“Yes,” Ernest said, “but you've got to come alone."
“Okay, I'll come alone, but can't you tell me something about what's going on?"
“No. I have to show you; it's the only way."
“Okay,” I said, resigned.
“And don't bring any fluorescent lights. Or cell phones."
“Ernest, I have to bring my cell phone. I'm on call."
“Oh.” There was a long silence, and I began to hope that he would tell me not to come after all. But instead he said, “Then I'd better adjust the magnets to account for it. Don't bring any magnets either; it'll upset the balance."
“Um, right.” Did people often travel with fluorescent lights and magnets?
Finally, in a hoarse whisper, Ernest gave me directions to his home. It was about twenty miles away, more or less on the way back to my own apartment, which was at least some small comfort.
Lynda gazed at me sadly as I put my phone away. “Was that an emergency?” she asked.
I thought about it. “I'm not really sure,” I said at last. “That was Ernest Davenport. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong; just that I needed to come out to his place."
“Really! Out to his place? When did he decide to tell you where he lives?"
“Just now,” I said.
Lynda looked worried. “I suppose that means it's not just an emergency, it's a crisis,” she said. “I'm sorry you can't stay for dinner."
I was sorry too. But Lynda was right. Some sort of crisis was going on at Ernest's place, and I needed to be there.
* * * *
I drove back down Howard's potholed road to the highway, which I followed for some miles until I came to a turnoff behind a crumbling old green storage shed. From there Ernest's directions grew more vague, as the landmarks he had described were almost impossible to find in the gathering darkness, and I had to backtrack several times when I ran into dead ends. I was not in a good temper when I finally rolled up to the tiny travel-trailer Ernest called home.
The trailer looked dark and uninhabited, but it had to be the right place. Was Ernest still on his way back from the neighbor's house where he had made the phone call? A man like Ernest might have to travel a long way before he found someone who would open a door to him, after all. But no, his car was here, parked close by the trailer. He had to be home. So where the hell was he? Surely he'd heard me drive up; it wasn't as if there was any other traffic. He really ought to have the courtesy to come out and greet me. Annoyed, I got out of the truck and slammed the door behind me.
But it was hard to stay in an evil mood once I was out of the truck. The air was cool and crisp, and the mountains looked mysterious in the light of the rising half moon. A coyote howled nearby, its voice wavering up into the sky. The half moon was huge and yellow, shining through a thin and patchy layer of cloud. I sighed happily. I did so love the desert at night.
Suddenly, another coyote howled, much closer, and I jumped. But no, it wasn't a coyote; it was a dog, a little dog with short legs. It appeared around the corner of the trailer, fixed its gaze on me, and growled.
“Save it,” I told the dog, laughing. “You really aren't very frightening."
Approximately forty-nine other little short-legged dogs suddenly appeared beside the first one, and I gulped. There was an outbreak of massive growling, followed by a riot of barking, and then the whole mass of little short-legged dogs charged toward me. I blinked in disbelief, and then ran for the truck in blind panic. I was almost there when I tripped on a cactus and fell, jarring the breath from my body and all coherent thought from my mind. All I could think of was how the obituary would read: LOCAL VETERINARIAN KILLED BY WIENER DOGS. Then I heard a gun fire. It went off twice more, and the yammering barking abruptly stopped. I lifted my face out of the dirt and saw all the little dogs slinking away into the darkness. Ernest casually holstered his gun and offered me a hand.
“Thanks for coming, doc,” he said, watching the lurking dogs affectionately. “Aren't they the sweetest little things?"
“Er, well, they don't seem to like me very much. I suppose they don't get many visitors."
“Oh, they like you fine,” Ernest explained. “They get a bit enthusiastic, especially at feeding times, but all I've got to do is fire a few shots into the ground and they settle right down."
“Oh.” I contemplated this. Apparently, Ernest experienced this behavior every day. Perhaps the little dogs had been rushing to greet me rather than chasing me down to kill me, but it was difficult to be sure.
“Anyway, I've got to show you what I called you about. It's this way."
