1. Longreach, Australia
A
small, grey van with a large satellite dish sitting atop it spluttered down a
deserted road somewhere in Queensland, Australia. The driver was hoping they
were headed towards a town and would reach it soon.
The driver of this particular van was a
paranormal investigator. Normally there would have been a team of three people
in this van, but tonight there was only one solitary individual. A freak
lightning storm had occurred in these parts. Some people were claiming that there
was no weather front that allowed for the lightning and no thunder was heard.
This was investigation material if ever there was any. The team didn’t agree
though. They thought that the lightning was probably just that: lightning. The
team leader had seen enough Thor
movies to know that unexplained lightning is never just lightning. It needed to
be checked out. That’s exactly what happened. Now, in the middle of nowhere and
with nothing but clear skies, the leader of this motley crew was beginning to
regret not listening to their teammates.
For the tenth time in the past hour the
van ground to a halt and the driver pulled out a map.
“I have no idea where I am,” the driver
said, scratching the back of their head.
It appeared there was a town, Longreach,
not too far from here, if the map was being read correctly. The driver was no
longer sure. There was no way of telling exactly where the van was right now.
The van driver heard a strange noise and
looked up into the sky, in order to see where the sound was coming from.
Something was heading towards the ground. It was flaming on all sides and about
the size of a car. This was no small meteorite. It was going to do some damage
upon impact. A phenomenon such as this was interesting news for an unemployed
reporter. Grabbing a camera the paranormal investigator got out of the van and
ran towards the estimated trajectory of the meteor.
*
* *
The
thing falling to the earth hit the ground and sent out a massive shockwave. The
paranormal investigator was lifted from their feet and sent spiralling into a
ball.
She got up and looked around. It appeared
that the thing that had landed was a ship: it had strange engravings on it and
a something that looked like a cockpit was open. There was nothing inside.
Looking around she saw a man lying on the ground, unconscious. She ran to him
with an outstretched arm. Just as she reached the man she stopped short. What
if he had come out of the ship? She pulled her hand back quickly. The man was
naked and she found herself blushing. Usually the team kept spare clothes in
the van.
She ran to it and picked up a shirt, a
pair of jeans and a blanket and ran back to the possible alien. She covered him
with the blanket, being careful to avoid physical contact and dropped to the
ground beside him. His eyes fluttered and blinked, before coming into focus on
her.
“Where am I?” he asked her, rubbing his
eyes and sitting up.
She pushed herself away from him, still
not willing for them to touch. “We are in Queensland, Australia,” she replied
as she reached out a hand to help him up, “it’s on planet earth. Do you know
where you are from?”
“What do you mean do I know where I am
from?” the guy asked.
“Which planet?” she asked him, pointing
to the spacecraft.
His eyes widened as he took in the ship,
“I actually have no idea,” he said looking from the girl to the ship.
“Do you know what your name is?” she
asked him, “any memories at all?”
“I don’t remember anything,” he replied,
and from the lost look in his eyes she knew he was telling the truth. “Everything
from before seeing you is a blank.”
“Put those on,” she told him, indicating
the clothes.
As he did so they heard sirens coming
from a distance.
“That’s the authorities,” she said
looking over her shoulder, seeing lights: luckily they were not coming from the
direction of Longreach.
“The authorities?” the guy said and
looked in the direction of those same lights himself. “This is good, I can
communicate with them and they will help me discover where I have come from and
how I can get back.”
She curled her lips up and he noticed it.
“What does this gesture mean?” he asked
her, motioning towards her lips.
“I’m not going to tell you how to run
your life…” she began.
“You are just going to inform me on how
to run my life?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Females are always the same, no
matter what planet you are on,” he commented and she gave him a slap on the
upper arm.
“I wouldn’t be so excited about the
authorities if I were you?” she told him.
“Why not?” he asked her, “surely the
authorities are in a position to help me?”
“I am not sure how much you know about
earth,” she said, “and although I have never come across a real live alien
before I can tell you that in our popular culture the authorities always try to
kill the aliens.”
“Oh,” he noted, “that is not very good at
all. Who will help me?”
“I don’t know, dude,” she said and moved
back towards her van.
“Will you?” he asked and caught her arm,
pulling her back towards himself.
