Alien Caller

by Greg Curtis

  Reaching it and turning he found she was just in the process of sitting up, something she stopped the instant she realized he had his gun back. Her eyes opened wide presumably wondering whether he was going to shoot her, and he quickly slung it behind his back and held his arms out towards her, fingers wide in what he hoped was a clear sign of his peaceful intent. The gun’s weight was a comfort to him, but clearly the sight of it made her nervous and inflamed the situation.

  His alien patient too gathered her belt and tied it back around her waist, putting the various bits of equipment back in their slots. He watched her put each piece away as carefully as she had watched him handle the gun, looking desperately for the first sign that she was going to use one on him, but she did no such thing, rewarding his trust. He could probably have stopped her but not peacefully.

  By mutual unspoken agreement they each moved to opposite ends of the room, keeping as much distance between them as possible. Still neither had said a word.

  David noticed that she walked relatively easily and realized he had been right about her gait. She normally walked like a human being but the wound had caused her to hobble strangely. It must have been damned painful. He wondered how she could have recovered so quickly, but he didn’t know how to ask.

  Instead he just mimed her walking and tried to ask her by signs how her leg felt. Either he was particularly good at mime or she was exceptionally perceptive, but either way she showed him that it didn’t hurt her so much as it had. She might not be jumping for joy but she could walk relatively freely. His first aid might have been what had gotten him into this mess but he was still pleased to see the success of his handiwork. And it reminded her that she owed him her surgery.

  In turn he understood by her own hand motions that she wanted to know about the operation and he pointed to the piece of metal he’d removed. It was still sitting on the side table by the couch where he’d laid her down. Then using his own leg as a model, he tried to describe the operation in general, making sure she understood the chemicals he’d used, and perhaps more importantly, the ones he hadn’t. If she had antibiotics of her own, this he figured would be the time for her to use them.

  Some time later he had a brainwave and grabbed a pad and a pen out of his desk draw. If she didn’t speak English then the chances were she couldn’t read it, but they could still draw. Cautiously he approached her, pad and pen in his hands, gun still slung loosely behind his back. He showed her the items and then guided her, extremely carefully to the kitchen bench where they could both sit and draw. Much to his surprise and relief she accepted his guidance.

  Slowly a degree of trust was building. They didn’t really know anything about each other, but at least they understood that neither really wanted to kill the other.

  From there it was an almost straight forward procedure as he attempted to get some answers to his questions. His many questions. He began by drawing the stars and a space ship, and pointing to her, asking her he hoped, whether she had come from another world. For an answer she smiled, and crossed out the rocket he’d drawn, and replaced it with something that looked more like a van with wings, but he guessed it was the same principle. Rockets he realized couldn’t travel between stars. It took them months and years just to make it to the closest planets of their own solar system.

  Then he drew a picture of the ship crashing, and her beside the ship with a piece of metal sticking out of her leg. In response she changed the drawing in a little, but significant way. She showed the crashed ship as a smaller ship came out of a big flying van. There was a mother ship in orbit somewhere above them. And after a few more sketches, he realized there were people on board the ship who knew she’d crashed, and more of her people on the ground awaiting her. More of her people. They had fur, tails and another big flying van.

  Her people had a base somewhere on Earth. The news shocked him nearly as deeply as had her own appearance. Despite all the satellites in orbit covering the land, the radars searching the skies and the security operations looking for signs of infiltration, a group of aliens had established a base somewhere on Earth. Worse still he realized, it must be somewhere quite close given that she had come from a mother ship heading directly for it and had crashed nearby. Of course, close for her people could mean something else entirely. It could be a thousand miles or more with alien technology.

  She must have sensed his shock, because the very next thing she drew was two men, one with fur and a tail, one without either, shaking hands. Whatever else it meant, it meant either she or her people were friendly. But was she talking about herself or her people? And which humans? Locals? Americans? Other countries? Government? And why were they shaking hands? It was a particularly human gesture and suggested she knew more about humanity than she could say. He had no doubt she was telling the truth.

  For the next few hours they exchanged sketches, drawing until the pad was almost gone. To anyone watching it would doubtless have seemed very strange, as he spoke to her in English, and she responded in whatever language she spoke, while they both drew pictures. But it worked.

  Over those few hours he learned an awful lot about her. He soon had a rough guide as to the direction from where her ship had crashed, and a vague idea as to where she was heading. He also guessed that it was close. Not that far from the lake in fact and perhaps a few valleys over. It was a shock to realize that there was an alien camp so near. But she had drawn the outline of the nearby lakes perfectly, a good sign that she knew the area at least from maps, and the place she identified, he knew well.

