by Rachel Ford
He let his hands rest on the desktop, and the clutter underneath him, and sighed. Had he really come all this way, broken and entered, just to be waylaid by a wall? A wall that might have nothing to do with the alien’s disappearance, at that?
He pushed himself onto his feet, and as he did so his left hand brushed something onto the ground. It was a pen, he saw, and he stooped to pick it up. In the process, he pressed the push-button on the end of the pen.
The office seemed to move, and Alfred yelped. But, he realized, it wasn’t the office. It was only the wall, the one he’d been studying so intently, and it was shifting away from him. For a moment, he was confused. Then, he glanced at the pen he still held, and realized with a measure of amazement that it wasn’t a pen at all, but a clever kind of remote control – one that operated a secret door in the wall.
Holy sugar cookies. He had the thrilling sensation of being in a spy movie. This, though, lingered for only as long as it took to recall the host of dangers that usually assailed the heroic protagonists of said genre. He stared at the gaping hole in the wall, and the void beyond it, and gulped.
The die is cast, he reminded himself. And then he took a step – one trembling step – toward the darkness, and then another, and another.
A few steps later, and he’d left Cassidy’s office, and was headed down a dark, silent hallway. It was, he saw rather quickly, less a hallway than a landing, though, for almost directly before him was a set of stairs.
They seemed to stretch on forever. He peered into the darkness that enveloped the light from his phone, hiding whatever waited at the bottom of those stairs. He could feel his knees tremble.
Still, he pushed on. The stairway was not interminable, but it did stretch the length of some two or three stories. At last, though, it broke into a kind of concrete shaft. A tunnel. This, in turn, ran deep into the distance. But here, at least, less was left to the imagination. Dim lights lit the stretch.
As the taxman approached, they blazed with greater intensity. The first time, Alfred’s heart made a beeline straight for his mouth. But once he realized that they were simply motion-activated lights, he jumped less as the phenomenon repeated.
The tunnel ran long, and Alfred thought he must have crossed the length of the town some two or three times over before he began to glimpse a brighter light. Now, at last, he broke from the dull grays and relatively confined spaces of the passage to a great, lightly painted space. It seemed a kind of common area, with benches, tables and even greenery here and there under plant lights. There was a fountain in the center, and a pretty pool.
Alfred frowned at it. What kind of prison, he wondered, was this? That it was a prison, though, he was absolutely convinced, for there were cells off the common. There was a kind of interrogation room, with a great boardroom table and videoconference equipment at one end, and a mess hall off another, with ample chairs and tables. They must be expecting to capture a bunch of extraterrestrials, the taxman thought perplexedly.
Aside from these shared spaces, though, were the cells. They were rooms with glass walls, and doors off the common. Most were empty, but after a moment of scanning the setup, he spotted his quarry.
The alien sat, quite dejectedly it seemed to Alfred, on his bed, his limbs crossed, his head bowed, and his wide eyes pressed shut. He felt again the thrill of discovery he’d seen when viewing the picture of this strange lifeform on Nancy’s computer. He, a humble enforcer of tax law, had seen what mankind had only dreamt of for so many years: genuine extraterrestrial life.
With the excitement, though, came fear. Seeing the alien again made it seem that much more real, that much more terrifying to him. He was here, in a top-secret, underground government prison, staring at a visitor from another world – a prisoner from another world.
He breathed in and out to steady his nerves, and then moved. Whatever time he had, he knew, wouldn’t be long. Wherever the guards were, they’d be back soon.
He strode over to the alien’s cell. There was a button by the gray steel door, and he pushed it. He could see the extraterrestrial beyond the glass of his cell. The creature started, and peered at him with wide, navy-colored eyes. Then, slowly, cautiously, he stood, and ambled toward the door.
It opened, and Alfred stood face-to-face with the being from outer space.
