The Bodyguard: an alien romance

by Tina Proffitt

  What feels like only seconds later, I hear Van opening the front door.

  I try to sit up and feel a little better. The ringing in my ears has stopped. Holding onto the arm of my stepfather's office chair, I pull myself onto my feet. I wobble a little at first, but when I hear Van's voice in the foyer, I head for him.

  There's a chill in the air, either from the front door being open or from my own overheated skin.

  Van carries Porter's unconscious body inside.

  Goosebumps rise on my arms and legs. Porter looks even worse than when he left. His skin is pale, almost blue, not even a hint of pink on his cheeks beneath his freckles.

  “He looks worse than he is,” Van reads my mind. “I don't want to get blood on the sofa. I need somewhere to put him down.”

  “My mother has an infirmary in the basement.”

  “Lead the way.”

  The automatic lights flick on over our heads as soon as we enter the basement.

  I've never noticed it before, but it smells medicinal down here, like the doctor's office when I was a kid. We walk past the wall of enclosures and through another door. The small hospital my mother keeps down here is fully stocked and looks like a veterinarian’s office.

  Porter's in bad shape. His head flops backward as Van lays him on the exam table.

  Van isn't even a little out of breath from carrying another person.

  I've never been in this room before, but I’ve seen it. I slide the curtain away from one of the small windows. This one looks into an enclosure I’ve never seen.

  I gasp.

  “They are from Antlia Two,” Van says, his voice resigned, as though seeing them is no surprise. “The Numen send their unwanted species here to Earth. Your mother rescues them before anyone else finds out about them.”

  That comes as no surprise to me. “You mean those are real?”

  Van nods. “There is no way to reach them though. They are closed off from the rest of your mother's animals.”

  I can see why. There is a dog, or at least I think it's a dog. It's got a wolf's head and a dog's body. But its legs are long. And it looks as though it could stand up on those powerful hind legs. There's another one that for lack of any other comparison looks like a Wookiee. He has long hair on his somewhat human face, almost like the wolf man from so many black and white movies. But he doesn't look like he wants to eat anyone. “Unwanted species?” His eyes remind me of the Bernese Mountain Dog our neighbors had, dark chocolate with black lashes, and soulful. That's the only way to describe any of them. They're souls in animal bodies. “I didn't know any existed outside of science fiction.”

  “They are experiments,” Van says, “created by the Numen and exiled here.”

  “And that's why my mother brought them all here,” I say, more to myself than to Van, recalling all the times I criticized her for bringing home unwanted animals.

  “No one wanted them,” Van says. “They were frightened by them.”

  If I’d only known. “Do you think they're okay here?”

  “It is the safest place for them to be.”

  I leave the window with a shiver and come to stand next to Van, where he hovers over Porter on the exam table. He exudes a bracing calm that I’m in desperate need of. “What happened to him?” I ask, though part of me is scared to know.

  “The Numen can appear without being seen by anyone.”

  “They did this?”

  “Put these gloves on.” Van hands me a pair of latex gloves. “And start unwrapping gauze.” He puts on a pair of the same. “It is the only possibility. Anyone else, we would have seen running away.”

  “They can disappear,” I murmur as I put on my gloves. “If they can't be seen,” I start unwrapping several rolls of gauze, “how is anyone safe from them?”

  “There are ways to protect yourself from the Numen.” Van finds a bottle of isopropyl alcohol in the cabinet. He hands it to me. “Open this.”

  He can tell that I'm lost in my head and wants to distract me.

  “These are fortunate animals to have your mother to keep them safe here.” Van studies the bump on Porter's head. It's already starting to swell. He swabs it down with the alcohol.

  Porter must really be out, because he doesn't even flinch.

  I can't smell alcohol without getting a little sick to my stomach. It reminds me of needles, which reminds me of blood. I try to look away from the gash on Porter's head as I hand Van the sterile gauze.

  Van holds pressure on Porter's cut. “When the bleeding has stopped, he should be okay.” With his free hand, he checks his pulse. “He'll be alright. His heart is strong.”

  “Why would the Numen attack him?”

  Van tapes the gauze to Porter's wound, then with a long, exhausted sigh, says, “It is complicated.”

  “I've got time.”

  “Numen blood is different than eighty-five percent of human blood. Numen blood lacks the protein called the D antigen. Fifteen percent of humans have this in common with them. So, when they mate with select humans, who lack the protein as well, their offspring will not have it either. Lacking the protein, or having a negative Rh factor, made it possible for a small percentage of people to survive the bubonic plague in the fourteenth century.”

  “The black death pandemic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunately for Porter, his blood contains the protein that identifies him as purely human.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I can smell it.”

  “You can smell whether or not he's human?”

  Van nods. “So can the Numen. Your mother's work centered on discovering the function of the proteins in human DNA, the ones that are not known yet. That is why she worked with mice since their DNA structure is so similar to humans.”

  “Were you with her when she made her discovery?”

