An Alien Rescue (55 page)

He looked at the red mark on the palm of his right hand and the thumb on his left. “Och, it’s nothin’ tae a Scotsman, he said with an accent. “An Englishman would have screamed blue murder-r-r though. Aye, he would’ve collapsed into fits o’ tears while wettin’ his breeks,” he joked, rubbing his hands together is if there was no pain and the burn didn’t really matter. He
did
feel the pain though, quite badly, wishing there was a bucket of cold water to stick his hand into. However, in the middle of the flaming-hot North African desert, he had as much chance of seeing an iceberg with a Polar Bear on top singing an Abba song as he did of finding any. Frell read his mind and saw the bear picture, unable to control herself by laughing loudly at the comparison. He enjoyed seeing her laugh then continued to look for something they could use for their ship’s repair. Then he saw it. The thermostat housing, where the steam was escaping from. There was a gasket protruding from around the streaked alloy cover and it looked about the same dimensions as the split and cracked washer he needed to replace. He held the faulty washer close to the cover, trying to hold it in such a way to prove whether it shared the same dimensions as the gasket or not. It seemed to be very similar.

“Yahoo!” he shouted as he lifted his head in glee, banging it awfully hard on the bonnet’s underside. “ A much lesser man would have felt that and howled,” he joked, rubbing it better.

Frell rubbed it too. “An Englishman, perhaps?” she suggested.

It was his turn to laugh.

Turning his attention to the rear of the car, he forced the boot-lid open. The wooden wedge flew over one shoulder and bounced on the road behind. Wrapped inside an oily rag was an adjustable spanner, a badly bent and broken screwdriver and a tube of liquid gasket sealant. He was tempted to take the sealant and head for the ship in the hope it might cure the fault by itself. However, his experience shouted not to be so bloody lazy and stupid, to persevere and go the whole distance, taking the gasket as well.

The hot engine stayed hot as the sun didn’t offer the luxury of allowing it the chance of cooling. Scott winced and cursed more than a few times as his skin felt the
searing heat, holding back on the temptation of smacking the engine with the spanner for hurting him. With blackened oily hands, he held the removed part for inspection. The engine’s controlling thermostat was unmistakably blocked with sludge as brown and as thick as chocolate sauce and wet dough, where coolant water had as much chance of passing through as a camel has of going through the eye of a needle.

He compared the gaskets, laying one on top of the other.

“
YES
!” he shouted at the top of his voice, feeling awfully pleased with himself. It was obvious the gasket had been recently fitted, hence the tube of sealant in the boot. So why had the mechanic not replaced the thermostat while doing the job? “Doh!” Scott said in mystified frustration.

“Does this mean you have what we need to repair the fault on the ship?” Frell asked, hoping.

He turned with a dirty face and a gleam in his eyes. Looking smug, he said, “It sure as hell is!”

“Fantastic!” she replied. Then asked what should they do with the boxes. He suggested they could simply be left inside the car for the owner, should he or she ever decide to return. He imagined the look of surprise on the owner’s face as they discovered the boxes of goodies.

“I’m repairing the car while I’m at it. There’s no reason why I should just leave the poor machine in pieces when it has helped us.”

Frell smiled at him with pride. Many humans would have easily walked away from the partially dismantled car, leaving it to the elements and whatever else found it. He was a caring man who was in love with her, and she him. How she wished he could be allowed to return with her. She had already seen into his thoughts the trouble he was having with his marriage, wishing she could help him while wanting to keep him for herself.

He finished refitting the cover without the thermostat. The engine would take longer to warm up, but in the climate where it was it wouldn’t really matter. If anything, he thought, the car will run better than ever. The engine will be much cooler and the oil will in turn also be cooler and thicker, giving the working parts a better level of protection.

“Frell.” He called to her as she placed the two boxes onto the car’s back seat. “How much water do have left?”

She came forward with the bottle, feeling its weight while working out its approximate quantity. “About three litres.”

His plan would work. They hadn’t had to walk too far so could return with much less water than they had
brought.

“If you take a good drink, I shall too. Then I can use what is left to fill the car’s radiator. It will allow the car to work again. And if there is anything left after that, we’ll
carry it with us.”

She drank her fill and so did he. The rest was carefully poured into the radiator, making a gurgling sound as it bubbled its way in. There was only a little left when the car was full, so decided it was time to take what they had and make a move to return.

Scott fitted the radiator’s cap and closed the bonnet. He secured the doors as best he could and stuffed the wooden wedge back into the boot lid. The car looked like it did when they first laid eyes upon it, never appearing as if any work had been done. They backtracked their way into the desert, following the slight impressions they had left. There was the bottle to carry, and most importantly, the replacement gasket, tube of sealant and the adjustable spanner, which itself looked ancient enough for Noah to have used. The distance seemed greater as they returned, with the steep slopes, loose rocks and gravel slowing their progress.

After his prayers at the Mosque, Mustapha had tried and tried to find a mechanic to return to his car with him, but there was no one willing to do any work on a Friday afternoon. It was their holy day and not one person would do anything until the
next. He even tried to get a taxi to tow him back to the town, but they too were unwilling. The excuse was it was a day for prayer, but Mustapha suspected it was because none wanted to risk pulling a dead weight behind them. The town’s taxis were OK for carrying people and the occasional goat or cage of chickens, but pulling a car might rip the towing car’s bodywork to pieces, such was their atrocious condition. He was left to walk back in the terrible heat of the afternoon, hoping to drive the car at a slower pace, praying to Allah for blessings and sacred help in his efforts.

