Touched by an Alien (19 page)

WE FOUND MOM WITH GOWER
, at a large screen that looked like something out of a futuristic movie—clear glass with lights and writing moving on it seemingly without outside assistance. I decided to ignore it, and maybe it would go away.

“Where’s Dad?”

“On his way. He refused to go through the gate.” Mom sounded tired and exasperated.

“Why?”

I heard barking and hissing. I looked around Gower to see the four agents I assumed had been sent to escort my father being dragged by four big dogs. All the dogs were bearing down on us, as only excited dogs can. And they were all headed for me.

“He wouldn’t let us take them through the gate,” one of the agents gasped to Gower as he lost his grip on the leash he was holding.

One dog free meant the other three would just have to work harder. Within a second the others had yanked out of the other agents’ hands.

Dudley, our Great Dane, hit me first. He knocked me into Martini, who thankfully kept both his and my balance. Dotty, the Dalmatian, was next, jumping and howling. Duke, the black Lab, joined the dog pile, followed last but in no way least by our pit bull, Duchess. Yes, my parents had given all the dogs D names. They were adorable that way.

“They haven’t seen you in a while,” Dad called, huffing a bit, because he was dragging a huge rolling suitcase and carting our three-cat carrier at the same time.

“I see we’re moving in,” Mom said to Gower.

“What, no birds?” Martini asked me. I tried to answer, but Duchess was trying to lick me, and I didn’t want to kiss my dog in the same way I’d kissed Martini.

“They said I had to bring the pets,” Dad said by way of hello to Mom.

“Yes, Sol, good plan.” Mom sighed. “Could you put the cats down?”

“They’re scared, and with good reason,” Dad huffed.

“I’d like to get a hug,” Mom said wryly. Gower relieved Dad of the cat carrier, and Mom was finally able to give Dad a squeeze.

“Kitten, are you okay?” Dad asked, free arm still around Mom, while he gave Martini his standard look for any man near me—the Father Glare.

“Just fine, Dad. Covered in slobber now, but fine otherwise.” I’d finally gotten the dogs off me by shoving them at Martini, who was now trying to pet four dogs with two hands. That he was doing pretty well impressed me and, as I looked at my father’s face, told Dad that Martini was evil and to be kept far away from me.

“Who’s the octopus?” Dad asked, confirming my intuitive guess about his reactions, based on my entire life’s history.

“This is Jeff Martini,” Mom said. “He’s been instrumental in keeping me and Kitty alive. Paul Gower,” she went on. “Also one of our protectors.”

Protectors? I thought Mom and I had been doing a good portion of that work, but I decided to shut up. I had no idea how much Dad really knew about Mom’s exciting secret life, after all.

“Pleased to meet you,” Dad said with a smile for Gower. He grunted at Martini.

“I see I’m doing well with your entire family,” Martini said to me, as Dudley grabbed his arm with his jaws.

“Just swat his nose. He’s playing, and that’s how we tell him to stop.”

“I miss your fish.” Martini got out of Dudley’s clutches only to have Duchess decide she liked him a lot. Pit bulls can really lick, and she was going at it full steam.

“Nice menagerie.” Christopher’s voice came from behind me.

I managed to keep my fists from clenching. “You said all our pets were in danger,” I reminded him as I turned around.

“Normally they go into the kennels.”

I was going to protest, but Dad beat me to it. “There is no way I am putting my animals into some jail! They are part of our family, and they are staying with us.” Dad was glaring at Christopher in the same way he had glared at Martini.

“Yes, they’re staying with you,” Christopher said, sounding amused. “Angela, we have you in a large suite. Your luggage is already in there.” Angela? He was on a first-name basis with my mother, too? I wanted to scream.

Mom gave Christopher a beaming smile. “Thanks, you’re a doll. I’d like to get in there and try to relax. As hard as that’s going to be.”

She and Christopher shared a chuckle. I tried not to gag.

“Chop, chop,” Dad said to the four agents who I assumed he now thought were his personal porters. “Stop yanking at the dogs’ leashes this time. They respond just fine to a gentle hand and a firm tone.”

Yes, from one of the three of us. Our dogs were well-trained, but they also knew they could get away with murder if my father wasn’t in the mood to discipline them. And Dad was almost never in that mood.

The agents dragged the dogs off, Dad and Mom followed, Dad still pulling his huge suitcase. Christopher took the cat carrier from Gower. “I’ll take them to their room.” He looked over at me. “Want to say hello to the felines before they go off to rip the room to shreds?”

“They’re scared,” I said, as I went over to the carrier.

“That’s because they’re smart,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him. He didn’t look as though he was mocking me. “Yes, they are.”

“How’re you doing?” Christopher asked in the same soft tone.

I resisted the urge to be nasty, hard as it was. “Really tired. Fairly overwhelmed.”

“Cuddle one of your cats. You’ll feel better.”

I wanted to pet them, and though they seemed to be quieting down, they were still so worked up I knew it wasn’t safe to try through the carrier’s slots—at least, not if I wanted to stay unshredded myself. And opening the carrier in a room this large with this many hiding places was beyond a stupid idea. “I’ll visit them once they’ve settled down.”

“Fine with me.” He pulled the carrier away like I’d insulted him. So much for my bothering to be pleasant. “You’ll get the princess settled?” he shot over his shoulder to Martini.

“Yep. As soon as I wash my hands and face,” Martini added to me, as Christopher strode off. “You need us for anything else?” he asked Gower as I stifled a yawn.

“Nope, just get her settled in, get some rest, and we’ll regroup tomorrow. We have every Base on high alert; we should be okay. Good night, Kitty,” Gower said. “If I get to call you that now.”

“Sure, sure, you’re all my friends,” I said through a yawn I couldn’t stop. “Even Mister Pissy.”

