by Peter David
The desert stretched endlessly in all directions. The giant turned the infant so that she could survey the barren landscape.
“Yes,” said the giant. He actually seemed to be smiling. “This is a very good place.”
“If you came back with us,” said Sikes, “there’s a chance . . . maybe everything would turn out okay.”
But he knew the answer before the giant even spoke. The infant turned her gaze upon him, and the giant said, “It’s better this way. Thank you.” Then he turned to George and said [“Thank you.”]
Slowly, George reached out and touched the temple of the infant. [“Farewell.”] he said.
Sikes did the same. “Yeah,” he said.
A smile seemed to play across the infant’s lips, and then the giant said, “Good-bye.”
He held the infant close, shielding her from the sun as best he could, and he started out across the desert.
Sikes and George watched the creature go.
“It doesn’t have a chance,” said Sikes.
And George slowly shook his head. “It never did.”
They stood there, waiting—by unspoken agreement—until the giant could no longer be seen. It took a very long time until finally, enveloped by shimmering heat waves, the giant finally disappeared behind a sand dune.
And they never saw it again.
C H A P T E R 2 9
JACK PERELLI, WEARING a white terry cloth robe, answered the pounding at the front door of his apartment. To his surprise, Matt Sikes was standing there.
“Matt!” said Perelli. “Long time no see.” He studied him. “You look like hell. You want a drink of water or—”
“No,” said Sikes firmly. “I just got something I got to say to you.”
“Well . . . sure.” Perelli stepped back. “Come on in.”
“No, I can say it from here. First, I gotta tell you . . . you saved my ass at the clinic the other day. So I thank you for that.”
“You were there? Well, glad I could be of—”
“And you taught me a lot of stuff. You shaped a lot of my opinions about . . . about everything.”
“Matt, what’s bothering you?”
“What’s bothering me,” said Matt hotly, “is that you’re an asshole. That’s what’s bothering me.”
“I see.”
“When the Newcomers first came here, there you were, day after day after day, saying that they were filth. That they were going to ruin humanity. That they didn’t know about human love or emotion. And you said . . . you said that any human who was willing to accept them or get close to them was a traitor to the whole damned human race.” Matt’s voice was getting louder and louder. “And I hung on every word you said, Jack. Every damned word. And it poisoned me for ages. Well I met a Newcomer woman, Jack, and I love her, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. Tired of being afraid of so many stupid things. And I work with a Newcomer. And—”
“Jack? Is something wrong?”
It was a female voice, coming from the area of the bedroom.
Sikes blinked. The voice sounded familiar.
Moments later, a female form also wearing a bathrobe emerged from the bedroom area.
Matt’s jaw fell to somewhere around his ankles.
“Well,” she said, folding her arms. “Matt.”
“Vi . . . Vivian,” stammered Sikes. “Vivian Webster.”
Jack looked from her back to him. “You know each other?”
The Newcomer sex counselor smiled. “Oh yes. Matt’s in my Human/Newcomer sex class. Or at least he was. Or is he still?” Her voice sounded musical and very amused.
“Yes. I . . . I am,” he said. “Uh . . . how long have you and Vivian . . .”
“About a year,” said Perelli. “That’s why I was at the sex clinic the other night. I was coming by to pick her up anyway.”
“Oh. Uh . . . Jack, I thought you . . .”
“Hated Newcomers?” He shrugged. “I did. But people change, Matt. They realize they’re wrong sometimes if they let themselves realize that they’re never too old to learn. You can, too, teach an old dog new tricks. May take ’im longer to learn, but he can learn ’em.”
“I guess so,” said Matt.
“We all done here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gonna be at my retirement dinner next month?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Bring your Newcomer girlfriend. Love to meet her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Matt . . .”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re an asshole.” And he slammed the door in Matt’s face.
“Yes, sir,” said Matt to the door.
George entered his house, looking downtrodden and wasted. He flopped down in his favorite chair and just sat there, staring at the wall.
Emily came in. She regarded him silently for a moment and then, to his surprise, went over to him and hugged him tightly before heading upstairs. He wondered what that was about. He would, in fact, never find out. Nor would he really have wanted to know.
Susan walked in, and she was carrying a robe wrapped in dry-cleaner’s plastic.