In the first seconds she panicked. After
a moment he felt her relax in his arms. Nothing had happened to her. For the
first time she noticed his height, he was tall. This made him appear quite
thin, but now that he was pulling her against himself she could feel some
muscle under his black shirt. He had dark hair, and grey eyes, and looked like
a normal human. There was nothing about him that would suggest he was not from
this planet. She allowed herself to get lost in the moment and found she was
pushing her hand into his shirt to feel the muscles.
He cleared his throat and she pulled
away.
“Will you help me?” he asked again as he
looked into her eyes.
She sighed and listened for the sirens
again. There were closer, but there was also another car pulling into the site
from another direction.
“We need to hurry,” she said as she pulled
the hand that was still tightly grasping her own.
They got to the van just as the
headlights of the newest vehicle lit up the metal ship.
The alien man took one last look back at
it before getting into the van beside the paranormal investigator.
“This is an interesting transportation
device you have,” he noted, “it appears to broadcast as well?”
“It does,” she said, “I am a paranormal news
reporter. I tell people about strange things going on around Queensland.”
“I would classify as a strange thing,
would I not?” the alien asked her.
“You would,” she said, and didn’t dare
look him in the eyes.
“Could I make a request of you?” he asked
her.
“Of course,” she replied.
“I would like it if you didn’t report any
news of me,” he said, “I do not want to be found out by the authorities, at
least not until I know who I am, where I come from, why I am here and how I get
home.”
“I understand,” she said, “I promise I
will say nothing about you until you are gone,” she promised.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her, “is
there something I can call you?” he asked, realising he did not know her name.
“Can I trust you?” she asked him, not
willing to divulge that kind of information to someone she doesn’t know.
“I don’t even know me,” he replied, “if
that helps?”
She laughs a little, there is a hint of
enjoyment but also a hint of anxiety to the laugh.
“It doesn’t,” she replies, “okay,” she
says, taking a deep breath as she drives the van towards Longreach and away
from the possibility of being implicated in this alien invasion thing, “I will
trust you,” she informs him, “but if you do anything even remotely hostile
alien I will dump you in the desert and tell the world where you are. You
understand?”
“Remotely hostile alien?” he asks her for
clarification.
“Yeah,” she said, “if I hear mention of
killing humans, ray guns, invasions, superior race or anything like that then
you are on your own, capisce?”
“I understand,” he replied. “Now do you
have a name?” he asked as he smiled at her.
“Rachel,” she responded, “my name is
Rachel Taylor. Do you have one?”
“I probably do,” he replied, still
smiling at her, she liked his smile. It felt safe and warm, “but I have no idea
what it is.”
“Oh,” she said in a high pitch, clapping
her hands together. She also couldn’t help but smile back at him.
He was confused, “this is actually quite
tragic,” he said, “I have no idea who I am, where I come from or why I am here
and you think it is something to be excited about?”
“I’m sorry,” she said and giggled, “I was
excited because you having no name means that we get to name you.”
“And that is an activity you would
enjoy?” he asked.
“Immensely,” she said and smiled at him again
as they passed by the sign welcoming them to Longreach.
“Humanity is a strange and elusive
being,” he said as he sat back in the chair.
*
* *
Longreach
was a sleepy little town. It was built on the River Thomson, and named because
of the ‘long reach’ of that same River. The population of the town was only
about 3000. If the authorities came looking for them in Longreach, it would not
take long for them to be found. There was no question of looking for a needle
in a haystack, this was just looking for straw.
“Did you know,” the alien said from the
passenger seat, he was on the internet, “that the town has a theme for its
street names?”
“I didn’t,” Rachel said, a little
disinterestedly. She was wondering if it would be better for them to keep going
instead of stopping in this little town.
“They are named after birds,” alien-boy
continued, excitedly, “a bird is a creature with feathers and a bill, they can
fly,” he explained, having clicked a link to learn what a bird was.
Rachel took her eyes off of the road and
gave him a look, eyebrow raised, “I have lived on this planet my entire life,”
she said to him, too much agitation in her voice, “I know what a bird is.”
“Hmm,” he replied, “the north and south
directional streets are named after land birds while the east and west streets
are named after water birds,” he said, “also birds that carry people used to be
made here.”
“Planes?” Rachel asked him.
“Yes,” he said, “planes,” holding up the
iPad he was searching all this on. “See they look like birds.”
Rachel swerved and her van almost hit a
tree.