Martini put his arm around me. “Let’s get moving and get you tucked in.”

We went to the elevator bank where we’d left Claudia and Lorraine. I could tell my parents had gone this way too—there was fur and slobber in abundance.

“What floor are we going to?” My head started to bob of its own accord. I leaned against Martini as much to stop giving myself whiplash as to snuggle. Our kiss seemed like a very long time ago.

We got into the elevator, and the moment the doors closed, he shifted and scooped me up in his arms. “We’re going to the transient floor, which is the eighth.”

“From the top or the bottom?” I asked as I snuggled my face into his neck. Nice neck, comfy to sleep against.

“Uh, it’s the middle, either way you look at it. You’re wiped, that’s proof.”

“Mmm huh,” I managed. I wasn’t asleep, but I was close.

I felt the elevator stop but had no interest in looking around. Martini carried me down what I assumed was a hall, but it could have been through a disco, I wasn’t paying any attention. He stopped after a bit, I heard a soft whooshing sound, we moved again, and he put me down.

“Here’s your room. I’ll show you where things are tomorrow.” He took my hand and led me through what looked like a sitting room into the bedroom. There was a chest of drawers, and he opened the one on the top right. “Standard issue white T-shirt and blue pajama bottoms in here. They’ll fit you; room’s been furnished for your needs. In there,” he pointed to a door opposite the chest, “is the bathroom. I figure you don’t care about anything else right now.”

Martini leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Can you get undressed by yourself?”

He wasn’t asking in a romantic way at all. I got the feeling that if I said no, he’d take my clothes off, put the nightclothes on, tuck me in, and trot off. It was comforting, but I also had a feeling him doing that would cause me to wake right up. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, I’m down the hall a few doors if you need me.” He kissed my forehead again. “Get to bed, my Miss Kitty.”

“O-kay,” I said, yawning through each syllable.

Martini left the room and I managed to crawl out of my clothes and into the nightclothes provided. I pulled the covers back, fell into bed, snuggled into the pillows, and managed to pull the covers over me.

Just before I was out, my mind flashed back to the pictures on my vanity at my apartment. There was something about Christopher pawing them my subconscious wanted me to pay attention to, but exhaustion took over before I could consider, let alone grasp, what that might be.

I WAS HAVING A NIGHTMARE
. It was one of those dreams where you know you’re asleep, but you can’t wake up, no matter how much you want to. And I really wanted to.

Mephistopheles was the center of it, huge and ugly, stomping around trying to destroy everything and everyone who mattered to me. He had me in his hand, and I couldn’t get away this time. I had to watch while he stomped my parents and our pets, all my extended family, all my friends, everyone I worked with, anyone I knew, and then all the A-C people I’d met. Everyone was smashed, destroyed, crumpled and broken. They looked like bloody paper dolls.

Martini and Christopher were the only ones left alive. Then Mephistopheles put me into his mouth, and the parasite moved to me. I felt it join with me, and it turned me into something horrible, much worse than Mephistopheles could ever be. But my body didn’t change, I still looked the same.

Mephistopheles dropped me on the ground, but he didn’t die or disappear, he stood there, urging me on. Both Martini and Christopher had guns out, and they were aimed at me. But they didn’t shoot. I reached out and took their guns, crumbled them like dust in my hands. Mephistopheles laughed.

I grabbed Martini and Christopher both by their necks. Even though they were bigger than me, I could lift them easily off the ground. Mephistopheles laughed and clapped, as if this were a funny game.

I squeezed their necks, cutting off their air, killing them slowly.

Martini just looked at me sadly. He didn’t even try to stop me.

Christopher managed to speak. “Where’s the fight in you when we need it?”

Then I snapped both their necks, and Mephistopheles said, “We have won.”

 

I woke up sobbing. I wanted to be sick but couldn’t remember if I’d had anything to eat since yesterday morning, when the world was normal. It wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago, but it felt like forever. There was only bile in my stomach, and though it churned, it didn’t try to come up, preferring to sit there and cause pain.

I grabbed one of the pillows and screamed into it. I was too frightened and horrified to even try to leave the bed. I didn’t know where I was, couldn’t find anyone’s room even if I had the courage to get up. I didn’t want to look and discover some jellyfish thing was on me, turning me into what Mephistopheles wanted. I wanted my mother and father, someone who could hold me and tell me everything was all right, but they were somewhere else in this vast complex, maybe next door, maybe miles away. And I was as afraid of the dark as I had been as a little girl.

There was urgent knocking at my door, but I was crying too hard to say anything. Part of me was afraid it was a monster, Mephistopheles or something like him, but I managed to remind myself that monsters didn’t knock.

I staggered out of bed and banged into the dresser, the wall, and the doorway. I could hardly move normally, and I couldn’t stop crying.

Before I could make it there, the door opened and Martini ran inside. He didn’t say anything, just picked me up and held me. I wrapped my arms around him and cried even more.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said softly. “I’m here, it’s okay.”

I tried to tell him what was wrong, but I couldn’t talk. He carried me into the bedroom, pulled the coverlet off the bed, then went back to the living room area, murmuring comfortingly the whole time. There was a lounger in there, and he settled us in it, with me curled up in his lap. He wrapped the coverlet around us.

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” he said in a low tone. “I have a good idea of what’s wrong.”

I shook my head. “It was horrible.”

“I know, I could feel what you were going through.” He kissed my forehead. “Cry as much as you need to, then calm down. No rush.” He tilted the lounger back, so we were pretty much lying down.

He stroked my head and hair the whole time, kissing my forehead gently from time to time. He was wearing the standard issue nightclothes, and his T-shirt was soaked from my tears by the time I cried myself out.