The Abduction (16 page)

“Oh, my God, Samantha, where are you? Carly woke up asking for you and she’s been worried sick.”

“I… I’m at home.” Samantha’s mind raced. “I was really sick and wasn’t up to the trip so I came home early. Carly stayed with Julie. Doesn’t she remember?”

“No—she doesn’t remember anything
after getting to the hotel.” Mrs. Michael’s voice wavered. “The doctor said she has a mild case of amnesia from the shock. Oh, sweetheart I’m just glad that you’re OK.”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, I just turned on the news after I haven’t been able to get a hold of Carly,” she lied. “Can I talk to her?”

“She’s sleeping. But I’ll have her call you when she wakes up.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Michaels.”

“You take care, Samantha.”

Samantha hung up and sunk back on the couch. She let the phone slip from her fingers and curled up on her side against the decorative pillows. She changed the news to some nonsensical realty show and stared at the screen without blinking until she slipped into a restless sleep.

Samantha jolted awake in the midst of a dream filled with gunfire and yellow cat-eyes. She gasped and sat up, the TV still on and the yellow light thrown from the corner lamps illuminating the now darkened room. She twisted and pushed aside the drapes away from the window behind the couch to see blackness.

“I’ve slept all
evening…”

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, and then stood and walked into the kitchen.
She pulled out the bag of dry cat food and filled a bowl for the duo of farm cats that roamed the grounds for mice and other vermin and set it on the back porch. She closed the door behind her and locked it, not waiting to see if the animals were there or not.

Then s
he searched through the cabinets for dinner, and frowned at the lack of selection. The refrigerator wasn’t much better; she purposely hadn’t gone shopping the last week before leaving to Vegas, knowing she would not be home to eat whatever she bought and hated seeing food spoil.

“So, we have apples, cheese, and…” She picked up a container of something she couldn’t
identify, grimaced, and put it back on the shelf. “I don’t wanna know.”

She shook her head and frowned, settling on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple. She
carried her plate to the couch and flipped through the TV, settling on a documentary show on antique collecting, and nearly inhaled her food. She licked jelly off her fingers, debating a second sandwich, when she heard movement in the garage. She hit the mute button on the remote to listen.

Something crashed against the aluminum garage door, and Samantha jumped off the couch.
She darted toward the door in the kitchen that led to the garage, and stopped in the doorway. She looked around, trying to find the source of the noise.

There!

Rikist sagged against the far right corner of the garage, hands splayed out against the row of storage cabinets and the rolling garage door for support. His legs shook, and he fought to keep his head up. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and didn’t seem to register Samantha as she cautiously stepped into the garage.

“Rikist?” she said slowly, keeping her movements to a minimum.

He jerked his head in her direction without really seeing her, and growled.

Samantha paused, the hair standing on her arms and neck. She looked to her right near the car door where he’d knocked over a row of gardening tools. She hesitated, and then picked up a heavy metal rake and held it out in front of her like a spear.

“Rikist, it’s me, Samantha.” She stepped around the car. “It’s OK, the fight’s over. You’re safe.”

Rikist’s low growl continued, and he hunched his shoulders and scooted down against the wall. He lost his balance and
fell against the SUV. He caught himself on the cool metal, hissed, and lurched back as if he’d been burned. He scooted backward across the concrete floor until his back hit the cabinets and then stood into a protective half-crouch.

Samantha stopped near the car, trying to
gauge his awareness. His head kept drooping; his eyes unfocused and rolling around as if he had suffered a concussion. She wondered if the thump she’d heard had been him falling out of the car and wanted to check—but the constant animalistic rumble emanating from his throat made her pause. The last thing she wanted to do was surprise a wounded alien and have her innards torn out.

“Rikist? Can you hear me?”

Rikist’s head turned toward her, his nostrils flaring. He blinked several times and shook his head as if to clear an unpleasant image. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor and let his head roll back to rest against the cabinets with eyes closed.

“S
-Sam-ntha?” came the slurred reply.

Samantha s
tepped warily around the SUV. Rikist looked up at her wearily from where he sat against the cabinets. His eyes were bloodshot and his face pale.

“Are you OK?” she asked
, lowering the rake.

“Where… where are we?”

She hesitated. “We’re safe.”

