CONTAGION

by Amanda Milo

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” I let out a breath and fall back. “I hope your body’s efforts reward your internal processes soon. That doesn’t sound particularly comfortable for you.”

  “It’s really not. Simmi?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Can I… Can I share body heat with you? That’s all I want,” she rushes to add, as if I’d imagine she’s asking for assistance with more than one system activity.

  I roll back onto my side. “I’m not certain what my frame can offer. My thermoregulation takes care of my system. I’m unsure if it will support another.”

  Smiling widely once again, Aurora chatters, “Thanks, Simmi.”

  I go over my words to determine if I actually gave my assent to sharing my body’s heat. And while I’m turning my words over, looking for where exactly I agreed, Aurora shifts until she’s on all fours (her movements suspiciously stiff, still a concerning possible sign of tetanus no matter what she says otherwise) and she walks on her hands and knees to me.

  Oddly, I begin to feel nervous. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just hold still,” Aurora says. “I’ll do the rest.”

  She rolls until she’s facing away from me, reclining on her side, her soft round curves fitting against my hard, mostly straight planes. She turns and takes my top arm, and pulls it forward, using it to draw my shoulder lower, until I’m almost cupping her torso with my torso. Without her urging, I bring my tail up and against our legs. Aurora is shivering, full-bodied wracking shakes. She feels colder now than she did when she exited the water.

  Her chattering increases alarmingly before her shivers halt suddenly, and she exhales a shuddering, “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad this worked,” I tell her. “If it was tetanus, I’m not aware of a cure. Not unless your people have found one—”

  Aurora starts to cackle. “Give it up already! I don’t have tetanus, I told you!”

  With each one of her laughing, sharp exhales, her body jerks—and her posterior knocks into my groin plate. The rhythmic fashion of her chuckling is so distracting, I can’t recall what tetanus even is.

  ***

  I’m almost asleep when she shifts, turning in my arms, and her breath fans over the sensitive area located under my nose and directly above my mouth. I don’t open my eyes, too tired, and I find I don’t mind knowing that she’s hanging her lips right over my lips. She’s desensitized me to her alienness and her affection for controlling me with this act. I’m not even the least bit afraid.

  “I was wrong earlier,” she whispers to me. “You’re not a princess. You’re a little fussy, but you’re really a prince.”

  And with that, she brushes a soft kiss over my mouth.

  CHAPTER 12

  I like my life. It’s orderly. Quiet. Clean.

  My workspace where I spend the majority of my time is like my dorm: devoid of clutter, utilitarian, and hygienic. I like these places for these reasons.

  Against all reason: I like Aurora. She is not orderly. She is anything but quiet. She’s technically an antithesis to everything I prefer. Although in her favor, I believe, given the opportunity, she might like being clean. I see her wiping at her face and splashing water on herself when she gets the chance.

  We’ve passed two streams this morning, and by midday, we’re standing at a relatively clear-looking third. The only more miraculous happenstance would be a water treatment facility sitting beside it, but Aurora doesn’t look a gift brook in the mouth—she simply drops and drinks from it.

  I eye the muddy bank leading to the water’s edge, and decide I’ll accept death by dehydration.

  “Use the spot over here, Simmi. So far, there’s no leeches.”

  “Grrrrrrggrrrr.”

  “Simmi.”

  “No, Aurora. I won’t be moved.”

  “You need water.

  “Not that direly.”

  “Simmi.”

  “No.”

  “Simmi.”

  “No!”

  I no more than cross my arms over my sternum, when Aurora rises, approaching me with the smile in her eyes that warns me she’s about to kiss away my sense. Before she can do it, I throw up my hands and my tail in defeat. “You can’t cure everything with kissing!”

  Aurora eyes me pointedly. “Obviously.”

  I suck in a hiss. “Fine! If I find even one leg-chewing terrestrial mollusk on my person, I’ll not be held accountable for the outburst that follows! It’ll be one the likes you’ve never seen,” I vow as I stomp into the water (spraying only droplets because I enter in no deeper than the depth of my toes).