“Alien boy,” she shouted at him, “keep
that thing out of my face when I’m trying to drive; otherwise you’ll get us
both killed.”
“Sorry,” he said and lowered the iPad
from her face.
“It’s okay,” she said, “you are only
learning about life on this planet, I can understand why you are very excited
about it.”
He smiled at her, “my name isn’t ‘alien
boy’,” he said when it was evident she had nothing else to say.
“What is it then?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he replied, looking
towards the ground.
“In that case,” she jested, “it could
actually be alien boy and you just don’t remember.”
“It’s definitely not alien boy,” he
responded, “I’d remember.”
“Okay,” she said and pulled over, she
looked at him. Noticing his blue-grey eyes and his dark hair. He looked
European, slightly Celtic, if she had to guess. There were many descendants of
the Irish in Australia so he would fit right in. He also looked like a pale
Spaniard, from the Celtic part of Spain. Rachel liked Spanish geography.
“Anything?” he asked her.
“Not yet,” she complained, “you cannot
rush perfection you know, you poor, abandoned extra-terrestrial.”
“Is this a Mac?” he asks, while she is
still thinking of a name.
“How do you know what a Mac is?” she
asked him, confused by his recognition of the Apple machine.
“I don’t know,” he admits after thinking
about it for a minute, “I just do.”
“Yes, it is a Mac,” she informed him,
“well, we have your surname,” she laughed.
“You do?” he asked, “what is it?”
“McIntosh,” she announced, smiling
widely.
“What’s a McIntosh?” he asked, confused.
“That type of computer,” she said,
pointing to her iMac in the back.
“I really don’t understand,” he said,
exasperated.
“It’s okay E.T.,” she joked, “wait,” she
got something, “Poor E.T. Abandoned. Peta, we can call you Peter,” she said as
she smacked the steering wheel in self-praise.
“Peter?” he said, trying out the name, “I
like it,” he added, smiling his approval, she realised that he had a lovely
smile.
“Peter McIntosh,” she tested the entire
name together, “it sounds good, don’t you think? Believable too.”
“Peter McIntosh,” Peter repeated, “yes,”
he added, “it is good. I like it. Thank you for naming me, Rachel Taylor.”
“No problem, Peter McIntosh,” she added,
smiling widely at him.
“I can hear those authority noises
again,” Peter said, looking out the window. He was gripping the iPad tightly, his
knuckles white.
“Really?” Rachel asked, “I hear nothing.”
“My hearing must be better than yours,”
he informed her, “they are getting louder. Does that mean they are getting
closer?” he asked her.
“It does,” she replied, “we better find
somewhere to hide this van, and then find somewhere to sleep for the night,”
she added as she pulled the van out of park and into drive.
“Go quickly,” he said, looking out
through the rear window of the van.
*
* *
They
had found a quiet little Bed and Breakfast owned by two locals, there was a
room available but it had a double bed. Rachel and Peter took it, it was the
best they could do. Peter slept on the floor, being a gentle E.T. and allowing
the lady to have the bed.
Neither of them were sure if his race of
aliens actually slept, it turned out they did. Peter slept for exactly the same
amount of time as Rachel did; both of them arose at ten am, just in time to
catch the last morsels of the breakfast prepared at the B&B.
“Good morning, sheila,” the man who owned
the place said as Rachel reached the dining room, “would you and the mista’ like some brekkie?” he asked her.
“Please,” she replied.
“We have eggs, sausages, bacon, beans,
toast and cereal, what takes your fancy?”
“All of that, honestly,” she said, “Peter,
you’d like it all too, right?”
“Yes,” Peter said, unsure of what else to
answer, saying no at this point may break customs long established on earth;
and he certainly didn’t want to do that.
The man went to get the food as the
doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it dear,” his wife shouted from
somewhere in the house.
“The husband does the cooking?” Rachel
noted. “That’s unusual.”
“Why is that unusual?” Peter asked.
“Usually men think that a woman’s place
is in the kitchen,” Rachel commented. “It’s nice to see it this way for a
change.”
“That is interesting,” Peter said. “I
thought women on this planet were only bossy. Now it turns out they provide the
food as well.”
“Excuse me,” the owner of the bed and
breakfast said, “there are two agents outside, and they are looking for anyone
staying here who is from out of town.”
“Okay,” Rachel replied, “would you like
us to go and talk to them?”