Rikist’s eyes went in and out of focus. He rubbed at t
hem with a clumsy hand. “I… I feel strange…”

Samantha
propped the rake against the wall and then knelt by his side. She put her thumb under his chin and tilted his head so she could see his face in the light. His eyes wandered, and his pupils dilated to different sizes. He coughed, and a line of blood dripped from one nostril.

Samantha blanched. “Oh,
crap.”

She ran her hands through his hair, feeling his skull. She frowned when she didn’t feel any bumps.

“If it’s not from falling,” she muttered. “Then it must be from the jump.” She eyed him fearfully, hoping that the effects were not permanent. “Are you alright?”

Rikist’s eyes slipped open lazily, his throat constricting as he swallowed. “I don… I not feel…”

“Do you feel sick?”

Rikist leaned toward her and emptied his stomach on the garage floor. Samantha jumped back, trying
not to get hit by the spray as he vomited several times before shuddering and falling forward.

Samantha gasped and
reached out to catch him before he hit the concrete. She grunted and shifted her grip to under his armpits, and managed to drag him away from the puddle and gently laid him on the ground beside the SUV. She shook his shoulder, trying to rouse him.

“Rikist. Rikist, wake up!”

His eyes fluttered open.

“Do you think you can walk?”

Rikist blinked, and then nodded sleepily.

Samantha
frowned. “Oh that’s encouraging.” She shook her head and grabbed under his arms. “Come on… up!”

Samantha lowered Rikist’s head to the pillow, and pulled the blanket higher up around his neck.
It had taken a while and a few near spills, but she’d managed to guide him onto the living room couch where he could stretch out. She sat on the edge of the cushion and patted his feverish face and neck with a warm, wet cloth.

“Krissik said I was out for two
days after my jump to your planet,” she said softly. “Hopefully you’ll be up and around soon.”

She gazed down at his sleeping face with hope and fear, praying that he’d suddenly open his eyes
and shoot her one of his crooked and masculine-laced grins. She bit back an unexpected rush of tears, and leaned down to kiss his brow.

“Don’t die, Rikist,” she whispered. “Not after crossing the
universe with me.”

She swallowed back the lu
mp that had built in her throat and lay down beside him, burying her head in the crook of his arm. She rested her arm across his chest, measuring the rise and fall of his chest against her own breathing. She felt his heartbeat through his shirt against her wrist, and she ran her hand down the side of his cheek. She gave him a squeeze, and then turned so that she could face the TV while pressing the back of her body against him, and settled down for a long night of waiting.

The next morning Samantha started about her regular routine in an attempt to return to normalcy.
Rikist slept through the night and did not even stir when she stood from the couch, and she checked his pulse and breathing before getting dressed and heading outside. Her neighbor had agreed to take care of the animals while she was away, and she planned on calling him later in the day to let him know he needn’t come by.

She
left a voicemail for her neighbors to let them know she was home on her way to the barn, and greeted the two buckskin mares and appaloosa stallion. She petted their noses and scratched under their chins, enjoying the feel of their stiff coat beneath her fingers. She gave them a quick rubdown each, trying to spread out the attention between the needy horses.

She set out a new bowl of food and water for the
farm cats, surprised that there were now two tabbies and a calico waiting on the porch for her. She frowned at the size of the calico’s stomach, realizing that she might need to put out a covered box to make a safe place for the inevitable litter of kittens she so did not need to deal with at the moment.

The long walk out through the three long rows of orange and lemon trees helped her clear her head, and by the time she had passed the grids of strawberries and squash she felt refreshed and elated to be back on the small farm and looked forward to getting back to work.

While her education spent on her unfinished Masters in English and past work as a legal secretary wasn’t much help when it came to planting and watering crops, she actually enjoyed the small co-op farm her father had run for years; providing enough crops to be self-sustaining for herself and to pay the rent, if not much else. It gave her time to focus on her own writing and get away from her past life plans that had fallen apart when after continually suspecting that her ex was cheating on her due to multiple unexplained overnight trips to expensive hotels and suspicious credit card charges, and she left him. Before she’d had to worry about work, school, her failed relationship, and unfinished wedding plans. Now, her simple goal was to increase production and sales enough that she could start putting money away and improve the house and land, instead of living month to month on the weekly local produce customers.

That and figure out what to do with the resident alien sleeping on my couch.

