Manipulate (Alien Cadets) Page 7

“I’ve killed on Rik more than once. I’m aggressive and I lack empathy – that’s why I was chosen. When I landed on Earth I killed a homeless guy that was camped too close and saw my ship. I don’t mind killing.”

  She brought the bottle close to Jonathan’s mouth. Her finger quivered over the button and his unfocused eyes swirled past her.

  “Ugnh,” she said, tapping him on the nose with the bottle, not squirting it. “I don’t want to.”

  Jonathan wheezed.

  “You might die anyway,” she told him. “If I leave you here you’ll die of dehydration in forty-eight hours if they don’t find you. And this stuff will be eating away at your brain. You won’t remember me. You probably won’t remember yourself…"

  Shara held it over his nose. “You don’t want to live that way.”

  But she didn’t squirt.

  “I don’t really need you to die. I needed to mess up the plans for the trial and give Greg and General Gustav a big problem.” She bit her cheek. “That’s done.”

  Shara sighed and stuck the bottle back in her purse. She went around and opened the passenger door and lugged Jonathan out by his armpits. She was in good shape, but he had six inches on her. It took three minutes to drag him to the edge of the parking lot and settled his head on the sand. His dark eyes twitched ceaselessly, the black irises skittering around like a Rik housefly. She carefully closed his eyelids. That was better. Now he looked like he was sleeping. Shara patted his forehead and went back to her car.

  ***

  Greg took the cadets on another early morning jog, but this one didn’t make it past the beach parking lot. They found Jonathan’s body, and for a horrified moment, Sam thought he was dead.

  Jonathan lay half on the asphalt of the parking lot, half on the sand. He wheezed softly through cracked lips, and his pants were soiled. His eyes jerked around under closed lids. His skin felt rough and burned to Sam’s hand. He must have been there all afternoon and all night to account for that sunburn.

  Greg hoisted Jonathan in his arms and carried him back to campus, the cadets strung out behind him like mourners in a parade.

  Sam caught up with Greg as he loped up the hill toward the dorm. “What’s wrong with him?” Sam asked. “He doesn’t look hung over or… dead… and those were my best guesses.”

  Greg looked grim. “He has a certain smell… I’m not certain, but I think he’s been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned? Then why leave him for us to find? They could have dumped him in the water and let him drown.”

  “That’s a good question,” Greg said. “But if it’s what I suspect, we can’t do him much good anyway.”

  Jonathan spasmed suddenly. His limbs flailed and Greg lost control of him. Jonathan’s body thumped unceremoniously on the ground, twitching at their feet. A high moan rose from behind his clenched lips.

  “Should I call an ambulance?” Sam asked.

  “I suppose so,” Greg said. “If it’s the poison I suspect, we can do nothing more.”

  Sam accompanied Jonathan in the back of the ambulance, because Greg was too large to fit.

  The paramedics shied away from Sam, trying not to touch him or Jonathan very much.

  “Do your job already,” Sam said. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

  The paramedics didn’t respond.

  “Dehydrated, pretty bad. Sunburn,” one of them said. He quickly slid a needle in Jonathan’s arm attached to an IV.

  The other pulled up Jonathan’s eyelids, taking in his flicking eyes and tiny pupils.

  “Is his skin always that color?” he finally asked Sam. “It’s hard to tell if he’s oxygen deprived or just green.”

  “Um. He is a little darker green than usual. But that might be the sunburn. The green tone is from Spo food.”

  “Huh. He on something? Drugs, alcohol, alien steroid crap, anything?”

  “Nothing alien. But he is readjusting to Earth food. That’s made some of the cadets sick. But nothing like this. I doubt he’s on drugs, though I guess he might have gotten some yesterday. He’s only been missing eighteen hours.”

  “This might be a bad coke reaction,” the other med said. “Which would explain his wandering toward the school. He was half rational until the bad part hit his brain.”

  When they pulled the gurney out of the ambulance, Sam hopped out behind. He followed them into the emergency room, and stood next to Jonathan while the paramedics filled out paperwork and spoke to a nurse.