Chapter Thirteen
“Hi,” Alfred said simply. As first contacts went, it was hardly profound. He wasn’t sure if the alien could even understand him. But, then again, he hadn’t the foggiest notion of his manner of address, either.
“Hello,” the alien spoke, and Alfred almost yelped at being understood. He spoke with a slow voice, melodic in its tones, and calm in its delivery. “You are another human?”
“Uh, yes,” he stammered out. “I am. I’m here to get you.”
“Oh.” The alien being nodded clumsily, his – Alfred was fairly certain that it was male – great head moving with a kind of jerking motion. “I am at your disposal, sir.”
Alfred nodded. “Good. Come on, we have to move fast.”
Bobbing his blue head again, he spoke in the same sober yet musical way. “It is time to agitate the gravel, then.”
The taxman blinked. “What?”
“Let us beat feet.”
“Right,” Alfred nodded. Then, gesturing to the open space and the hall beyond it, he said, “This way.”
The alien moved in the direction he’d indicated. He walked, Alfred saw, with an easy gait. He was, in fact, very nearly human in his movements, from his bipedal perambulation to the upright posture of his torso. The only mannerism so far that had seemed distinctly unusual was his nodding of the head. The taxman wondered if it was a gesture learned in captivity; it certainly had not seemed natural to him.
This was wondered briefly though, and in passing. His primary focus was on escaping with his newfound friend in tow. They crossed the commons and took a right into the tunnel beyond. “Down here,” Alfred said. “We need to get out this way.”
“We’re going to the surface?”
“Yes. I’m freeing you.”
“Peachy,” the alien declared enthusiastically.
The taxman wondered at his companion’s vernacular, but, again, only fleetingly. They began the long trek down the concrete tunnel, toward freedom. Alfred’s heart was in his mouth with every step, with every ring of his soles on the floor below, with every echoed whisper between the pair.
They had got about half way when – at far greater volume than a whisper – his companion asked, “What is your name, human?”
“Alfred,” he whispered in return. “Alfred Favero.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Alfred Alfred Favero. I am Li’Muldan. But my human friends call me Li.”
“Nice to meet you, Li. But we should really keep moving. We need to get out of here before anyone comes back.”
“Ah. Let’s punch it, then.” This said, Li began to run down the hall.
Alfred gaped. He’d never seen anyone move as quickly as the alien was moving. “Wait,” he called. “Wait for me!”
He was gasping for breath when they reached Cassidy’s office. Li’Muldan might appear in height and size a reasonable facsimile of a human form, he thought, but his athletic abilities were entirely inhuman. He’d covered the length of passage in a fraction of the time it had taken the taxman, and then he’d easily ambled up the stairs while Alfred was still panting away stories below him.
Still, Li waited patiently on the landing, in the dark. “Now where?”
“I’ve got a car outside,” Alfred said between breaths. “We need to get to it. But carefully, so no one spots you.”
“Right-o.”
They exited Cassidy’s office and reached the door when Li let loose a low whistle. Alfred jumped and nearly screamed at the unexpected sound, but the alien said in calm tones, “That door’s been totaled.”
Trying to regain his composure, the taxman cleared his throat. “Yes. But let’s keep it down.”
<
br /> They moved outside, and Alfred led the way toward his vehicle, his eyes darting this way and that. Sand Plains was as quiet as when he’d left it.
“Is that your land shuttlecraft?” Li asked as they approached the rental.
It was definitely the first time he’d heard it referred to in such a manner, but the meaning was clear enough. “Yes.” He pressed a button on the remote, and the lights flashed to indicate that the doors were now unlocked. “Come on, get in.”
Li did as he was bid, and Alfred followed. “Don’t forget to buckle up,” he reminded his companion. He’d probably just broken dozens of federal laws, but that was no excuse to be lax on safety.
Then, he started the car, pulled out of the space, and headed into the shrouding safety of the night.
