one.”

Tivoli sighed, long and deep. Indicating the giant, he said sadly, “This was a failure. I’ll study it. I’ll learn from my mistakes.”

“If you succeed, you will only create monsters,” said the giant.

But George shook his head. “He won’t be creating anything.”

And Tivoli played his trump card. “The government won’t allow you to prosecute me. We have a deal. You’re wasting your time.”

And the giant’s voice changed. For just a brief moment, it seemed as if two voices were speaking as one, blended in seamless harmony. “This will not happen,” the giant cried out, outraged by the sheer cold brutality of the being standing in front of them.

The giant swung a huge arm. Surprised, Tivoli ducked away, and a bottle of ether was caught in the sweep and knocked off the table onto the floor.

“Stop!” shouted Sikes. “Hold it!”

Tivoli stumbled back, and his foot hit the gun that the now-deceased Penn had dropped. He grabbed it up and ducked for cover behind a table.

“Get down!” shouted George, charging toward the giant and knocking him aside.

George needn’t have worried. Genius, scientist, cold-hearted bastard, all these things Tivoli was. But a marksman he was not. The shot went high and blew one of the overhead lamps free of its moorings, sending it crashing to the floor . . .

Where the sparks hit the ether.

A ball of flame erupted from the flammable liquid. The giant staggered back with a roar as a wall of fire immediately leaped into existence, blocking Tivoli from the door.

Sikes grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and tried to turn it on the blaze. But the flame had already reached another bottle of ether, fueling itself. The flame roared higher.

Tivoli backed up, trying to angle his way around to an exit. But the new blast of heat drove him back, and he crashed into one of the shelves with specimens on it. The bottles crashed all around him, shelving collapsing on top of that. He was completely pinned by his specimens. It was as if the Newcomer pods were holding him there, waiting for the flames to get to him.

The fire extinguishers were doing no good whatsoever against the flame. With every passing second it was finding new and even more flammable liquids upon which to feed.

Sikes tossed aside the extinguisher. George was grabbing the giant, dragging him away and outside of the lab. And then they heard screams and had a brief glimpse of a body aflame, writhing about in agony, surrounded by unborn Newcomer pods.

George had heard screams like that before. They were the types of screams that had come from the laboratories where Chorboke performed his atrocities.

And as Sikes, George, and the giant ran from the lab, ran to safety outside of the building, George reflected on the consistency of it all. Chorboke’s final laboratory had screams coming from it, just as was always the case.

But these screams were Chorboke’s . . . all Chorboke’s . . .

G
EORGE AND THE
giant leaned against Sikes’s car. A building crawling with firemen was the only kind of place that a seven-foot-tall Newcomer cradling an infant could go pretty much unnoticed. George watched the two creatures in fascination. Then he looked up as Sikes walked over to them.

“The lab was completely destroyed,” said Sikes.

He looked at the serene, beautiful face of the infant who once again used the giant as her vessel of communication.

“What will you do with me now?”

“It’s not up to us,” George said to the infant. “There’ll be a trial.”

“Will I be separated again?” asked the giant nervously.

Sikes didn’t know what to say. He gestured helplessly. “Look . . . we just bring you in. Other people make that decision.”

There was a long silence. The infant studied the two of them, her expression impassive and gentle as always.

“I’m not afraid to die,” said the giant with quiet conviction. “But please, don’t let them separate me again.”

Sikes turned to George. Neither of them needed to tell each other of the pity they were feeling for the pathetic creature. It was written on their faces, and the giant and the infant saw it there as well.

“I know a place you can take me,” the giant said softly.

Sikes rolled his eyes, “That’d be a serious breach of regulations, wouldn’t it, George.”

“Yes,” said George sadly. “I’m afraid it would.”

“And considering that, it seems there’s only one thing we can do.”

They were in the middle of nowhere.

The desert stretched endlessly in all directions. The giant turned the infant so that she could survey the barren landscape.

“Yes,” said the giant. He actually seemed to be smiling. “This is a very good place.”

“If you came back with us,” said Sikes, “there’s a chance . . . maybe everything would turn out okay.”

But he knew the answer before the giant even spoke. The infant turned her gaze upon him, and the giant said, “It’s better this way. Thank you.” Then he turned to George and said [
“Thank you.”
]

Slowly, George reached out and touched the temple of the infant. [
“Farewell.”
] he said.

Sikes did the same. “Yeah,” he said.

A smile seemed to play across the infant’s lips, and then the giant said, “Good-bye.”

He held the infant close, shielding her from the sun as best he could, and he started out across the desert.

Sikes and George watched the creature go.

“It doesn’t have a chance,” said Sikes.

And George slowly shook his head. “It never did.”

They stood there, waiting—by unspoken agreement—until the giant could no longer be seen. It took a very long time until finally, enveloped by shimmering heat waves, the giant finally disappeared behind a sand dune.

And they never saw it again.

J
ACK
P
ERELLI
,
WEARING
a white terry cloth robe, answered the pounding at the front door of his apartment. To his surprise, Matt Sikes was standing there.

“Matt!” said Perelli. “Long time no see.” He studied him. “You look like hell. You want a drink of water or—”

“No,” said Sikes firmly. “I just got something I got to say to you.”

“Well . . . sure.” Perelli stepped back. “Come on in.”

“No, I can say it from here. First, I gotta tell you . . . you saved my ass at the clinic the other day. So I thank you for that.”

“You were there? Well, glad I could be of—”

“And you taught me a lot of stuff. You shaped a lot of my opinions about . . . about everything.”

“Matt, what’s bothering you?”

