Alien Rites

by Lynn Hightower

  On the left was a green-tiled Jacuzzi. It bubbled softly, heat rising. On the right, up three marble steps, was a shaded terrace and bar. The floor was cool grey slate, the ends bordered by achingly white columns. The entire hotel had a British colonial look that was graceful, elegant, inviting.

  It surprised him, how badly he wanted to swim in that pool. The water made him feel thirsty. It shamed him, somehow, that no matter how much money he had, he would never be allowed to swim quietly up and down, never be allowed to sit under the pretty umbrellas, never be allowed to sit in one of the rattan chairs on the terrace and order something cold to drink.

  David was relieved when Sifter returned. He had been warned that they were on shaky ground. He had been warned that they were dealing with a powerful diplomat who, however he might be in the wrong, wielded influence they could only guess at.

  Sifter led him across a terrazzo floor, the Elaki gliding gracefully, bottom fringe swept sideways. They passed through the white arches, clean and white and impossible. David smelled chlorine from the pool, then they passed through swinging doors into a well-lighted corridor. David could see an Elaki approaching from the other side.

  Sifter stopped, holding a fin out. David stopped too and waited, aware that there were courtesy issues involved.

  The Elaki moved slowly, like a state procession, and though he was bent to one side, ever so slightly, his bearing was dignified without overreaching into the arrogant land of regal.

  The Elaki slid to a stop. Looked David over for a long, silent moment, making David conscious that he had thrown on his jeans and shirt, that he’d be better off with a shower.

  The Elaki raised a fin in a motion that was languid and somehow dismissive. “You are the law type official?”

  David showed his ID. “I’m a detective with the Saigo City Police Department.”

  “You will be good to walk with me slowly, and listen to what I am saying. This will meet with you approval, yes?”

  David nodded and fell into pace with the Elaki. He was quite an elder, this one. His inner belly coloring had faded, his scales lacked luster, and he could not straighten up. He moved with the slow care of the aged or the impossibly lazy, but the pace suited David. He was not well.

  “I am last of my chemaki. You understand significance, this?”

  David was aware of Sifter Chuck, sliding along behind them. He nodded. In human terms, the man had no family.

  “What I do have is long-lived companion you know as trillopy. I have the awareness that this bond is seen as indulgence. You would call her a pet.” The Elaki was quiet a minute. “She is domesticated and gives the affectionate companion time. My attachment, however you see the big picture, sir, is genuine and strong. When asked to serve in capacity of diplomatic service, I am tired. But needed. Quite simply, I could not bear to leave her behind. I am assure she is not the threat.”

  “That makes three trillopys by my count, sir. Why so many?”

  “One alone cannot survive without at least one other. Must have physical presence of others in species. Three is sum total, I do assure.”

  “Are all of them infected?” David was prepared to be lied to.

  “My special girl is ailing with this disease. Not just a carrier she, but very sick. At first sign of symptoms, all split and quarantined. I do not believe others have the active infection, but to be fully disclosed, must admit to the possibility.”

  They turned a corner. David smelled animal smells, and a peculiar musky odor he associated with sickness.

  “What were you thinking to let Angela Nassif take a trillopy with her?”

  “One she takes is also domesticated. Safe enough with careful handling. Unusual also in the goodness of nature—offborn of my own special girl.”

  “Still.”

  “She does not give me much choice, this Nassif. She will take one, or demand all be taken away, and destroyed. The deal is she will hold off just the short while mine takes to finish end of life. My pet will die soon, and I wish to keep my own special girl with me till the end. She needs to stay with gentle handler me, for quality of last hours.

  “I give to Nassif the healthy female, and feed her belief, possibly false, that all such species are carriers, and for her purpose interchangeable. But this female is seasonal. This mean—”

  “I know what it means,” David said.

  “We have underestimate the drive of the male. Break away from confinement. Iss loose. And, as you have told Sifter, finds mate.”

