Alien Caller (5 page)

Her skin
underneath was a little pale, almost grey, though that could have
been a trick of the artificial light and shadows. Other than that
however, it felt pretty normal to his touch, not slimy or scaly or
anything, and not particularly alien. It just looked pale and felt
far too hot.

Once the skin
was clear he could see the shape of the object underneath quite
clearly. It was a barb, like an arrow but with only half the point.
It had entered her thigh from the front like a projectile and had
nearly made its way all the way through. It couldn’t be pulled out
backwards without causing a lot of damage. But at the back of her
thigh it was almost poking through and he hoped that he would be
able to pull it through the rest of the way without causing too
much more damage.

A bottle of 95%
alcohol sterilized the skin, and he used a couple of packets of
frozen peas to numb the area. He hoped it would make an adequate
pain killer, because this was going to hurt. But at least she still
hadn’t woken up. If he could get this done before she did, that
would help. He guessed she’d been close to the end of her resources
by the time she came to his door. She’d been desperate, and she’d
come to him for help while he was busy arming himself. It was a
shameful thing to have done and he felt more than a touch of guilt
wash over him. He couldn’t fail her.

Five minutes
later he was ready with the scalpel, feeling more nervous than he
had since his first combat mission. Yet despite his nerves it went
smoothly.

With a single
incision he opened the back of the wound enough so that he could
see the tip of the object and was relieved to see that it wasn’t
that deep. While it was nasty and painful at least it was not life
threatening. A single quick pull with some tweezers, and it lay in
his hands, while her orange blood barely seeped out. There was no
nicked artery at least. And she hadn’t even moved.

Three or four
stitches on both sides, and a lot more alcohol and iodine spread
liberally around, and he was ready to bandage. The whole operation
was over within five minutes, and he congratulated himself on a job
well done. Of course the surgery was the easy part. It was
infection that was the real worry, and the wound had become
infected long before she’d made it to his door. His living
breathing alien was a long way from out of the woods yet, and as
anyone who had ever seen The War of The Worlds knew, Earthly bugs
could potentially do her a lot of harm, perhaps even kill her.

He decided to
leave her on the couch for the night, and to treat her as he would
any other, except that he kept her handcuffed. Though in a moment
of weakness he decided not to cuff her feet again. She might have
some nasty toe claws but he couldn’t see her using them for a
while. Instead of feeding her antibiotics he used a cold compress
of tea and antibiotic dosed bandages to try and draw the infection
out. He figured if they didn’t enter her blood stream the
antibiotics would be safe enough and he had to use something.

Finally he
covered her with blankets to keep her as warm as possible and sat
down beside her to watch his patient. As he did so he wondered
about her. There was so much he wanted ask and so much he knew he
couldn’t afford to know. Not that she was about to tell him any
time soon. Not with that injury. She might not wake for days - if
she woke at all. And that bothered him.

It wasn’t just
professional pride though he would always be disappointed if a
patient died at his hands; it was curiosity. He was itching to know
so many things about her, like where she was from, why she was
here, and even her name. But none of that would be possible if she
died. And the thought that this alien had travelled from somewhere
surely many light years from Earth only to die in his care, well
that was tragic.

She slept
fitfully, tossing and turning and every time she awoke, he gave her
some fluids with a bit of sweetness for energy until she passed out
again. But at least she seemed to be sleeping relatively normally
and was not comatose. Her breathing was good and every time he
changed the poultice, the wound at least seemed no angrier than
before.

Throughout the
night as she tossed and turned, he studied the devices she’d
carried on her belt, wondering what they were and all the while
trying to decide what he should do when she awoke.

Of the seven
devices there was only one he could truly understand and that was
the compass. It might look strange and have weird numbering and
strange symbols but the way the digital display moved as he turned
the device told him its purpose. And why should an alien compass
look like an Earthly one anyway? Yet it was more than just a two
dimensional compass as it also gave him the third dimension as it
also displayed vertical. What purpose that served anywhere other
than in a plane or a rocket he didn’t really know, but maybe that
was where it was meant to be used. And at least he could understand
it.

Another device
he thought might be a laser knife. Certainly it had a three inch
beam and it cut things as would a knife, but he couldn’t figure out
why she’d have a powered knife that could run out of energy at any
time as opposed to a real knife which would last forever. Also, the
beam had a strange tendency to change colour regularly, suggesting
it had other less obvious uses.

Of the others,
most were without any obvious function. Several were damaged, the
obvious dents in them surely not part of their design. A couple had
lights and glowing symbols that moved over strange displays, but
they had no buttons and there was no obvious way of activating
them. It was just as well since he was sure at least one of them
would be a radio, or whatever her people used. He assumed the
button activating the radio was damaged. It was probably one of the
damaged bits of equipment, or else she would have called for help
days before. Then again, perhaps she had and just maybe it would be
a while before her help arrived. How long did it take for her
people to travel the stars? Or perhaps they were already in orbit
and she had crashed here from a shuttle. He couldn’t begin to
guess.

The fragment of
metal that he’d removed from her leg also came under his scrutiny.
It was made of what looked like a magnesium metal alloy, was bright
and shiny, very light and terrifically hard. It looked like a piece
of an aircraft, and it had clearly been torn loose from something
much larger. A flying saucer perhaps? Perhaps it had come from her
space ship? Had she crashed nearby? And if so, had it been an
accident or had the air force finally managed to shoot down a UFO?
That led in turn to the next obvious questions. If she had crashed
nearby then where? And why hadn’t he heard it or at least heard
about it? Did he have a flying saucer sitting somewhere in his back
yard? Logic told him it couldn’t be far away as she couldn’t have
walked that far. Of course it could be in the lake itself.

