Alien Genes 1: Daughter of Atuk

by Petra Theunissen

  “He was thirteen when they abducted him for the first time. They used him as a human guinea pig. At first, his mind blocked everything out. A few weeks before he died, he found out. He would wake up during the night, screaming in terror. Sometimes he would be sleepwalking, and we'd find him wandering in the streets, disoriented and upset. He talked about things ... experiences of the past."

  Cathy's gaze was focussed on the woman in front of her, trying to figure out whether she was speaking the truth or whether she was completely crazy. Either way, there was no doubt Miriam believed every word she was saying.

  Maybe it runs in the family—some genetic mental illness.

  “He started finding ways of resisting them,” Miriam continued. The bitterness in her voice didn't escape Cathy's ear. “I don't know how, but he once mentioned it to me. Shortly after that, he confided in me that they were planting thoughts of suicide in his head. He was of no use to them any more—except to experiment on mind-body control. They wanted to see to what extent they could control human beings’ behaviour. And now it's Lizella they're after..."

  Miriam's voice became desperate, and she started to cry. “My only daughter. They want to take her too. How can they be so cruel?"

  “Mrs. Crawford, are you telling me that Darren was ... abducted?” Cathy said, trying not to show her disbelief openly.

  “Yes."

  Cathy took a deep breath. “I understand your concern for your daughter, Mrs. Crawford, but I don't believe in aliens. I find it very hard to believe what you're telling me."

  The older woman looked at Cathy with teary eyes, obviously trying to get a hold over her emotions. “I'm telling you the truth,” she insisted. “I know it's hard to believe..."

  Cathy interrupted the older woman curtly. She really didn't have time for this.

  “Mrs. Crawford, I have no doubt that you believe in every word you've said, but frankly, as I have said to you before, I don't even believe that there are aliens, let alone alien abductions."

  Miriam stared at Cathy for a few moments, and Cathy was wondering what was going on in her head. Then the other woman suddenly gathered her handbag, and got up.

  “I understand ... I don't know what I was thinking coming here ... I'm sorry for having bothered you."

  Suddenly feeling extremely guilty, Cathy got up too. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Crawford. Darren was a good friend of mine. I miss him very much."

  “Thank you. I know you were good friends.” Miriam took a tissue from her bag and dabbed her eyes gently, sniffling softly. “I'm scared for Lizella. I'm scared that she'll...” Her voice faded.

  “...End up like Darren?” Cathy said, finishing Miriam's sentence for her.

  “Yes."

  Still feeling guilty, Cathy decided she couldn't let the woman go before finding out what brought her there in the first place.

  “Mrs. Crawford, what is it exactly that you want from me?"

  “I ... I'm scared for Lizella. She's becoming more withdrawn by the day."

  “Why don't you take her for psychological treatment?"

  “I have tried. God knows, I have tried everything. You were our last hope. Dr. O'Connor said you could help."

  There it was again—the mention of Eqin's name. If Cathy hadn't known better she would have thought that the woman was working on her feelings on purpose.

  “To be very honest with you, Mrs. Crawford, I don't see how. I don't doubt for a minute that your family's experiences are very real to you but in my mind there are just too many unanswered questions. These are things I'm not familiar with, and to be frank with you, things in which I have no interest."

  Obviously close to tears again, Miriam Crawford walked to the door.

  “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you with this. It's just that ... Dr. O'Connor was so convincing. Have you seen him since then? Such a pleasant young man."

  Cathy frowned almost imperceptibly. The feeling that Miriam was not being upfront with her became stronger. Eqin's name was being mentioned too many times in the conversation. It was as if Miriam was trying to appeal to Cathy through her sense of loss and loyalty to Eqin.

  Why?

  “No. He ... died in a car crash shortly after Darren's death,” she said calmly. Deep inside, a memory stirred, but it remained hidden. She was getting that same haunted feeling she always got whenever she talked about Eqin's death, and quickly changed the topic.

