Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul (6 page)

On the one hand, he was disappointed. It looked about as unappealing as any other lower scale part of town in any city he’d been to.

On the other hand, he noticed the little things. The graffiti, in particular, all written in that bizarre alien language that looked like one of those lines that tracks someone’s heartbeat. And there were the store signs as well, written in both English and Tenctonese.

Over on the corner was one place in particular with a sign across it that made the salesman chuckle. It read CLANCY’S MILK BAR. He’d heard that the Newcomers were unaffected by alcohol, but could get really tanked up on sour milk. Go figure.

By seeing these subtle hints of the alien culture that existed in little Tencton, it all became that much more real to the salesman. Hell, if the whole area had been redone to look like the surface of some alien planet, then it would have seemed hokey. Unbelievable, like something out of that television show about the bald captain and the android . . .

The door to the milk bar opened, and the salesman saw his first Little Tencton residents. A man and a woman, looking down on their luck and shabbily dressed, were being ushered out of the milk bar. They didn’t look especially happy about it, and they shook their fists and cursed loudly in Tenctonese.

The salesman had slowed for a light, and as he watched the minor drama, the door of the bar was slammed in the face of the indigent Newcomers. They continued to hurl profanities at the uncaring door. The salesman chuckled. It was fascinating to see how some forms of behavior seemed to cross all lines.

He was so caught up in the plight of the two indigents that he didn’t hear the shouting and sounds of running feet that were coming from his left.

The light changed and he eased the car forward . . .

And plowed directly into a Newcomer.

And as if hitting a living being wasn’t horrific enough, he caught a quick glimpse of a small bundle, wrapped in a blanket and being cradled in the Newcomer’s arms.

A baby. Dear God, he’d hit a father and his baby.

The salesman took no time to wonder why a father and infant child were walking the streets of Little Tencton after midnight. Instead he slammed on his brakes.

The Newcomer bounced off the hood and fell to the right of the car. For a moment the salesman—a confirmed atheist—found himself desperately praying.

He started to open the door and called out, “Are you okay?”

The Newcomer stood up.

The salesman gasped and leaped back into the driver’s seat. The Newcomer had to be six . . . no, seven feet tall. The baby was still safely cradled in his arms. The salesman had heard that Newcomers were tough, but even so . . .

The giant Newcomer staggered slightly, but otherwise appeared unhurt. The salesman couldn’t quite make out the child in the alien’s arms, but it, too, looked all right. Apparently the Newcomer had protected the infant child and taken the full force of the impact himself.

The giant shouted something incomprehensible.

It sounded like a record being played backward, with some sort of clicking sound tossed in. He shook his head signaling that he did not understand.

An air of desperation surrounded the giant, and panic lit his eyes. He started to speak again and then appeared to see something. Whatever it was, it sent him dashing off in the direction of the milk bar.

The salesman turned toward where the giant had been looking and spotted two men who were clearly in pursuit. One was a Newcomer, the other human.

They dashed around the car, barely affording the salesman a glance. For the next five minutes he sat and watched with stupefication. Every moment of it was permanently embedded in his memory, which was fortunate; because an hour later the salesman would be relating to the police every incredible moment of what he had witnessed.

The giant shoved past the two Newcomer transients the moment he became aware that they were of no use to him. He could smell the aroma of sour milk on their breath, and see the giddy blankness of their expressions.

It was an indication of his state of mind that he didn’t turn and stand his ground. But the giant was a primal creature. Since he was being pursued, the only course of action that he could find it within him to take was to run. He had allowed a certain blind panic to overwhelm him—particularly when the vehicle he had been driving ran out of gasoline on the outskirts of Little Tencton.

When that had first occurred, he had thought himself safe. His ebbing fear had given way to exhaustion, and he had sunk down in a small, ramshackle shell of a burned-out building and rested there. The giant had clutched his precious cargo close to him, and every so often would peer down at her, his expression a mixture of love and awe.

He had no idea who he could trust, and no concept of where to go. He had stayed there, drifting in and out of slumber, for who knew how long.

He did not realize that Perkins had taken the opportunity to slip out of the back of the van and call in to his boss to relate all that had happened.

Over two hours later, Perkins, River, and Penn had finally connected up, and stealthily approached their target.

It had been the giant’s light sleeping that saved him. As he had sat there, only half dozing, he had suddenly felt a warning deep within him. What the source of that warning had been, he could not say. All he knew was that he had suddenly snapped to full wakefulness, just in time to see River, Penn, and Perkins ten yards away and closing fast.

Immediately the giant was on his feet. With a quick sideways movement, he had slammed into a piece of wall. The wall didn’t need much incentive to fall over, and what the giant provided was more than enough. The bricks and mortar fell, cascading in a pile of rubble and dust, driving the three pursuers back for the instant that the giant needed to get a head start.

The chase was on.

The giant had been developing a significant lead, his huge strides eating up distance. But he had made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder to see just how far ahead he had gotten, and that was when he slammed into the car. He had only enough time to see the shocked expression of the human behind the wheel and then he’d gone down, clutching the infant to his chest and absorbing the impact with his elbow and shoulders.

It had taken him only a moment to catch his breath, and then he’d been back up on his feet. He had barely glanced at the human before running toward the milk bar, seeking the help of the transients.

[
“Help me!”
] he had shouted. [
“Help me!”
]

Quickly he had moved on, and now the giant began pounding on doors all down the street. Over and over he called out [
“Help me! Help me!”
]

The thing that the giant, in his drive for survival, did not realize was that in Little Tencton no one helped anyone. It was never wise to stick one’s spots into someone else’s affairs. The chances were that it would just get you into more trouble than you bargained for.

