Sunlight Moonlight

by Amanda Ashley

  Red grinned impudently as he massaged his cheek, and then he slapped her back.

  "Don't do that again," he warned as he pinned her right hand to the table and strapped it down.

  Horrified, she watched as he filled two syringes, slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, and placed several small vials on a table.

  Micah! Micah, help me!

  She was sobbing when Red swabbed her arm with alcohol. Trembling with fear and impotent rage, she hardly felt the prick of the needle…

  The sound of her voice echoed in his mind as he ran down the dark streets. Her rage, her fear, was like a beacon, leading him down a narrow lane. The building was as he remembered it. Old and made of dark wood, it was located well away from the street.

  Lainey?

  Micah… no…

  He frowned as he neared the door. Her voice sounded sluggish, drugged.

  Trap… Micah… go… 'way…

  He swore under his breath, wishing he'd taken time to contact Lainey's father. Perhaps it wasn't too late. He glanced around, searching for a place that might have a telephone. And then he heard Lainey scream and he forgot everything but the fact that she was in danger.

  He was reaching for the doorknob when a heavy net dropped over him. Before he could fight his way out of it, he felt the sharp stab of a needle, and the world went black…

  And then he was drifting, weightless, sightless, in a world of darkness. For a time he thought he was on Einar Three, imprisoned in the bowels of Renegade Hell. He'd languished there for three seasons before they bothered to verify the fact that he wasn't a spy sent to ferret out information but had come on official Fleet business, sent there to act as liaison between Einar Three and Xanthia. The days and nights in the prison had passed with agonizing slowness. His cell had been cold and damp, infested with rodents the size of his fist, with tiny insects with rows of needle-like teeth. Hungry little creatures that had burrowed under his skin and feasted on his blood. Three seasons he had spent in that loathsome place, his nostrils filled with the rank odor of rotting food and his own excrement…

  A harsh cry erupted from Micah's throat, jerking him out of one nightmare and into the reality of another.

  He opened his eyes to darkness as black as Lainey's hair. A familiar lethargy engulfed him, rendering him powerless. The drug, he thought, struggling to clear his mind. It had to be the drug.

  Gradually, he realized that a heavy metal mask covered the top half of his face, that his hands were chained to an iron ring behind his back, and that, while unconscious, he had assumed his natural form.

  Lainey, he thought groggily. Where was Lainey?

  I'm here. Thank God you're all right.

  Are we alone?

  Yes.

  "Where are we?"

  "In the same place they brought you before. Micah, I'm so scared."

  "I know… Are you well?"

  "Yes. He threatened to take the baby, but I know now it was just a ruse to get you here. Are you sure you're all right?"

  "Yes, but the drug… it drains my power… makes it hard… to think."

  "He said the mask would prevent you from using your power, too, that even if the drug wore off, you'd be helpless."

  "I'm afraid he's right. Can you see me?"

  "Yes. You're in a small cage across the room."

  "Where are you?"

  "Strapped to the examining table."

  "Has he hurt you?"

  "No. Micah, what are we going to do? He wants the baby, to study."

  "Don't worry… I'll think of something…"

  Micah closed his eyes. Communicating with Lainey had taken what little strength he had left. A dull ache pounded in his head. He wondered how long the drug would last, and what Red Hair had planned for him.

  "Lainey…"

  Shh! He's coming!

  Micah swore under his breath. The drug, combined with the heavy mask, had not only rendered him powerless, but had slowed his reflexes and diminished his sensory capacity.

  He heard a door open, the sound of footsteps, the thud of a heavy box being dropped on the floor.

  And then he heard Red Hair's voice, speaking to Lainey.

  "Sorry to leave you so long, my dear," Red said. Removing the straps from Lainey's wrists, he helped her from the table, then took her into the bedroom and handcuffed her right hand to the bedpost. "There. I think that will give you a little more freedom. See that you don't abuse it."

  "What are you going to do with Micah?"

  "Nothing, my dear. Don't worry. It's not good for a woman in your condition. Rest a while, and then we'll have dinner."