  “I'm sorry, Mrs. Crawford. I can't help you. I hope you can find someone who can."

  “Yes, thank you."

  Miriam seemed desolate, but there was also something else about her that Cathy found hard to define. It was as if Miriam's last hope had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and yet ... she could have sworn that Miriam got exactly what she wanted.

  For a fleeting moment, the sight of Darren's body flashed through her mind, his smile, and his fun-loving way of looking at life before he became depressed. A sense of complete shame overwhelmed her. She hesitated, and then changed her mind in an instant. “Mrs. Crawford, what is it that you want me to do?"

  Miriam was clearly relieved.

  “Can Lizella stay with you for a few days?"

  Her request was so simple, so unexpected that it caught Cathy completely off-guard. “Is that all?"

  “Yes, only for a short time while we look for another house.” Miriam hesitated. “My husband lost his job recently ... we have to look for another place to live.” For the first time, Cathy felt she was speaking honestly.

  “Oh ... I didn't realise ... I'm sorry ... How old is Lizella now?"

  “Seventeen. She's very responsible. She won't be any trouble to you. She just needs a place to stay for a little while—a place where she can be safe."

  It seemed a simple enough thing to do.

  “You can bring her over today. I have plenty of space in my townhouse."

  “God bless you, Cathy. You're a life-saver."

  * * * *

  Long after Miriam left, Cathy was still lost in her own thoughts. After some time she eyed the stack of papers on her desk, realising the day had been an absolute loss. She took a quick look at the calendar on her desk, and troubled, realised that Darren died exactly six years before. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

  She picked up the little black box Miriam left behind, and opened it. With tear-filled eyes, she picked up the brooch, and fiddled with the clasp. It was stuck. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her finger and dropped the brooch instantly. Damn! Sucking the blood off her finger, she picked up the brooch with her other hand and carefully put it back in the box.

  How stupid of me. I should have been more careful.

  Then she became aware of a faint glow from the stone in her necklace.

  This is strange. I've never seen this before.

  Then it was gone. It had to have been her imagination.

  That night—like so many nights before—Cathy dreamt of the scarab. It was standing over Darren's body, grinning at Cathy. Then it slowly started walking over claws stretched out towards her. She tried to retreat but her feet were glued to the ground. The scarab came closer and closer until she could feel the stare from its beady little eyes piercing into her mind, her being. It was tearing at her soul, trying to separate it from her body, and she woke up screaming...

  Those nightmares—they started haunting her shortly after Eqin's death. Night after night, she'd wake up screaming, and her parents eventually suggested she should see a therapist. Then suddenly, the nightmares inexplicably stopped.

  Until now.

  After some time Cathy got up, searching in the dark for her slippers and gown. Walking down the dark passage of her townhouse she looked in on the guest room where Lizella was sleeping peacefully. Satisfied that everything was fine she closed the door softly and went to the moonlit kitchen where she poured herself a glass of water.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Cathy pondered about the teenager sleeping in her house. Lizella seemed pleased to be staying w
ith Cathy although they hadn't seen each other in almost six years. She asked a few questions but never once mentioned Darren, which Cathy found a bit odd.

  For a fleeting moment, the vision of the scarab appeared in her mind, and a shiver ran down her spine. There was something in that dream that was different ... What was it?

  Frustrated she got up from the kitchen table and put her empty glass in the sink. Then it dawned on her: the scarab ... it looked exactly like the brooch Miriam had given her. In the past it had an undefined figure, but now it had become much more real.

  The brooch. What is it about the brooch that bothers me? Why would Eqin have given me such an odd gift, and why leave it with Miriam?

  It didn't make sense.

  She walked through the unlit house to the dining room where she'd left the jewellery box. Reaching out towards it, she suddenly felt an ominous presence, and retracted her hand instinctively. A suffocating fear took hold of her, and she backed off with her heart beating rapidly, hastening back to her bedroom. Terrified she snuggled under the duvet like a small child, unexpectedly scared of what the night might bring...

