Alien Terrain (3 page)

“This place is shared by a group of schoolteachers who go
from place to place to teach the kids of migrant workers how to read. I got the
key from a woman I work with. My husband doesn’t know that she exists.”

“Your husband?”

“Ex-husband, I suppose. I was leaving him today. Don’t
worry,” she said, patting his bare chest. “I decided long before I found you
tied up out in the garage.”

“I take it that you don’t approve of anti-alien violence?”

“I don’t,” said Jane with a no-nonsense headshake.

“But that’s not why you left your husband?”

“It is actually.” Wait. Was it? Jane didn’t want to hash her
reasons out again. “Let’s just say his other qualities weren’t enough to get me
past the murders.”

“Murders?”

“One murder,” she corrected.
“One and half
if we count you.”

“That must have been Fino.” The man’s gaze drifted to the
ceiling. “Is that how Fino died? He was so young.”

Jane had nothing to say to that. She lifted up the ice pack.
Blotted up the melted water with the other towel, surveyed the effects, and
gently set it down again. Something in the man made her feel fidgety. Something
about that one perfect eye, the beating pulse, the faint curve to his lips.
Some stillness in him was unnerving. The growing shadows left a startling
impression of his beauty. All that perfection seemed made up. Not real.

“So you’re certain you’ve left no way for him to find this
house?”

“Again?”
Jane
sighed
discouragement for all these worries. “On the off, off chance Rick bothers
digging through his brain and actually comes up with the name Opting In, which
isn’t likely, by the way, since he never gave two shits about my volunteering,
what can he do? Call the agency? And ask them what? No question he could ask
would get him anywhere
near
the woman who gave me
these keys.” Jane shook her head, thinking of Lois in her tidy little trailer.
“If he does anything, I’m telling you he’ll drive up north and poke around the
hotels on the interstate.”

“
If
?”

The thought of Rick’s indifference seemed to shock him,
which was quaint.

“My husband won’t be thrilled I walked out on him. He’ll be
annoyed at the disruption to his life. A little hurt. But from there to putting
in the effort to come find me…” Jane pulled her mouth downward as she shook her
head.

Unless
he’s mad about the money
.
That thought made her turn back to the
tray, hoping to hide the worry from her guest. The twenty thousand she’d taken
had all come from her parents, so she knew she had the right. Even Rick would
recognize the truth in that.
Eventually.

“Besides fixing old cars, those boys would rather curse and
drink a bunch of beer than do anything else. I’m not flattering myself that
they’ll come looking for me, and you shouldn’t either.”

She gave him a look that said she was ninety-nine percent
sure. The look that he returned said he was none too pleased about that one
percent.

“Why did you risk your life to save me?”

Jane narrowed her eyes for a moment. With effort, she
decided she’d ignore the unfair hint of scolding in the question. “It’s hard to
know what’s right and wrong, these days,” she said. “When something’s finally
clear, you have to do it.” Her patient nodded, touched her hand.

Jane looked down at his long, straight fingers, smooth and
handsome like the rest of him. His wrists, however, were both red and raw. She
squeezed a little ointment out and spread it very carefully over the rough,
abraded skin. “Of course I had to do something,” she muttered. “No one should
be beaten that way. Let alone kidnapped, strung up, and murdered. Even if Bods
do half the things they say.”

“What exactly do they say Bods do?”

She straightened, realizing too late that she’d just
wandered into unpleasant terrain. He probably knew what people said about his
kind, but still.

“They say Backu—how do you say that name?”

“Backusian.”

“Right.”
She frowned. “What’s the
difference between that and Bod?”

“No difference, I suppose. ‘Bod’ is a nickname, short for
‘Body’ or the ‘Body House.’ It also sounds like ‘bawd.’ Do you know what that
word means?”

“Whore,” said Jane.

“That’s right.” His voice had that seductive sound again.

