He was right. She did look funny. Like a clown that had been caught out in the rain. Green stuff dribbled from the corner of one eye down onto her cheek, and there was a big black smear across her nose. And as for her mouth…
She leaned over and splashed her face with water. It took soap to get it all off, and then her face felt stiff and dry without her Rose-Soft Moisturizer, and she didn't even have her emergency touch-up kit because she didn't have her purse with her. Her purse held not only her makeup but her bracelet, the bracelet that shielded them from the human pheromones which the males gave off when they had sex, pheromones powerful enough to trigger conception. The conception of mutants, that is. “Never go out without your bracelet,” she could almost hear her mother warning. She never had. She'd never done anything like she'd done today.
She lifted her chin. The hell with them. She'd done her best. It wasn't her fault that He was gone, even though they'd blame it on her. Who cared? They'd be looking for her, but they'd never find her. She'd bury herself in this Kingforsaken country and she wouldn't go back, that's all. She just wouldn't. Not till she was good and ready. Maybe never.
She went back out and the plate of steaming food was there.
She slid into the booth. The ham was good and salty, real country stuff: she wondered where they got it. The omelet was plasticky but not bad, and the biscuits dripped with gravy full of cracklins. She shoved food in her mouth just about as fast as she could get it on the fork, elbows wide on the formica table, not caring if he stared at her, and he did.
“I never seen a lady eat so fast—now wait, sorry, I just seem to say the wrong thing, but it's true.”
He offered her one of his Marlboros as they talked over coffee.
“So what was that you were saying now?” he asked. “Elvis is gone? Something about you being a bride?”
“Yeah, well, a Bride is just a caretaker, that's what we call ourselves, see? The estate hired us to take care of the shrine there, that's all. You know how many people come visit that?” Millions, and there was a damned good reason too.
“Even my ma has been,” he said.
“What's your name?”
“Elroy. Elroy Juster. I live over in Sudden. That's a little town not too far away.” He rose up out of the booth a little and reached over and lit her second cigarette.
His face was close to hers for a moment. She liked the way he smelled. His eyes were blue.
Intensely blue.
As she looked into them, she saw that he was very kind, with a degree of kindness she'd rarely sensed before. She never had spent much time with humans. She'd better get used to them now.
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Juster?”
“Call me Roy,” he said, and frowned a little, and she liked the fleeting crease between his eyes. Some of these humans could be mighty attractive, and he was one of them for sure. Too bad, she thought, she'd left her purse behind. She wondered how he looked naked, how that long, lean body would feel next to hers, what those nice, big hands would do—oh hell, Darlene. You know that's dumb. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Get some nose plugs or something. You don't want to tie yourself down with mutants.
“Just any little thing I can. My daddy raised tobacco, but it killed him. I mean, he smoked too damn much. Ma's mighty sick now from something or other. Pulmonary something or other, the doctor said. She'd like you, I know; she likes a girl that knows how to eat. She could cook up a meal in her day, and that's for sure.” Well, that sounded attractive to Darlene. She was getting hungry again already.
But she felt sad, for a minute, listening to all that. There just wasn't any rest anywhere in the universe, that was all there was to it. You would think that these simple creatures would be able to have a nice life, but no, sireebob, they had their troubles too, just as bad troubles as if you had to keep the King ready for the Redemption. Thinking of the King reminded her that they'd have to go clear to another galaxy to get another King, and really, it was too late for that…she rested her forehead in her hands. They were shaking.
Roy reached over, pried one of her hands loose, squeezed it, held it until it stopped shaking, then let go. “I hope you don't mind, I mean it won't affect my driving none or anything,” he said, “but I have this horrible headache and it might help if I had a beer…”
“No, that's OK. I'll have one too.”
“Can't serve it before noon on Sunday,” said the waitress.
Roy got out two dollars. “Only twenty minutes. This change the little hand on the clock any?” he asked.
“You're gonna make us lose our license,” she said, but brought them both draft Buds.