  “Really? I’m not sure you can top the others,” she mutters.

  I straighten from where I’ve leaned, far, far out over the water, reaching for a clean handful. “What was that?”

  Aurora’s lids flutter, drawing my attention to her strangely alluring lashes which fan around them. “I think I might have said, ‘nothing will get you if I have my druthers.’”

  I view her from slitted eyes. “Hmmmmm.”

  She smiles mischievously at me. “Just drink, Simmi.”

  My parched throat does feel better for the liquid, and when I back out of the water I’m standing in, I give myself a thorough examination.

  Aurora approaches me almost meekly. “Want help searching for the awful terrestrial mollusks?”

  I point my tail straight at her. “Don’t for one moment believe I’m not onto your raillery.”

  She purses her lips in a nearly prim fashion. “Yes, Simmi.”

  I narrow my eyes and chuff at her.

  She gives up all pretense, nearly giggling, but she does look me over and declare me slug-free.

  We move on from the water, walking side-by-side in silence for a long while. From the corner of my eye, I catch her watching me. Not fixedly enough for me to presume she wants to speak. She simply seems to be…

  I’m not certain. Perhaps cataloguing our differences, if the way her eyes roving over me is an indication. She seems almost startled when I voice a random thought. “Do you know Skynan…” I try to call to mind Skynan’s very complicated name. Luckily, I am nearly a savant when it comes to memorizing names. Mostly scientific ones, but surely an alien’s name is no more complicated. “Her human name is Doctor Nancy Bjarnardóttir, Astrobotanist of the Commonwealth. Of course, I’m not familiar with every Genneӝt from my planet; I imagine humans are the same, where there are too many in number to know all. But although the likelihood is small, have you by chance met her?”

  Aurora's brows pop almost right off her flexible forehead. “Astrobotanist?” She makes a startling whistling sound that has me jerking back, and she laughs softly before saying, “No, I don’t know her. She sounds very important. Where I’m from, I’m pretty much nobody.”

  I find myself warmer to know Aurora and I have a commonality. “I am ‘pretty much nobody’ on my planet also.” I frown, concentrating on separating my thoughts. “Skynan identified herself as belonging to the Commonwealth as a location. Is this where you are from also? Do you know if this is where we are now?” I glance around us, at the great wild we’ve been plunged in. “How far away from home are we?”

  “We’re pretty far from yours. We’re closer to mine. It’s not the same as your Skynan though.”

  “More humans could come for Genneӝt. I have to warn my people that we’re in danger.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Aurora says softly, “I don’t think there are more humans after your people. These guys seemed to be acting alone, and frankly, I think your abduction was as much a surprise to them as it was to you. It sounded like they didn’t think there would be life on the planet surface, and then they saw a couple of your people pass by where they were hiding, and they were terrified of getting caught and overtaken. They tagged you and dragged you on the ship and they had no idea what to do with you—you had them scared shitless. They were amateurs.”

  “Amateurs…” I muse, thinking of their medical inclination
s. What was their purpose in cutting me open? They didn’t seem to know how to go about it. What would they have done with me once they succeeded? “I don’t know what they wanted with me exactly, but it wasn’t friendly conversation.” I look to Aurora. “What did they want with you? Do you know why they took you?”

  Aurora’s smile is brittle. “Not for friendly conversation.”

  I reach for her hand and give it a kindly pat. I don’t even attempt to wipe my fingers free of her germs afterward. “Their loss.”

  Her eyes shoot up to mine.

  I shrug my shoulder plates. “You’re very…” I tip my snout up, searching for words. “Pleasant to make conversation with.” I look down at her again. “If we weren’t stuck in this cursed-awful wilderness, I’d say this was the most enjoyable time I’ve ever experienced with another being, ever.”

  Aurora’s mouth curves up slowly. “Yeah?”

  I jerk my chin down. “Truly.”

  “Mine too,” she says softly. “Even with this whole ‘cursed-awful’ wilderness.” She smiles wider.