This was particularly the case when the supplicant was as massive as the giant. Up and down the worst street of Little Tencton, Diller Avenue, windows were flying open and angered Newcomers were sticking their heads out. Many of them gaped at the size of the being who was shouting for aid. Here was obviously someone who was more than capable of taking care of himself. Why in hell was he bothering the neighborhood?

They shouted angrily at this clear breach of Little Tencton etiquette.

[
“Get away from here!”
]

[
“Keep it quiet!”
]

[
“I’m calling the police!”
]

The latter threat should have been the key to survival for the giant. In the hands of the police, there would be safety from his pursuers. But he wasn’t thinking that way. To him, all the world was a strange and terrifying place. The only place where he might find safety would be among his own kind, and they were loudly and angrily spurning him.

He heard the pounding of feet behind him, and couldn’t wait any longer. He did not attempt any dodges or clever darting down side streets. He lit out at a dead run like a sprinter. His state of mind did not permit him anything more elaborate.

As it happened, the giant was approaching the outskirts of Little Tencton. The street curved around and, in turn, served as a feeder into the interstate. The giant was, at that moment, dashing across an overpass. Below him, cars roaring by, was the highway. He had no particular plan. He just wanted to get away.

He just wanted to be left alone.

He wasn’t to have the opportunity.

River stepped out from behind a lamppost that was along the overpass. In his hand was a syringe.

The giant stopped where he was, his eyes wide. He didn’t seem to be breathing hard at all. River, for his part, was mildly fatigued, after running like a madman to circle around and cut the giant off.

His associates had performed their task perfectly. All that was left now was to rein in the giant.

He took a step forward, sounding as soothing as he could. [
“No one is going to hurt you.”
] he said.

The giant didn’t look as if he believed it for a moment. For every step that River took forward, the giant stepped back, and considering that the giant had a considerably longer stride, it meant that, given time, he would have easily outdistanced River.

But he didn’t have the time.

Perkins and Penn had come up behind him, and now his retreat was blocked.

[
“Come with us.”
] River said soothingly, and repeated, [
“No one is going to hurt you.”
]

The giant hesitated, looking in all directions. It was impossible to tell whether he was weighing his options, or instead taking on the air of a trapped beast. If it was the latter, then he was going to be extremely dangerous to approach.

And at that moment, a sound floated through the air from a distance. The sound of police sirens.

It had been the plumbing salesman who had called from his car phone, alerting the police to the “Big Trouble in Little Tencton,” as the newspapers would blare the next day. Naturally it had been the salesman; the Tenctonese population had been more than happy to be left alone.

The reasons for the police arriving, however, were not nearly as important to River, Penn, and Perkins as the fact that they were, indeed, coming. Suddenly their time had run out, and the chase that the giant had led them on was being abruptly terminated.

The giant seemed to make a decision. To the shock of the others, he suddenly knelt and lay the infant down on the sidewalk.

Penn took it as an indication that the giant was surrendering, and started forward.

But Penn had proceeded from a false assumption. The giant had simply resolved that the time had, indeed, finally come to take that long-delayed stand.

His attack was startling in its ferocity, overwhelming in its speed. Penn had gotten within arm’s length, and that was more than enough for the giant. His huge arm snaked out, and for the second time within recent memory, Penn was airborne.

This time the giant’s aim was on target. Penn crashed into River, and the two Newcomers went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Perkins, for his part, had circled around behind the giant, and he made a desperate grab for the baby. His reasoning for doing so was sound. A frontal assault on the giant would be suicide. If he could get his hands on the infant, he’d have leverage to use against the behemoth. Make him surrender. He was certain that the giant would do anything to avoid injury to the child.

The giant spun and spotted Perkins just before the human got his hands on the infant.

Seeing the child directly threatened in that fashion was more than the giant could take. Cornered and frightened, lashing out at everyone and everything, the giant was pushed over the brink.

His huge fist swung like a club, propelled by the giant’s full weight and full fury.

The last thing Perkins thought as he saw the fist coming was,
This is going to hurt.
Actually, it didn’t. He died before pain managed to register as his head practically exploded from his shoulders. Blood and gore fountained, splattering the giant’s jumpsuit. Some of it landed on the infant, who was as serene as ever.

River and Penn were on their feet, and watched in morbid fascination as what was left of Perkins crumbled in a heap. Even the giant looked momentarily surprised at the result of his unrestrained strength, and the two smaller Newcomers took that opportunity to charge.

They came in fast from either side, hoping to confuse him. The sirens of the police were getting louder. Penn wrapped himself around the giant’s right arm, but the giant shook him loose and then kicked him in the knee. For a human, a blow to that joint was painful enough. For a Newcomer, it was agonizing. Penn went down, clutching at his knee and moaning.

But River had gotten as close as he needed to, and with a frantic lunge he jammed the syringe into the giant’s thigh.

All he needed was a second to inject the contents. The giant roared, not so much at the syringe—the prick of the needle was insignificant to him—but at the proximity of River. He shoved at River before the Newcomer could shove the plunger home.

River staggered back. The needle still stuck out of the giant’s leg and River took one last shot at it. He charged forward, dodging under the giant’s outstretched arms, and grabbed at the needle in order to send the contents racing through the giant’s system.

The giant stumbled back, trying to get away.

He had forgotten where he was, and how much distance there was between himself and the guardrail.

The edge of the overpass had been designed to aid people of normal size. When the giant hit it, staggering back, his center of gravity was so high that the guardrail merely acted as a fulcrum. His feet left the ground and, with an infuriated roar of protest, he flipped over the rail and was gone.

River charged to the edge of the railing and looked over. He expected to see the giant’s broken body lying on the roadway below. Instead, his face fell.

He couldn’t believe it.