The car’s tarnished bodywork was too hot to touch even though it was painted white, but the lack of hissing gave Mustapha hope there might be a chance the car could be drivable. He approached the driver’s door and was about to open it when he saw the boxes
on the rear seats. He stopped, releasing his grip on the handle, looking around him, wondering what was going on. He returned to the door, opening it. There was the usual scraping sound from the sand-filled hinges, with the same tired looking front seats and broken instrument cluster. He leaned in and removed the boxes.

After opening them, he tipped
out each in turn, finding bags of crisps then fizzy-drinks to his astonishment. Mystified by it all, he climbed out and walked around the car. Nothing else looked out of place… except the boot’s wooden wedge was inserted differently. He carefully opened the boot to see if there might be anything else out of place. The oily rag had obviously been tampered with, while the spanner and sealant were noticeably missing.

He let out a curse. “Thieves! Thieves and devils have been about this day,” he shouted at the sky above him, hoping his god would hear his anger and smite the devils from the face of the
desert. Without the hoped for thunderous claps, with no screams of agony and pain from whoever had robbed him, he dropped the boot-lid and turned his attention to the front of the car. There was an unmistakable stain on the road beneath the engine.
There has been a lot of water lost from the engine
, he thought as he bent down onto his knees to get a better look from below. He touched the engine’s oil sump, feeling the temperature. It was cool, to his surprise. He opened the bonnet to see what might be. He noticed there was a peculiar smell of solvent, recognising it was like the tube of sealant, the one that was missing from the boot. He leaned over the radiator, removing the cap. Surprisingly, it was full of water. Stepping back in disbelief, he clasped his hands together, saying a few religious words and bowing slightly for forgiveness. He had another look to make certain he hadn’t imagined what he had just seen. The water was there and the thermostat housing was clean as if it had been removed, sealed and refitted. Then he saw it, not understanding any of what had happened. The thermostat was lying next to the battery in a pool of sludge. He wondered if one of the town’s mechanics
had
managed to reach his car and repair it after all. He could not understand how he could have missed them returning to town on the single track road, but perhaps they had other business to attend to further on. As for the boxes on the rear seats, he had no answer. Perhaps, he cautiously considered, Allah had answered his prayers. Turning around, he looked into the distance to see if anyone might be watching him, a spirit or a friend, or perhaps the individual who had repaired his car. There was no one. He dug into a pocket beneath his light-grey coloured gown, removing the jangling keys. He inserted them into the ignition, watching the ignition light flicker as he started the engine. It sounded good and sweet, even with a cloud of black soot blowing from the exhaust. It ticked over steadily with little vibration and none of the usual spluttering. The temperature gauge showed the engine was very cool, with only the slightest rise as it ticked-over. After looking underneath the car to make sure all was well with no sign of oil or water spewing onto the road, he climbed aboard and set off for the town. Keeping the car in as low a gear as possible, he drove slowly and carefully, trying not to labour or overheat the engine. It ran like it used to a very long time before, quietly and smoothly. He would return to the Mosque and thank Allah for his countenance and blessing before heading for home with his new found boxes of food and drink. His religious words would be for thanks and a promise to be generous to beggars for a month. He smiled at the way his car behaved, tapping the carpeted dashboard with happiness. No one would believe his story, he was certain, but he will tell it anyway. He had the boxes and the car as evidence.

Scott picked up a few pieces of stone as they continued to return, looking for anything that might catch his eye. With nothing worth mentioning, he would cast the bits aside and continue his trek. Frell was leading and Scott followed. He admired her physique, learning she was as fit as she looked as they progressed their way forever upwards. It became apparent the sun was not as warm as it had been and its height was also lower, leaning towards the horizon at a
n ever quickening pace.

“I know what you are thinking, Scott,” she said. “We
will
make it back to the ship before darkness. We have plenty of time.”

“That’s good news,” he said. He wondered what animals, if any, might come out to play after the veil of darkness covers the desert at night. He wondered if there were any scorpions or snakes lurking beneath boulders and stones, making him alert to the fact he had already lifted several. He decided not to touch anymore and also to watch where he was treading. Slipping on loose stones was one thing, but getting stung or bitten by something creepy or slithery was quite another matter altogether.

Drang and Phyllis had conferred with each other before telling Belinda the ship was in good condition, except for the fault that Scott was presently working on. There was more food on board, enough to keep them fed. They now waited to hear from the duo that had left a number of hours before, enjoying a cooler breeze while taking shelter in the ship’s lengthening shadow.

“You said the small canyon where the ship landed has been used before, Frell. When was that then?” They had fallen into a silence as they climbed their way back up the mountain’s slopes, with each
mentally going over what had happened in their recent pasts.

“There used to be a base near here, higher up the mountain range. But since it was closed and sealed, we have sometimes needed to make a visit to the area for various reasons; much like this I suppose.”

He thought about what he had just heard. “What do you mean by saying the base was closed and sealed? Do you mean to say it is still here?”

She stopped to get her breath back before replying, sitting down on a flattish stone. She answered. “Yes. It is still here. And before you ask why we did not go there, please allow me to me explain.”

He shuffled closer as he too plonked himself down onto a rock, but only after checking there weren’t any surprises lurking underneath. “Well? He asked cheekily.

“The base remains as it was when in use, although it was a long time ago. It can still be activated if required.”

He was about to ask a series of questions, but she beat him to it. “The reasoning behind keeping it intact is that one day we might need a base from where to operate from. If, as we have always hoped for, we approach the governments of your world, we will need a base from which to work from, and because it is situated beneath a mountain it has been easy to conceal and to protect. There is fortunately enough iron ore in the surrounding rock to obscure any attempts to locate it. And believe me when I say it will never be found. It is well hidden because it has to be.”