  “What? What?” Jonathan said. His eyes were still closed.

  “Jonathan, can you hear me?” Sam asked. “Are you awake?”

  “What?” Jonathan said again. “Go away!”

  Sam looked at the nurse. “Do you think he hears me?”

  She shrugged. “Jonathan, you’re at the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

  “The aliens, they took me,” Jonathan whispered, blinking his eyes open for the first time. He clamped them shut quickly, like the light hurt his eyes. “My mother was crying, and they just took me away. I’m sorry Mom, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “That’s – he’s remembering what happened a long time ago,” Sam said.

  The nurse grimaced. “No kidding. We know what happened, you know.”

  “Of course,” Sam said. Maybe the nurse was related to one of the cadets.

  “Please,” Jonathan said. “Please let me go home. My mom needs me.”

  “ Jonathan, do you remember me? It’s Sam.”

  Jonathan opened his eyes again. “I just want to go home.” Then his head slumped back to the bed, his mouth slightly open.

  “Don’t worry, he’s sleeping,” the nurse said, feeling his pulse. “We’ll put him in an observation room on the second floor.”

  Chapter 9

  Claudia had promised she would visit Chris at the hospital, but now she regretted it. She didn’t know him, he didn’t know her. If the doctors had amputated his hand… he needed family around and people to grieve with. Not a random stranger. She bypassed the emergency entrance and got his room number from the lobby receptionist.

  On the fifth floor she paused outside his room. If he was sleeping, she would leave. If he had any one with him, she might leave too. If he… darn it, she had to do this. She looked in the room.

  He was alone, awake, and reading a book. He looked better than she remembered. Most people do when their blood isn’t draining out in their lap. He awkwardly turned a page with his left hand. His right arm hung from a large frame over the bed, heavily bandaged and in traction. As far as she could tell, a hand was still attached.

  After a moment he sensed someone watching. He glanced up and gave her a questioning look. He was handsome, in a slightly geeky way. He would look perfect on NCIS Los Angeles. He still looked blank.

  “Hi. My name is Claudia. I don’t know if you remember...”

  “Claudia?” he said.

  “Do you remember me?” She shook her head slightly to anticipate his no.

  He closed his book and placed it on the counter. “Sadly, no.”

  “Oh.” She was prepared for that, darn it. She was.

  “But apparently I asked the first four nurses I saw if their names were Claudia,” he said. “It’s a bit of a joke now."

  Claudia laughed.

  “Yeah, you can laugh but they’ve nicknamed me Claudia. For three days now.”

  She stepped closer to his bed. “I’m so glad they were able to save your hand. Is it... how long a recovery are you looking at?”

  “Ugh, six months to a year for full movement.”

  “Honestly, I thought it was gone.”

  “Oh, it should have been, but that freaking sharp claw made a clean cut.” He laughed. “Small mercies, right?”

  Claudia chuckled. “If you’ve gotta be mauled by an alien animal, it helps to look on the bright side.”

  Chris grinned. “I agree. They found a transplant surgeon to put me back together. This is the third time he’s put someone’s own hand back on.
”

  “Wow. And no infection from the… animal?”

  “The slime on a trouncer is like bleach. Antibacterial. Burned like crazy, but killed anything in the wound.”

  “Wow,” Claudia repeated. “That’s providence for you.”

  “No joke. So, I can’t be sure,” he continued, “but I’m guessing you were the one who put that tourniquet on my arm. The surgeon said you might have saved my life. So - no, please let me finish - I’m obviously eternally grateful, but what I really want to know is - did I ask you out? And more importantly, did you say yes?”

  Claudia didn’t answer right away, and he rushed on, “Of course, if you just loaned me a quarter at the airport or something I’m going to be really embarrassed and take it all back."

  “Do you make a habit of asking out the people who save your life?” Claudia asked.

  “Well, I already like you,” he glanced at the clock, “after three and half minutes, so I’m guessing if you were keeping me alive and I was at all coherent, I must have asked you out.”

  “Yeah, you were bleeding everywhere, it was very suave.”

