Challa

by Linda Mooney

  Besides, the trek gave him the chance to think things out. Relive those brief moments in the tent when it had been just him and the alien girl.

  Challa.

  Those Klieg lights had been torturously bright. Still, he’d managed to make out a lot more detail in her face and head when he’d gotten up close to the cage.

  She’s the real thing. She’s the real honest-to-God thing!

  The mantra kept repeating over and over in his head as he strode along the edge of the road. She’s the real thing! She’s the real thing! She’s the real thing!

  And suddenly he was a ten year old all over again. His stomach was in knots. His imagination was revving into overdrive. A million questions were racing around inside his mind, all vying for one of the golden tickets which meant they would be asked the next time he saw her.

  The next time…

  Compton paused in the roadway. Blanton Road ended at a dead end. Somebody’s property lay on the other side of the barbed wire fence. Strother Road T-ed Blanton. If he took a right on Strother, it would lead him out of town, toward the carnival. Left would lead him—

  “Fuck this,” he mumbled, turning right.

  The city limits sign was at the end of Strother. There, the road became FM 309. In the distance, Compton could see the carnival lights. The rides had been shut down, but the clusters of smaller individual lights from the knot of trailers and vans were visible.

  The night was warm. The waning half-moon overhead gave him just enough light to keep him from stumbling around in the dark, and from accidentally ending up in the ditch bordering the road.

  Compton pressed the stem on his watch to check the time. It was just past eleven thirty. Everyone would be in bed by now. What did he plan to do once he got there? Hell, he didn’t know what trailer she was in. What did he hope to accomplish by going back to the carnival?

  He continued down the roadway. What the fuck are you doing?

  “I want to see her. Talk to her,” he answered aloud.

  Why?

  Hell if he knew. All he could swear by was the fact that it was like some kind of invisible rope had been tied around his waist, and someone at the other end was reeling him back to the carnival, slowly and inexorably.

  A breeze rustled the trees. Barbed wire fences bordered the road on both sides, and untamed land lay on the other side of the flimsy barriers. The humidity made his t-shirt cling to his body, but it didn’t bother him. Compton had faced far worse conditions.

  The exercise felt good. He loved walking the country roads. He loved the summery smells of the fields, and the sounds of crickets and other insects calling out to each other. Off to his right a handful of fireflies blinked at each other, reminding him of a time when he and Max would capture them in a jar, then poke holes in the lid with a screwdriver.

  The breeze rustled the trees again. The road took a bend to the right, and the carnival disappeared momentarily from sight. Compton kept his pace steady and even. He didn’t fear anyone coming up on him unexpectedly. This was America, not a foreign country where Americans were despised. Country folk and small-town people looked out for one another, especially families who had their roots here.

  His eyes had adjusted to the near darkness, enough to where he could see a mailbox standing on the side of the road to avoid walking into it. Large shapes moved beyond the fence line—cattle settling for the night.

  The road swerved back to the left and Compton jerked to a halt at the figure standing in the middle of the road not a dozen yards away. Instinctively his hand reached for his waistline, as if to grasp the handgun he no longer wore since his medical discharge. But the ingrained survival mode remained, and would always remain.

  At first he thought it was another fellow like himself taking a midnight jaunt down a dirt country road, until the figure moved, graceful and flowing, like an acrobat underwater. It drew nearer, yet for some unexplainable reason, Compton no longer feared it. He waited patiently. Expectantly.

  It’s her.

  Deep in his gut, he knew it was the alien girl.

  The figure took a few steps toward him. Not down the road to pass him, but directly, unerringly in his direction.

  And then he saw them. Her eyes. Those strange yet beautiful blue eyes with purplish flecks that appeared to glitter with a light all their own.

  Compton started. She could see in the dark like a cat. The realization made her appear all the more otherworldly.

  One more step and she was close enough for him to see she still wore that odd bathing suit garment that ran from around her neck, over her small breasts, and down between her legs. It was made not to hinder her wings when she unfolds them.

  He opened his mouth to break the silence, not expecting her to speak first.

  “Who are you?”

  She had an accent. A pretty thick one, but not enough to keep him from understanding her.

  “My name’s Compton Scott. You’re…you’re Challa?”

  “Why are you on this road?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he answered back automatically. Was it his imagination or was she wearing perfume? Whatever it was, it was coming from her and not from the vicinity.

  She hesitated, and he took the moment to take a step toward her. Challa kept her ground, to his relief.

  Tell her the truth, Comp. Tell her the truth. She’ll know if you’re lying to her. She’ll be able to tell.

  How do you know?

  Man up and talk to her. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

  “I’m on my way back to the carnival,” he admitted, carefully watching for her reaction. Strangely, she didn’t seem surprised.

  “To see me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Compton frowned. “Why are you out here…alone…you are out here alone, aren’t you?” He glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else was behind her, but the stretch of road looked clear as far as he could tell.

  “I’m alone, yes. I…I was heading for town.”