The beer tasted good and tingly to Darlene. She didn't drink much but sometimes she really tied one on. It was starting to rain outside and everything was dark and cozy inside. It wouldn't be a bad day for that sort of thing, she thought. Sometimes it was all you could do, to keep from thinking about things.
“You know, I always wondered what this Elvis attraction was,” he said. “Now don't get all huffy, I don't mean to hurt your feelings or nothing, but really, what do all these people see in Elvis?”
“Well, he's the King,” she said, well into her third beer, which had just about completely obliterated her concern about what the other Brides might do to her. She felt kind of whoozy.
“So what?” he said. “He sang a few songs, he got fat, he died.”
“Those weren't just any old songs,” she flared. “Those were—” then she stopped. She'd said too much already, way too much.
“You know, you sure are a funny lady,” he said. “They must pay you pretty good to be one of those Brides. I never heard of such a thing, really. I had no idea. I guess I just never paid much attention to Elvis, that's all. You're cute, though.”
She was more than cute, she knew. She was gorgeous. They all were, with that long-legged, slim-hipped, big-breasted Southern style. Most of them favored white-blond hair and spoke in that exaggerated accent that rolled off the tongue so smooth and full. They matured fast, but didn't start looking old for a long, long time. Not unless they wanted too, but a lot of them did. It kept the men away. Between shopping, cooking, and eating, they mostly watched TV and kept up with things through their supermarket newspapers and KYNG. It made the time pass.
But she wasn't ready to look old yet. Roy was mighty attractive, she thought for about the tenth time. And very sweet, too. Damn it!
She had to pee. She walked toward the bathroom, then paused at the end of the lunch counter.
A little black and white portable flickered at the end of the lunch counter, and she heard the word Elvis. An earnest reporter stood in front of Graceland with a microphone in her hand.
“Not only has Elvis disappeared, but his caretaker along with him. Police suspect foul play. There's been a massive power outage at Graceland and the surrounding area which a spokesman for the power company says can't be traced to any known reason.”
Idiots. Next thing you know they'd be flashing her picture around the state. If the other Brides got hold of her, they'd tear her hair out by the roots. She turned around, went back to Roy, and leaned on the table. “I'm about ready to go,” she said. “Are you?”
He smiled, and she was drawn into those blue eyes. He pushed himself out of the booth. She swayed, and he caught her arm. Had she only had three beers?
They walked out to the truck through a light rain which patterned the brown puddles in the parking lot, and she could feel him walking next to her, almost as if he were some sort of twin she ought to return with to whatever it was happened before you were born. Though it was only a little bit after noon, they both looked together at the flashing motel sign the next parking lot over. A semi hissed by on its way down to the river.
They stood there for a moment, and he looked helpless as he gazed at her. Then, before she could say a word, the hell with her purse and the bracelet inside, the hell with her Mission and being a Bride (but the King was gone anyway, nobody needed Bri
des now), he reached across her and unlocked the door, stammered “Sorry” when his arm brushed against her breast, as she'd intended, and hurried around to his side of the truck.
“Didn't mean to leave you standing in the rain like that,” he said, and started up the truck and flipped on the heater. “It'll be cold for a few minutes,” he said, and took off down the road.
She felt pretty much on edge. She turned on the radio, which crackled with distant lightning.
“I get so lonesome when you're gone,” He crooned, and she whispered, “Elvis.”
“Now don't you go all dreamy-faced and eyes-rolled-up on me,” he joked, stealing a glance at her. As he looked at her, his smile froze.
She knew something showed in her eyes, then, a distant galaxy she barely remembered, and then only when she heard His voice. Cold-sleep had blanked it out. She'd been just a kiddie. She blanked it out some more; she blinked, then laughed.
“I'm OK,” she said.
“You look pale,” he said, and rubbed her arm with the back of his hand. Then he pulled off the road in a flail of flying gravel and grabbed both her shoulders.
