Astounding! (27 page)

When Ery and Karl arrived, Carter did the introductions. Karl, who clutched a large plastic jug of water, started to wander toward the graphic novels, but Carter called him back. “I, uh, wanted to sort of warn everyone.” He took a deep breath. “My… my boyfriend might make an appearance today.”

“Boyfriend?” said Tammy and Ery in unison. Karl just grinned.

“Yeah. John. He….” God. How did he explain? “We weren’t actually together very long, but we cared for each other very much. But he was forced to leave. Shit. That’s a long story. And now he’s back, but it was really hard for him and… and we’re not sure if he can stay. He’s special, though. Really special.”

He realized he’d just raised a lot more questions than he’d answered. But Tammy nodded at him. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

Soon, Carter was busily helping Ery prep the window display. They had big sheets of cardboard to which they affixed butcher paper. Carter had already selected the books and gathered a few props, but the backdrop was completely Ery’s baby.

“I’m super excited about this project!” Ery enthused, waving his pencil around.

“You do remember that you’re working for free, right?”

“It’s not about the money. I learned that a while ago. Our house is paid for and so are our bills. It’s about the joy of creating, right?”

And Carter nodded, because he understood completely.

Ery knelt in front of the paper and began to draw with big, sweeping strokes. “I have fun doing stuff like this. And a lot more people will see this window than will ever browse a gallery. Many of them maybe don’t see much art in their everyday life. Look, if someone wants to drop tens of thousands for one of my works, I won’t complain. But if some little kid gets a kick out of this unicorn? That’s pretty cool too.”

Remembering the beaming face of the customer with her three hundred bucks’ worth of girlfriend-impressing books, Carter nodded.

A short time later, the cheery bell over the door rang and John cautiously entered the store. He must have driven instead of running, because his hair was neatly gelled. He wore a thick gray sweater and a pair of khaki slacks, and he was obviously nervous. Abandoning the plastic faun he’d been trying to assemble—Ery had already named him Mr. Tumnus—Carter flew across the floor and planted a kiss on his startled boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m glad you made it, John.”

Naturally, Ery and Tammy came to them at once, and Karl made an appearance from somewhere in the dusty depths of the store. Ery and Tammy smiled in greeting, but Karl opened his eyes and mouth wide.

Carter kept an arm around John’s waist. “Everyone, John Harper. John, this is my boss, Tammy, and my friends Ery and Karl.”

“You used to come watch us play!” Karl blurted.

John blushed slightly. “I enjoy your music very much.”

“Then come see us again. Please.” Karl smiled. “We’ll play something special for you. Something sparkly.”

“Again with the sparkles,” Ery mumbled.

Karl nudged Ery. “John’s not a vampire either. He’s… he’s like Carter. Only more so. Beautiful.”

As John blushed again and ducked his head, Tammy apparently decided to ignore her confusion and forge ahead. “It’s nice to meet you, John. I hope you’re being good to our Carter. He deserves it.” She winked girlishly. “And someone needs to do some work around here.” She waved and walked back to the front desk.

At first John hung around where Ery and Carter were working. Karl circled nearby, drinking from his water jug, clearly dying to ask questions but not quite daring to blurt them out. Ery soon had John engaged in a lively conversation about the pop art and fluxus movements. Ery was like that—he could lure anyone into talking.

John stuck around for a long time, until Karl eventually pried him away from Ery and disappeared into the bookshelves with him. As Carter worked, he could hear them chatting and laughing—a very nice sound. And every time Carter caught sight of him, John glowed with happiness. Carter thought he understood why—compared to cold space or a solitary home, a day spent making new friends must have been heaven.

By late afternoon Ery had finished the window and was trying to persuade Tammy to let him paint murals on walls and bookcases. She didn’t look like she needed much persuading. Karl had an armful of books with fairy tale themes, which Tammy let him have in trade for Ery’s artwork. John had a bunch of books too—which Tammy just gave him, as long as he promised to bring them back after reading them—and he had new friends. He was still radiant, and when Carter kissed him good-bye at the door, John kissed back very enthusiastically. “Thank you,” John whispered in his ear.