“I had this cleaned for you,” she said.
He took the garment and stared at it. “My ceremonial robe. Why?” he asked in genuine confusion.
“You’ll need it . . . when you father Albert and May’s child.”
He stared at her. “Susan . . .” he whispered.
“Forgive me, George.” She looked skyward, clearly embarrassed. “You were right. I acted so . . . human . . .”
He set the robe down and took her in his arms.
“I love you,” he told her.
C H A P T E R 3 0
VIVIAN WEBSTER STOOD at a podium set up inside the sex clinic with a pile of diplomas in front of her. She smiled out at her students, dressed in their best clothes, all standing to one side of the room. Family and friends were on the other.
“I’m very proud of these students here tonight. They’ve worked very hard the past three months. They’ve persevered during a very difficult time for them and for this city.”
Matt took Cathy’s hand and gripped it tightly. Across the way, George had an arm around Susan. Next to them stood Albert, his hand resting lightly on the swollen belly of his wife.
“Because of love and with love,” continued Vivian, “they have pushed aside the prejudice. They have pushed aside the ignorance. They have pushed aside the fear. In accepting the mystery and beauty of their partners, these graduates have discovered the mystery and beauty in themselves. Congratulations.”
Friends and family began to applaud as Vivian started handing out the diplomas.
“Sharon and Noel Parking,” she called out. “Debbie Degner and Colonel Mustard. Cathy Frankel and Matthew Sikes. Sharon Wessner and Buddy Holly . . .”
The names had all been called, the congratulations made. The winks, the grins. All of it once would have embarrassed the hell out of Matt Sikes.
Now, though, it was of no consequence to him. In fact, he thought it was great.
Matt and Cathy approached the front door of their apartment building. They stood there a moment, hands clasped, and smiled at each other.
“Shall we?” he said.
They started up the front stoop, and then a passing car suddenly slowed down and started honking. They stopped and turned.
A smiling white-haired man poked his head out the driver’s side window.
“Cathy Frankel!” he called out. “Cathy, isn’t it? From the pottery class! Hi, how y’doin’?”
“Hi, Joe!” she said. “This is a pleasant surprise!”
Sikes stood there, gaping.
“Joe,” Cathy continued, “this is M—” And then she stopped. “Oh, wait. No. He said he wouldn’t want to be introduced to you because he wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Oh, okay. Well . . . I gotta go. Take care.” And he drove off.
Sikes managed to get his mouth moving. “Th—that was Joe DiMaggio!”
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“Yes, I know,” she said. “I told you I knew him.”
“Yeah, but . . . I thought when you said it that Joe DiMaggio was a Newcomer!”
“Oh, no. Actually, I think he used to advertise coffee makers, or something like that.”
“That was Joltin Joe! Quick! Get him back here!” Sikes started to run off the stoop. “I’d love to get his autograph! To talk to him! To—”
And then he saw the way she was staring at him.
And he grinned sheepishly.
“I guess it can wait,” he said.
“Good,” she said. “Because I can’t.”
Sikes, bare-chested, stood next to his bed. Cathy, in a slip, was standing next to him, embracing. Temple to temple, they nuzzled one another. Sikes hummed softly, unable to imagine that three months ago, he was self-conscious about it. After a moment, Cathy gave him a long, human kiss.
They broke apart, staring into one another’s eyes, their passion growing. Sikes slid the straps of her slip off her shoulders. Her slip fell noiselessly to the floor. She stood nude before him, her back spots fully revealed and arching down in a beautiful, glorious curve.
Cathy’s hands moved across Matt’s muscular back, caressing it. He pulled her onto the bed. They kissed again, rolling over in each other’s arms.
She nuzzled his chest, her kisses traveling downward across his belly. She unsnapped his jeans and Sikes arched his back, pulling Cathy back up to kiss her. His lips moved down her cheek, onto her neck. Cathy turned, offering her spots to him.
Sikes began to hum, Cathy joining in, and the noise continued as he worked his way down her back. She arched against him, turned and reached for him. He paused, gazing at her.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
“No,” she said softly. “We are.”
And they came together . . .
. . . body and soul.
Table of Contents
BACK COVER
BOOKS
TITLEPAGE
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30