  I sigh heavily and look around us in dismay. “I suppose I’m willing to concede that, despite these unsanitary conditions, thanks to you, you’ve somehow made my time here bearable, and if I must endure this hardship, I am more than glad to do it at your side.”

  I jolt when tightness suddenly and without warning forms around my midsection.

  Aurora is hugging me.

  After a moment, I pat her shoulders.

  She laughs and draws back enough to look up at me. “Thanks, Simmi. You don’t know how much you’re helping me.”

  I scoff. “I’m miserable to have beside you in these conditions and I know it.”

  Her smile invites me to play. “Camping’s not really your thing, is it?”

  CHAPTER 13

  We endure three more endless daycycles and darkcycles of walking. The scenery vacillates between great expanses of closely-grown trees and barren landscape that goes on forever. We eat what we find, drink untreated water when we come upon it, and I’m introduced to a leaping insect called the grasshopper, and when I attempt to pick it off of my carapace, it spits on me.

  It’s all so overwhelmingly traumatic that I stop fighting the futility of our circumstances and fall nearly catatonic.

  Aurora objects to me using this term: she claims that her race is aware of this unfortunate coma-like state too, but her people are ‘a damn sight quieter’ when they qualify for the condition. With all dignity, I inform her that I can diagnose myself however I like, considering that we’re at the mercy of the wilderness and not a board of psychiatrists who can point to their textbooks and argue against my gut feeling.

  On what ended up being our last night in the wilds, we unwittingly bedded down in what Aurora later identified was screech owl territory. Startled rudely awake during the middle of the darkcycle, I emitted a shriek of my own that likely encouraged the local residents to find alternative territory for the night. I was unable to ask many questions about the unseen hunters because Aurora said her ears were still ringing too loudly for her to hear me speak. When I asked if ringing sounds in the ears was a normal condition for humans, she became rather prickly, leading me to ascertain that humans may be uncomfortable discussing medical ailments.

  Sometime in the early dawn, the forest switched abruptly from trees and woodlands to civilization. We emerged from the treeline, feeling starved, thirsting gravely, and in dire need of antibacterial soap.

  I’m pondering a shocking private revelation (I smell like Aurora—and because I’ve developed a strong preference for Aurora, it’s a somewhat pleasant scent to bear) when Aurora leads us stumbling to the first building we’ve seen since our captivity.

  “This place is a settlement outpost,” Aurora informs me. “They’ll have a bit of everything here.” She begins to manipulate the bones in her hand, her digits making popping noises as she moves them around their sockets. It’s ghastly, and I can’t look away. Why is she doing this? It seems almost like a nervous behavior.

  “Not all humans are like the ones who took us,” she says.

  I meet her eyes. “I know. Some of you are wonderful.”

  Aurora’s cheeks flash pink. She glances down and quickly busies her hands picking off burrs—aggressive plant seeds—from her clothing.

  I take in our surroundings. There’s a lot of dry sand before us and the sickly scrub plants that can live in it. The sand is the terra firma for the street in which we are standing, and it’s largely empty, perhaps too early in the daycycle to see much for pedestrian traffic, I suppose. Otherwise it could be that most folk here are already on location at their various places of employment, thus they aren’t out and about.

  “Come on,” Aurora says, though her voice is suddenly lacking her usual stalwart confidence.

  I glance at her sharply, wondering why.

  She doesn’t meet my gaze though, doesn’t even seem to notice that I’m looking at her askance. Her attention is fixed on a simple-faced building, with red paint that’s fading under the blasting strength of the sun. Aurora reads the sign that scrolls across the side of the establishment. “Mazon’s Eats.” She bites her lower lip, and sucks in a fortifying-looking breath. “Let’s try them.”

  “I’ve consumed alien wilderness cuisine for endless daycycles. I for one approve of civilized eatery options,” I tell her seriously.

  To my surprise, my words make Aurora crack a small smile, and her body seems to relax as she approaches the human male sticking his head out of a small window.

