by David Coy
Like waves in a pool that slowly flatten to nothing, the man finally settled, calmed and slept.
Rachel waited a few moments then returned to the room, a little sheepishly.
“What was that all about?” she asked Donna.
“I’d say the patient has had some experience with that device or something like it,” Donna replied. “I don’t think he liked the experience very much.”
For some perverse reason she couldn’t explain, Rachel was tempted to bring the device back into the room and show it to him again—real close up.
“Well, this just gets more and more mysterious all the time,” she said knowingly for Donna’s benefit. What she really wanted to do was grab the man and shake him and make him tell her what it all meant. “I wonder what the relationship is.”
“We may be able to find out,” Donna said. “I plan to install the AUD's tomorrow. I think he can handle it. We know he can speak. If he could hear, we could communicate with him.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rachel said, disguising the anticipation in her voice. “That’s a real good idea.”
Sometimes, during the daylight hours, when her thoughts were busy, confused and filled with figuring out this or that, she was sure it was only her professional pride that kept her wondering, seeking answers about the structure and the stranger’s role in it.
But it was in the in-between state, the time between sleep and wakefulness, when certainty came.
When she first awoke, in that half-real state at dawn, clarity came to her and her questions were answered before they were phrased. Adrift there, she felt in her nerves, more than thought it in her mind, that the man was part of something more horrible, more hideous than she could ever imagine. She could feel it, as surely as she could feel her own flesh, that something terrible, something loathsome was here; something fantastic, dreadful and vile. Try as she might, she could find no clue to its form, no hint of its shape. There was no picture of it, no image of it to be found, but she knew it was there, invisible yet as tangible, as revolting, as rotten meat.
There was something else about the man that frightened her. In his appearance, she found something terrifying, yet familiar, like an ugly afterimage from a nightmare. Somehow those limbs stirred the dimmest and most nauseating feelings. She was sure that, somewhere in the hideous man’s soul, a repugnant thing lay dormant, squirming, waiting for release. When those feelings occurred, in the half-light of daybreak, she was sure she held the key to the damned thing’s liberation.
“Hey, what’s going on?” John said into her ear. “You’re as tight as a spring.”
She patted his arm and made a conscious effort to relax a little. The response drew a fond and lengthwise hug that caressed her from neck to feet.
* * *
Rachel wanted to see the operation and to be there when Donna turned on the stranger’s hearing. She wanted to be the first to ask questions. The problem was that she didn’t know what those questions should be, but she was sure she could think of something.
By the time she had bathed and dressed and made her way to the shuttle, Donna already had the patient under anesthesia. He was on his stomach with his head in a steel support to keep it immobile. She was preparing to open his skull, just behind his ear, with a small bone saw.
“Put this on if you want to stay in here,” Donna said, handing her a mask.
Rachel put it on and took a seat. She wasn’t in the least squeamish and very interested in the procedure.
Two hours later, Donna was finished and the AUD's were in place, looking like shiny walnut shells behind each ear.
“They look painful,” Rachel said. “Are they supposed to stick out like that?”
“Well, there’s only so much that can go inside his head,” Donna replied. “Most of the works are right there where we can get at them to tune them.”
“Tune them?”
“That’s right,” Donna answered. “We can adjust his hearing to be quite powerful if we wanted to. You can turn them up so his hearing is better than a canine’s. Not that you’d want to do that. Most humans would find that much auditory reception pretty distracting.”
“What about the devices themselves?” Rachel wanted to know. “Aren’t they going to get in the way? Like when he’s sleeping?”
“They’ll cause a little irritation for a while at the point where they make contact with the epidermis,” Donna said. “But the proteins in the seals will bond permanently with the skin there and in a week he won’t even know they’re there.”
“That’s great,” Rachel said, not meaning it. “When does he wake up so we can talk to him?”
“In a few hours if all goes right.”
“I’ll be back,” Rachel said. She left her mask on the table by the door.
* * *
Donna cleaned up and left the patient to recover. She turned the AUD's down to low so the sounds around him wouldn’t disturb him too much when he came out of anesthesia. That’s all there was to do for now.
It was Eddie’s turn to prepare dinner that night. They’d just sat down to eat when John looked up and saw Donna’s patient standing in the shuttle’s open door.
“Well, look at this,” he said. “He’s up on his feet.”
Like a scrawny mannequin, the grotesque man was standing there naked, leaning against the latch. His head was turned toward them, but it was impossible to tell if he could see them. He looked like he might fall down any second, and in any direction.
The sight of him standing there, backlit, with one arm longer than the other and his thin, rubber-covered legs made Rachel ill.
Donna rushed over to him and held him up.
“Can you hear me?” she asked. “Do you understand me?”
The patient nodded yes to both questions.
“Where?” he croaked.
“You’re with us. You’re okay. You should lie back down now,” she said.
