I Married An Alien (23 page)

I sat down in the chair and rested my thin clammy hands on the armrests. I had to admit I was afraid of dying, not so much the actual event, because I knew it would mean the end of all thought and sensation. As a scientist I had never believed in anything else, but coward that I was, I hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.

Well, I hadn't heard Ruth complain. She had merely slipped into unconsciousness without showing me a single thing on the monitor, so I knew three hundred years at maximum power were going to do the same to me.

As my surroundings started to shift out of focus, I heard a noise at the door.

"Hey professor!" someone shouted.

But it was too late; I saw her face, the beautiful raven-haired woman who presented the news of 2312. I never heard her words, too mesmerized by her smooth heart-shaped face, her almond shaped chocolate-brown eyes, and perfect red lips.

What a way to go, I thought, admiring the woman of my dreams, a woman I'd never have the pleasure of meeting in real life.

Everything started to spin out of control and I was falling, to where I did not know, but I couldn't help wondering if I was headed straight for the bowels of Hell.

I found myself sprawling flat onto hard damp ground, leaves and bracken stamping an impression into the side of my face. Air whooshed from my lungs as the rest of my body slammed into the earth.

Just as I tried to gasp for air, something landed on top of me, pinning me to the ground. Another body, I assumed, judging by the weight of it.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw bright flashes of light. I was probably seeing stars from the impact.

"Got them both!" I heard a male voice whoop not far away. "All three are down."

"Better check those two are dead," another male voice yelled from further afield.

So I wasn't dead but I soon would be if I didn't get some air, or the men thrashing about in the undergrowth found me still breathing.

I guess it was my inability to get any air into my lungs that saved my life, because when I came to, gasping and moaning, the heavy weight which had sent me into unconsciousness was gone. I lay face down on the damp, rocky ground, trying to claw enough air into me to stop my head from spinning, and work out what the hell had happened.

The fact that I was still alive was the first big surprise. Obviously the time machine hadn't killed me, but sent me spiraling off into some dense bush land in the teaming rain.

I finally managed to get my arms underneath me to lever myself up, only to end up flopping to one side, and rolling onto my back. From this position I copped a face full of rainwater. Since my throat hurt like the blazers, I managed to gulp some of it down. It made me realize just how thirsty I was.

Time travelling sure takes it out of you, I couldn’t help thinking inanely. That was if I really had gone anywhere at all. Most likely the goons at the door had caught me trying to escape via said time machine, and dumped me out here in the middle of nowhere as punishment.

No, I would have found myself in a cell about the size of my bathroom. Unless I had managed to escape and make my way out of the city without remembering it. Now that thought had merit.

The rain appeared to be easing, and once again I peered up into the overcast sky and the damp dripping foliage above me. Well, I was still in Australia, because I recognized the gum trees surrounding me and inhaled the familiar scent of eucalyptus.

Okay, time to try and sit up, I thought, placing my hands against the slick muddy earth beside me. Ugh. I had never been much of an outdoor person, but having no stomach muscles to speak of, I hadn't been able to sit up without help in a long time, particularly not after stumbling about in the bush for goodness knows how long.

I managed to sit up surprisingly easily, and sucked in a shocked breath. Right beside me lay a man with a horrific stomach wound still oozing blood. Bile rose, and I retched, almost throwing up onto the ground between my legs. Only a small amount of gore managed to escape my burning throat. Obviously I hadn't eaten anything in a while either.

Sitting there heaving and feeling utterly miserable, I felt something damp tickle the side of my face. Suspecting a creepy-crawly, I aimed a flat palmed slap against my cheek.

Instead I encountered long wet, strands of hair. I yanked at it, expecting it to come free, suspecting a wig or something else peculiar. I winced on realizing it was attached to my head.

Just how long had I been out of it if my hair had grown this much? I wondered, starting to feel a little bit afraid as well as sick in the stomach. But then I noticed it was light brown, when I knew for a fact I had been ninety percent grey for years? Well, it looked brownish. It could be ash-blonde when it was dry and not matted with mud, twigs, and other bits of nature.

Shoving it impatiently back over my shoulder I looked around again, once more confronted by the sight of the oozing dead guy.

What the hell was I doing here with him, anyway? And what had happened to the people who'd been chasing us? Why was I still alive? Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was now a zombie with just as gory a wound somewhere on my person, but in too much shock to notice it.

Yeah, right, a wound that devastating would have left an impression. What was wrong with me anyway? My brain really wasn't firing on its usual eight cylinders at all.

"Trying to travel three hundred years into the future would have that affect on a person," I muttered under my breath. "Look what it did to Ruth Clarke!"

Oh get a grip, I ordered myself, and decided to see if I could do more than sit around in the drizzle beside a dead man.

He had been a tough bastard, I realized, as I chanced another glance at him, trying to survey parts of him that weren't all bloody and torn. He too had long dark hair, also matted with leaves and mud. Strong brawny arms were visible, since he was wearing nothing more than some black leathery vest, and matching fitted trousers. His tire-tread black combat boots looked like they were at least a size fourteen, if not more. But what made me gape was the massive silver weapon he still had slung over one powerful shoulder.

The sight of that was what finally convinced me my time travel experiment must have worked, because there was no way a gun like that would have existed in 2012.

Before I even realized what I was doing, my hand reached out for the weapon. As I glanced down at my arm coming into view, I gasped in amazement. Not only wasn't it covered in the sleeve of a grubby white lab coat, it looked as brawny as that of the guy whose gun I was trying to take.

Weapon momentarily forgotten, I stopped to study myself. I was wearing a similar black vest, but wasn't bearing a deadly-looking futuristic blaster. As I placed a hand against my rather impressive bicep, I dug my fingers in, trying to make sure I really was in here. I didn't stop pinching myself until it hurt.