  "Wait!" she cried, but it was too late. He'd already left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Micah heard the man's footsteps crossing the floor and knew the man was standing beside the cage, staring down at him.

  "So, my alien friend," Red Hair murmured. "We meet again."

  "What do you want with us?"

  "So you can speak! I knew it!"

  "Answer me!"

  Red made a tsking sound. "You're in no position to make demands, my friend. I have your woman here, and her well-being and that of your unborn child, depend heavily upon your complete cooperation."

  "Answer me!"

  "You're going to tell me about your world, about why you're here. I want to study the differences between us, and the similarities."

  A cold chill slithered down Micah's spine as he remembered the humiliation of being strapped to the table while Red Hair examined him, thoroughly and intimately. He knew, somehow, that what the man had in mind this time would be far worse that what he had endured before.

  "What of the baby?"

  "Ah, the child. Of course, I intend to study it as well," the man said affably. "Think what it would mean if this child inherits your power! Think what it would mean for the human race to be able to destroy its enemies the way you do. Just burn them up with a glance."

  "Lainey… ?"

  "She's quite safe. You needn't worry about her. After all, I'll need her to take care of the child, for a while at least."

  Fear clamped around Micah's heart. "And when you don't need her?"

  "Ah, let's not think of that now. Tell me, why have you come to Earth? And how do you manage to change shape?" Red pulled a couple of Polaroid photos out of his shirt pocket. "If I hadn't seen it, and photographed it, I wouldn't have believed it."

  Slowly, Micah shook his head. He could feel the drug wearing off, but he remained limp, unmoving.

  "You will answer me," Red Hair warned, all friendliness gone from his tone. "You will answer me, or the woman will reap the consequences of your disobedience."

  "Coward."

  "Why have you come to Earth?"

  Purposefully, Micah slurred his words, hoping Red Hair would think he was still heavily drugged. "Did not… come here intentionally. Ship… crashed."

  "Are there others of your species here?"

  "No."

  "Where's your ship now?"

  "Destroyed… it."

  "You're lying."

  Micah heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by the sound of Red Hair's footsteps. A moment later he felt a sharp burning pain in his left arm.

  "A scalpel can inflict a great deal of pain without doing much permanent damage," Red Hair remarked.

  Micah stifled a groan as the man made another cut in his arm.

  "I bugged the woman's house," Red Hair said. "I know you returned to your own planet, and then came back. Next time you lie to me, I'll cut the woman. Where's your ship?"

  "Valley… behind… mansion."

  "Will it fly?"

  Micah hesitated. Immediately, he felt the edge of the blade caress his cheek, felt a warm trickle of blood ooze in the wake of the blade.

  "Consider your answer carefully, my alien friend. How do you think the woman will look when I cut her cheek to the bone?"

  "My ship will fly."

  Red Hair made a sound of satisfaction. T
hen, without warning, he doused the cuts in Micah's arm with a strong, alcohol-based disinfectant.

  Micah swore under his breath as the liquid seeped into the wounds, searing his flesh. Moments later, he felt the sting of a needle in his right arm.

  "That should help you get a good night's sleep," Red Hair said cheerfully. "I've got a couple of tests to run in the morning."

  Micah heard the man lock the door of the cage; then, whistling softly, Red Hair left the room.

  Lainey? Lainey?

  Micah frowned. Was she asleep? Or had Red Hair taken her away?

  Knowing it was useless, he tugged on the chain that secured his hands behind his back. He had to get out of here, had to get Lainey away from Red Hair before the baby was born. But tugging on the chain only made his arms ache and chafed his wrists. Lowering his head, he tried to shake off the mask, but it was securely anchored in place.

  And then the drug took effect and he felt himself falling, falling, into a deep black void.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "Wake up, space man." Red Hair's obnoxiously cheerful voice sounded close to Micah's ear. "There's some bread and a glass of water to your left. A basin to relieve yourself in on your right."

  "Lainey?"