  “Hey, you’re here. I bleed well.”

  “Well, I didn’t come back only for a date,” Claudia said. “I thought you might help me out with something.”

  “You name it. I certainly owe you.”

  “My brother is one of the spook cadets who just got back. I’d really like to see him, but I’ve heard you need a pass to go to Pepperdine. I’d like to get one.”

  “And you think I can help?” Chris said.

  Claudia watched him closely. “The alien at the airport asked for you. When it was trying to get its pet back.”

  “Ahh, did she?” Chris said.

  “Yes. Wait, the alien was a she?” Claudia said.

  “Yep, her – uh – husband is in charge of the western US. She gets a security detail whenever she travels.”

  “You’re – security? For the aliens?”

  Chris grimaced. “Don’t sound so disgusted, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I used to work for the FBI before Washington closed down. It was a natural change.”

  Claudia took a breath through her nose, lips clenched.

  “I don’t like the Spo,” she said.

  “Who does?” Chris said, “You just have to – “

  “No, you don’t get it,” Claudia said. “I. Do not. Like the Spo.”

  Chris finally looked serious. “Okay. I get that,” he said softly. “I’ll try to find out about seeing your brother. How’s that?”

  “Thank you,” Claudia said.

  A nurse came in with his chart. “Time for physical therapy,” she said, and noticed his guest. “Let me guess, you’re Claudia?"

  Claudia smiled, her face tight. “That’s right. I guess I know how to make an impression.”

  “Oh, for real?” the nurse said. “I was kidding. You’re Claudia?”

  “That’s my name.”

  “Ha. We thought you was making it up, boy,” the nurse said, grinning.

  “Can she come with me?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t really – ” Claudia said.

  “She’s the one saved your hand?” the nurse said. “Sure. We’ll say she’s family.”

  Claudia trailed Chris and the nurse pushing his wheelchair to the physical therapy room. She didn’t want to get deeper into a relationship with a guy who worked for the Spo. There was no future there. She appreciated that he might help her, but frankly, she saved his life. He owed her. She didn’t want to give him hope for anything else.

  Claudia leaned against the wall, at a distance from Chris and the doctor. An assortment of tables, weights, and stretching equipment littered the room. A small walking track went around it all, hugging the wall.. A little girl was using the track, slowly pushing a walker as she took each step.

  The therapist laid Chris on his back and set him up with some stretches for his legs. He’d lost a lot of blood, which quickly depleted muscle strength. The girl circling the room paused next to Claudia, watching Chris pump his legs in the air.

  “Your boyfriend?” she asked.

  “Yikes,” Claudia said. “I just met him.”

  “He’s pretty hot,” the little girl said.

  Claudia snickered. “How old are you?”

  The girl straightened her neck. “I’m sixteen. I just look seven.”

  “I was going to say ten,” Claudia said diplomatically.

  She groaned. “Thanks a whole lot."

  She went around the room again, pausing when she got back to Claudia. “What happened to his arm?” she asked.

  “Animal injury,” Claudia said, “cut his wrist pretty badly.”

  “Ouch.”

  “How about you?” Claudia asked.

  “Lung transplant, cystic fibrosis.”

  “Oh. Wow, I’m sorry.” Claudia could see the heavy bandages encircling the girl’s thin chest and torso.

  “Eh – we’ll see. What’s your name?”

  “Claudia.”

  “I’m Akemi. I – ” she hesitated for the first time. “I heard your friend was sliced by an alien,” she whispered, so he couldn’t hear.

  “An alien animal – not a spook,” Claudia said.

  “Oh. He doesn’t work with the aliens or anything? I was hoping he did,” Akemi said.

  “Why?”

  “I want to get a letter to my sister. She’s one of the cadets. They let her come see me before my surgery, but she hasn’t come again.” Akemi’s dejection was clear. “I fly back to Tokyo tomorrow.”

  “A cadet? Small world. My brother is a cadet too.” Claudia said. “His name is Sam.”

  Akemi lit up. “You’re Sam’s sister! Awesome! I just met him. My sister has a huge crush on him.”