“Please,” the innkeeper replied, “it’s
not good for business to have agents on your door.”
“I understand,” Rachel said, “come on Peter.”
“You are the guests that stayed last
night?” one of the agents asked Peter and Rachel as they reached them at the
front door.
“You can use the sitting-room,” the
innkeeper said, having come out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was,
“I’ll get back to your breakfasts.”
“Thank you,” Peter said to him as he
went.
“We are investigating a meteorite falling
from the skies,” the agent said as they all took a seat in the sitting room.
“I saw that,” Rachel admitted, “I am a
bit of a paranormal investigator myself.”
“Really,” the second agent, Reece,
according to the badge he flashed when they approached him, “that is
interesting, and did you discover anything paranormal?”
“There has been strange lightning around
these parts,” Rachel said, “the majority of my team, besides Peter here,”
Rachel said, indicating Peter, “refused to come out on this one, they said that
there was no point in investigating lightning.”
“What did you see last night,” Agent
Reece asked.
“There was lightning,” Rachel admitted,
“out to the west of the town. I couldn’t discover anything unusual about it
though.”
“Did you see a meteorite falling from the
sky anywhere near you?” the agent that was not Agent Reece asked.
“I did,” Rachel said, “as I have already
indicated. I don’t investigate things from space though,” she continued, “I am
more interested in those things that occur on earth. We both are.”
“Ghosts and things,” Peter said, iPad in
his hand again.
“Interesting,” Agent Reece said.
“Sorry we can’t help you with… whatever
it is you are investigating,” Rachel said.
“No problem,” Agent Reece said again and
held out a card, “if you do hear anything about the meteorite call that
number.”
“We will sir,” Peter said, smiling
innocently.
“Can I ask,” Rachel asked, “why exactly
does the government have some special agents working on a meteor?”
“We are not the government ma’am,” Agent
Reece replied, “we are international.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, “that makes me want
to ask that question even more.”
“Yes,” Peter says, “this sounds like something
we should be looking into, as paranormal investigators; especially if some
multi-country organisations are looking into this.”
“No, no,” the other agent replied, “there
is no need for you both to look into it, however, if you could inform us if you
hear anything about it. That is all we need from you.”
“Of course,” Rachel said, it was now her
turn to smile innocently.
“Good day,” Agent Reece said.
“Have a good day,” Peter said, “I hope
you find what you’re looking for.”
“We should have someone keep an eye on
the two of them,” Agent Reece said to his partner once they were out of the bed
and breakfast, “they may go and investigate, and we need to stay a step ahead
of them.”
Peter and Rachel, still in the
sitting-room, breathed a sigh of relief.
“Why did you tell them we are paranormal
investigators?” Peter asked Rachel after they had heard the car driving away.
“I was worried they had seen the van,”
Rachel admitted, “these small towns have a proficiency at ratting on outsiders,
if anyone saw the van I am sure that they have already searched it.”
“That makes sense,” Peter said. “Do you
think we will see them again?”
“I’m sure we will,” Rachel said and
sighed. “They are looking for you after all,” she told him, “normally these
kinds of organisations don’t stop until they find the alien they are looking
for.”
“This information is coming from your
bountiful experience of aliens landing on earth?” Peter asked.
“Television shows,” Rachel admitted, “I
am not sure if an alien has ever landed on earth before, although some people
believe that some came in the 1970s in Roswell, America.”
“Did you catch who sent the Agents?”
Peter asked, “the likelihood is that they have my ship and I am going to need
it sometime, if I am going to get home.”
Rachel looked up at him, eyebrow raised
again, “really?” she asked, “you want to go and get your ship out of the heart
of the beast?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Peter
replied, “I don’t think that a beast has taken it and put it inside its heart.
Still, I do want to go and get my ship, I will need to go home sometime.”
“Really?” Rachel asked again.
“Really,” he said, “you don’t need to
come with me,” he said, “you have done enough for me already. I can go on alone.”
“Really?” Rachel asked again. “Where is
Roswell?”
“I can find it on this,” Peter said and
held up the iPad.
“No, you can’t,” Rachel said, “that is
mine and it was expensive.”
“Oh,” Peter said, “also, who were the agents
with?”
Rachel sighed again, “oh, come on,” she
said, “I better go with you or I’ll read you were captured on some alien
hunters’ website, or hear that you died on some news network.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Peter
said and hugged her, “I mean, you can come along if you want to. You know, I
don’t really need you. I could buy one of those things.”