He headed off, but I balked at this. “Now wait a minute, Ernest. You've got to give me something to go on here. How else will I know what to bring with me?"
“Ah, you're right,” Ernest said. “Well then. It started back when Delilah had that litter of pups—Patches was one of them, you'll remember her—and I was putting a bit more aluminum on the trailer walls; I'm sure you know how important that is. You really should consider putting some of it up at your clinic; I'd be glad to help."
“That's very kind of you, Ernest, but I really need to know what's going on."
“Yes, of course you do. So I was putting up the aluminum, and a flying saucer flew over. You should have seen the dogs then! I've never seen them so excited. We all watched the saucer until it went away, and then I went back to the aluminum, and it was just a month later that Mindy's pups were born, and poor Rascal got taken by the coyotes."
“That's very interesting, Ernest, but you were going to tell me why you called me out here tonight."
Ernest gave me a hurt look. “I am telling you, doc. Now, Mindy had seven pups as you'll remember, and one of them was Topaz; you saw him back when he had that awful infection on his foot. Well, Topaz grew up; he's over a year now, and one day he just took off into the hills, all alone, and I thought I'd follow him. Topaz, he's like that; always off on his own. Do you think I should be concerned about that? Doesn't seem natural. Dogs are meant to be pack animals, after all."
“Well—"
“So I followed Topaz, and he took me right up to the alien. We talked for a bit, the alien and me, and she said she'd like to stay for a time, and I said that'd be fine, so she's been over yonder and Topaz and me, we visit from time to time. And Topaz—Topaz! Where are you, boy? He was all frantic to go up there today, and we saw the alien and she was just lying there, not looking right at all, and she said I should call you, so I went down to a neighbor's and did."
I sighed. It seemed highly unlikely that an alien would have requested me by name, but it didn't seem worthwhile to point this out to Ernest. “So, you want me to take a look at this, um, alien you've found."
Ernest nodded. “She's not looking well at all, doc. Just kind of floating on the surface, see, and I've not ever seen her do that before."
“Floating?” I said hoarsely. “Floating? She lives in the water?"
“Yes, of course she does. Anything that big would have a hell of a time getting around on land, don't you think?"
I nearly fainted. Ernest wasn't hallucinating after all. He'd found one of Howard's monsters—Caddy or Megamouth, who'd left Howard's stock pond to set up housekeeping on their own. But he'd only described one creature, not two, and what about the baby monsters?
“Did you only see one?” I demanded. “Not two?"
Ernest looked startled. “Two? No, just the one."
“What about babies? Have you seen any babies?"
“You mean baby aliens?” Ernest said uncertainly.
“Yes!"
“Well no, doc."
I closed my eyes, fighting back fear. Anything could have happened to the others, anything, and the one Ernest had found was ill. Please, please, don't let the others be dead, I whispered to myself. I grabbed the large-animal bag out of the truck, hoping it would have everything I needed, and turned to Ernest. “Show me where it is. Quickly. There's not a moment to lose."
Ernest, take
n aback, did not seem to be able find anything to say. He nodded, pulled out a flashlight, and set off at a brisk pace, with one little short-legged dog at his heel. He glanced back often to look at me, and then quickly looked away. Clearly he was wondering if he really wanted to have this psychotic madman at his back.
We climbed a steep rocky hill, which would have been quite challenging enough in the daytime, and between my fear for the monsters and the effort of the climb, I was soon gasping for breath.
“Sure you don't want to slow down, doc?” Ernest asked. Old as he was, he wasn't the least bit winded, and neither was Topaz, whose legs were probably only two inches long. It really didn't seem fair.
“No,” I croaked. “Keep going."
The hill we climbed seemed endless, though according to my watch it took only twenty-five minutes to reach the top. On the other side of the hill the moonlight shone on a deep gully, and I saw the glint of water. I scrambled down the far slope at Ernest's heels, and came to a stop at the water's edge.
A large dark shape was floating near the bank. “Caddy?” I whispered. I knelt, slapping the water gently. “Megamouth?” The dark shape moved, and a slender head with huge limpid eyes turned to look at me.