  Unconcerned with our approach or presence, he turns his head slightly away from us, and spits brown liquid.

  I halt.

  Aurora snatches my hand and jerks me forward, keeping me beside her.

  “You’re lucky I’m nearly faint with hunger,” I mutter to her in aggrieved tones.

  “Or you’d do that scary shrieking thing again?” she whispers back. “I wouldn’t stop you this time. That was gross.” To the man, she calls out, “Hi, sir.”

  He’s just pulled his head back inside the window, sweeping a clear glass-like partition shut with a bang.

  I startle badly, not expecting this, and I end up pulling away from Aurora. The man must have heard her just before the window shut because he slides it back open, and looks her up and down.

  He whistles.

  I startle again. Why do humans make this sharp noise?! Isn’t the world full of too many alarming sounds already?

  The man doesn’t even glance my direction. It’s like he only has eyes for Aurora. For some reason, this raises my dorsal tubes. Still not paying attention to anything but Aurora—particularly her sternum-area, he brings up a booklet of film-like sheets, and he poises a writing instrument over the top sheet as if he’s ready to write on them. “You look like you could use a meal, a shower, and a warm bed, pretty girl.” His smile shows lots of blunted human teeth. Some of them dark in color, giving them a rotted appearance. I look to Aurora in alarm. No matter how hungry we are, is it really wise to purchase food from an establishment that causes dental decay? “I can take care of the first two for ya, and if you’d be interested in my bed, you can warm it up with me.”

  My feet take me two lunges forward. Still, he doesn’t glance my way, and I feel all my body plating conifer out as I bristle. Aurora has allowed me the privilege of keeping her warm at night, but if I’m grasping this complete stranger’s implication, he would like to usurp the honor.

  Somewhat to my relief, it seems his offer is unpalatable to Aurora. “Just the meal, thanks,” she returns stiffly.

  I relax.

  The man’s next words are wheedling in nature. “If you change your mind, the meal would be on the house...” His unpleasant smile melts to a sideways-gaped mouth. His eyes go wide and his jaw keeps sinking, slackening further and further—because finally, he’s spied me at her side.

  “Hello,” I offer politely. “Please confirm that you have sanitizing soap and indoor eliminatio
n stations. We are in dire need of a thorough disinfecting before we eat.” I attempt not to betray my excitement, but once he confirms this, I will insist that he allow us to avail ourselves of the amenities.

  Instead of answering me however, the man turns a look of disgust on Aurora. “Even looking like something the puss dragged in, with a face like yours, you coulda caught a human guy. No one’s gonna want your snatch here now. Find your meal somewhere else.” He slams the window shut, narrowly missing my tail from where I instinctively almost attempted to block him.

  I stare at the window. “I don’t understand—he sells food.” And hopefully, provides complimentary mizzling booths for weary, germ-covered travelers. I turn to Aurora, and turn over his words. “He was disgusted because he erroneously believes you captured me? He would rather you capture one of your own kind?”

  “That’s not why he won’t serve us,” Aurora says, words clipped.

  “Then why didn’t he want to serve us?”

  Aurora’s voice is tight. “I’ll tell you later, Simmi. Let’s try to get cleaned up somewhere. If these people’s perception of us improves, their reception might be more civil.”

  I suck in a gasp. “They should pity us. Just look at the state we're in! I demand we be treated—”

  Aurora takes me by the upper arm and drags me down closer to her level. But instead of pushing her mouth against mine like I expect—and, honestly, I’ve grown to welcome—she just… stops.

  “Aurora?” I whisper, gazing into her face and catching her suddenly dulled eyes. We’ve faced innumerable, lifespan-threatening adversity and challenges, but for the first time, Aurora appears… defeated.

  So for the first time, it’s me who initiates the calming-peck. “Oh my, thank you,” I say against her startled mouth. “I was doing this for you, but your lips are making me feel better.”

  I’m rewarded with the feel of her lips curving upwards. She sighs a little sadly against my mouth, murmuring almost too softly for me to hear, “Your lips are making me feel better too, Simmi.”