“Be quiet,” Rachel said, “and be grateful
I am going to help you,” she added. “Now let’s go and have breakfast before we
get on the road again.”
“Okay,” Peter said, “what exactly are all
of the things he said he would fetch us?”
“Mostly they are made from the meat of
animals,” Rachel said, “toast is grains and beans are pulses; look them up,”
Rachel said, indicating the iPad.
Peter enthusiastically did so.
*
* *
After
their breakfast they headed out.
“To get to the United States, which is where
Roswell is, we will need to get a plane,” Rachel informed Peter.
“A plane?” Peter said. “One of those
birds that carry humans? Will it take us up into the sky?”
“Why are you so excited about this?”
Rachel asked. “You came here in a spacecraft, from outer space. That is higher,
faster, and much cooler than going in a plane.”
“Yes,” Peter said, “I may have come in a
spacecraft but I don’t actually remember it, therefore going in a plane will be
my first memory of being in earth’s sky.”
“Okay,” she said and smiled at him, “I
understand now.”
“Where do we get a plane?” Peter asked
her as they drove towards Brisbane. “Is there somewhere special to go?”
“An airport,” Rachel said, “but the
security in those places is really tight. You will need something called I.D.
to get past them and get onto the plane. We need to go and get you your own
form of I.D. used for flying: they are called passports. We will also need to
forge a birth certificate for you.”
“Okay,” Peter said, “where do we go for
that?”
“I know someone,” Rachel said and focused
on the road again.
“Of course you do,” Peter said, rolling
his eyes. He was fairly sure forging a birth cert wasn’t exactly a legal
activity.
“What does that mean?” Rachel asked.
“On my planet, I think, I was a law
abiding citizen. I get the feeling that you have never had any regard for the
law in your entire life.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
They drove on in silence.
After twelve hours of driving Rachel
finally pulled the car over. She was flicking through an address book. Peter
was asleep in the back of the van by the time she arrived at the place she
needed to be.
“Where is he?” Tim, her contact asked.
Rachel motioned to the back and Tim took
a look in.
“Like a baby,” he commented.
Rachel nodded in response.
“What do you both need from me?” he asked
her as she got out of the van to join him.
“Birth certs, passports, drivers
licenses, a whole new identity for both of us,” Rachel explained to him.
“What are you doing?” the guy asked her
suspiciously, “I have never had one of yours come for a complete new identity
before.”
“Ask no questions and hear no lies,”
Rachel promised him.
“Have you pictures of both of you?” he
asked her.
“On the iPad,” Rachel said and leaned
back into the van and picked it up.
“Should we wake him?” he asked Rachel.
She looked back to the alien in her
backseat and shook her head, “probably best to let him sleep,” she said.
“Come with me,” he said, “we should not
do this outdoors.”
“Of course,” she nodded and followed him
into his converted warehouse.
The warehouse had stone walls and a galvanized roof. Looking around Rachel
could tell Tim’s interests; too many computer products sat everywhere in the
large living space. Some of these he must use for his work, others were clearly
for recreation.
Rachel pinched her nose. A waft of
something not particularly pleasant had hit her. It smelled like dirty clothing
and rotting food mixed together. A swift, second, glance around confirmed it
was exactly that.
“Have you any air fresheners?” she asked
him.
Tim turned to look at her. He raised an
eyebrow and smiled an amused smile, “not enjoying the smell?” He asked.
“It is rather putrid, isn’t it?” she
replied.
He laughed.
“The best I can do is offer you some
vapour rub,” he said and walked to a cabinet and took the little tub from it
and brought it to her.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she
asked him, twirling the jar of jelly in her hand.
“When I was in school there was once a
bird, of some sort, dead and stuck there. We could smell it in the classroom
and when we explained to someone on the maintenance staff they brought a jar of
this to put below our noses, as it would be all we would smell.”
“Is that why you have this?” Rachel
asked, “because you realise how disgusting your house smells and need to take a
break from it every now and again?”
He laughed again.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said.
“You better be careful how much you
insist on insulting me, Sheila,” he said, “you need me to make you new identities.
If you aren’t careful I may become too offended and that would mean you’ll be
leaving here empty handed.”