"Bloody hell," I murmured, realizing for the first time that my voice sounded different too, deeper and more gravely. I cleared my throat again, glancing down at a pair of thighs that looked as sturdy as small oak trees. Man, I could run for miles with a pair of legs like that.

Somewhat tentatively I ran a hand across my abdomen, confirming what I already suspected. My middle age paunch was gone. Instead I encountered firm hard muscle. I had to hike the vest up to confirm if, of course. Despite a few rather dark bruises and small abrasions, I was looking at a body any guy would be proud of.

I began to wonder what kind of face I now wore. Was it handsome like the rest of the body? Or had nature done a dirty one me, like it had in the past?

I touched my chin, not surprised to discover a light beard. It didn't feel prickly, not what I usually encountered when I bothered to shave. It was surprisingly soft, nothing for a woman to complain about when she was being kissed.

What the hell was I doing thinking about kissing? I wondered, considering I hadn't made out with a woman in years, even longer since I'd had sex. My every intimate experience had turned into a cringe-worthy disaster.

But it was too late. Now that the thought had entered my head, I just had to check out that particular part of this new body. Besides, my hand seemed to have grown a life of its own as it scooted down to my groin. I touched the material first, surprised that it wasn't leather at all, but some kind of super sturdy Lycra that stretched across my thighs like a second skin. It should have felt hot and I should have been sweating like a dog, but it was surprisingly cool, almost like natural silk, rather than man-made fiber.

Okay, the package I touched gingerly appeared to be in proportion with the rest the body, but it was obvious my mind had taken full control as surely as it had created the devastating impotence of my old persona. I supposed I could have blamed current circumstance. I mean what guy could get turned on sitting in the dripping bush next to dead guy? But even as I thought it, I knew there was more to it than that. I was still technically dead in that department. All the taunts and embarrassing experiences had gotten the better of me, so that in the end I couldn't even get it up at the behest of my own ministrations.

Totally disgusted with myself, I propelled myself to my new size fourteen plus feet, and almost fell flat on my face again. For a moment I stood there and swayed, managing to grab hold of a convenient damp stringy bark trunk for support.

What on earth was wrong with me now? It felt as though the cloying humidity had suddenly grown as heavy as a lead blanket. My shoulders sagged under the weight of my head which suddenly felt too big for my own neck.

So much for inhabiting the body of a military honed soldier! But then it could also be my own sluggish mind still trying to come to terms with this new turn of events. I mean who the heck had this guy been before I come charging along out of the twenty-first century? Where the hell was his mind now? As dead as his fallen comrade!

I couldn't force myself to look at the deceased again, and decided it was time to make tracks. Once again I glanced upwards, but because of the overcast sky, I had no way of knowing which direction the sun was travelling in, let alone which direction I should be travelling in.

Then I saw something metallic in the foliage a few steps away. As I made my way towards it, I realized just how heavy my feet felt. In fact my entire body seemed to weigh half a ton. I knew muscles were heavier than fat, and since I had been such a weedy chap, I wondered if this was the reason I was having so much trouble moving about.

Shoving the palms aside, I finally saw what the metallic object was; another futuristic weapon, the same as the one the dead guy still had slung over his shoulder. Naturally I bent to retrieve it, stunned to find it weighed little more than a child's toy. Either it
was
a toy, or had been made out of some super-lightweight futuristic alloy.

As I gingerly examined it, I hoped I wouldn't inadvertently shoot myself in the foot, since I had never handled a firearm in my life. It didn't take a genius IQ to figure out which was the business end, but as for what buttons or lever to push, I wasn't game to experiment, and wondered if I should just leave it here. No, I decided, since the man I now inhabited obviously still had enemies out there somewhere, but it did make me wonder why he'd been spared, and the other guy was now as dead as a doorpost.

And then something even grimmer entered my mind as I slung the weapon over my shoulder. What if I really
was
dead, and had reanimated this body like the
Living Dead?

I now wished I'd never watched that dreadful schlocky movie. I usually had better taste than that, but some colleague had talked me into going to the cinema to see it all those years ago. I thought I'd forgotten all about it, but here it was, swimming to the forefront of my mind along with the bile rising in my throat.

Instinctively I pressed a hand to my chest, and heaved a sigh of relief when I felt a heartbeat thrumming insistently under my clammy palm.

I shook my head at my own foolishness. Obviously this time traveling had really messed with my head, not to mention having to manage a whole new body, which I still seemed to have little control over, I thought, as I began to lumber awkwardly through the dripping undergrowth.

After what was probably only a few minutes but felt more like half an hour, I stumbled upon the other fallen man. He too wore his hair long and was built like the proverbial brick outhouse.

It took me a moment to notice that there wasn't a speck blood on him. In fact I could see no wounds whatsoever, unless it was on the back of his head, and the blood had seeped into the earth due to the earlier rain. As I pondered this I realized the guy who had fallen on top of me had been stabbed, not shot. Or perhaps he'd been subjected to both. I examined my weapon again, and wondered if it was capable of such a clean kill. I supposed anything was possible if I really was three hundred years in the future.

Turning away from the dead man, I continued my slow plodding pace, hoping I would stumble upon civilization soon, and that the reception would be friendly, not ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

As I walked it felt as though I was wading through treacle instead of heavy humid air. If I had ended up inside this brawny individual who was obviously too heavy for me to carry, what on earth had happened to Ruth Clarke, my poor unsuspecting subject? Until now I thought I had killed her, as did the authorities, but I suppose she could have been lucky, ending up in someone half her size. I hoped so. I really did. I also hoped that she was happy, wherever she was, because it would mean my time machine really did work, and I wouldn't have to shoulder all this guilt anymore.