Alien Nation #8 - Cross of Blood

by K. W. Jeter

  “Perhaps . . . he meant well.” Susan had heard the account before, and was still trying to make sense of it. “He thought he was doing the right thing.”

  “Everybody means well.” Her husband shrugged. “Well, maybe not everybody. There’s always people like Darlene Bryant and her bunch that you have to take into account. People try to do the right thing, and then they run into other people with evil in their souls. That’s when things get messy.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “That’s when people like you have to go to work.”

  “True.” George moved away from her, so he could turn and hold her, gazing for a long moment into her eyes without speaking. Then he let go and bent down to finish tying his shoes. A moment later, he stood up. “I know you understand. There’s some things I have to go take care of.”

  “All right.” Susan looked up at him and managed to smile. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” The figure on the empty stage turned, bringing his solemn gaze across the warehouse’s echoing space. “I knew you would come here.”

  George walked past the folding metal chairs that were still strewn about the area. As before, dust-clouded sun leaked through the broken skylights above. But now there were no rapt faces of adoring worshippers, Newcomers and humans alike, directed toward the object of their faith. The messenger who had brought the Light was a solitary man now, unencumbered by that fierce radiance.

  “What did you tell them?” He stopped at the edge of the stage. “All of the others—the believers. The Bearers of Light. What did you say to them?”

  “What could I say?” Ahpossno was dressed in plain street clothes now, a faded pair of denim trousers and a corduroy jacket over a white shirt. The prophet’s flowing robes had vanished as well, as though the costumes of a travelling production had been packed away with the scenery flats. “I told them the truth. As I had told them the truth before. Or what I thought was the truth.” Ahpossno looked down at his empty hands, as if searching for something there, then again toward George. “You must believe me—I did not lie to them . . . to anyone. I believed. The Light, the truth . . . I believed. Because . . . for a little while at least . . . it was true.”

  The words came haltingly, as though each were a heavy stone that had to be lifted and set into place. George felt a wave of sympathy for the other man. He knew what it was like to try to explain things beyond understanding.

  “The truth . . .” Ahpossno looked up toward the warehouse’s skylights, to the dirt smeared with pigeon droppings. “I told them all to go home, to pick up their lives where they were before I came amongst them. If those who had been my followers wanted to believe I was a liar, that everything I had told them before was a lie, that was all right. If anger would comfort them, then they should have anger. If they had wanted to bury me beneath the stones of their wrath, I would have accepted that as my due. I would only have wished that at some time to come, their anger might have transmuted itself to forgiveness.” He brought his gaze back down. “But . . . and here is a mystery, George . . . there was no anger. No rage at my having misled them. There was . . .” Ahpossno smiled wanly, ruefully. “There was disappointment. We had all wanted to believe it was true. We wanted it so much.”

  “Here—” George reached a hand up toward him. “Why don’t you come down from there? It’ll be easier. To talk.”

  When he had helped the other down from the makeshift stage, Ahpossno laid a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it was hardest on you, George. Because you didn’t let yourself believe—though I know you wanted to. I could see that in your soul.”

  They walked through the empty warehouse, toward the great doors swung open at the front. The city’s distant traffic noises gradually became audible.

  “Do you know . . . everything?” As they walked, George looked over at Ahpossno. “Everything that happened? To Matt and Cathy’s baby?”

  “Of course.” Ahpossno nodded, slowly and sadly. “I knew as soon as it happened. As soon as the baby . . . died. I felt it. Just as if the hearts had been torn out from my chest. That was when I knew that I had not been in possession of the truth . . . not the whole truth. I had only a part of it, a piece of the Light. That was true, but it was not enough. What I had learned—out there—” He pointed toward the spaces beyond the warehouse’s skylights. “The power that had been given to me—that was true. I could make it possible for a Tenctonese and a human to have a child together; I walked inside Matt and Cathy’s dreams—as I walked in yours—and I made it happen. I made her womb capable of nurturing his seed, of making a new life from what their love for each other gave to it. That was my doing. The Light, my power.” He shook his head. “But not enough. I could bring the child into being, but I could not make it live . . . I could not give it life beyond a few days. Just like the first one that died all these years ago. Some things are not possible. There is not power enough, no light sufficient, to bridge such differences. Perhaps humans and Tenctonese were one blood, one species, millenia ago. But in this time we are not so.”

  They stepped into the daylight outside the warehouse. George looked at the figure beside him. “What are you going to do now?”

  Ahpossno tilted his head. “Isn’t that up to you?”

  He frowned. “Why would it be my decision?”

  “You are a man of the law, George—of this world’s law. As you always were, even when you came amongst the Bearers of Light. You have duties toward that law. Is there no crime I have committed, for which retribution must be exacted? I would make no effort to resist your taking me into custody. Consider: disturbances of the peace, violation of the civil order . . . or perhaps a more personal crime. I did, after all, grievously invade Matt and Cathy’s privacy.” Ahpossno gave a small smile. “I also entered this country without proper documentation. No small matter, these days.”