“I’m sorry,” she said and placed the
vapour rub under her nostrils.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I know
the place is a disgrace. I can’t be bothered to clean it and bringing in a cleaner
may alert people I don’t want alerted to the fact that I have an illegal
identity creation operation going on in here.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said and moved a pile of
dirty clothes in order to sit down. Despite the vapour rub under her nose,
moving the dirty clothing caused a breeze of stench to hit Rachel, making her
nose crinkle up.
“Let’s get down to business then,” Tim
said as his computers and printers started up, “who do you want to be?”
“Who do I…?” she began.
“Want to be, yeah? Like, what name do you
want on his and your own birth certs, licences and everything?”
“Oh,” Rachel said, understanding the
question, “You can make me Rachel Smith,” she said, “born in Melbourne,
twenty-five years ago.”
“Okay,” he said, scribbling down the
details, “and sleeping beauty in the van?”
“He’s Peter McIntosh,” she said, “born in
Perth, nineteen years ago.”
“Nineteen?” Tim asked, “are you sure?
That’s a little young, he could pass for twenty-two or three if you wanted.
Also it looks less weird, you hanging out with a guy in his early twenties
instead of a guy in his late teens.”
“He’s nineteen,” Rachel insisted.
“Fine, fine,” he gave in, hands held in
the air, holding a black pen in his right hand, “he’s nineteen, I get it.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said, smiling smugly to
herself as the pen was leaking, dying Tim’s hand black.
“The customer is always right,” he said, faking
a smile back at her.
*
* *
It
took Tim over three hours before he had made new identities for Rachel and
Peter. Rachel wasn’t sure what to expect. She had never had a new identity
created for herself before. She had planned for a number of possibilities,
including needing to stay overnight. Peter and she had been driving for a long
time, and Rachel was now very tired. Peter, fortunately, was asleep in the van;
or at least she hoped he was still in the van. He was more rested than she was,
or at least he would be when he finally woke up. Rachel watched as Tim gathered
some papers from the printer. He made a sound, telling Rachel he was disappointed
with what the printer had produced, and he returned to the computer.
“Thank you for the work you are putting
in,” she gulped and said to Tim, after a long period of silence between the two
of them.
“I’m nearly done,” Tim said without
looking at her. From the short time she had been in the house he had learned
that she was a ‘no nonsense’ woman.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, smiling
at him, “I’m going to go and check on Peter,” she said, emphasising the last
word.
He chuckled. “Here,” he said and tossed keys
to Rachel, “you’ll need to them to let yourself back in.”
“Thanks,” she said as she bounced the
keys off her hands twice before they finally fell to the floor.
He chuckled again.
Rachel rolled her eyes at the laugh as
she picked up the keys from the floor and turned to leave the warehouse.
“Make sure no one sees you,” he said.
She nodded, but didn’t ask why; it didn’t
really matter to her anyway.
Once Rachel was outside the door of the
warehouse she remembered why she left in the first place. She was worried about
the idea of Peter waking up in the van, in the dark, by what appeared to be
abandoned warehouses. The alien would freak out, think Rachel abandoned him and
run off into the dark somewhere. She had no intentions of abandoning him. She
felt as if she was Earth’s ambassador in this situation, and she wished to
represent her planet well. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.
Rachel opened the door to the van and
peered into the darkness. She saw nothing, as her eyes were not yet adjusted to
the lack of light.
Rachel’s heart began to beat faster, she
felt a wave of panic surge through her but just as she managed to get a hold of
herself she saw Peter sitting in the back of the van looking out at her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“What?” she asked him, confused.
“You look really worried about
something,” he said as he moved towards the side door to the van.
“Do I?” she asked him, “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to look so worried. I don’t know why I do.”
“It’s okay,” he said to her, “I know
what’s wrong.”
“You do?” she asked, he was standing in
front of her now, ridiculously close.
“Yes,” he said as he put her arms around
her, “you are a female person, all by yourself, you need someone to treat you
like a princess and love you,” he explained to her.
She pushed him away from her, “have you
been reading the internet again?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said, “and I learned a lot
about the differences between us. Do you know that…” he began, reaching for his
belt.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rachel said and held
up her hand to his mouth, cutting him off, “in human society it is not polite
to talk about those things.”
“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t know. I won’t
say anything more.”
“Good,” she said and smiled at him.