It wasn't Caddy or Megamouth. It wasn't a sea monster at all. It was, in fact, something even stranger.
* * * *
For a moment I couldn't even breathe. I'd seen this creature only twice before, and sometimes I managed to convince myself that I'd imagined both events. The only thing was, Howard had seen her too. We'd called her Stranger, because she was stranger even than the monsters. She was a good fifty feet long from nose to tail, slender and snakelike, with masses of fronds and streamers floating around her head, framing her great beautiful eyes.
That was all I knew about her, besides the fact that she was an egg-layer (on one occasion I'd helped her deliver an egg—an egg, sadly, with no life in it) and that she normally lived at much deeper levels. Seeing her at the surface probably meant that something was quite wrong.
I waded out to meet her, scarcely noticing the chill water rising over my boots and soaking into my jeans. “What is it, Stranger?” I asked softly.
Her gaze was fixed on me. I couldn't see more than the first few feet of her; the rest of her body trailed away somewhere in the depths of the pool. “Is it an egg again? Do you need help?"
Stranger ducked her head beneath the water, then lifted it. She extended a flurry of long fronds toward me. In the fronds she held a large egg.
I froze. It's never wise to come between a large animal and her baby, and I couldn't imagine what Stranger wanted me to do. Obviously she had needed no help in laying the egg, as she had done before. Uncertainly I stood still, looking from the egg to Stranger's eyes, and back again.
“Well, I'll be,” Ernest murmured from behind me. “It is a baby alien."
After a moment Stranger swam closer and tried to push the egg into my arms.
I recoiled. “I can't! If your egg's not alive, there's nothing I can do,” I told her.
“Oh, the egg's alive,” Ernest commented from the bank.
“What?” I said, fending off the egg as Stranger pushed it toward me again.
“It's alive. She wants you to hold it, doc."
“What? How do you know that?” Suddenly the egg was in my arms, and I clutched at it. It felt warm, and faintly resilient, nothing like the dead egg I'd handled so long ago. It was alive. But why in the world was Stranger giving the egg to me? I had no idea what it needed in order to hatch. And I was worried about Stranger herself; I wanted to examine her, but I could hardly do that with an egg in my arms. What could possibly be wrong with her? Was she ill? Injured? Had completing the gestation of the egg debilitated her to this extent?
Helplessly I stood there in the water, holding the egg. When I stepped toward the bank, Stranger quickly moved past me and gently pushed me back into the water beside her. This made no sense at all. She was insistent that I hold the egg, but just as adamant that I not take it away. I pictured myself still standing in the same spot in a week's time. No, I'd never make it. The egg was heavy, and my arms were already growing tired.
The air that had seemed so fresh and bracing when I'd gotten out of the truck now seemed fierce and chill. I stood waist deep in the cold water, shivering, feeling a stir of envy directed at Ernest, who sat on the bank, warm and dry, with the little dog Topaz in his lap.
Long minutes passed. The cold was seeping into my bones, and my arms were beginning to go into spasms. But just when I thought I couldn't hold the egg a minute longer, Stranger deftly plucked it from my grasp and slipped slowly down into the water.
“Wait!” I cried out, floundering after her. “You're ill, Stranger. Let me have a look at you! Maybe there's something I can do."
Stranger's great eyes gazed at me as she slipped away, out of sight and out of reach. I was left alone in the water, shaking with cold and completely bewildered.
What in the world did she want from me?
This question kept me awake half the night and was all I could think of on the drive to work the next day, but my first two clients nearly drove all thoughts of Stranger from my mind.
My first client was young Danny Vigil, whose Golden Retriever, Blossom, had been in on Monday with a laceration on her side. She was back today because she'd chewed out half the sutures.
“I'll have to keep her and stitch that back up, Danny,” I said. “And then I'm afraid she'll need to wear a hood."
“You mean one of those lampshades?” Danny asked.
“That's right. Now, I can fit her in with the morning surgeries, so you can pick her up this afternoon if you like."
