Dominant Species Volume Three -- Acquired Traits (7 page)

* * *

 
Donna cleaned up and left the patient to
recover. She turned the AUD's down to low so the sounds around him wouldn’t
disturb him too much when he came out of anesthesia. That’s all there was to do
for now.

It was
Eddie’s turn to prepare dinner that night. They’d just sat down to eat when
John looked up and saw Donna’s patient standing in the shuttle’s open door.

“Well,
look at this,” he said. “He’s up on his feet.”

Like a
scrawny mannequin, the grotesque man was standing there naked, leaning against
the latch. His head was turned toward them, but it was impossible to tell if he
could see them. He looked like he might fall down any second, and in any
direction.

The sight
of him standing there, backlit, with one arm longer than the other and his
thin, rubber-covered legs made Rachel ill.

Donna
rushed over to him and held him up.

“Can you
hear me?” she asked. “Do you understand me?”

The
patient nodded yes to both questions.

“Where?”
he croaked.

“You’re
with us. You’re okay. You should lie back down now,” she said.

Rachel
was there in a flash. She kept her distance but hovered around them like a
hyena.

“Who are
you?” Rachel barked.

The
forcefulness of the question drew a look from Donna.

“Hold on
Rachel,” she said. “He’s just coming out of anesthesia. He should be back in
bed.”
 
Donna turned him gently around and
started him back into the makeshift infirmary. That much physical contact with
him was nearly unbearable.

“I’ll go
with you if you don’t mind,” Rachel said.

Donna
gave another look over her shoulder. “Don’t piss me off,” she said to her.
“He’s my patient. I mean it.”

“Don’t
worry about it,” Rachel replied. “I’m the one who brought him back, remember?”

“Yeah, I
do.
 
Why is the question, Rachel.”

“I’ll let
you know when I find out myself,” Rachel said back. She followed them closely
as if he might somehow get away from her.

Donna
helped him back up onto the bed and covered him up with a sheet. His eyes
closed almost immediately.

“Can I
talk to him now?” Rachel asked, an impatient edge to her voice.

Donna
sighed. “Look, there’s plenty of time for that. Leave him alone for now, won’t
you?”

Rachel
pursed her lips and thought about it.

She
didn’t have to think about it long.

“I can
speak,” the man said weakly. “I can hear you . . . and I can talk.”

Rachel
held up her hands. “There. See? He wants to talk. So let’s allow him to talk.”

Donna,
resigned, gave her a parting look as she brushed past. “Don’t yell at him or
anything,” she said.

Rachel
made a face at Donna's departing back, then pulled a chair closer to the
bedside and plopped down in it. She studied him. The man’s eyes were open, and
he stared straight up, waiting.

She took
a deep breath.

“Who are
you?” she asked.

* * *

The
question went in Gilbert’s brain and stirred around a little, then slipped out
the other side with nothing attached. He understood it easily enough. He just
didn’t know the answer.

“I . . .
I don’t know who I am," he said. His voice was slow and far off. Rachel
had to strain to hear it.

“You
don’t know your name or you don’t know anything about yourself?” she asked.
“Which one?”

“I don’t
know my name.”

“Then
we’ll have to give you one for now. How would that be? Just until you remember
your real one.”

“That
would be all right. I don’t think that would matter.”

“What
shall it be? Do you have any heroes or anything that you like? Maybe we could
use one of those.”

“God is
my hero,” he said solemnly.

“Well, I
can’t call you that, now can I?” she chuckled.

“No. That
would be blasphemy.”

“Okay,
how about one of the characters in your book. How about one of those?”

“What
book?”

“The one
you had with you when we found you. Your bible.”

“My Bible
is here?” he asked, real affect in the words.

“Oh, yes.
Right here.”
 
She reached over and patted
it, then gently opened it to a page at random. She looked closely at the page
and read a few lines of the old English.

“Here’s
one . . . Jacob.
 
How’s that one. Is that
a guy you like?”

“Jacob,”
Gilbert said, “was the nephew of Laban and married his cousin after laboring
for seven years to pay for her. He had many wives in the end.”

“Is that
right?” Rachel took a moment and read a little of the story. “You know this
stuff is pretty good,” she said on finishing it. “Okay, then Jacob is it?”

“Jacob is
a good name.”

“Well,
Jacob. How did you get here?”

“I don’t
know how I came to this place.”

“Okay.
Tell me about yourself. How old are you?”

“I’m not
sure. I was born in 1955.”

Rachel
blinked.

“What was
that? Did you say 1955?”

“Yes. I
was born in Toledo, Ohio in 1955.”