The first leg of his rescue mission accomplished, Alfred realized he hadn’t thought much further ahead. Maybe, on some level, he’d never expected to get this far at all. But here he was. Li was out of prison, and they were free.
The men with guns wouldn’t be far behind, though. Where did he go from here? What steps could he take to keep Li safe? He needed a plan.
“How did they get their hands on you, anyway?” he asked the alien suddenly. It seemed like knowing how they’d detected Li the first time might come in handy in avoiding capture a second time.
“The other humans, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, they were waiting for me after my craft landed.”
“They must have been monitoring your entry into our atmosphere,” Alfred reasoned.
“No doubt,” Li agreed.
“Speaking of your ship, though, where is it? Did they take that too?”
“Oh, no. I was assigned to your planet, for the span of two of your weeks. My people left me in the sand prairies. Pardon me: deserts.”
“Left you? You mean, they’ll be back for you?”
“Indeed yes. On Friday next.”
A plan was taking shape slowly in Alfred’s mind. “Do you know where they’ll meet you?”
“I do. In the Nevada sand prairie.”
“Where they left you?”
Li bobbed his head.
“Then, we’ve only got a week and a half to fill,” Alfred mused.
“Yes.”
The taxman nodded vigorously. A week and a half of living off the radar wouldn’t be easy, but it’d be a heck of a lot easier than a lifetime on the run. “Alright,” he said, “we can do that.”
Chapter Fourteen
As the sun started to rise, Alfred was faced with another problem. Li didn’t look human. His jumpsuit-clad form was human enough to avoid scrutiny, but his spotted blue skin and bald head certainly would not go unnoticed by other motorists. Not now that the sun had risen.
“We need to get a room,” he decided.
The alien nodded his acquiescence. “I am at your disposal, Alfred Alfred.”
Here, the taxman took the opportunity to correct his companion’s misunderstanding of his name. “Ah,” the alien said, comprehending. “Forgive me, Alfred Favero. I hope I have not caused offense.”
“No, none at all,” he reassured.
He found a hotel off the main road. It wasn’t a dive, exactly, but Alfred wasn’t entirely convinced that they’d escape tiny stowaways, either, if they spent too much time. Still, he couldn’t drive around in broad daylight with an alien in his passenger seat. Bugs or no bugs, they’d have to take their chances. So, with a caution to Li to stay inside the car until he returned, he inquired about a room.
One was available, and a minute later he returned, keys in hand. “Here, quick now,” he told the alien. “We’ll go in the back, so no one sees you.”
Li beamed. “This is like the capers of one of your private eyes,” he declared, with a hint of emphasis on the final phrase, as if he was familiar with the term but not necessarily the etymology behind it.
“It is?”
“Yes,” the alien assured him. “I have studied many of your entertainment programs on the subject. Such hijinks would be quite at home on the silver screen.”
“Oh. Well, let’s carry on with our…hijinks,” Alfred urged. “Before someone catches us and calls the cops.”
Li smiled, and his whole face seemed to disappear into the expression. “How exciting.”
Alfred’s idea of excitement definitely didn’t involve police and government black sites, but he could only imagine what the alien had been through already. Who was he to criticize his coping mechanisms?
They made it inside undetected, with Li only once having to turn aside to avoid the gaze of a fellow guest at the other end of the hall.
Alfred locked the door behind them and breathed out a long sigh of relief. So far, so good.
“Well,” Li said, “now what?”
“Well,” Alfred thought out loud, “I’m not sure. I guess we wait until dark and then head out again.”
“Have you anything in the way of provender? I am afraid I’m overdue due for my first feeding.”
“Oh.” That was something he hadn’t even considered. His own nerves were too on edge, his stomach in too many knots, to turn his mind to food. “Uh…what do you eat?”
“My gastronomic system is actually quite comparable to yours,” Li told him. “And while my dietary needs are somewhat more stringent, your food is largely compatible.”
“What?”
“I am open to any manner of sustenance you might find, Alfred Favero.”