“For what?”

“Inviting me.”

“I’m glad you came. Everyone likes you. I like having you near me.”

John kissed him again—quickly this time—called a good-bye and thanks to Tammy, and left.

Tammy waited at the front counter.

“So, what do you think of the window display?” Carter asked brightly.

“Hah—nice try.
Where
did you find that man and do they have more like him, but straight?”

“Long story, and I’m afraid he’s one of a kind.”

She scrunched up her face. “I don’t know what your story is. But I’ll tell you something—if he were mine, I’d fight tooth and nail to keep him.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the worn wooden floor, then up at a spot high on one wall where Ery wanted to paint spaceships and asteroids. “But some fights you just can’t win.”

“Maybe not. But you can scream and shout and go down swinging. Let ’em know you mean business. Let ’em know you’re for real.”

He gave her a small smile and went to clean up the debris from the window project.

N
OTHING
IN
the entire world—in the entire goddamn universe—was as good as being greeted by John when Carter got home.

“I tried to make dinner,” John said into the crook of Carter’s neck. They were embracing, and neither of them wanted to let go.

“Smells, um….”

“Burnt. I got distracted with one of my new books. It’s one of Freddy’s.”

Carter laughed. “Freddy’ll do that to a guy. Thanks for the effort. We can order a pizza.”

John nuzzled him, sending sweet shivers down Carter’s spine. “How about pancakes instead?”

The night was chilly but dry, so they decided to walk. They took their time, bumping shoulders now and then, sometimes pausing to admire the sculptural effect of a winter garden or the way streetlights played over glass and metal. They passed a coffeehouse full of people poking at phones and squinting at laptops.

“Do you want to go to P-Town Tuesday night?” Carter asked.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. Karl invited us to their house this weekend. He’s dying to know what we are.”

We
. Carter liked the sound of that. “I’d kind of like the full story on him too. I have some suspicions, but I don’t think I’m quite right.”

“Oh?”

“I keep thinking mermaid. Uh, mer
man
. But then he’d have a tail, right? I’m willing to bet it’s something aquatic, though.”

Less than a year ago, if Carter had overheard a conversation like this, he’d have assumed the speakers were off their meds. But here he was, saying those words himself, walking beside an alien he loved and feeling the thrum of interstellar energy deep in his own body. And he was happy. That was possibly the most astounding thing of all.

They ate a lot of pancakes that night. Carter ordered pumpkin batter because it was November, after all, then teased John for choosing boring old buttermilk. But then John added bacon and cheddar to his, whereas Carter stuck to maple syrup, so things evened out. They had fun squeezing the batter into various shapes—some of them X-rated—and scarfing the pancakes down. Carter savored his coffee and mused that he hadn’t wanted alcohol in a long time. He licked his lips in anticipation when John sipped at hot chocolate.

A stray thought crept through his mind. Was this the pancake part to his and John’s story? God, he hoped so.

John leaned back in his chair and patted his belly. “That was better than the chicken I was making anyway.”

“I still appreciate the effort. I’ve never before come home from work to discover that someone’s prepared dinner for me.”

“Oh.” Being careful of the griddle, John reached over to grasp Carter’s hand. “I’ll have to do it again. With an oven timer next time. You like your job, don’t you?”

Blinking at the change in topic, Carter chewed his lip. “Uh, yeah. I do. More than I expected, actually. It’s still a creative process. I still get to affect what other people read. And honestly? It’s kind of nice not having to deal with authors’ tantrums. A steady paycheck is awfully nice too, even if it’s not exactly six figures.”

“I should get a job. I’ve worked before.”

Carter covered their clasped hands with his free one. “I think you should write.”

“Hah. Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Now it was John’s turn to look surprised. “I’m terrible. We both know it. You told me so yourself.”

“I was drunk and being an asshole. And yeah, you were terrible. But that last little story you wrote? The one you hid in your duffel before you—” He cleared his throat. “It was a few steps up from terrible. Maybe… just bad. But that’s an improvement. From there you could get to tolerable, then mediocre, and then sky’s the limit.”