  The next morning was a cold, but bright sunny spring day. At breakfast she'd tactfully tried to pry about Lizella's life, but the teenager was reluctant to share her feelings or experiences. Her halting attitude made Cathy feel slightly uneasy. There was something about the girl she couldn't place, but she immediately dismissed her suspicions. This was Darren's sister, after all. She might not have been there for Darren, but she certainly was going to be there for his sister. Cathy wasn't in a rush to go to work, and dropped Lizella off at the house of one of the girl's friends.

  She walked into her office a few minutes late, taking off her coat and hanging it on the coat rack. Then off to the secretary's office to fetch her daily post. As she entered she bumped into Robert.

  “Morning,” she said in her usual reserved tone.

  Robert smiled. “Morning, Cathy. Have you made up you mind yet about going?"

  She puckered her brow. “Going where?"

  “To the site."

  “Oh. Yes, I decided to go. You're right, it should do me a lot of good,” she answered detachedly, not noticing the surprised expression on his face.

  There was a moment of silence before he quietly observed, “You're different this morning. It's almost like your attitude has changed."

  She didn't answer, and took her mail out of the pigeonhole. She wasn't really taking note of his comment, and ignored him while she paged through the mail.

  “Did you have a date last night?” he persisted.

  She looked up, and said coolly, “No. I don't date."

  “You're not serious, are you? You're missing out ... I know a lovely little place not far from where you live,” he said in a joking manner, but she knew he was very serious.

  She looked down at her mail again, trying to avoid his eyes. She hated to admit it, but he was right. It was time she did something about her social situation. Work was, after all, not everything in life.

  “I have a friend staying over at my place,” she said. Her comment was innocuous, almost out of place and she sensed he was puzzled by it.

  “Bring him with you,” he offered.

  She looked up. Keeping the expression on her face unreadable, she remarked, “It's a ‘her'. She is a friend's daughter."

  “Good.” The relief in his voice was almost audible. “Bring her too."

  She hesitated. She'd been telling him off for so long that her first instinct was to decline again, but then she said impulsively, “Okay, let's make it tonight. But I won't bring my friend. She's old enough to entertain herself for the evening."

  It was time to move on.

  He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. She could see he was at a complete loss for words. Smiling amusedly, she left him standing alone in the room.

  As she opened her office door, the phone started ringing and she picked up the receiver. “Good morning. Dr. McNeal speaking."

  “Good morning. This is Professor Al-Abud speaking. How are you?"

  “Professor Al-Abud.” She was genuinely surprised to hear the old man's voice.

  “I'm well, thank you. How are you?"

  The Professor replied in his distinctive accent.

  “I am fine, thank you. I phoned to ask whether you would be joining my team on the site,"

  “Yes, I will,” she said cautiously. She found it strange that the Professor would make a long-distance call to personally extend his invitation to her. Why was he taking suddenly so much personal interest in her? She would have liked to think it was because she had achieved some academic standing, but she knew it wasn't the reason.

  “Good. Good. There will be six specialists on the team. You may know some of them. The one is your colleague, Dr. Robert Pearson, of course,” the Professor explained, sounding excited.

  “I'm looking forward to that."

  “Yes ... Well, I am pleased to hear that. I wanted to confirm ... if you would come."

  “I have sent you an e-mail. Besides, why wouldn't I? Because of all that's happened?” Cathy was never one to beat around the bush, and she could hear him hesitate.

  “Yes ... I know it was a difficult time. I thought perhaps you would not like to be reminded."

  “No, I wouldn't,” she answered bluntly. “But I would like to see the site, and I can't let my emotions undermine my professionalism."

  “Yes, very true. I will see you then?” the Professor said, suddenly sounding hurried.

  “Yes, thank you for phoning, Professor."

  “Good-bye."