  Wrath Valley. At least that was what the locals called it because of the way the wind seemed to whistle through the hills almost angrily. It was a large valley, used only by hunters because of its thick bush and stony outcroppings. The land was useless for anything else. There were no roads in or out of it, a few trails and cabins used by moon shiners in the days of prohibition, but nothing more. And in more recent years the valley had been used less and less even by hunters because of the belief it was haunted, though no one would ever come out and say that. Even mountain men wouldn’t admit to something as screw ball as that.

  Except that it wasn’t. Now he guessed, he knew the reason for the haunting. Not ghosts but aliens - not that he would mention that to anyone either. Fortunately he might not have to. There were plenty of other valleys filled with game closer to town and easier to get to, and he liked the peace and quiet.

  The real shock was that his patient wasn’t far from her people. Two more days walk if she was fully fit. Less if he drove her most of the way, which he could. It was a rough trail but the four wheel drive could follow it.

  Then as the sun finally poked its head all the way above the mountains he learned one thing more. He was hungry, and so in all probability was she. He left her on the stool still puzzling over their latest sketches, while he went round the other side into the kitchen to get some breakfast. But the question became, what do you feed an alien? And would it be safe?

  His first thought was corn flakes, his normal breakfast, but then he looked at her fangs and thought again. The lady wanted meat.

  He put the corn flakes back in the cupboard and pulled out some bacon and eggs. But he still had no idea whether she could eat it safely. He didn’t even know if she knew. There was really only one solution. He carried the bacon and eggs over to her and asked her to smell them. She wrinkled up her tiny nose at them in what he assumed was distaste, and he wondered what next. Hunting in the fridge he found some cold sausages, a pint of milk and cheese, yoghurt and fruit bran, and one by one he let her smell them. Oddly it was the yoghurt and bran that appealed.

  Then he had to try and explain about safety, and spent an interesting few minutes pantomiming eating and falling down sick. Either he wasn’t very good at it, or she enjoyed watching his clowning around, because she simply didn’t seem to get the idea. Then, when he was finally at the limit of his frustration, she got up, poured the fruit bran into two bowls, covered it with the yoghurt and
began to munch. Evidently she wasn’t too worried. And equally he realized, she didn’t feel like eating alone.

  Feeling a little shell shocked by the whole thing he reached for the other bowl and a spoon, and sat down on the stool beside her. Soon he was tucking in to a good breakfast with her. And it was good. Not only was the breakfast quite tasty, it was somehow reassuring to be eating with her. Sharing food he recalled, was a universal custom used in getting to know people. Or at least it was on Earth. Now it appeared that it was a practice enjoyed further afield as well.

  He studied her some more while she ate, as she in turn studied him, each starting to discover that they had much in common as well as their obvious differences. They both enjoyed the fruit bran; maybe she had a cholesterol issue too. They both expressed that enjoyment through smiling and making similar noises. They were also both right handed, using the spoon in the same way. She had used a spoon before. He wondered if she had used spoons on her own world or previously on Earth.

  When the first bowl was gone, he poured her another, realizing she was probably hungry. He didn’t know how long she’d been wandering around out there hurt and lost, but it was a fair bet she hadn’t eaten for at least a day or so. He noticed she didn’t object as he poured it into her bowl. He left her with the yoghurt and went to put on the kettle. Coffee, was always his truest breakfast. But he wondered if she would be interested in it.

  Carefully he brought the jar over to her, letting her smell the contents, and also a packet of tea bags, and some hot chocolate mix. It was the chocolate that caught her interest and she pointed at it with interest. Soon he put a cup of hot chocolate down in front of her with some milk and sugar beside it for her to add if she wanted. In return she handed him the empty cereal bowl and nodded her thanks, another typically human custom. For a moment, a few fractions of a second perhaps, he was overcome by the familiarity of it all. The homeliness.

  Here she was, a woman who was completely alien to his world and who was nothing like any human being, and yet they were playing happy families in the kitchen as though they were old friends. It was peculiar to say the least and he was sure she felt it too.

  The moment passed and she reached for the milk and sugar. Soon she was taking good sized sips of the drink and rubbing her stomach while making yum yum noises. David realized that she was both telling him that it was good, and also poking fun at his earlier pantomime as he had worried human food would harm her. But it was in a light hearted sort of way, as though she shared a joke. He was becoming quite good at reading her expressions, mainly because they were the same as anyone else's.