“Anyway,” said Jane, “you came from outer space to start a
chain of brothels known as Body Houses for frustrated, lonely women.
Or horny women.
Or broken women who need
mystical sex-healing.
Or all of the above, depending on who you ask.”

He said nothing to that, just stared at her with his good
eye.

She started working on his other hand. A strong pulse beat
against her fingertips. “So you’re here on some sacred mission to make women
happy. That alone makes you suspicious to the kind of men who join Earth First.
Some of them have started saying you infect your clients with orgasmic
insanity. Everyone who leaves the brothel is a time-release sex zombie. And
when you’ve fucked enough of them, you’ll have an army made of willing puppets,
which you’ll use to kill off men so you can take their place and claim control
of planet Earth.”

“That’s right,” he said. But he was smiling. Jane was
smiling too.

“Oh no!”
She made her eyes go wide
in mock alarm. “It sounds so much like utter crap.”

“What is true, then?
In your opinion.”

“You make girls come.” Jane gave an easy, nonjudgmental
shrug. “You’re here to find new customers.”

No objection from the patient. In fact he seemed quite
pleased with that assessment.

She ran a gentle hand along his damaged side. The warm shade
of his skin made bruises difficult to see, but the cuts and swelling were all
clear enough, especially on his right side. As for pain, she didn’t know. He
never flinched, no matter where she touched him. If that was macho showmanship,
he was an expert at it.

She took the second makeshift ice pack from the tray and
placed it gently on his ribs. “You should move this around on the places that
are sorest.
Every twenty minutes or so.”
He nodded,
took it from her hand. She watched a moment as he pressed the ice into his
side, trying to assess where he was the most badly hurt.

“What else?” he said.

“What else?”

“What else have you been told about my people?”

“Just that you’re prostitutes,” she said without much interest.
She was looking for the next thing she should do. Everything she thought of
meant he’d have to take his pants off, and she wasn’t sure how she would handle
that. “They also say you’re nymphos.
Sexoholics.
I’ve
heard you need sex to survive, like vampires need blood. Is that true too?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She waited for the smile, but this time it didn’t come.

Jane studied him. “You need sex to survive?”

A careful nod.

“So how are you surviving now?”

“Not very well.”

That wasn’t funny. If this man needed sex, he was in lots of
trouble because that was one thing that she would not do for him. Jane felt a
queasy sort of horror rearrange the muscles in her face. Had she been flirting
with him?
Even just a little?
The thought was
sickening to her. “I hope you don’t think I’ll have sex with you, because I
won’t.” She frowned hard, willing him to take that in. “I hate sex. I honestly
can’t stand it. You’re not seriously saying that you need it to survive.”

“I am,” he said. “I do.”

Please God, let that
be bullshit
. Just the shit men said about their needs and tragic blue balls
and all that.

“I won’t have sex with you,” she said.

“No sex.” His chin dipped in agreement. “The woman chooses,
and the choice is good.”

She stared at him. What did that mean? “How long does it
take before it makes you sick to be without it?”

He gave a thoughtful look up at the ceiling.
“A few days, perhaps.”

Jane didn’t like that answer. “A few days until what?” she
demanded.
“A headache or a coma?”

“I don’t quite know,” he said. “I’m told the effects vary. I
have no personal data, so I can’t really be sure how I’ll respond.” He stopped
midway into a shrug. She could see the movement hurt him, and that made her
even
more unhappy
.

“This is the longest I’ve ever been without a woman’s body.
And as you can see, there are many competing reasons for discomfort. It’s hard
to tell what part is injury and what part is want.”

“This is the longest you’ve ever been without sex?”

He nodded, still staring at her with that perfect eye.

“When did they kidnap you?”

“Yesterday, I think.”

“So, a
day
is the
longest you’ve ever been without sex?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No dissembling. She leaned away from
him and stared at the four walls. Sex every day was a nightmare she’d been
spared. Rick’s obsession was with cars and drinking buddies, which was perfect.
It meant he got up early and expected breakfast. It meant he got home late,
more interested in passing out than her. Weekends were the only times she
really had to worry. And when her luck wore out, she got through all the
fumbling. But Jesus did she hate it.