  "She's fine. I'll be back in ten minutes."

  Micah sat up. Sometime during the night, Red Hair had freed his right hand. He explored the mask that covered his face. Thick leather straps criss-crossed from back to front, holding it in place. A small padlock prevented him from removing it.

  Defeated, he reached for the glass of water and drained it in a single swallow, then reached for the basin, need outweighing his pride.

  As promised, Red Hair was back in ten minutes. "Hold still now," he said curtly, "I'm gonna draw some blood."

  "You could have saved yourself the trouble and taken it last night," Micah muttered. "It was flowing freely then."

  To his surprise, Red Hair laughed. "I never realized aliens had a sense of humor."

  "I never realized earthlings were so barbaric," Micah replied contemptuously.

  He waited, hardly breathing, until he felt Red Hair's hand on his arm, and then he grabbed the man's wrist and gave it a cruel twist reminiscent of the hold that was commonly used by security officers on the prison planet of Enguath to subdue inmates. "Release me!"

  "No way." Red Hair groaned as Micah applied pressure on his arm. "Go ahead, break my arm. Break my neck. It won't do you any good. I don't have my keys with me, and this place is soundproof. You'll both starve to death before anyone finds you."

  Micah's grip tightened on Red Hair's wrist. Everything the man said was true and yet it was tempting, so tempting…

  Muttering an oath, Micah released his hold on Red Hair, then fell back against the wall of the cage, his whole body tense as he waited for the earthling to retaliate.

  But other than shackling his right hand to the wall again, Red Hair didn't seem inclined toward vengeance.

  Micah felt the prick of a syringe as the man drew some blood. He heard Red Hair's footsteps as he left the cage, the sound of the key turning in the lock, and then there was only silence.

  Lainey? Fear clawed at his insides when she didn't reply. Lainey, can you hear me? Please, cominza, answer me if you can.

  Micah…

  Are you all right?

  Yes. Micah heard the revulsion in her voice. He's examining me.

  Micah clenched his fists as he imagined Red Hair's hands on Lainey, touching her intimately. He felt the rage well within him, the urge to kill surprising him in its intensity.

  To his shame, Micah remembered the exhilaration he had experienced when he destroyed Red Hair's two companions. Killing went against everything he had ever been taught, and yet he had not know a moment's regret at taking the lives of those two men. They had threatened Lainey, and he knew he would gladly do it again.

  He felt the power rise within him, felt its heat build. Immediately, he forced himself to relax. The mask was made of metal. Should he unleash his power, the heat would incinerate his face before it burned through the mask. He wondered how Red Hair knew such a thing, and then, in a flash of intuition, he realized that the alien whose skeleton stood in the corner had incinerated himself rather than submit to Red Hair's experiments.

  Micah, no!

  Lainey's fear burst into his mind. Too late, he realized she had been reading his thoughts, that she was afraid he was thinking of doing the same thing rather than allow Red Hair to examine him further.

  Lainey, don't be afraid. I won't leave you.

  Promise me?

  I promise, Micah said, but he knew in the depths of his soul that if it wasn't for Lainey and the child, he would destroy himself rather than submit to more of the earthling's crude experiments.

  The next few days were like a nightmare that wouldn't end. Red Hair's constant cheerfulness made Lainey want to scream. He spent hours at her bedside, trying to convince her of how important his work was, of what he hoped to gain. Chief among his goals was the need to prove to a doubting world that aliens existed. There were other extraterrestrials prowling the earth, he said, he was sure of it. And he would find them.

  But it was her child that was Red's primary interest, and it was that topic that made up the bulk of his conversation as he wondered, over and over again, whether she carried a boy or a girl, if it would look completely human, or if it would have some of Micah's alien characteristics. Or if, in blending two races, she would deliver a monster. He speculated often on that, too. Would it be inhuman, fit only for a sideshow, or be born mercifully dead?

  Sometimes Red took her into the lab and made her watch while he examined Micah, wondering aloud how it was possible for their two races to be so alike, and yet so different. Red constantly pestered Micah for information about Xanthia, its inhabitants and their lifestyle, even though Micah refused to answer him.