  A sense of humour was clearly another trait they shared. Tool making, technology, humour, sketching, a desire for exploration, as well as the physical two arms, two legs, two eyes, breathing the same air and eating the same food. Yes, they definitely had a lot in common. The more he thought about it, the more their similarity surprised him. He didn’t know what he’d expected of an alien, but she surely wasn’t it.

  His guest he noticed didn’t seem totally overcome by their similarities or differences. Instead she took them in her stride, which meant she’d known in advance. Which made sense. Her people had surely been here for some time and had sent home reports. But then why didn’t she speak English? And then he remembered that she did. Or at least she knew one word. Perhaps she wasn’t a linguist, or maybe her duties had nothing to do with study. She might be a pilot or a crewman, or perhaps a soldier. Not a good thought but possible, especially considering her fighting reactions.

  Which led him to the next question. What was he to do with her? His duty was clear. He had to take her to the authorities and let them deal with her. The problem was that he had a fair idea of what they would do to her and he couldn’t allow that. Ever. Whatever else she was, he knew she wasn’t a spy or a double agent out to steal American secrets or to blow up or assassinate anyone, and he didn’t want her suffering on his conscience. Besides, if he brought her back to them he would be pulled quickly back into the intelligence world and that was something he never wanted to return to again. Then again he might well be killed if he refused. Or even if he didn’t. There was also the very real possibility that she wouldn’t want to go, and he had to assume she was armed like him. Maybe better. There could be a battle, and who knew what could happen after that if her people found out. War? It was unthinkable, but very human. And despite being an alien, she was very human too.

  War against an alien race with the ability to travel to the stars. That would be a complete disaster.

  The second option was to bring her back to her people. But that would entail him walking into her folk’s lair, assuming he could find it and that was also something he was more than a little loath to do. Sure she seemed pleasant enough, but that didn’t mean she’d let him walk away with the knowledge he had of her. No more would her people in all likelihood. Then again what if she was an enemy? Was she merely accepting his hospitality, such as it was, while she recovered her strength, and really was just waiting to pounce?

  Maybe her people really were here preparing to launch a war. Maybe she was just pretending friendship. Lying to him. How could he risk letting her return?

  The only other choice was to keep her here as a prisoner and he really didn’t want to do that. Or rather he would have preferred for her to stay of her own volition but he wasn’t sure that he could trust her to do that. It also wasn't something he was happy about when he had a possibly armed and dangerous alien, who he could barely communicate with, on his hands. Besides for how long would she stay? A day, a week, a year, a lifetime? Still, it was also the only option that left neither her nor the Earth at risk.

  And how to explain any of it to her?

  The sudden sound of tires on the gravel outside, took him completely away from his worries, and brought him back to the present with a thump. His first thought was that her people had arrived to collect her. Who else would visit this early in the morning, especially when he was playing house with an alien? Would they knock or burn the house down? And how would they know she was here? Also, why would they be driving a car when they surely had space ships? He drew his gun and held it at the ready. Unfortunately, she saw his reaction and drew her own device. No doubt she thought it was his own people come to take her away, and besides she’d watched him draw.

  For the longest seconds of both their lives, they both stared suspiciously at each other, and the door, waiting. It was hard to say which of them was more nervous. But David knew one wish above all others; that he had had windows on the rear side of the cabin to see who was coming. But of course all the windows faced the lake. It was after all a lake front cabin.

  The foot falls approached. They both heard them getting nearer up the gravel drive. Just one set, and not moving very quickly so it clearly wasn’t a squad of marines. Then the footsteps changed. They went from crunching gravel to hard taps. It was then that he knew the visitor had reached the rear deck; hard shoes on a wooden floor. Finally, they stopped and someone knocked on the door causing them both to jump, despite the fact they’d been expecting it.

  “Mr. Hill, it's Alice. Can I come in?” Another surprise as he heard the elderly lady’s voice and wondered what on Earth she was doing visiting him at this hour. Or at all.

  Alice James was the resident gossip queen and a well-meaning busy body. She hardly ever called on him. Not that he disliked her or she him. It was just that they had so little in common. They moved in different circles and only stopped to make polite conversation from time to time.

  “Ahh, can you wait a minute? I’m ahh, not dressed.” It was all he could think of at such short notice. But one thing he knew. He didn’t want her to see the alien. God alone knew what she might do, but he had a perfect idea of who she’d tell - everybody. But how to persuade the alien to hide in the next room before Alice decided to go to the glass slider at the front of the cabin instead of the back door.

  Even as he turned to try he saw the look in her eyes, su
spicion. She didn’t trust him. But it was not the sort of look he’d expected to see. Because she wasn’t afraid of the woman at the door, she was scared of him. She feared he might do something bad to his neighbour. He wondered why.