“Are we ready to go?” he asked, “I am
quite tired and finding a bed would be a great thing.”
“Finding a bed?” she asked, a little
outraged, “you slept for most of the drive, if anyone should be tired it should
be me.”
“It may be true that I slept,” Peter
said, “but I did sleep in the back of this van and it is not very comfortable.”
“Don’t slag my van off,” Rachel said and
gave him a friendly smack.
“We should get back inside,” Peter said
and walked past her.
“Wait,” Rachel said, “don’t go in there.”
“Why not?” he asked her.
“It’s just…” she thought about it, “he’s
nearly done in there, it should only be a minute.”
“I understand,” Peter said and smiled
slyly.
“What do you think you understand?” she
asked him, picking up on the smile.
“You aren’t alone after all?” he asked.
“What?” Rachel exclaimed, “Tim? You are
joking right?”
“Oh, you aren’t interested in him?” Peter
asked.
“No,” she nearly screamed.
“Women are confusing creatures,” Peter
concluded as he got back into the van.
“Men have been saying that for
centuries,” Rachel said and grinned at him, before walking back into the
warehouse.
“And they are ready,” Tim said after she
had given him back his keys.
“Let me see?” she asked and took the
I.D.s and birth certs from him.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“They are perfect,” she said smiling at
him, “they look exactly like the real ones.”
“That was the idea,” Tim said, “if they
didn’t I would be shockingly bad at my job.”
“Speaking of,” Rachel said, “how much do
I owe you?”
“Ten thousand,” he said as if it was
peanuts.
“Ten grand?” she asked, her voice doing
that high-pitched thing it did when she was a little outraged by something.
“Each,” Tim added, forcing himself to say
the words.
“Twenty grand?” she asked, the voice was
barely a squeak now.
“I had to create complete new people,”
Tim argued, “that sort of service cannot come cheap.”
“I get that,” Rachel said, “but couldn’t
you apply mates rates?”
“Mates rates?” he asked, his own voice
taking on a higher pitch now, “I barely know you.”
“Okay,” she said, “Peter and I fly from
Brisbane international to LAX at five pm tomorrow. I will have the money for
you in the lobby at three. Is that okay?” Rachel asked him.
“You didn’t come prepared?” he asked,
looking both annoyed and disappointed.
“I did come prepared,” Rachel protested,
“I wasn’t prepared enough.”
“What do you have right now?” he asked
her.
“Four thousand,” she replied.
“For me,” he said, “it makes sense if I
take that cash now and hand over the driver’s licence for that amount. That way
I have some form of deposit.”
“That’s perfect,” Rachel responded,
knowing there was no way she was getting more products from the worm before she
handed over the full amount.
“I will see you and the boy tomorrow
then,” Tim said and showed Rachel to the door.
When Rachel got back to the car Peter was
sitting in the passenger seat again, “did you get what we needed?” he asked
her.
“Unfortunately not,” Rachel said, “he was
asking for more money than I had with me.”
“What will we do now?” Peter asked her.
“He will meet us tomorrow in the
airport,” Rachel said, “and I will pay him then. For now, we need to find a
hotel to rest in for the night.”
*
* *
The
next day came too quickly for both Rachel and Peter. After the distance they
had travelled the day before they needed much more sleep than the six hours
they got.
“Get up, Peter,” Rachel called him for
the fifth time.
Peter was surrounded by the softest of
furnishings in the nicest room he had ever been in. There were about ten
cushions on the bed when he had gotten in last night. Now these cushions lay
between him and the cold outside the blankets. These barriers also stopped him
from rolling, which he had learned, he did a lot.
“I’m up,” Peter called to Rachel from the
comfort of his blanket fortress.
“Okay,” she said through the door, “I’ll
see you at breakfast in ten; if you aren’t there I’m getting a key and coming
in.”
She walked away and he rolled his eyes,
then rolled over the mound of cushions and hit the floor.
“That was the only way I would actually
get up,” he reminded himself when he landed awkwardly on his left hand.
Peter went into the bathroom for a really
quick shower. He now had seven minutes before Rachel would be letting herself
in.
Peter was one minute late to the
breakfast table. As he entered the eloquently decorated breakfast area he was
worried that Rachel would have already left and be on her way back up towards
their rooms.
After a frantic scan of the tables Peter
saw her, waiting for him at table eighteen. He casually strolled over to her
and pulled out his chair.