She smiled at the four goats she’d added to the back pen by the small chicken coop that had sat empty for years under her father’s care. They looked up from chewing their grass, bleating in greeting, and then went back about their business. The chickens clucked noisily as she passed, stirring up feathers as she reached in for the six brown eggs. She checked the feed, saw that it was low, and made a note to take care of it in the evening.

She used her shirt as a basket, and pulled out a small white onion, carrots, and two zucchinis, and then picked a handful of vine-ripened strawberries and headed into the house
with the eggs. She washed the produce and heated a skillet as she chopped up the veggies to sauté. She buttered the last piece of bread in the cupboard and added it to her plate, along with a small dish of sliced strawberries and sat alone at the dining room table.

She glanced across the room at Rikist’s sleeping form, a sense of dread building in the pit of her stomach.
He hadn’t moved since she’d set him there the night before, and though she knew Krissik had said the jump was rough going to a new planet if unprepared, she also knew that neither brother had high expectations on Rikist ever surviving a jump again. The fact that he’d woken in the garage gave her hope, but until he was up and moving around…

Please
, just help him be OK.

Finished eating, Samantha went into the second spare bedroom where she had placed her father’s things while she decided her next steps.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with Rikist if and when he woke up, but she sure wasn’t going to have him grow moss lying still on her couch. She happened to enjoy writing reclined on that couch very much.

She looked around the space, eyeing the stacked cardboard boxes in along the far wall and on the bare mattress in the center of the room. She sighed and started in on the first box, opening the top to peer inside.

Samantha was actually pleased with her progress by early afternoon. She had cleared out the bedroom and placed her father’s things in the garage and dressed up the bed with clean sheets and blankets. She hung up the clothes in the emptied closet and opened up the window to let fresh air into the stuffy space. Her father, while not nearly as wide in the shoulders and chest at Rikist, had not been a small man, and she found several shirts and pants that would most likely fit him while she held off going into town for a much needed shopping trip.

She found a frozen
meal in the freezer behind the icemaker, and nuked it for a quick lunch. She sat in her father’s armchair—being that the couch was taken—and put her feet up on the coffee table to watch a courtroom drama while she ate, sipping on an iced cola.

When she was finished she wet a washcloth and dabbed at Rikist’s face and neck, checking his breathing and pulse again.
Though he still hadn’t woken, at least it seemed his fever had gone down. She sighed, satisfied by at least a little progress, and then stood to grab her cell phone when he stirred.

Samantha knelt by the couch and put her hands on his
chest. “Rikist?”

Rikist’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked against the sunlight. He closed his eyes and let out a soft whine as he shifted position on the cushions. He grimaced and tried to
concentrate on his surroundings.

“R-raki si…
sa tir…”

“Rikist? Can you hear me?”

His bloodshot eyes slid toward Samantha. He seemed to take a moment to focus, and then recognition brightened his face.

“Samantha,” he said slowly, his words groggy.

Samantha tittered nervously, and fought to keep her face neutral and the tears of relief at bay. “I’m so glad you’re awake. I thought… I wasn’t sure if you were going to be OK.”

He licked his dry lips. “Where are we?”

“At home.” She hesitated. “My home. On Earth.”

Rikist’s eyes shot open and his face paled
further beyond its sweaty pallor. He turned his head to stare straight at her and gaped. He seemed lost for words, and then pushed himself up to a sitting position. Once upright his eyes rolled back and he caught himself against the back of the couch. Blood dripped from his nose and he wiped at it with a shaky hand. He glared at Samantha.

“I can not be here!
You should not… why did bring me here!”

Samantha’s face reddened. “I saved your life
!”

“You…”
He took a deep breath and sunk back against the cushions, his eyes drooping and strength spent after his outburst. “I… do not remember.”

Samantha sat back
and rubbed her face. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He thought about it. “We got to
the base for the jump. I…” He searched, and then shrugged. “That is all.”

Samantha frowned. “There was a fight. We were followed
by soldiers and you were shot with one of those laser things.” She pressed her lips together, deciding to hold back Krissik’s arrival and involvement. “They were going to kill you, and I… pulled you on the platform with me.”

Rikist’s
stomach rumbled. He sniffed and wiped at his dripping nose again; a red trail visible on his upper lip.

Samantha lifted the we
t washcloth to his face and wiped away the smear of blood. She pulled back quickly when she caught him staring down at her, and stood.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, his face blank and eyes unreadable.