  “Given the circumstances, I think that can be overlooked.” George shook his head. “I’m not going to take you in. There’s the law, and then there’s . . . other considerations. You did a great service to your own people once; many would have died if it hadn’t been for you. And now, what you’ve tried to accomplish for both the Tenctonese and the human races . . .” He shrugged. “It wasn’t done with malicious intent. That’s what I see in your soul.”

  Ahpossno regarded him for a moment. “You realize, George Francisco, that you have taken it upon yourself to be a judge of the law.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to accept that responsibility. At least this time.”

  “Very well.” He clasped George’s shoulder with one hand. “Perhaps one day my wisdom will be the equal of yours. Until then . . .” He dropped his hand and turned away.

  George called after the figure walking down the street. “Where will you go?”

  “That hardly matters.” Ahpossno had stopped and glanced back at him. “I will be among my people.” He watched the figure until it had disappeared in the distance, lost in the maze of buildings at the city’s edge. A few moments later, he took his keys from his pocket and walked over to the car he had left at the curb.

  Waiting was the hardest part. It had always been bad enough just visiting someone in the hospital, but now he was definitely getting bored, and ready to split. Buck heard somebody coming down the corridor beyond his room’s numbered door, and hoped that it was one of the doctors with the paperwork to spring him out of here.

  “Hello, Buck.” It wasn’t a doctor, but his father, leaning around the edge of the doorway. “Care for a visitor?”

  “Sure. Come on in.” He pointed to the side of the bed. “There’s a chair over here.”

  “Thanks.” His father sat down, glancing over at the white-plastered bandages in which Buck’s left leg was immobilized. “Quite a job they did on you.”

  “Yeah, it’s mostly because of the bone chip.” He leaned back against the bed’s pillows. “If the bullet had been over another quarter-inch, the doctor told me, it would’ve been
a lot worse; I’d be in a cast for a long time.” Buck shrugged. “As it is, I’m going to be hobbling around with a cane for a few weeks. That’s what they said, at least.”

  “Well, you’re right, it could’ve been worse.” Buck’s father nodded toward the doorway. “I was just over at the secure ward, checking up on Noah Ramsey.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s he doing?”

  “Not bad. He’s had to have some skin grafts, but there’s been no complications with those. He’ll be fine . . . in a lot of ways. Noah’s still going to have to face kidnapping charges, as well as some others, but since he’s turning state’s evidence against Darlene Bryant and the rest of the HDL, the Bureau will recommend clemency to the court. Plus there’s plenty of testimony—your own, for instance—about what he did to get the children away from the Purists. If he serves any time at all, it’ll be minimal.”

  “Sounds fair. The next time you look in on him, give him my regards.” From the bed’s slightly elevated vantage point, Buck studied his father. For a moment, his gaze had drifted away, an abstracted expression on his face, as though he were going through that whole trip again that Emily had told her brother about. Buck figured he should go easy on his old man; he knew that his father had been through a lot lately. “So . . . what brings you around here? Something on your mind?”

  His father looked back around at him. “There might be. Your mother and I were wondering what your plans were.”

  “Don’t have any.” Buck shrugged. “Go back to work, soon as this leg’s all healed up. I’ve got a little money saved up. It should last me until then.”

  “We thought that perhaps . . . you might want to move back home with us, instead of going back to that hotel where you’ve been living.” His father held up a placating hand. “Just until you’re completely up on your feet. The food’s bound to be better, if nothing else.”

  “Yeah . . .” Buck smiled. “You know, I might take you up on that one.”

  “Good.” His father nodded. “We’ll get your room ready.” He fell silent again, without making any move to get up from the chair.

  “Is that it?”

  His father regarded him for a moment. “About your going back to work . . . I mean, where you were working before. I’ve been wondering—is that what you really want to do? Moving boxes and crates around?”

  “Suits me for now.” Buck folded his arms across his chest.

  “Seems to me to be kind of a waste. Of your talents, I mean.”

  “Maybe,” said Buck. “But there’s not really anything else I’m interested in at the moment.”

  “Oh.” His father made a show of mulling that over. “I thought perhaps everything that happened—everything you did—perhaps that indicated something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, when you think about it . . . you did the right thing. Without hesitating. You sort of went to the rescue.”

  “Didn’t seem to do much good. The baby still died.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that.” His father leaned forward in the chair. “Even if Matt and I had found that note earlier, the one you left at the station, and we had gotten up there to help you sooner, it wouldn’t have helped that child.” He looked down, studying his own hands. “What matters is what you tried to do. That your instincts were to help and you followed through on them. You did what you could. Somebody like that shouldn’t be just shifting crates around for a living.”

  “Wait a minute.” Buck peered more closely at his father. “I’m getting the feeling that this is all leading up to something. All right, what is it?”