  “At this time of night? Nothing’s open. Cooper rolls up its sidewalks after five, except for the A and P. It’s open until ten.”

  Her face wore a confused expression. “What’s A and P?”

  “It’s our local supermarket. You weren’t…you weren’t heading in to get something from the market, were you?”

  The girl shook her head. “No. I was heading into town to try and find you.”

  Compton felt the blood rush to his extremities. It was suddenly difficult to breathe without inhaling the gentle fragrance of…

  …honeysuckle.

  She was wearing honeysuckle.

  “Me?”

  He started to ask more when the sound of vehicle coming down the road interrupted them. Headlights crossed the two-lane and aimed in their direction, heading toward town.

  Without thinking, Compton rushed to her and dove for the ditch on the opposite side where the car wouldn’t see them. Challa gasped in surprise but didn’t fight his hands as he pulled her down into the grass and dirt.

  The station wagon trundled past them and continued on. The driver hadn’t seen them. Or if he had, didn’t care that he’d nearly run them down. Compton waited until the sound of the engine faded before helping her to her feet, and leading her back onto the road.

  A minute passed, then two. His hand remained holding her upper arm, with its soft, warm firmness. Mere inches parted them, and Compton noticed how the top of her bald head was even with his chin.

  The honeysuckle smell was stronger. As a boy, he had often sat under a thick canopy of the flowers, pulling the stems from the petals so that it revealed the tiny droplet of sweetness inside. A sweetness so strong in his memory, he could still taste it on his tongue.

  Would she taste like honeysuckle if he licked her? If he…kissed her?

  “That was Lawson, looking for me,” she finally said, looking up at him.

  “Who?” God, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t glue two wor
ds together at this point, she was so intoxicating.

  This woman. This…alien.

  “Lawson Hall. He owns the carnival. I promised I wouldn’t stay out too long. I have…I have to go back.” She continued to watch him. Waiting to see what he would do, what he would say.

  “I want to see you again,” he finally managed to murmur.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Just tell me when?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find some excuse.”

  His eyes took in her appearance. “You’d go into town looking like this?”

  Her face broke into a smile, and Challa laughed lightly. The effect was mesmerizing. “No. I change into my human self to go into town.”

  I change into my human self to go into town.

  Christ, she really is an alien?

  Compton started to ask her when she pulled away.

  “I have to go. I have to be back before he returns.”

  Giving him one last look, Challa turned and jumped the fence, disappearing into the tall brush. Leaving him feeling both confused and overwhelmed as the provocative scent of honeysuckle dissipated in the night air.

  Chapter 6

  Discovery

  The hours moved at a snail’s pace. Compton tossed and turned, trying to get some sleep before the next day. Unconsciousness eluded him. Sleeping pills didn’t help, either.

  His brain continued to argue with itself. She’s an alien.

  No, she’s a woman in an alien suit.

  No, she’s really from outer space.

  She can’t be! Aliens don’t exist!

  Compton made an angry sound and sat up on the side of the bed. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. Despite all the uncertainty, one thing was undeniable. Her skin was softer than anything he had ever felt before in his life. Softer than anything he could think of. Softer than the sheets on his bed. Softer than the most delicate cloth.

  And her smell, her scent. He sniffed, and the absence of her perfume disappointed him.

  He still couldn’t get over the fact that she had traipsed through the fields, hoping to find him, when she had no idea who he was or where he lived. How did she think she was going to find him? Ask directions from passing motorists? And while wearing her alien get-up that would scare any sane person who met up with her in the dark? It was a miracle they had come across each other.

  All the more surprising was the subtle movement of his dick. Taking in huge, deep breaths, Compton stared down at his crotch in fascination. He would have sworn his libido had died years ago. No, correction. He had forced it to be dormant after the constant ridicule and harassment he’d suffered while growing up. His libido didn’t truly die until his transport encountered that RPG, which also ended up taking his right leg as well as his manhood. Or, at least part of his manhood. What little was left was enough to allow him to function as a human. It was the sex part that was no longer an option.

  As if it had been an option in the first place.

  Now, all of a sudden, the strange young woman with the purplish-blue eyes had brought that part of himself to his attention. His body was reacting every time he thought of her. Every time he saw her in his mind’s eye, his dick began to quiver and lengthen when he recalled those dozen or so seconds when they stood so close together, their bodies nearly touching.

  He had almost kissed her. Subconsciously he’d wanted to. He realized now that he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. Kiss her. Then rip that costume off of her so that he could see what she looked like underne—

  Compton started. Challa said she’d be in town tomorrow, but he had no idea what she looked like. How the hell was he supposed to recognize her without the costume and camouflage makeup?

  I change into my human self to go into town.

  She had been joking with him, and he’d misunderstood her. He’d been too hornswoggled to recognize it as such because his pea brain had been arguing with his common sense over the fact that she could really be an alien.