But as always
his most pressing questions were about her intentions. Was she here
just to seek help? Had she just come to the closest house which
just coincidentally happened to be owned by a retired agent? It
seemed unlikely. Or were her plans something darker and if so did
those plans involve him? And then of course there was the problem
to come. What would he do with her when she recovered? He could let
her go but then she might well be an enemy agent. Or he could hand
her over to the authorities and pretend he didn’t know what they
would do to her. But he knew. Bright lights, electric shock, sleep
deprivation, dehydration, drugs, and ultimately dissection.

David felt
deeply uncomfortable with both options and there didn't seem to be
a third. He also didn’t know if she was alone, or whether he could
expect company soon. He dearly wanted to know what if any
intentions her people had in regard to Earth.

They were
questions that greatly troubled him and for the second night he
rocked himself to sleep in the hard rocking chair. This time at
least he did sleep more deeply, waking only occasionally to check
on her as she slept before nodding off again. It was something
about the security of her being in hand cuffs that let him relax.
Besides which he knew it would be days before she was strong enough
to get up, assuming she recovered. And he had her weapons.

He was
safe.

Chapter
Four.

In the morning
David found that all his precautions had been for nothing.

It began with a
slight tickling sensation around his nose that annoyed him even as
he slept. It was followed by the feel of something cold and hard
rubbing across his cheek, which brought him the rest of the way
back to consciousness in a hurry. He opened his eyes to discover
his own gun being pointed at him from a distance of about an inch.
Behind it was his patient, looking distinctly unhappy.

Years of
training helped him to suppress his immediate urge to bolt and let
him assess his situation instead. From the start he knew he didn’t
stand a chance if he ran, he was simply too slow and trapped in an
awkward position, so instead he just sat there and listened as she
ranted at him in some foreign language and studied her. A truly
alien language, with almost no vowel sounds he’d ever heard. The
other sounds were stranger still.

He stared deep
into her eyes as she raved at him, looking for some sign that could
tell him what her intentions were, but he found none. Instead he
realized she was angry, and in equal measure frightened and
probably more than a little confused, but mostly she had no idea
what to do. No more than he would have in her position.

She’d woken up,
found herself in a strange house, her wound cleaned, and her hands
in cuffs. Which reminded him; how had she gotten out of them? He
risked a quick glance to the bed and saw them there, still intact
and still locked shut, which meant that somehow she’d simply
squeezed her hands through them. Her hands might be more flexible
than a human woman’s, something he hadn’t considered. Or being too
soft with her because she was hurt and female he might not have
fastened them tightly enough. Either way he guessed he’d been too
trusting. But now wasn’t the time to beat himself up about it.

She didn’t know
how to use a gun he guessed, for which he was truly grateful. She
clearly knew what it was and was holding it loosely in one hand,
while she waved it around like a pointer to express her obvious
anger and fear at him. But the safety catch was still on and her
finger - make that claw - wasn’t on the trigger. But in the other
hand she held one of the mechanical devices he’d removed from her
belt. A grey mechanical thing that looked most like a tiny
transistor radio. But it could also be a weapon, a ray gun of some
sort. Or a travel clock. He had no way of knowing.

In time she ran
out of words and he managed a quick smile at her, teeth definitely
not showing. Many animals he remembered would find exposed teeth
threatening. But then he wasn’t even sure she would understand a
smile.

“Ahh, do you
speak English?” He felt silly for asking, especially after having
listened to her telling him off in an alien tongue, but then the
previous day he had heard her asking for his help. There was at
least one English word she knew.

The answer was
not what he wanted, as she babbled even more angrily at him, and
the gun waving became more alarming. He gathered that the answer
was a definite no and decided not to say anything else for a while,
perhaps a long while.

Quite quickly
though he realized that no matter what else happened he would have
to act. As time passed she was becoming distinctly more wild, eyes
bulging and fangs gleaming, and he had the horrible feeling she was
simply working herself up into a killing rage. If by chance she
ever found the safety or if the transistor was actually a weapon,
he was in a lot of trouble. And without speaking her language he
couldn’t calm her down.

“Ohh thank
God!” He spoke to no one, just sighed and let his eyes wander to
the door behind her. A simple and ancient ruse but in this case
enough. She spun, far too quickly and was immediately off balance
while also having made the cardinal mistake of no longer having her
eyes on him. That was far more slack than he needed. Before she’d
even completed the turn he had risen and chopped at her left arm
just below the shoulder. In a man the chop would stun the arm
causing the weapon to drop, and it did the same for her, the gun
hitting the wooden floor with an almighty racket. They weren’t
entirely dissimilar.

But she was
fast, flexible and unexpected. Instead of turning back and firing
the other weapon which he was already dodging, she completed her
spin, and he had just time to see one set of her glass claws coming
at him and flinch before he felt them rake across his chest.
Fortunately he was quick too, even when caught by surprise, and he
managed to get out of the way. His shirt was ruined, but his skin
was barely scratched. Fast as she was, he knew she had overplayed
her hand, as with only one arm in action she couldn’t defend
herself. A second chop to the other shoulder left her with no
working arms and the second device slid across the floor a
heartbeat later.

She howled,
more out of anger than fear, and tried to kick him, but her feet
were nowhere near as fast as the rest of her, and he easily eluded
them and then tripped her. She fell backwards onto the floor, still
howling, and immediately he leapt on top of her, trying to tie her
down with his body weight. As a tactic it left a lot to be desired,
but at least it gave him a few moments to work out what to do next.
All the while she struggled, life quickly returning to her arms,
and he had to spend valuable seconds just flicking the various
devices away so she couldn’t reach them.