She let
it sink in, unsure whether or not to believe him. “That would make you over
nine-hundred years old, Jacob.”
 
Jacob
just stared up at the empty ceiling, and Rachel thought she saw just the
slightest hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“God has
delivered me," he said.

“Hmm . .
. I see,” she said.

“God has
brought me back from Hell for his purpose.”

“And just
what might that be, then?”

“I do not
have to know my God’s reasons.”

“Do you
know where you are?”

“It does
not matter.”

“Well, it
might when I tell you. You’re on a jungle planet about 40 warp days from Earth.
That’s a very, very long way from Toledo, Ohio.”

“I don’t
understand.”

“You’re
approximately forty light years from earth. I think they knew what light years
were in 1955, didn’t they?” She watched him swallow with his mouth open. The
way it looked made her want to slap him.

“Then
they brought me here, for God’s purpose . . . I’ve passed through Hell and
arrived in this place for His purpose.”

“Who are
they?”

“The
alien beings who . . .”
 
his mouth just
closed shut as if he’d turned it off.

“The
alien beings who
what?”
she wanted to know. “The ones who lived in this place?
Those
alien beings?”

His eyes
closed, and the stranger now known as Jacob seemed to sleep.

“Jacob?
Are you awake there, Jacob?” she asked.

No
response. She had the impression he had shut her out completely.

She felt
cheated for the moment but was determined to find out what he’d been talking
about, sooner rather than later.

She left
him there and joined the others in the eating area where they were just
finishing their dinner of meat and potatoes. Donna still had an attitude about
her aggressiveness with the stranger, but tried to keep it down. It was
dinnertime, after all, and they were family. Donna had never believed that bad
feelings, no matter how major or minor, should be brought to the dinner table.
That, too, was part of their budding culture.

“What’s
he got to say?” John wanted to know. “Anything good?”

“He seems
to have a lot to say,” Rachel replied. “The problem is he stopped saying it all
of a sudden.”

“I think
I suggested he was fatigued, if you recall,” Donna said politely.

“That’s
not it. He just stopped talking, like he didn’t want to say anything more. He
got real secretive. He did say he was born in Ohio in 1955, however. You might
find that somewhat interesting.”

“Bullshit,”
John said.

“That’s
what he said, goddamn it,” Rachel said defensively.

“Hey, you
two,” Donna piped in. “No arguing at the table.”
 

“How in
the fu . . .”
 
John began. “How is it,
anyway, that he could be that old, Rachel dearest?”

Donna
made a face at her food for the pointless, silly exchange she knew was coming.
Trying to ignore it, she stuffed her mouth and looked away.

“I don’t
know, John, my friend. Those were the words he used. He also said he doesn’t
know his name so we gave him one out of his bible for now. Jacob. Call him
Jacob.”

“Jacob?”
Eddie said. “That’s a strange name.”

“Well,
then it fits him, ‘cuz he’s one weird mother . . .” She stopped herself.
 
“One strange fellow.”

“He
certainly is turning out to be quite interesting, isn’t he?” Donna asked.

“Isn’t
he?” Rachel agreed politely.

“Rather,”
John said.
 

* * *

The next
morning, Rachel headed for his bedside again. He was staring up at the ceiling,
but when she entered the room, he turned to look at her. It was the first time
he’d seen her head to toe. He swallowed. She pulled the chair close.

“Good
morning, Jacob,” she almost chirped, “How are you feeling?”

He
continued to stare at her, and his look felt like some strange touch to her
face and neck she wanted to slap away.

“I feel
as if I’ve known you,” he said. “These hearing aids distort your voice, but I
think I’ve heard it before.”

“I don’t
think that’s possible,” she said, not believing it. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Perhaps
not.”

“No
perhaps,
Jacob. We couldn’t have possibly met. What are you staring at?”
she asked. “Is there something on my face? Did I leave some breakfast there?”

She wiped
idly at her face and chin just to act like she was checking.

He
swallowed.

“Now,
tell me more about these aliens. How about it?” He turned away and stared up at
the ceiling again, a look of smug tranquility on his face.

“No dice,
huh?” Rachel asked.

She
studied his face for a moment longer. He was implacable. There was no way he
would give in, short of torture. She entertained the thought for just a second.
It might be worth a try. She was sure she could think of something effective.

He turned
and stared at her again. The look made her skin crawl. Thoughts of torture
briefly returned.

“May I
see your body?” he asked.

She
blinked. “My body . . . ?” she replied, almost stuttering. “You want to see . .
. my body?”

“Yes.”

“I see,”
she said.

“You want
to see my body . . . naked?”

“Yes.”

“If I
show you my body naked, you’ll tell me about the aliens?”