  Red took copious notes, recording everything he did, jotting down Micah's reactions to various drugs, to pain, to drastic changes in heat and cold.

  He took numerous blood samples in an effort to learn why Micah's blood was brown; he took skin samples to try to determine what caused the blue glow to darken when Micah was agitated and faded when he was at rest or asleep. He took X-rays and countless photographs. And made more notes.

  Micah communicated telepathically with Lainey whenever he had the chance, but Red Hair kept him heavily sedated most of the time, and she realized that Red kept Micah that way as much as possible because he was afraid of Micah's strength and power, even though Micah's hands were chained to the wall and he was locked in a cage.

  They had been Red's prisoners for five days when Lainey went into labor. It began with a small twinge in her back, a slight pain that gradually grew stronger and more intense.

  Red was ecstatic when her water broke a few hours later. He practically danced around the bed as he freed her hands and helped her into a chair, warning her to stay put while he gathered up the soiled sheets and replaced them with clean ones, then removed her clothes and dropped a pale green hospital gown over her head.

  When she was clean and dry and settled into bed once again, he went into the lab and gathered his instruments together. Returning to the bedroom, he pulled a baby blanket out of the dresser drawer, along with diapers, baby powder, and a soft flannel gown.

  Lainey writhed on the bed, wracked by pain and fear. What would Red do with her once the baby was born? Would she be dispensable then, a witness to be disposed of? Helpless and afraid, she cried out as the time between contractions grew shorter and the pains grew stronger.

  Death seemed to hover around her as the pains went on and on. Fleeting thoughts of dying in childbirth began to cross her mind, and she wondered if she would die in labor and save Red the trouble of disposing of her. Near exhaustion, she prayed that it would be over soon, that Red would allow her to hold her child, Micah's child, before she died.

  Micah…

  Lainey, don't be afraid. Try to relax.
Don't fight the pain. Relax… relax… everything will be all right…

  His voice filled her mind, sure and strong, giving her hope, a lifeline to cling to, as her body sought to expel the child it had sheltered for so long.

  As from far away, she heard Red urging her to bear down, to push just once more. There was a blinding flash, and she realized he was taking more of his infernal pictures.

  She screamed as the head crowned. A moment later, she heard an infant's cry.

  "It's a boy!" Red said.

  "Let me see him. Is he all right?"

  "Perfect," Red said jubilantly. "Just perfect."

  And he was. Tears filled Lainey's eyes as she gazed down at her son. He was small and beautiful, with pale golden brown skin, curly black hair, and his father's silver-blue eyes. An extra bit of webbing stretched between his thumb and forefinger.

  She watched through half-closed eyes as Red clamped the cord, then cut it. Taking the baby, he washed and diapered the infant as though he had been doing it all his life.

  He slipped the nightgown over the baby's head, wrapped it in a blue flannel blanket, then placed the boy in the top drawer of the dresser while he took care of the afterbirth, washed Lainey, and helped her into a clean gown.

  When that was done, he laid the boy in Lainey's arms, then stood by, looking as proud as if he were the father, while she nursed the baby.

  There were no words to describe the incredible joy that filled Lainey's heart as her son nuzzled her breast. For a moment, she forgot the hours of pain, the fear, the uncertainty of the future as she cuddled the tiny miracle in her arms. For once, she didn't mind when Red snapped another picture.

  It wasn't until Red leaned over the bed and reached for the baby that reality returned, and with it a fiercely protective surge of mother love.

  With a wordless cry, Lainey grabbed the water pitcher beside the bed and smashed it over the man's head, satisfaction zinging through her when, with a muffled grunt, Red toppled to the floor.

  Ignoring the dull ache that accompanied her every move, she clasped her son to her breast and slid out of bed. Dropping onto one knee, she began going through Red's pockets, looking for the keys that would free Micah, but all she found was a set of car keys, and the key to the handcuffs Red had used on her.