  “Bye."

  She put down the phone glumly. The brief conservation had left her emotionally sapped, but she couldn't explain why. Suddenly she had misgivings about being part of the team, and she wondered whether she'd made the right decision.

  The day slipped by quickly, and by late afternoon, she was exceptionally tired. Before she left, Robert dropped by her office.

  “You haven't forgotten about tonight, have you?” he asked.

  “No, I haven't, but I must tell you that I'm exhausted."

  “Oh, don't worry. Tonight will perk you up."

  Her smile was tired. “You're positive."

  Robert responded teasingly.

  “I can't help it. It's not always that I get a chance to take out such a striking colleague."

  Then he added more seriously, “I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

  “Yes. You do know where I live?"

  “Yes. See you later."

  Cathy watched Robert as he left her office. She had to admit that he was an attractive man—late thirties, well groomed and well mannered. He was a born charmer, and not unpleasant company. Given, he was divorced twice already, but was that really unusual nowadays? She knew Robert had been interested in her since he first saw her, but she'd never really felt the same way towards him. Perhaps she should give him a chance. Feeling suddenly much more positive, she took her coat, and locked her office door to go home. Maybe the evening wasn't such a bad idea after all.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  When Robert arrived at Cathy's home, a fashionably dressed teenage girl opened the door and ushered him to the living room.

  “Cathy's a bit late, but she'll be down soon.” She held out her hand to introduce herself. “I'm Lizella. I'm staying here for a few days."

  Robert took her hand, taken aback by the teenager's mature behaviour. He was used to the somewhat self-conscious manner of his nieces. “I'm Robert. Cathy mentioned she had a friend staying with her,” he responded with a smile.

  “Yes, I'm very happy to be staying here,” Lizella said, but he noticed that her eyes remained unreadable, almost emotionless.

  “Are you related to Cathy?” he asked.

  Her eyes darkened at his question, but her mouth was still smiling when she answered coolly, “No. She knew my brother."

  He smiled guilelessly. “Oh. An old boyfriend
?"

  The smile disappeared instantly, and she looked away. “Not really. Can I get you something to drink while you wait for Cathy?"

  He sat down on the sofa, shaking his head. “No, thanks."

  “I'll go and tell Cathy you're here."

  When the teenager had left the room, he looked around the small, but comfortable lounge. Cathy had expensive taste. Each piece of furniture seemed to have been carefully chosen, and was only of the best quality. Judging by the variety of ornaments, it was clear she'd travelled widely, which took him by surprise. He'd assumed she lived her life around her work, but if the titles of her books in the stand were anything to go by, she clearly had a wide interest.

  He looked at his watch. She might be widely read, but she wasn't particularly punctual.

  He shifted around impatiently and tapped his fingers edgily on the side of the sofa. After a while, he leant over to pick up a magazine from the coffee table.

  A small jewellery box fell to the floor and he bent over to pick it up, but a chilly voice stopped him.

  “That's Cathy's."

  He withdrew his hand instinctively and Lizella rushed over to snatch the box off the floor. He puckered his brow. What was up with her? It wasn't as if he was going to steal it! Then she turned to him as if nothing had happened.

  “Cathy will be down in a minute,” she said lightly.

  “Thank you,” he said, still frowning.

  Lizella hovered in the doorway for a minute before leaving without another word, and seconds later Cathy walked in. She was dressed in a black tight-fitting dress that showed off every curve of her body, and he smiled approvingly. The incident with her guest was already forgotten.

  He got up and opened the door for her. “Let's go."

  Cathy appeared surprised when she noticed Robert's car. “I didn't know you drove a sports car,” she commented.

  Robert smiled. “There are lots of things you don't know about me. Like there are lots of things I don't know about you.” He started the car. “I'm first taking you for dinner and then we're going to my favourite nightspot."

  “Disco's aren't really my scene,” she said hesitantly, but he dismissed her concern with a smile.