Samantha quirked an eyebrow when his
rumbling stomach betrayed him. “I don’t have much here. I need to go to the store, but I can whip something up to last you while I’m gone.”

“
You want me stay here?”

“You’re
sure as hell not coming in to town with me. Aside from the fact that you look like you’re going to pass out at any minute, my nerves are not ready to have you free on the street yet.”

If ever,
she thought, glancing at his claws.

He looked concerned. “You are going alone?”

“Yeah. What’s the big…” She paused when she met his eyes. “That’s right. On your planet females don’t… Here it’s fine. I mean, this house is mine. I live here alone, and that’s pretty normal here. Females don’t require males to function or…” She trailed off, realizing she was losing him. “Didn’t Lindsey explain how things work here?”

“A little.” He shrugged, seeming a little shaken by the mention of her name. “She lived with her parents in a large family. She was never alone.”

Samantha waited for him to continue, then after several moments of silence twisted and snatched the remote off the coffee table and turned the TV on. “Here. This is to change the channel.”

Rikist looked at the
dated remote in her hand, but made no move to take it.

Samantha
grabbed his wrist and turned his palm up, and dropped the remote into his hand. “The arrows on the left change the channel, the right is volume.”

She spun on her heel an
d hurried into the kitchen to see what stock she had.

I forgot that this is probably as much of a culture shock for him as it was for me.
Strange customs. Strange food.

Strange feelings…

There were several cans of veggies and beans, and she had a pack of hot dogs in the freezer she could defrost if she really wanted to…

“All they ate was fish,” she mused. She opened another cabinet and pulled out two cans of tuna. “Bingo.”

She was out of bread, but had soda crackers, and prepped the two cans of fish in a bowl with mayonnaise and pepper. She cut up the last of the strawberries and put them on a plate next to a stack of crackers and took the food back into the living room.

Rikist
sat reclined against the couch, his eyes closed.

Samantha set the
plate down on the coffee table. “You awake?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Rikist forced his eyes open.
He stared at her bleary eyed. “Surtis ka…”

“
English, please. You’ll probably feel better after you eat. I remember I was starving when I came to with Kris.”

She sat on the couch next to Rikist and pulled the coffee table closer. She shook his shoulder when his eyes slid closed.

“Hey,” she said. “Wake up.”

She piled tuna on a cracker, and then held it up toward his mouth. She poked his side to get his attention, and then touched the cracker to his lips. Rikist flinched, and then looked down his nose at the cracker.

“What is this?” he said.

“Tuna,” she responded. She pressed more firmly against his lips. “Open up.”

He looked at her sideways, and then opened his mouth to allow Samantha to push the entire cracker inside. He chewed cautiously at first, and then picked up the pace as he finished.

“That…” he grinned. “Is very good.”

Samantha smiled. “Much better than the plain food back home, eh?” She picked up a sliced strawberry and held it up. “Here, I grew these myself outside.”

Rikist glanced at the strawberry in her fingers
by his face, hesitated, and then stretched his neck forward the last few inches and took the strawberry from her hands with his mouth. His lips grazed her fingers as he sat back.

Samantha fought unsuccessfully against the blush that crept up her neck and cheeks.
She lifted her eyes to Rikist’s, only to find his gaze glued to the bowl of strawberries.

“What is
this called?” he pointed, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.

“Strawberries,” Samantha sighed, realizing she was the only one affected by the brief but intimate contact. “You like them?”

“Yes. Actually…”

“I’ll pick up
a mix of things from the store.” She stepped back and wiped her hand on her jeans, willing herself to forget the tingling sensation in her fingers. “Will you promise me you won’t leave the house? I don’t want to go if you’re just waiting for me to leave so you can explore.”

Rikist lifted the bowl of tuna closer to his mouth so that the loaded crackers did not have to travel far
as he nearly shoveled them into his mouth. He glanced up and nodded. “I will stay. Until we learn how to get me home.”

Samantha
frowned, and then waved him away as she grabbed her keys and purse and headed out the door.

“Until then.”

Samantha arrived home an hour and a half later with her arms laden with plastic grocery bags. She struggled to set her keys and purse on the counter as she waddled in through the garage door and set the bags down on the tile. She groaned at the state of her kitchen; several open cabinet doors revealed dry goods out of place, an empty cracker box lay on the counter, and several dented and clawed canned goods had been left near an empty pot after obviously outwitting the inquisitive alien.