“Every day.”
She made a face
expressing her disgust. Not very polite, but she would rather clear away
whatever misimpression he might have.

His fingers brushed her hand. Jane looked at him, dismayed.

“My training is to serve the feminine. Not to make use of
it. Don’t worry, please.”

“Don’t worry?” Those words always set her off. “You must be
fucking kidding me. I brought you here to make you better, not to watch you
die.” Jane
fidgeted,
her panic rising. What should she
do? Get back into the car and drive two hundred miles, hoping not to get
spotted by Rick or someone who knew Rick or someone who could spot a fucking
alien when he saw one?

Or she could try to message someone to come get him?
Messaging was probably a better option, provided she could find a center
somewhere. She’d heard a thousand stories about how unsafe they were. How easy
to trace. But people said a lot of shit that wasn’t true.

“What is it?” He was trying to sit up. She caught the
sliding ice pack, soothed him back against the pillow.

“If my presence is a danger to you, then I’ll go.”

“Go?” He looked completely serious, but what could he be
thinking? “You’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no place to go,” Jane
explained. “If you were in perfect health and in possession of safe
transportation, I might agree. But you need to stay here right now. Just let me
think what we can do. I was expecting I could nurse you back to health and keep
you here until things cooled off. Then I thought we’d both go north together,
or I’d get in touch with someone to
come
get you. I
never once believed you’d die from sex starvation. What the fuck is that?”

Jane glared with sheer disgust at the far wall. She noticed
for the first time there were dark patches of paint where someone’s pictures
had once hung. For a second, she tried to imagine what they’d been.
Photographs of cheery family outings?
Children?
Grandchildren?
Now look at it. Jane shook her head.
Just shadows, absences.
Another sad example of the empty
spaces in this world.

Beyond that wall there was a dusty street. Maybe she could
go and find a woman for him—someone she could ask a favor of or hire.
Excuse me, miss
. Jane went through a
quick scene in which she asked a farmer’s eldest daughter for a favor. The girl
would scream and run off telling everyone about the crazy woman in the teacher
house. It had to be her stupidest idea to date.

There might be real whores somewhere. Jane conjured one up
in her head and saw that she was not only depressing but unsafe. Nothing would
stop a hired woman from talking once she left. If word spread there was a Bod
out here, Bill Dancer’s men would finish up the job.

This time the man stood up. She tilted her head to watch him
calmly put the ice packs on the tray and walk toward the door, his dark hair
brushing his broad shoulders.

“Hey.” When he was halfway through the kitchen, Jane leaped
from her chair and started running after him. “What are you doing?”

“I won’t let you risk your safety for my sake.”

“I’m not the one at risk. You are. Go back to bed. You can’t
go out there. Are you nuts?” She grabbed his arm with both of hers and swore
she wasn’t letting go.

“Give me your word you won’t take any risks.”

Jane stared at him. She’d have to do something to save his
life. He saw the hesitation, shook her loose so easily it frightened her.

“Okay,” she said. “I won’t take any risks. I swear.” He had
no shirt or shoes and she was certain he would leave that way and not come
back. “Please,”
said
Jane. “It’s dangerous for both of
us if you go out there.”

His rigid jaw tightened a little more. He looked at her with
his good eye and leaned in to her till she took a step away from all that
height and muscle. “Don’t forget you gave your word.” She nodded, watched him
move with grace and dignity back to the bed.

“I think I’ll have a snack,” said Jane, still standing in
the kitchen. A little time apart might do them good. “Do you eat anything
besides orgasms?”

“Fruits.
Grains.
Vegetables.
Some dairy.
But
I’m not hungry now.”

No appetite. No good. But she was overloaded and
half-useless from the stress. A little lunch, a nice, hot shower first. After
that, she’d think of what to do.