Rachel was there in a flash. She kept her distance but hovered around them like a hyena.
“Who are you?” Rachel barked.
The forcefulness of the question drew a look from Donna.
“Hold on Rachel,” she said. “He’s just coming out of anesthesia. He should be back in bed.” Donna turned him gently around and started him back into the makeshift infirmary. That much physical contact with him was nearly unbearable.
“I’ll go with you if you don’t mind,” Rachel said.
Donna gave another look over her shoulder. “Don’t piss me off,” she said to her. “He’s my patient. I mean it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel replied. “I’m the one who brought him back, remember?”
“Yeah, I do. Why is the question, Rachel."
“I’ll let you know when I find out myself,” Rachel said back. She followed them closely as if he might somehow get away from her.
Donna helped him back up onto the bed and covered him up with a sheet. His eyes closed almost immediately.
“Can I talk to him now?” Rachel asked, an impatient edge to her voice.
Donna sighed. “Look, there’s plenty of time for that. Leave him alone for now, won’t you?”
Rachel pursed her lips and thought about it.
She didn’t have to think about it long.
“I can speak,” the man said weakly. “I can hear you . . . and I can talk.”
Rachel held up her hands. “There. See? He wants to talk. So let’s allow him to talk.”
Donna, resigned, gave her a parting look as she brushed past. “Don’t yell at him or anything,” she said.
Rachel made a face at Donna's departing back, then pulled a chair closer to the bedside and plopped down in it. She studied him. The man’s eyes were open, and he stared straight up, waiting.
She took a deep breath.
“Who are you?” she asked.
* * *
The question went in Gilbert’s brain and stirred around a little, then slipped out the other side with nothing attached. H
e understood it easily enough. He just didn’t know the answer.
“I . . . I don’t know who I am," he said. His voice was slow and far off. Rachel had to strain to hear it.
“You don’t know your name or you don’t know anything about yourself?” she asked. “Which one?”
“I don’t know my name.”
“Then we’ll have to give you one for now. How would that be? Just until you remember your real one.”
“That would be all right. I don’t think that would matter.”
“What shall it be? Do you have any heroes or anything that you like? Maybe we could use one of those.”
“God is my hero,” he said solemnly.
“Well, I can’t call you that, now can I?” she chuckled.
“No. That would be blasphemy.”
“Okay, how about one of the characters in your book. How
about one of those?”
“What book?”
“The one you had with you when we found you. Your bible.”
“My Bible is here?” he asked, real affect in the words.
“Oh, yes. Right here.” She reached over and patted it, then gently opened it to a page at random. She looked closely at the page and read a few lines of the old English.
“Here’s one . . . Jacob. How’s that one. Is that a guy you like?”
“Jacob,” Gilbert said, “was the nephew of Laban and married his cousin after laboring for seven years to pay for her. He had many wives in the end.”
“Is that right?” Rachel took a moment and read a little of the story. “You know this stuff is pretty good,” she said on finishing it. “Okay, then Jacob is it?”
“Jacob is a good name.”
“Well, Jacob. How did you get here?”
“I don’t know how I came to this place.”
“Okay. Tell me about yourself. How old are you?”
“I’m not sure. I was born in 1955.”
Rachel blinked.
“What was that? Did you say 1955?”
“Yes. I was born in Toledo, Ohio in 1955.”
She let it sink in, unsure whether or not to believe him. “That would make you over nine-hundred years old, Jacob.” Jacob just stared up at the empty ceiling, and Rachel thought she saw just the slightest hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.
“God has delivered me," he said.
“Hmm . . . I see,” she said.
“God has brought me back from Hell for his purpose.”
“And just what might that be, then?”
“I do not have to know my God’s reasons.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“It does not matter.”
“Well, it might when I tell you. You’re on a jungle planet about 40 warp days from Earth. That’s a very, very long way from Toledo, Ohio.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re approximately forty light years from earth. I think they knew what light years were in 1955, didn’t they?” She watched him swallow with his mouth open. The way it looked made her want to slap him.
“Then they brought me here, for God’s purpose . . . I’ve passed through Hell and arrived in this place for His purpose.”
“Who are they?”
“The alien beings who . . . ” his mouth just closed shut as if he’d turned it off.
“The alien beings who what?” she wanted to know. “The ones who lived in this place? Those alien beings?”
His eyes closed, and the stranger now known as Jacob seemed to sleep.
“Jacob? Are you awake there, Jacob?” she asked.
No response. She had the impression he had shut her out completely.
She felt cheated for the moment but was determined to find out what he’d been talking about, sooner rather than later.
She left him there and joined the others in the eating area where they were just finishing their dinner of meat and potatoes. Donna still had an attitude about her aggressiveness with the stranger, but tried to keep it down. It was dinnertime, after all, and they were family. Donna had never believed that bad feelings, no matter how major or minor, should be brought to the dinner table. That, too, was part of their budding culture.