  David grimaced, wondering if there was now a pregnant trillopy running around Saigo City, thanks to this self-indulgent old Elaki.

  “Here she be.”

  The trillopy had a chain on its hind foot, chain wrapped in velvet with a long lead. Crystal was right, it did look like a bizarre mating between a bear and a fox. It was four-legged, with a long, narrow snout and close-set eyes.

  If it stood up, it would be waist-high. This one was not standing up.

  It lay on its side, nestled in a thermal cotton blanket, yellow against the mahogany fur. The eyes were round, brown flecked with yellow. David looked into the face of the beast and saw how very sick and miserable it was.

  He wished Rose was here. Though she would likely side with the Elaki.

  The trillopy could not have much longer to live. The old Elaki slid down sideways, careless, graceless, and stroked a fin across the animal’s dull, lusterless fur. The female was perilously thin, and her breath came hard and fast.

  David could not stop staring at the animal, thinking it was the origin of the disease that was killing him. The trillopy made a mewing trill, high-pitched and wavering with distress, and David felt his anger drain away.

  FIFTY-THREE

  Once David followed the scenario to its logical conclusion, things began falling in place.

  He parked, took the shovel he’d found resting behind the barn, and left the car in the parking lot at the Bailey Farmstead.

  Suppose, just for the sake of argument, Luke Cochran survived the confrontation with the Elaki-Town mob, thanks to the efforts of Sifter-Chuck. Then what? Where would he go? What would he do?

  He’d head home to his girl, Annie Trey. Or, if he was scared, he might ask her to meet him somewhere. Somewhere off the beaten path, where there were no Elaki, where he wouldn’t be seen. He’d had an epiphany of sorts, brought on by his brush with death, and was considering mending his ways. He even dropped a note to his mother.

  David walked slowly across the lawn toward the forest, pacing himself. He was distracted, imagining the scene in his head.

  If Luke expects to be welcomed with open arms, he is to be sorely disappointed.

  Annie has found out, thanks to Angie Nassif. Annie might forgive him for bringing the infection that overwhelmed her newborn baby’s tiny and immature immune system, sweeping him away. Surely it was unintentional, if tragic. But then Luke set off the wolfpack, lodged a complaint that held this impossibly young unwed mother of two up to public vilification. She was Southern and poor and uneducated. She lived in the projects. She brought out the smug intolerance of people who liked a target that could not fight back.

  David paused at the tree line, looking for the path. His breathing was already labored, fast and irregular. He rested a while, letting his heartbeat slow, the tightness in his chest ease up. He lodged the dull metal blade of the shovel against his shoulder, and went slowly down the path, wondering why.

  Luke would not have lasted long in any competent investigation. Illegal Elaki animals smuggled into the city would cause enormous problems for a certain powerful Elaki diplomat, particularly when it became clear that the animals had gifted the human race with yet another killer disease. Perhaps the diplomat had been very grateful. David thought of Luke’s gleaming black car.

  Had Luke realized what the outcome would be, when he made the accusation? Did he even suspect that Annie would twist in the wind on the five o’clock news, that Social Services would close in on Jenny, and take her
away? Was this really nothing more than a romance gone wrong, a lover getting back at his girlfriend?

  Men had a history of relationship intolerance. Things women accepted, however bitterly, drove men to pick up a gun.

  David’s steps got slower and slower, and he did not think about distance, so he was surprised when he found himself back where he’d fallen asleep against the tree.

  The sun had been up less than an hour, and the morning was mercifully cool. The rainfall had been good for that, at least.

  Something had bothered him, that other night, digging up the bear by the barn. Recognition—of what he’d been too ill to remember. But it had come to him in the dark, quiet hours, when he was the only one in the world still awake, too miserable and tired to sleep.