  Van shook his head. “Unfortunately, I did not have the privilege. Although, I did observe her work from time to time. Your stepfather wanted me to know what she was working on, to know the significance of what she was trying to prove.”

  “I still don't understand the Numen's interest in Porter.”

  “Anyone with his human blood type is not one of their own, and they know this. They must mate with humans who are compatible with their blood type. If they were to mate with a human who has the protein, the combination of Numen blood with human blood would be disastrous.”

  “Disastrous how?”

  “It would kill the fetus.”

  “Do I want to know if there's a downside to being a hybrid?”

  “You've heard the Bible story about Lot's wife, Ado, who became a pillar of salt after looking back at the city of Sodom. She and her entire family were escaping the city and ordered not to look back. The Numen were displeased with the inhabitants of Sodom, and they were destroying it with atomic energy. As Ado looked back one more time at the burning city, the radiation was too much for her half human, half Numen skin, and her blood crystallized inside her, turned her to stone.”

  “So that's why Numen don't come out in daylight.”

  “And why anyone with the D antigen in their blood is expendable to the Numen.”

  “But why attack him?”

  “Their view of human life is different than yours.”

  “And yours too, right?”

  Van hesitates before he nods.

  “My mother said my blood is rare.”

  “It is.”

  “If I'm Numen, I've got their blood.”

  “That is true. We both do. Our blood lacks the protein as well.”

  “Is that why my parents left me at Hawthorne, because they knew about all this?”

  “After you had your accident, you needed a transfusion. The hospital had no blood that was compatible with your type. Your father discovered just how rare your blood is. Not only are you a part of the fifteen percent of the human population that lacks the protein, but yours is even more rare than that, less than one tenth of a per
cent of the population has it.”

  “Hybrids?”

  “Only hybrids.” Van nods. “So you see, your parents had to send you away, to keep you safe.”

  It hits me hard—I'm an alien. I still can't wrap my brain around it, but it explains so many things.

  Van notices that my hands are shaking because he tries to distract me from freaking out. “You have probably heard the biblical story about the great flood.”

  I nod.

  “That is when first contact was made by Numen here on Earth. Before the flood, that would wipe out the human population, one of the Numen came down to Earth in the form of man. He took the place of Noah's daughter's husband, mated with the unsuspecting wife of only a few months, and created children with her. They, of course, survived.”

  “How could he take the place of a human without anyone suspecting?”

  “Numen can change, make themselves appear like any being they want.”

  “Can you?”

  “I can.”

  “Have you?”

  “It is no different than a human changing their hair color.”

  “You mean you chose to look the way you do?”

  A half smile crosses his face.

  “You made a good choice.”

  Van's smile relaxes measurably, and his eyes turn a smoldering shade of green. “Thank you.”

  “Does that mean that I can too?”

  “I like you just the way you are.”

  Now it's my turn to blush. “Thank you.” The sensuous expression on his face makes it hard for me to raise my voice above a whisper. But so many questions fill my mind. I must know. “Why did the Numen choose my mother?”

  “The Numen knew that she would contribute to scientific research that will greatly advance mankind.”

  “What do they want with humans?”

  Van hesitates. “I cannot bring myself to say it aloud. Can you surmise?”

  Van's reply sends a chill run up my spine. I think I can imagine why they'd want us, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud either. “Are they dying off?”

  He nods gloomily. “After colonization began, all Bastet, who were not taken, went underground to live in caves and underwater to escape the Numen and humans.”

  Porter's reaction to discovering that I'm part alien was hard enough. Imagine if a whole town knew that I was not human. I shiver.

  “On Antlia Two, the Numen live under what you would call martial law. They have no personal choice in the way they live their lives. They have no choice when it comes to military service.”

  “The draft,” I say.

  “Numen citizens are also forced to adjudicate their fellow man.”

  “Jury duty. We still have that. My mother gets called all the time even though she doesn't believe that punishment is an effective way to stop law breaking. Even Porter, whose dad is an attorney, says that corruption has gotten in the way of justice and that prisons are an unsustainable solution.”

  “Evolution comes slowly to most civilizations. Once decisions can be made by citizens voluntarily, instead of having rules thrust upon them, personal responsibility becomes paramount.”

  “You mean like if I have to raise my own food, I get a lot more careful about how I treat the land?”

  “Exactly.” Van smiles, and I get that good feeling I used to get in school when I answered a question right.

  “I don't want to live in a world run by tyranny.”

  “It is my job to see that you never will.” His expression is so full of strength that I have no doubt that he can do just that. “Despite what the Numen want,” he says, “the future is not set.”

  “That's what the guidance counselor at school is always saying.”

  “It is true. That is how time works. It is always happening at once, the past, the present, and the future. And the future can be changed or corrected if need be, by what is done in the present.”

  “Right now, can you use your Shido skills to see into the possible future?” Fear knots inside me.

  “I can.”

  “Far enough to see if I’m in danger?”

  “I can.”

  “Am I?” I shudder inwardly at the thought.