“Oh.” He glanced out the window. “Well, there’s a gas station down the road. I can go grab something.”
“Swell.”
“But what do you normally eat? Do you eat meat? Are you vegan?”
“On my world, there is no distinction between plant and animal as there is on yours. Our flora, you see, possess the same kind of rudimentary intelligence that your lower animals – and ours – do.”
“Oh.” Alfred realized he knew very little about Li’s world, and determined, when he returned, to ask more. “So…your plants are alive?”
“Well all plants are alive, at some point or another,” the alien mused. “But in the sense that you mean – intelligent life forms – then, yes, ours are, where yours are not.”
“Wow. That’s…weird.”
“Imagine,” came the response, “our surprise at finding out your trees do not sing, your cabbages can not think, your grass is not mindful of the sky overhead or the rain.” He shook his head, with all the clumsiness of his prior nods. “It was very distressing.”
“Well,” he pointed out, “at least we don’t have to kill a salad before eating it.”
“But you do,” Li reminded him. “The only difference is, your salad doesn’t realize it’s being killed.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“Ah.”
“So…anyway…meat’s fine?”
“Yes, meat is fine. But…” Here the alien smiled, and his eyes seemed to disappear with the motion. Alfred had to repress a shiver; the expression seemed at once shockingly familiar yet jarringly…well, alien. “If it would not be too much trouble…I am rather fond of your sweets. For dessert, perhaps?”
Alfred promised to grab something sweet and turned to go.
His companion stopped him, though, saying, “Do you have enough dough to cover my grub?”
“Money?” the taxman guessed. “For food?”
“Yes.”
“I do.”
“Ah. Then I am in your debt, for I am afraid I do not have any of your currency.”
“Don’t worry about it. I got you covered.”
Li smiled again. “You are a real straight shooter, Alfred Favero, as your men of the west would say.”
“Uh…thanks.” The taxman took the opportunity to escape, before he was subjected to any more archaic slang. Part of him wondered at the alien’s outdated vocabulary – never mind the fact that he could speak English at all. Mostly, though, his mind was busy with feigning nonchalance as he left th
e hotel, and avoiding scrutiny from any passersby. Paradoxically, as is always the case in such situations, he probably drew far more eyes to himself for his efforts at seeming at ease than he would if he hadn’t bothered with the attempt.
The convenience stored was ordinary enough, with a hot bar full of suspect food, and a cooler with frozen food that had probably been there since they opened their doors. All of it, naturally, was marked well above what it was worth.
Alfred, though, dutifully loaded an armful of food and brought it to the register. None of it looked appetizing, but, he figured, there might be something here the alien would want.
“Road trip?” the young man behind the counter asked as he cashed him out.
“Something like that.”
On the walk back to the hotel, his phone dinged to signal that he’d received a text message. It was from Nancy. “Morning,” was all it said.
He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and put the phone back in his pocket. He didn’t want to hear from Nancy now. He didn’t want to think of her now. He couldn’t.
Alfred was back at the hotel in a few minutes. As he approached the door, though, he froze. The sound of voices within carried down the hall. Fudge muffins. They found us. He wondered what to do. Should he burst through, and confront whoever was there? It would probably not accomplish much, but it might at least give poor Li a chance to run.
Then, though, he heard laughter: canned laughter – the kind from sitcoms and old television shows – and a long, unbroken wheeze of a laugh. Slowly, quietly, he unlocked the door and peered inside. Li was reclined against the headboard of his bed, holding his sides. His attention was firmly fixed on the flat screen on the opposite wall. “Li’Muldan?”
The alien started and got to his feet. “Alfred Favero. Forgive me. I did not hear you approach.”
No wonder, at that volume, the taxman thought. He was half surprised his companion could hear at all. Aloud, though, he said, “No problem. Could we maybe turn that down a bit, though, in case anyone’s trying to sleep next door?”