  He snorted. What an idiot I am. How could he have been such a geek as to entertain the possibility that she was an alien? An alien, for crying out loud! What kind of Star Wars mentality did he have? Compton, for that bit of stupidity, you really do deserve to be called a nin-COMP-poop.

  All right. It was time he faced the facts. He’d found a woman who finally made his johnson sit up and take notice. A woman from another town. A woman who didn’t know his past or his history, which meant she wasn’t already prejudiced. She was willing to see him again, and that accounted for something, didn’t it? His only problem was…

  “Fuck.”

  One problem at a time, Comp. Take it one problem at a time, the same way you relearned how to walk with your prosthetic. One step at a time.

  “All right, dickwad. Let’s say I see her again. Let’s say we hit it off, and she gets hot for me. What am I going to do? What will I tell her? Show her what’s left of the goods and give her a few minutes to make up her mind?”

  As if there would come the time when that would happen. She was with the carnival. Their last show was Sunday night then they would be packing up and heading out for the next town. Compton checked his mental map. Which direction were they heading? North? East? The next decent-sized town after this one was Spurlington. Unless they went south. Then they’d hit New Georgetown. New Georgetown was a sizeable town, and included a junior college where he’d spent one semester before enlisting.

  “Tough luck, Comp. You finally find someone who might turn out to be the woman of your dreams, and you get all of two nights to be with her, if that much.”

  Two nights. Hell, didn’t Romeo and Juliet have only two nights together?

  Compton threw himself back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Yeah, well, let’s say that they did. What of it? Romeo didn’t have parts of his body blown off by a rocket powered grenade.

  He slammed a fist into the mattress. Wouldn’t you know it? He finally found someone he might have a halfway decent chance with, and she would be gone in a less than three days’ time.

  That seemed to be his lot in life. Close, but still a miss. Always a miss.

  His luck hadn’t changed. Not one fucking iota.

  Chapter 7

  Human

  Lost cause or not, Compton went the extra mile to look his best. Pressed pants and shirt, buffed shoes, and a shave, and he felt like the new Compton Scott all over again.

  A quick check of his wallet revealed at least forty dollars. It would be another eight days before his next check came in, but life was reasonable where he lived. Date night was cheaper. A movie at the Star Theater, followed with a bite to eat afterwards at Sammy’s Bar and Grille, was rarely more than a couple of sawbucks.

  Compton often joked to Max that time had bypassed Cooper around 1979. With few exceptions, it probably had, much to his relief. All he could think about during his recuperation after the explosion was returning to the small town that rolled up its sidewalks at five on the dot, with the exception of Thursdays and Saturdays when select places stayed open until ten. That, and Sammy’s, with its unbeatable french fried onion rings.

  Driving into town, Compton quickly scanned the sidewalks. Main Street here was named Webern Avenue as long as he stayed within the city limits. Nearly every business and shop lay along Webern. The town hall, post office, and library sat one block off. No matter which direction one took to come into town, it wasn’t hard to spot newcomers and visitors.

  There were a couple of trucks and cars he didn’t recognize offhand, but that didn’t mean much. People here often went into the big cities like Dohlman or Brakesport to buy their new vehicles or to go shopping at the mall. Otherwise Cooper had about everything one could need, which suited Compton just fine. As a born-and-bred country boy, he felt most at ease in what city people referred to as “hick towns”. No matter what the argument, life here was slower, less stressful, and a lot more forgiving.

  Traffic through town was heavy, since it
was Saturday, as well as the middle of the day. Still, Compton managed to find a parking space in front of New Castle’s Coffee Shop. It was two doors down from the hardware store, and he needed some new hinges and a roll of screen to fix the back door on the porch. If he was going to wait around to see if Challa showed up, he figured he might as well try to fit in an errand or two while he was here.

  The purchase didn’t take long. Coming out of the store, he glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty, lunch time. Compton frowned. You know, the least you could have done was say something like, “Hey! How about meeting up around noon?”

  Too bad hindsight was twenty/twenty. Challa may not show up until later in the day. Or, for all he knew, she may have been here first thing in the morning, and had already left.

  “Shit.” Now what?

  He threw his purchase into the cab and closed the door. As soon as he slammed it shut Compton caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Normally, he wouldn’t pay much attention to the view, considering the subject matter. A glance overall to make sure he didn’t look like a total goof, and that was normally the sum of his inspection.

  But it wasn’t his own face that made him freeze in place. It was the redhead standing on the sidewalk across the street, behind where he was parked. The redhead who was wearing a smile and a black and white polka-dot sundress, and who was staring directly at him.

  Big, crawly things began to squirm inside his stomach. Slowly, Compton turned around to stare back at her.

  Oh, dear God in heaven.

  He’d always believed he had a weakness for blonds. He was happy to correct that misconception.

  Her hair was long. Thick, long, and a dark, shimmering reddish color he could no more attach a similar color to if he had to. Not fire, not scarlet, not vermilion, but a combination of all the shades in the spectrum. She had it pinned back at the temples, but it flowed down her back and arms like a shawl.