  “Really?” Claudia asked. “Tell me what she said! And I’ll take the letter to your sister."

  ***

  Sam left the hospital when Jonathan’s family arrived. He knew he should stay and talk with them. He should smooth things down and get a feel for their attitude.

  Instead he ran down the hall and slammed the exit door open, letting his security guy rush to catch up. There was no limo waiting for him. He hadn’t told Greg when he would be done. Sam strode down the sidewalk as if he had a destination in mind. As if he had somewhere to go besides the alien academy, somewhere that belonged to him.

  His security guy jogged up behind him, and then hung a few paces back as he walked.

  Jonathan talked all day. Talked like a twelve year old desperately afraid and wanting his family. He talked like someone who’d just been kidnapped.

  Sam remembered that feeling and it made him ill. He hadn’t felt it in a long time, and he didn’t want it to come back now. ‘The aliens,’ Jonathan kept moaning. The aliens.

  Before they were Greg and Gustav and Downy and HP and Lurk, they had been THE ALIENS. Sam remembered being terrified by their smell. Waking in the middle of the night, screaming, only to realize that Greg was checking on him and his scent had roused Sam from sleep. It felt traitorous to remember that now. Greg had taken care of them like a father. Certainly better than Sam’s own father.

  Sam’s mind flicked over images of his father. He’d already left them when the aliens took Sam away. His father hadn’t been at home most of the time before that either. Sam had more memories of games with Greg and time with his friends than he did of his own family, even counting the first year or so of training which he only remembered vaguely.

  Sam had tried to calm Jonathan, comforting him, staying aloof from his frenzy. But the whole time, all Sam could think was, “This is my fault.” He’d planned the Hollywood event, even though he knew the kind of casual afternoon he’d planned would make it hard to keep all the cadets perfectly safe. Sam had gambled that the attacker liked anonymity and would dislike acting in such a public place. The gamble failed, and Jonathan paid for it.

  Sam stayed calm for Jonathan until the nurse said Jonathan’s family was coming down the ha
ll. Then his heart started pounding and a cold shock sweat broke out on his back. His composure had crumbled like moist sand and he’d hit the hall running.

  His reaction was pure panic. He shouldn’t be out of control like that at the mere idea of facing a cadet family. No doubt more and more of the cadets’ families would be appearing in the weeks ahead. He needed to deal with this. More of the cadets might get hurt like Jonathan. He needed to deal with that too.

  Sam slowed and punched a palm tree in frustration, resting his forehead against the hairy bark. Jonathan had sounded so horrified, so betrayed. Some part of that betrayal still resonated with Sam, and whatever part it was, he needed to lock it down. It would be better to get rid of those emotions all together, but Sam suspected that would take years with a psychiatrist, if it was possible at all. He didn’t have that kind of time.

  The fact was: the aliens had traumatized them, even though they didn’t intend it that way. Breathing deeply, eyes closed, Sam brought out each emotion and aired it like a bed sheet. He fluttered his horror out – the unknown aliens with their long limbs and vicious smell, pulling him out of his house – and then he folded the sheet neatly and put it in a heavy, wooden chest. Then he took out his sorrow for his family – like a large blue comforter that was almost too heavy for one person to fold – and put it in the chest. His anger with Greg, for becoming a father to Sam and yet never really understanding him. His fear of betrayal – if the Spo had lied about everything, if they turned on him… It’s not true, Sam said. Fold it up. He took out his fear that he was betraying his own people, that the Spo were brutal invaders who must be fought… Sam aired, folded, and filled the chest.

  He stood a moment longer, with the chest closed and locked. Sam had a purpose. The trial was in two weeks, and now Jonathan was out of action. Somebody wanted to hurt the cadets, and probably mess up the trial. Someday, maybe, Sam would have time to open the chest and wash the sheets. But not today. Today he would go back to Pepperdine and make sure no one else disappeared.

  When he finally raised his head and opened his eyes the sky was fully dark. His security guy leaned unobtrusively against a newspaper stand, doing something with his phone.