  He had seen it before, the wide, mature girth of a tree, decades old, flanked by thin, gangling juniors. The soft light of morning turned the leaves almost turquoise. The tree was scarred down the middle, bark stripped bare. It was here that Annie had painted a red and yellow flame, when she’d painted the scene on the nursery wall where little Hank’s mobile should have been.

  The dirt at the base of the tree was crumbly and humped, and had obviously been disturbed. David flipped the shovel over, and started to dig.

  It took two hours, moving slowly, with frequent breaks and sweat streaming down his face and back, but he found it, ironically close to their dig the other night.

  First a hand, streaked with dirt, the cuff of the shirt sleeve missing one button. David wondered if Luke had been uncomfortable, wearing a long-sleeved shirt in this heat. His own sleeves were rolled high on his arms, and sweat ran down his biceps and dripped on the ground. His palms stung where perspiration leaked over the white bubbles of blisters that rose, cupped in angry red flesh.

  He stopped to put on a mask, thinking it would be nice if he’d remembered to bring gloves.

  It was a stroke of luck, uncovering the top of the torso right off. It saved a lot of digging. Cochran was on his back, eyes, open mouth, nostrils and ears all leaking loose black dirt. The smell of him rose like a tangible thing, and David gagged. The body was damp and sloppy, decomposing fast in the heat. He could not tell by looking how she’d done it.

  David decided he wanted time to think. He gave Cochran one last, quick look, then began piling the dirt back on.

  He wondered if Annie had had any help.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  When David looked at annie trey, He saw that she was everything his own mother should have been, and sometimes was, when her demons were giving her space. His father’s generosity was something he took for granted when he was a child. He didn’t regret his lack of appreciation. But he understood that unconditional love given freely and without strings was a very valuable thing. And he understood now, what Crystal wanted for Jenny.

  Annie Trey walked past the garbage-pocked sidewalk in front of her building, and cut sideways into a park that would be relatively safe for two more hours. She peeped sideways at Jenny, pushing the stroller with her left hand, and covering her eyes with the right in the age-old game of peep-pie, a game every mother played with her child.

  Jenny’s laugh was a small, throaty gurgle, and David smiled till his face hurt. His cheeks felt stiff and cold, and the heat rose up in his chest with familiar tight flutters that felt like panic and pain.

  Jenny pursed her lips and shut her eyes tight, covering them with chubby pink palms.

  Annie Trey laughed and David knew that, at least for today, she saw the intense blue of dusk, not the haze of humidity and pollution. She would see the spring of grass that grew clumped and sparse in the poor, sandy soil, not the used condom and box of Jackie that lay squashed and oil-streaked at the base of the gutter. He knew too that the weeds that grew in the cracks of the sidewalk, flowering with wisps of soft, deep purple, were as good for her as roses.

  Being a homicide cop was not about letting the killer go. It was not about playing judge and jury. Sometimes it was about seeing people get chewed up by a system that functioned with a thoughtlessness that was a crime all by itself. But it was the only system he had.

  Annie pushed the stroller faster, executing a little hop and skip like the exuberant child that she was. David made up his mind.

  Perhaps it was because he had the perspective of a dead man. He felt free not to follow the rules.

  In his mind, the vision of Annie Trey skipping down the sidewalk warred with the image of Tina Cochran, holding her hands tight across her chest. He was sentencing her to years of pain.

  But Luke Cochran was long dead, and Jenny had miles left to go.

  He was going to go home. But first, he was going to buy Rose six new pair of white cotton socks, and candy and discs and silly things for his girls.

  The car seemed a long way away.

  His legs buckled, without warning, and he went down hard, but didn’t feel a thing. He tried to get up, found it almost impossible to turn his head. He had the oddest sensation of sinking deeper and deeper into the ground. He looked for something pretty, something good to focus on, but he saw cigarette butts, and used condoms, and a trail of ants headed for something nasty. Someone called his name.

  “Teddy?” he said.

  “No, it’s Valentine.”