“Shit,” he said, as the truck began to move. He let go of her and set the brake. Then he was kissing her, she was kissing him, O God, O, Elvis…
“No,” he said and pulled back. “I don't know why I'm doing this. I've never done anything like this before, believe me. Well, not quite. Like this. What I mean—”
So what? But it seemed important to him for some reason. “I believe you,” she said, which was what he wanted to hear, and she did, she knew this man inside out. She could. She just never bothered. Humans were usually so boring, especially the men who came on to her in the bars of Memphis.
She drew back and looked at Roy for a moment. She was breathing real fast and her chest felt funny.
He was full of beautiful resonance, with avenues of thought and being and pure kindness and innocence she could almost see down and touch, they were so real to her. Maybe she'd just never taken the time to look at a human before. Was this what Elvis was singing about in all those songs? Good god, what a feeling! No wonder Kings acted so nutty. They just lost their fool minds. She felt like singing herself. The hell with being a Bride. The ship would never be back.
She knew that lots had fallen by the wayside, forgotten their bracelets in a moment like this with no part of the King around, no sweat-soaked scarf, no little plastic twist-box of cells or hair to align the gene sequences correctly. What got born three months later were mutant half-human kiddies. Human birth control didn't work for them because it was the pheromones that allowed the sperm and eggs already in them to join. The powerful spray of pheromones human males gave off during love-making did that too, but things got just a little twisted with those alien pheromones.
Those mutants, and she might conceive one any minute, if she kept on like this, were the thousands of women—always women—with sad, yearning faces who trudged past the coffin, not quite sure why they felt so strongly about Elvis. They were good for the budget, though, and it took a heck of a big bankroll to fund the checks that got sent out every two weeks so that everyone could get enough to eat. The full-lined ones matured quickly, almost twice as fast as humans, so there were a few generations now, and where they came from was dim legend to new kiddies. She had her mother to thank for being so strict and making sure she listened every morning and kept the faith, though sometimes she had her doubts too. She'd been lucky to be a Bride, which kept it all fresh and real in her mind.
And now all hell had broken loose, and she wanted to stay with this human man. “Roy,” she whispered, and he drew her close against his chest. All her yearning loneliness was gone. She'd never have a man on the ship, except that one strictly delineated time. They were simply obsolete. All but one. There was always one King. But this particular King had gotten much too rowdy toward the end, what with a whole weird alien planet spread out before Him. Best to keep Him in cold-sleep, all His vital parts preserved, all the necessary genetic information still intact, before He ruined it altogether with his silly drugs and wild ways. Just a big kid, but Kings always were. Spoiled and rebellious. Never listening.
Darlene looked into Roy's eyes. This guy was different. Maybe the human way was better.
She kissed Roy back. She opened her mouth and drew in his tongue, felt his breath become deep and slow as hers. His lips were soft on her face, his hands felt so good on her breast, on her thigh—
Afterward, without saying anything, he turned on the truck and drove as if he were in kind of a daze. She buttoned her blouse, bent down to snag her panties from off the floor and pulled them back on.
Finally, he said, “Damn.” But that was all he said.
She didn't feel much like talking either. She could feel the conception within her body, just like she had when she'd grabbed His scarf, and it didn't feel horrible like they said it would. Her mother had told her how creepy it would feel, how sickening and awful when the mutation was taking place.
It felt good.
It only took another forty-five minutes to get there. They drove past fields fringed over with new green growth, through a little town which had an old wooden grocery store with a faded red Coca-Cola sign. “Closed on Sunday,” the sign on the door said. A few pickups were parked next door at the Bar and Grill, and a black dog lay under one of them, trying to stay out of the rain. The courthouse was the nicest building in town, which was only two blocks long, with its dome and pillars.