John didn’t answer at first. He worried his lip and studied the woodgrain of the table. “What if I can’t improve?”

“What if you can? We’ll never know unless you try. And God, John, you have so many stories to tell. I can
feel
them. Maybe some stories about finding home too.”

And because John looked to be wavering, Carter went in for the kill. “Several months back, when I had my head so far up my own ass the whole world was dark, Freddy gave me some advice. ‘Stop thinking and just do,’ he said. It was good advice. It got me on an RV headed to Portland. And now I’m giving the same sage counsel to you. Write, John. Not because you have to in order to send some goddamn message, but because you want to.”

A slow smile bloomed on John’s handsome face. He brought Carter’s hand to his own mouth for a kiss. “Will you edit for me?”

“I will edit you until you’re crying red ink, my love.” The last part sort of slipped out, but Carter didn’t regret it.

I
NSTEAD
OF
walking straight home, they took a detour. The large park not far from the restaurant turned out to be open late. They slowly wandered the pathways, breathing the crisp air and shuffling through the fallen leaves.

“Freddy and Keith invited me down to LA for Thanksgiving,” Carter announced. “I told them I couldn’t go. It’ll be a busy weekend at the store.”

“I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving.”

“I haven’t in years. But in the morning I’m going to call Freddy and tell him you’re back. And I’ll invite them up here instead. I don’t know what kind of a dinner you and I can manage, but we can give it a shot.” He chuckled. “Or maybe just order one of those supermarket meals.”

John caught his hand and laced their fingers together. “I’d like that.”

They came to a spot that was clear enough of trees to see the sky. Fewer stars were visible than at Yosemite, but still plenty to see, and they sparkled merrily light-years away.

“Will you miss them?” Carter asked.

“No,” John answered at once. “If I turned completely human this very minute and could never fly again, I’d be perfectly happy. As long as I got to keep you.”

It was, Carter thought, a lovely sentiment. And he was about to say so when, as if on cue, his ears began to buzz and all the hair on his body tried to stand on end.

John clutched Carter’s hand so hard it hurt. “No!” John cried hoarsely.

Carter looked around frantically. It wasn’t fair to have an opponent he couldn’t even see. He didn’t know how many of them were there or what weapons they might be able to use. Scratch that—he remembered the power he’d channeled at the dam and realized exactly what they were capable of. Had he wanted to destroy things instead of saving John, Carter could have used all that energy to blow up a good chunk of the Pacific Northwest. He could have been his own personal, enormous nuclear bomb. Presumably John’s people could do the same.

John’s thoughts might have been going along the same route, because he moaned with anguish and let go of Carter’s hand. “I have to go,” he said, his voice broken. He started to walk away.

But Carter ran after him and grabbed him, practically tackled him to a stop. “No fucking way.”

“Carter—”

“It’s just like Tammy said. We kick and scream and goddamn
fight
!” He knew that John didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but Carter had no time for explanations. That jittery electrical charge that set his teeth on edge was getting stronger. Closer.

“We can’t fight them,” John said through gritted teeth. “They’ll hurt you. I can’t let—”

“Bullshit.” Carter raised his voice to a shout. “I’ve stood up to prima donna writers who think every deleted comma is a mortal blow. I’m not backing down from you, assholes!”

Yes, it was all words. But for the first time in his life, he felt brave. He felt… powerful.

Still gripping John for all he was worth—even though he knew a physical restraint wouldn’t matter—Carter let his consciousness sink inward. He gathered the bright bits that John had given him, the parts that Karl said sparkled, and then he burst out of his body like fireworks.

The extraterrestrials were very near, hovering over the park like an insubstantial cloud of hornets. He could hear them. And although they didn’t speak in any humanlike way, Carter’s human brain strove to find their meaning. The translation was rougher than Google translate, but Carter got the gist of it.

Come with us
, the aliens ordered. To John, of course, and not to Carter.

But it was Carter who answered. He hoped comprehensibly.
No. He wants to stay here.

He felt their attention focus on him. Not malevolent, but cold. Like the void of outer space.
This is forbidden
, they said to each other.
This must be destroyed.