  Van's determined expression clouds with anger. His terse nod conveys the fury within him. I have no doubt that no matter what danger I face, Van would not let them win.

  Instead of fearing for my own life because I know now that it's in danger, all of a sudden, I have to know if George is safe.

  I leave Van and Porter, who's still unconscious, and run into the enclosure.

  Van follows.

  “My mom was right,” I say when I reach the cages. I feel like crying and screaming all at once. “What the aliens are doing to us is no different than what we've done to the animals.” I feel like one of the trapped animals, powerless to get away, powerless to defend myself against something so much stronger and resourceful than I am. “They've taken people from their homes and returned them unharmed, like Porter's father and Anna's mom. But at what cost?”

  “Look at me.” Van turns me around to face him, strong hands cupping my cheeks.

  I look up at his sympathetic eyes. A tear slips down my cheek, and his thumb catches it.

  “Come and sit with me.” Van takes me gently by the hand and leads me to the corner of the room where we can sit with our backs against the wall and watch the animals. “There's nothing to fear as long as we are together.”

  “Because of you,” I say. “You're the one who can touch my forehead and make me understand Calculus and Latin.”

  “It only worked because you are one of us. Can you see that? You are special.”

  “What's really happening here? What's in store for us? Are the aliens benevolent benefactors who just want us to have an easy life like these animals? Or are they mad scientists who want to experiment on our brains?”

  Van's crooked smile is gentle. “Neither. They just want to survive, like everyone else. They don't see themselves as bad guys.”

  “My mother always said the only difference between the good guys and the bad guys was which side you were on.”

  “Your mother is correct. She did not earn Q clearance in her field for no reason. You need not fear for George. He is safe here. The Numen are not interested in animals. They consider them lower life forms.”

  “They'll only come for people like me.”

  Van's silence speaks volumes.

  I take a deep breath and try reasoning with myself. Van has promised to protect me. So far, he has. Entire cities have been taken and I've been safe—as long as I was with Van. From now on, I vow to myself to always stay with him, never leave his side again.

  What was I thinking anyhow, leaving school the way I did? I could have been taken already.

  I look at him, sitting there so calm, so cool, knowing that he could defend me against an army if he had to. “How old were you when you found out who you were?”

  “I have always known.”

  “Obviously, my parents kept my birth a secret from me.”

  “Your mother did not think there was any reason to tell you or she would have. She did not earn top level security clearance for no reason.”

  “You're loyal to her. I appreciate that.”

  “She is a good woman.”

  “When you say things like that, you seem older than sixteen.”

  “By Earth years, I am sixteen.”

  “How old would you be on your home planet?”

  He appears to do math in his head for a moment. “Approximately twenty-five years.”

  “That's old!”

  “To you.” Van laughs.

  “I like the sound of your laugh too.”

  The warm twinkle in Van's eyes says that he remembers giving me the same compliment.

  “So, if I lived on your planet, I could legally drink and already be graduated from college and be living my life already.”

  “You are not allowed to drink here?”

 
I shake my head. “Not alcohol. Liquor. Beer. Wine. Anything that makes you drunk, until you're twenty-one.”

  “That old?” Van laughs at my expense and I give his arm a playful swat. “Drinks like those are nothing where I come from,” he says. “You would have already had these things. Children are given wine at meal times. It helps them sleep.”

  “Must be nice not to have so many rules to live by.” I lean in closer so I can smell the scent of soap lingering on his warm skin. “Tell me about what's it like where you grew up.”

  “We do not have mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, families, the way you do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Our leaders say that relationships lead to war.”

  “Here, religion leads to war.”

  “Both are correct.”

  I laugh. “My grandmother isn't afraid of war. She follows a Dark Age superstitious religion based on fear and retribution, but modernized to make it more palatable. She told me once that there are forces of good and evil battling for our souls, and that if we could see them, we would fall dead from fear. I had nightmares for months.”

  “As a child growing up,” Van says, “I would watch television at night when I could not sleep. They were old American television shows. There was one in particular that I liked best, about a man named Mike Donovan.”

  “You mean V?” I sit up a little straighter. “The series from the eighties?”

  Van's brow wrinkles in question.

  “It doesn't matter. That's one of my all-time favorites. I saw it when I was a kid. At school, during recess on the playground, we used to play V. All the boys wanted to be Mike Donovan.” I rest my chin on my fist and study Van. “That's who you look like! The actor that played him. I couldn't place you when I first met you, but that's it.”

  “Actor?”

  “Never mind. I don't want to burst your bubble. Keep talking.”

  “I wanted to be just like Mike Donovan, brave and trustworthy. He did everything within his power to save his people. So when I grew and had completed my training, I was given my Shido naming ceremony. I was asked to choose a warrior name. I chose his.”

  “I like it. Mike Donovan. It suits you.”

  “Thank you.”

  A few moments pass in silence. It's nice just sitting here with him. Then a terrible thought occurs to me, something I want to ask him. “Back at the school, you said you've been sprayed with pepper spray twice.”