  From the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Buck’s father took a thin packet of folded papers. “The police academy here in the city is going to be taking applications again. The physical tests won’t be for another three months or so; your leg should be all healed by then . . .”

  “What?” He stared incredulously at his father. “You want me to try to get into the LAPD? Is that what this is all about? No way.” He gave a quick, harsh laugh. “No flippin’ way am I gonna be a cop.”

  “Buck . . .” Still holding the folded papers, his father spoke softly. “A cop is what I am. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the difference between you and me. One of the differences.”

  “I became one,” said his father, “for the same reason you went up there to eastern Oregon. So I could help people.”

  He made no reply. He couldn’t think of one.

  “Well, your mother and your sisters are waiting for me to come home.” His father stood up. “Tell you what. I’ll just leave these with you.” He dropped the papers on the little table beside the bed. “You’ll make your own decisions.”

  After his father had left, Buck shook his head, still amazed. My old man must still have a few screws loose, thought Buck. For his father to consider that there was even a chance of his going for something like that . . .

  Minutes passed, without the doctor coming around. From the corner of his eye, Buck glanced over at the papers on the table. Another minute passed before he unfolded his arms from his chest and reached over to pick up the police academy’s glossy recruitment brochure. Bored, he flipped through the pages.

  Still no doctor.

  He went back to the first page and started reading.

  When the doctor finally came into the room, he didn’t notice. The doctor had to speak his name twice before he looked up.

  He brought her home.

  Already, he’d gotten rid of all the baby things. He’d boxed them up and taken them over to the Salvation Army thrift store for them to sell to people who did have babies, or who would have them some day. Sikes knew that wasn’t in the cards for him and Cathy.

  “Everything seems so quiet here.” She looked around the apartment as Sikes brought in her suitcase and set it down. Cathy pulled open the blinds over the big living room window and looked out at the alley and the brick wall of the next building over. “You know, you don’t realize how noisy hospitals are, until you really have to spend some time in one. There’s always people going back and forth, and carts full of stuff, and voices out in the corridor . . .” Her own voice faded, then she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him. “It’s amazing that people get any sleep there at all.”

  Sikes kissed her on the brow, then held her by both shoulders so he could look at her. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  He busied himself in the kitchen area, making her a cup of liver extract tea, while she put away the things she had packed and taken with her to the hospital. That seemed a long time ago. A lot had happened since then. Sikes leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. There had been a time, not too many days ago, when he’d thought he would be bringing Cathy and their new baby back here. All that might as well have happened in another life.

  “Thanks.” Cathy sat with him on the couch, her feet curled up under herself, and sipped from the cup he had brought her.

  From the beer he dangled in one hand, he took another swallow. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome.” The apartment’s silence settled around them again.

  He had to nearly finish the beer before he could say anything more. There were things that he and Cathy had to talk about; they might as well start now.

  “I guess . . .” He spoke softly, watching his thumb rub the dark green top of the bottle in his hand. “I guess I really wanted to believe it was true. That you and I . . . you know . . . that we were going to have a baby together.” He shrugged. “Not just because of us, that it’d be ours and everything. But maybe because of what it would’ve meant . . . to everybody.” He glanced over at her. “That Newcomers and humans would maybe get along with each other better. Because of them really being the same. People like us having kids together—I thought that would prove it was true. But now . . .” He shook his head. “Now we still gotta deal with humans and Newcomers being different from each other.”

  Cathy held the cup in both hands, gazing dow
n into it. “Is that so bad?”

  “No . . . no, it’s not.” Sikes frowned, trying to find the right words. “Funny thing is . . . I’ve been thinking, because of all the stuff that’s happened . . . and you know, I finally decided it wasn’t so bad. About my people and yours being different from each other. It’s just one of those things, like I said, that we gotta deal with. Maybe it would’ve been nice if we’d all wound up blending into one species. Or maybe not. Who knows? But it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, so we’ll just have to learn to get along with each other the way we are.”

  “I don’t care about that . . .” Cathy set the cup down on the coffee table. She took his arm in both hands and leaned her head against his shoulder. “As long as you and I get along all right.”

  He turned her face up toward his and kissed her—for a long time—then held her close against himself. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Something important.”

  “What’s that?” She didn’t raise her head from where it rested against his chest.

  “Well . . . even though you and I aren’t going to be having a kid together, that doesn’t mean . . .” He took the last sip of the beer, then set the bottle down on the floor beside the couch. “The thing is, there already is a kid who’s kind of a cross between a human and a Newcomer. Not really, but in a way she is . . .”

  “You mean that little girl?” Cathy lifted her head. “Aalice?”

  Sikes nodded. He knew that Cathy had met the girl, had even talked with her for a bit, at the hospital when the BNA agents had brought her in to be checked, to make sure she hadn’t been hurt during all the action out in the desert.