“This is Sudden,” Roy said. “It's the county seat.” He turned just past the courthouse onto a narrow asphalt road which changed to dirt after a few miles and climbed the narrow rim of a red clay hillside. At the top was a doublewide with a screened-in porch and rose bushes blooming all around, pink, red, yellow. A black satellite dish was right next to it. “It's not much, I guess,” Roy said.
It's not, she thought, but said, “It's nice.”
“This is Ma's,” he said. “That cabin over there is mine. I built it from a kit.”
“Really,” she said.
She looked all around, at the low green hills below them, the fields laid out so sure and true, with all those neighbors down little back roads. She felt good here, more at home than at Graceland, watching those meters, seeing that throng of sightseers file by, putting up with the jealousy of the other Brides because she was first in line once they got back to the ship, and they were just backups. Hell. It was all a stupid fantasy. Why not stay here? It seemed like home, and Roy felt like home too. She could have a future here. Not forever, or even close. But no one would have forever, now that the King was gone.
Roy took her hand, as if he knew what she was thinking. They got close to the doublewide and heard the drone of the TV.
“Good,” he said, and she felt his relief run up her spine and spread out through her body like a cool breeze. “I guess she's OK. I shouldn't have left her alone all night; you just never know.”
He knocked, then opened the door. “Ma,” he said, “how you doing? I brought somebody I want you to meet. Darlene, this is Zinnea, my mother.”
He stopped so suddenly that Darlene ran right into the back of him. “What's wrong?” Roy asked his mother. Darlene looked around and saw an old lady dressed in a faded print dress. She was crying.
“Look,” she said.
Darlene looked, and her mouth fell open.
There it was, right on the Cable News Network: Graceland, from the air. About a million people were there, under the helicopter's whup whup whup, as the reporter said, “It's unbelievable, just unbelievable.”
“What happened?” Darlene asked, but she didn't really have to. Of course it was on national news.
The old woman had a pale, sweet face. Darlene knew she used to be fat and full of piss and vinegar. She knew lots of things. She knew Roy's mother was seventy-one, and had arthritis, adult-onset diabetes, and plaque in her left anterior descending coronary artery. Not to mention pulmonary lesions.
�
��If it don't beat all,” Zinnea said. “I mean, that I've lived to see the day. Elvis is gone. Simply gone from his tomb, you know. Just look at that crowd.”
“Darlene here is one of the—” but Darlene kicked him sharp behind his knee and he shut up. She'd been a fool to tell him a thing. She was just a pure and entire fool anyway. She'd really have to play things down if she wanted to stay around here.
Roy touched her arm, and that something flooded through her. Maybe she wasn't entirely a fool. It all made sense when he touched her, anyway.
Darlene sat down on the worn green couch next to Zinnea and took her hand. “You kinda liked Elvis, huh?”
“Oh, I cut my teeth on that man,” she said, and she wheezed as she spoke. “Why, you know, I even saw him once, it was at the County Fair back in the '50s when he was just getting started. Roy's father had a hissy fit about it; said I shouldn't be so interested in how the hips of any other man moved. But there was a lot of goodness in him.”
“There was,” said Darlene. And some mighty strange DNA too, lady.
Still holding the old lady's hand in both of hers, she looked into her frail face. She could feel Roy sitting on her other side, knew his eyes were glued to the TV.
Darlene didn't do this much because, frankly, she didn't often care enough to do it.
But it was just a matter of restoring a balance, and then removing that plaque from the left ventricle. Darlene healed her, then let go of her hand.
Zinnea looked at her with an open, innocent look, as if she were a kiddie herself, just born. Her cheeks grew pink. She leaned back against the couch, coughed once, then breathed deeply with wonder on her face. She squinted at Darlene. “I do feel good, all of a sudden.” She stood up. “Real good. I must have forgot my manners. Let me get you some ice tea. Lemon or sugar, honey?”
“Both,” said Darlene, and wondered if maybe Zinnea had a few pies stored away that she could polish off as a little snack.
“It will take me a few minutes,” Zinnea said. “None of that instant stuff around here.” She went around a paneled partition.
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