“What’s bothering me,” said Matt hotly, “is that you’re an asshole. That’s what’s bothering me.”

“I see.”

“When the Newcomers first came here, there you were, day after day after day, saying that they were filth. That they were going to ruin humanity. That they didn’t know about human love or emotion. And you said . . . you said that any human who was willing to accept them or get close to them was a traitor to the whole damned human race.” Matt’s voice was getting louder and louder. “And I hung on every word you said, Jack. Every damned word. And it poisoned me for ages. Well I met a Newcomer woman, Jack, and I love her, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. Tired of being afraid of so many stupid things. And I work with a Newcomer. And—”

“Jack? Is something wrong?”

It was a female voice, coming from the area of the bedroom.

Sikes blinked. The voice sounded familiar.

Moments later, a female form also wearing a bathrobe emerged from the bedroom area.

Matt’s jaw fell to somewhere around his ankles.

“Well,” she said, folding her arms. “Matt.”

“Vi . . . Vivian,” stammered Sikes. “Vivian Webster.”

Jack looked from her back to him. “You know each other?”

The Newcomer sex counselor smiled. “Oh yes. Matt’s in my Human/Newcomer sex class. Or at least he was. Or is he still?” Her voice sounded musical and very amused.

“Yes. I . . . I am,” he said. “Uh . . . how long have you and Vivian . . .”

“About a year,” said Perelli. “That’s why I was at the sex clinic the other night. I was coming by to pick her up anyway.”

“Oh. Uh . . . Jack, I thought you . . .”

“Hated Newcomers?” He shrugged. “I did. But people change, Matt. They realize they’re wrong sometimes if they let themselves realize that they’re never too old to learn. You can, too, teach an old dog new tricks. May take ’im longer to learn, but he can learn ’em.”

“I guess so,” said Matt.

“We all done here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gonna be at my retirement dinner next month?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Bring your Newcomer girlfriend. Love to meet her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Matt . . .”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re an asshole.” And he slammed the door in Matt’s face.

“Yes, sir,” said Matt to the door.

George entered his house, looking downtrodden and wasted. He flopped down in his favorite chair and just sat there, staring at the wall.

Emily came in. She regarded him silently for a moment and then, to his surprise, went over to him and hugged him tightly before heading upstairs. He wondered what that was about. He would, in fact, never find out. Nor would he really have wanted to know.

Susan walked in, and she was carrying a robe wrapped in dry-cleaner’s plastic.

“I had this cleaned for you,” she said.

He took the garment and stared at it. “My ceremonial robe. Why?” he asked in genuine confusion.

“You’ll need it . . . when you father Albert and May’s child.”

He stared at her. “Susan . . .” he whispered.

“Forgive me, George.” She looked skyward, clearly embarrassed. “You were right. I acted so . . . human . . .”

He set the robe down and took her in his arms.

“I love you,” he told her.

V
IVIAN
W
EBSTER STOOD
at a podium set up inside the sex clinic with a pile of diplomas in front of her. She smiled out at her students, dressed in their best clothes, all standing to one side of the room. Family and friends were on the other.

“I’m very proud of these students here tonight. They’ve worked very hard the past three months. They’ve persevered during a very difficult time for them and for this city.”

Matt took Cathy’s hand and gripped it tightly. Across the way, George had an arm around Susan. Next to them stood Albert, his hand resting lightly on the swollen belly of his wife.

“Because of love and with love,” continued Vivian, “they have pushed aside the prejudice. They have pushed aside the ignorance. They have pushed aside the fear. In accepting the mystery and beauty of their partners, these graduates have discovered the mystery and beauty in themselves. Congratulations.”

Friends and family began to applaud as Vivian started handing out the diplomas.

“Sharon and Noel Parking,” she called out. “Debbie Degner and Colonel Mustard. Cathy Frankel and Matthew Sikes. Sharon Wessner and Buddy Holly . . .”

The names had all been called, the congratulations made. The winks, the grins. All of it once would have embarrassed the hell out of Matt Sikes.

Now, though, it was of no consequence to him. In fact, he thought it was great.

Matt and Cathy approached the front door of their apartment building. They stood there a moment, hands clasped, and smiled at each other.

“Shall we?” he said.

They started up the front stoop, and then a passing car suddenly slowed down and started honking. They stopped and turned.

A smiling white-haired man poked his head out the driver’s side window.

“Cathy Frankel!” he called out. “Cathy, isn’t it? From the pottery class! Hi, how y’doin’?”

“Hi, Joe!” she said. “This is a pleasant surprise!”

Sikes stood there, gaping.

“Joe,” Cathy continued, “this is M—” And then she stopped. “Oh, wait. No. He said he wouldn’t want to be introduced to you because he wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Oh, okay. Well . . . I gotta go. Take care.” And he drove off.

Sikes managed to get his mouth moving. “Th—that was Joe DiMaggio!”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I told you I knew him.”

“Yeah, but . . . I thought when you said it that Joe DiMaggio was a Newcomer!”

“Oh, no. Actually, I think he used to advertise coffee makers, or something like that.”

“That was
Joltin Joe!
Quick! Get him back here!” Sikes started to run off the stoop. “I’d love to get his autograph! To talk to him! To—”

And then he saw the way she was staring at him.

And he grinned sheepishly.

“I guess it can wait,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Because I can’t.”

Sikes, bare-chested, stood next to his bed. Cathy, in a slip, was standing next to him, embracing. Temple to temple, they nuzzled one another. Sikes hummed softly, unable to imagine that three months ago, he was self-conscious about it. After a moment, Cathy gave him a long, human kiss.