“Where have you been?” she asked him.
“Showering,” he said as he sat down.
“You are a couple of minutes late,” she
informed him, “I was about to go looking for you.”
“I thought it was best to wash now,” he
said, “after all today we begin another day of travel which you have promised
to take even longer than the travelling we did yesterday. I thought you would
prefer that to smelling me all the time.”
“This is true,” Rachel noted, “please sit
and eat, I still need to head to a bank.”
“Do they have the animal by-products here
that we ate yesterday?” Peter asked her.
“Yes,” she said and laughed to herself,
“They do.”
“I enjoyed them,” he said.
*
* *
“What
are they doing?” Cohen asked his comrade.
“Basically, they are just eating,”
McGregor replied.
Cohen and McGregor were two of the people
Agent Reece had assigned to the case of Rachel and Peter. They were charged
with following both of them and making sure that neither of them actually did
know anything about the alien ship that crash landed near Longreach a couple of
days before.
Cohen was in his late thirties and was
McGregor’s superior. He had buzz cut light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He
was a well-built man and was a little over six feet.
McGregor was shorter than him, coming in
at five nine. He had long, curly dark brown hair and blue eyes. McGregor was
more slender than Cohen, but was still built for the fights someone in his line
of work was bound to come across.
“It’s nice to be on earth for a change,”
McGregor said to his commanding officer.
“You are pulling my leg right?” he asked
him, “us being on earth, watching people who may or may not know about an alien
that may or may not have crash landed on earth is not something to celebrate.
An alien craft got past Earth’s defences.”
“I know that,” McGregor said, “but that
doesn’t mean we can’t be happy that we are here, and not on some alien world
light-years from home, do you know what I mean?”
“You always look for the silver lining,”
Cohen said, smiling at the younger man, “that is what I like about you
McGregor.”
“I am pretty amazing,” McGregor agreed,
“it would be hard not to like me.”
“Your rebellious streak could do with
some refining,” the older operative said.
“Ah here now,” McGregor replied, feigning
offence, “my rebellious streak has given us some of the best memories and it
has gotten us out of more than one sticky situation.”
“This may be true,” Cohen replied, “but
it still stands that you do the rebellious things and I take all the blame.”
“I don’t mean for you to be blamed,” he
said and smiled a cheeky smile, “I just do what I think is right.”
“Sometimes what is right might be doing
what you are told,” Cohen suggested.
McGregor shook his head, “I doubt that,
to be honest. The right thing to do is the thing you know to be right. It’s
built into you, somehow, it doesn’t come from other people telling you what to
do.”
“Someday,” Cohen pointed out, “you will
move from level fifteen to level seven, where I am, and when that day comes I
will enjoy you having to explain your own actions to our superiors.”
“Thanks,” McGregor said and nudged his
friend.
“I even more look forward to the day when
you get used to the way things are and then are given your own teenaged brat to
look after. You’ll be the me of the party then.”
“I hate that phrase,” McGregor said,
narrowing his eyes.
“Which phrase?” Cohen asked, thinking
over the things he had just said.
“The way things are,” McGregor replied,
“it should be wiped from the dictionary. I will never do things because that is
the way they are done. We should constantly be questioning things, constantly
be improving how we do them. That is especially true in our line of work. We
come across new things everyday and each of those new situations, friends and
foes, needs to be dealt with in a way appropriate to it.”
“Your head is full of wonderful ideas,”
Cohen said, “I was like that when I first joined the EA, but eventually you
come to realise that one person cannot change the world.”
“I bet one person could change the world.
Look at what happened last year in my home country.”
“That wasn’t one person,” Cohen argued.
“That was an army opposing an army.”
“Yeah,” McGregor replied, “but the result
wasn’t because of the army. I’ve heard stories that the big, gaping hole is the
result of one guy, a guy that is younger than me.”
“So you want to blow up a city?” Cohen asked
the younger operative.
“No,” McGregor said. “That isn’t what I’m
saying at all.”
“What are you saying?” Cohen asked
McGregor.
“That one person can make a difference,”
McGregor said and looked back in the window of the hotel.
“Certain people can, to be sure…” Cohen
began, but McGregor interrupted him.
“They’re gone,” he said as he jumped from
his seat in the grass outside the window.
“What?” Cohen said, McGregor was already
on his way to the front of the hotel.