  He opened his eyes, relieved to find something beautiful to look at. She looked worried. She was biting her lips.

  “You got to get up,” she told him. “Can’t get those ambulances to come all the way out here.”

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Look after the girls and don’t worry.”

  She was quick, he’d give her that. She’d always be quick.

  “You didn’t tell me Angie came by that night,” he said. “No wonder you hated Luke. You knew, didn’t you, Valentine?”

  “I knew.”

  He was flooded with relief, she would talk to him.

  “I want to know why he did it.”

  Her shrug was eloquent and dismissive. “Annie thought it was for the money. But you know what I think? I think he was mad. Annie’s mama raised her not to have dealings with criminals. And she told him not to come around anymore.” She touched his shoulder. “What you going to do?”

  “I told you, don’t worry. Leave it alone. Follow Eddie’s advice. Don’t say nothing about nothing. I won’t.”

  She was talking to him, but it was too much of an effort to listen. He could see how relieved she was, surprised that they had been given a reprieve, and things had worked out for a change. He wondered how he could have ever thought she was less than beautiful.

  The wail of the ambulance roused him. He found himself almost comfortable, a pillow under his head. He closed his eyes, smelling the starchy crisp smell of clean sheets, thinking that only Valentine could get an ambulance to come to Cracker Village.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  David sat quietly in the side room off the foyer, listening to the rise and fall of voices, the rustle of clothes peculiar to a crowd of people dressed in their best. It felt strange to be out of the hospital. Strange to be back in the world.

  He had been best man in name only, too weak to stand up with Mel for the necessary length of time.

  He caught sight of Miriam, the off-the-shoulder ivory silk dress, the shine of long red hair across bare arms. Her belly rose round and firm and healthy, shielding the niece who would be born sometime around Christmas, if the doctors had called it right.

  Miriam’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. He heard Mel’s voice somewhere behind him, and Rose, sounding girlish and excited. Someone made a joke about brides wearing white like sacrificial lambs. Rose again? He should strangle her.

  But Miriam was radiant, like all happy brides.

  People were moving outside, to the tiny but steep rows of white steps in front of the church. It got quiet, and David’s eyes felt heavy.

  He did not want to sleep. He had had enough of sleeping.

  He reached for the cane that sat on the chair beside him, took a breath, got slow
ly to his feet. It was hard to remember a time when he hadn’t moved slowly. He hitched up his pants, waistband sagging, the collar of the starched white dress shirt loose on his neck.

  One of the doors was partially open, a bright band of sunlight across the floor of the dim foyer. Outside, someone was laughing. David wanted to be outside, out in the sun, out with all the people.

  He paced himself, doling out his strength. He heard Aslanti’s voice in the back of his mind. He would know only gradually whether he would live or die, but it would be definite for him. All the way up or all the way down. He would grow weaker or stronger, inch by inch, till it became very clear whether he was moving ahead or falling behind.

  He thought of how beautiful Teddy would look in ivory silk, and pictured himself, healthy and strong, moving down the aisle to meet her.

  He made it out to the steps just as a shout went up, followed by a ripple of laughter. He took it in all at once—his little girls, dressed like angels, chasing each other across the lawn; Rose, blowing him a kiss. Miriam throwing her arms up, the flowers tumbling through the air, a pink rose petal trailing to the ground as String caught the bridal bouquet.

  It was a moment of pure happiness, like oxygen to the heart, and he tried to tell himself that the tears in his eyes were caused by the sun.

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to my editor, the talented Ginjer Buchanan, who could not have been kinder or more understanding during a difficult year.

  To Norm Golibersuch, Jeff Darling, Mike Reynolds, and Jim Lyon, of the law firm Lyon, Golibersuch, Darling, and Reynolds, who were not only invaluable in helping me with research, but are great fun to hang out with, even if they do sweat when they eat.

  To C. William Swinford, attorney-at-law, for consideration, kindness, and setting me free.