“Sure.” Danny hesitated, then said, “Dr. Clayton?"
“Yes?"
“My roommate said I ought to sue you over this.” His voice was so casual and amiable, it took me a moment to realize what he'd said.
“Excuse me?” I said faintly.
“I just wanted to check and make sure I can still keep bringing Blossom here if I do.” He smiled.
“You want to sue me and keep coming here as a client?"
Danny nodded hopefully. I explained, as calmly as I could manage, that under the circumstances this would not be an option. He left looking disappointed, but without actually saying whether he was going to sue or not, and as I led Blossom back to the kennels, I pictured getting yet another call from an insurance agent, who would want to know how many claims I had filed against me now.
My second client, Mrs. Anderson, had brought in a Pomeranian puppy for a check-up.
“Here's what I'm concerned about,” she said, efficiently prying open the puppy's mouth. “See? The teeth don't line up properly, do they? And that will cause all sorts of dental problems later in life, won't it?"
Carefully I began to examine the puppy's teeth, gently opening and closing its mouth to check the bite. There was a very slight misalignment, but it was almost undetectable.
“And this gives me good cause to sue the breeder, doesn't it?” Mrs. Anderson went on, without pausing for breath.
I twitched at the word sue, but at least this time it wasn't aimed at me.
“Well,” I said, trying to sound soothing, “it's true that the teeth are slightly misaligned, but it's extremely mild, and it's doubtful that it will ever cause a problem. I shouldn't think there'd be any need for a lawsuit."
Mrs. Anderson's eyes narrowed. “No need for a lawsuit? No need? That breeder sold me damaged merchandise."
I looked down at the puppy, and it panted cheerfully up at me. Damaged merchandise? “Surely you could simply return the puppy, if you aren't satisfied, and get your money back,” I suggested.
She snorted. “I don't think so. That breeder knew this puppy was defective when she sold it to me. Getting my money back would hardly be sufficient.” She turned back to me. “And I don't see how you can take this defect so lightly. Dismissing it and saying it probably won't cause harm. You don't know that for a fa
ct, do you?"
A fine tension hummed in the air as I finished the puppy's exam and pronounced it healthy. Mrs. Anderson gave me a very dubious look, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at my diagnosis. “I can't imagine how you can justify saying that,” she said, “but I haven't got time to get into it right now. I have to be at court at ten o'clock.” She picked up her purse and her puppy. “I do like to schedule my lawsuits for Fridays, you see. I find that the judges are more likely to rule for me on Fridays."
She marched out, and I wondered if I was about to have a fourth claim filed against me. What was going on in the world today? Mrs. Anderson apparently made her living off of lawsuits, and even otherwise friendly people like Danny Vigil thought a casual lawsuit was a good idea. Maybe I should just close the clinic now and save myself a lot of trouble. There was no doubt about it; litigation was becoming far too common.
I was hesitant to enter the exam room with the next client, since the insurance company might well drop me if I got a fifth claim, but I managed to get through the rest of the morning's appointments without any more mention of suits. During the morning surgeries I told Tegan all about the first two unnerving incidents, and then, as the shock wore off, I remembered to tell her about Stranger.
“She just wanted you to hold the egg?” Tegan asked.
I nodded.
“That's so odd. I wish I'd been there."
“I wish you had been too. It was quite an evening, between that and Curious's injury."
I was resuturing Blossom's wound, and trying not to think about her owner. Truly, in many ways animals were much easier to understand than people were. Even Curious made more sense than Danny Vigil did.
Or did he?
I dropped my needle holders and thumb forceps, hardly noticing when they clattered to the floor.
“Michael? What is it?” Tegan was already pulling out another set of sterile instruments for me.
“I just thought of something. Curious. He wasn't distressed about anything. Neither were the other monsters. And last time Stranger was ill, they were all nearly frantic. It doesn't make sense."
Tegan looked puzzled. “Then maybe Stranger isn't really that ill. Maybe that means she'll be fine."
Analog SFF, July-August 2007 Page 15