“What’s he got to say?” John wanted to know. “Anything good?”
“He seems to have a lot to say,” Rachel replied. “The problem is he stopped saying it all of a sudden.”
“I think I suggested he was fatigued, if you recall,” Donna said politely.
“That’s not it. He just stopped talking, like he didn’t want to say anything more. He got real secretive. He did say he was born in Ohio in 1955, however. You might find that somewhat interesting.”
“Bullshit,” John said.
“That’s what he said, goddamn it,” Rachel said defensively.
“Hey, you two,” Donna piped in. “No arguing at the table.”
“How in the fu . . . ” John began. “How is it, anyway, that he could be that old, Rachel dearest?”
Donna made a face at her food for the pointless, silly exchange she knew was coming. Trying to ignore it, she stuffed her mouth and looked away.
“I don’t know, John, my friend. Those were the words he used. He also said he doesn’t know his name so we gave him one out of his bible for now. Jacob. Call him Jacob.”
“Jacob?” Eddie said. “That’s a strange name.”
“Well, then it fits him, ‘cuz he’s one weird mother . . . ” She stopped herself. “One strange fellow.”
“He certainly is turning out to be quite interesting, isn’t he?” Donna asked.
“Isn’t he?” Rachel agreed politely.
“Rather,” John said.
* * *
The next morning, Rachel headed for his bedside again. He was staring up at the ceiling, but when she entered the room, he turned to look at her. It was the first time he’d seen her head to toe. He swallowed. She pulled the chair close.
“Good morning, Jacob,” she almost chirped, “How are you feeling?”
He continued to stare at her, and his look felt like some strange touch to her face and neck she wanted to slap away.
“I feel as if I’ve known you,” he said. “These hearing aids distort your voice, but I think I’ve heard it before.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, not believing it. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Perhaps not.”
“No perhaps, Jacob. We couldn’t have possibly met. What are you staring at?” she asked. “Is there something on my face? Did I leave some breakfast there?”
She wiped idly at her face and chin just to act like she was checking.
He swallowed.
“Now, tell me more about these aliens. How about it?” He turned away and stared up at the ceiling again, a look of smug tranquility on his face.
“No dice, huh?” Rachel asked.
She studied his face for a moment longer. He was implacable. There was no way he would give in, short of torture. She entertained the thought for just a second. It might be worth a try. She was sure she could think of something effective.
He turned and stared at her again. The look made her skin crawl. Thoughts of torture briefly returned.
“May I see your body?” he asked.
She blinked. “My body . . . ?” she replied, almost stuttering. “You want to see . . . my body?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” she said.
“You want to see my body . . . naked?”
“Yes.”
“If I show you my body naked, you’ll tell me about the aliens?”
“Perhaps.”
“No perhaps. I show you my body, and you tell me about the aliens and how you got here. That’s the deal.”
“I will tell you something about the aliens.”
She took a deep breath through her nose and studied the hideous thing in front of her. She wasn’t in the least bit shy about her anatomy and had shown it to men enough times to know how. But do
ing so now, as some ghastly trade with a freak she couldn’t fathom gave her nausea. She’d rather have shown her naked body to her ninety-year-old uncle Petros—gladly.
“Why are you so interested in my body all of a sudden?”
No answer.
But a reason was growing deep inside her. She couldn’t define it exactly, but it was there sure enough. Rachel could feel it as something evil. She wanted to vomit it up and spit it out at him. She wanted to strangle him where he lay.
She stood up and unzipped her suit from the neck down to her crotch. Staring straight ahead, she pulled one then the other arm free of the sleeves and worked her torso out of the top part. Then she slipped her hands inside at the waist and squirmed her full hips first to the right then the left and let the suit fall to her ankles. She reached behind and unclipped her bra, removed it and dropped it in the chair behind her. Her panties were next. Unceremoniously, she ran her thumbs along the inside and worked them down over her hips and down to her ankles.
She stood there naked, staring straight ahead. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, not out of excitement, but out of anger and humiliation.
He just stared. His eyes going from her head to her knees and back again. She could almost feel them like an unbearable, ashen touch.
“Seen enough?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Yes,” he said finally.
“Good,” she replied curtly.
She had her clothes back on in no time.
She sat back down and crossed her legs tight. Jacob went back to staring straight up, the same self-satisfied, barely visible smile on his thin and crusty lips.
“Well? Now it’s your turn,” she said matter-of-factly.
“The aliens . . . ” he started.
“Yes?”
“The aliens came to earth in the year 2006. Perhaps sooner. I don’t know.”
“2006?”
“Yes. They came and took many people. Kidnapped them.”
“Then what? How did you get here?”
“They must have brought me here.”
“How did you stay alive for so long? Did it have something to do with the parasite attached to you?”
