When he looked back at the door, she was there again, watching him.
“They’re all dead,” he told her. “Except Johnson, my copilot. He’s at Fort Bliss.” He could hardly believe his own words. “He’s the only one who’s still alive.”
As Colonel Campbell led the team of scientists down the corridor, he recalled the way Owen’s body had gone taut as he realized just how thoroughly he’d been cut out of the loop. Not that he’d had a choice in the matter. The job ahead required people the colonel could trust, and Owen was not such a man. True, Owen was observant. He’d noticed the five seats in the craft. But that did not make him trustworthy. Especially in regard to the extremely sensitive matter the colonel now faced.
“The craft has the material-evaluation lab baffled,” the lead scientist, Dr. Goldin told him. “And as for the bodies, we’ve dissected the one that was dismembered and we can’t find anything that would be analogous to our own internal system.”
“What about the other three?” Colonel Campbell asked.
“We’ll start on the second one, to see if we missed something,” Dr. Goldin answered. “It’s a shame really.”
“What’s a shame?” the colonel asked.
“To have to ask the dead instead of the living,” Goldin replied, and stepped forward to open the door of the dissecting room where, atop a cold steel table, the alien sat alone, turning slowly to stare at them with knowing eyes.
Chapter Four
Sally Clarke briefly eyed the man at the end of the counter, then returned to the story she was reading in
But so what, Sally thought, the world was full of melancholy drifters. No point talking to a guy like that. He was a vagabond and always would be, his trouble buried so deep inside nothing less than a miracle could set him free. She was about to go back to her magazine when he suddenly glanced up and caught her foursquare looking at him.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said. “I’d like more coffee.”
Sally flashed him her best jolly-waitress smile. “You’re not disturbing me,” she told him. “It’s my job.”
“Good story?” he asked after she’d filled his cup. “The one you’re reading.”
“It passes the time.”
“I don’t read much myself,” the man said. He took a sip from the cup, and suddenly seemed in a hurry. “How much do I owe you?”
“Thirty-five cents.”
The man placed a fifty-cent piece on the counter. “Thanks,” he said, then turned and headed for the door.
Something odd about this guy, Sally thought, something desperate. The kind of guy you stayed away from if you knew what was good for you. And yet, the kind she was always drawn to, so that it didn’t surprise her when she was still thinking about him a few hours later when she finished her shift and headed home.
Her two kids, Tom and Becky, were in the living room when she arrived. She took a few minutes to watch Tom practice his magic tricks, while Becky teased him, as always.
Her husband Fred was in the upstairs bedroom, packing for the road.
“Shoehorn,” he said dully as she came into the room. “Have you seen it?”
Sally opened the dresser drawer, dug through her husband’s socks and came out with the shoehorn. “You have to leave tonight?” she asked as she handed it to him.
Fred nodded sullenly.
“Did the kids eat?”
Fred’s eyes flashed toward her. “You’re the waitress. You feed them.” He turned away, closed the suitcase. “I’ll see you in three weeks,” he said as he swept out of the room.
Lonely… Sally decided, the guy in the diner suddenly on her mind again. She heard her husband say a quick good-bye to Tom and Becky, then the slap of the screen door as he left the house. Lonely, she thought with a shrug, like me.
Owen’s shadow cut a jagged swath across the tarmac as he strode toward the looming hangar. He’d made a decision. No one was going to cut him out of the loop. Not some goofy scientist. Not Colonel Campbell. Not God, Himself.
The door of the hangar opened and a tall officer in pilot’s gear stepped into the bright light of the field.
“Bishop, right?” Owen asked. “You flew Colonel Campbell out of Fort Worth the other night?”
“Right,” the pilot said.
“Destination?”
The pilot looked at Owen warily. “That’s a ‘need to know.’”
Owen took out his ID. “Army Intelligence. I need to know.”
The pilot glanced at the ID. “Captain Crawford. The colonel told me you might show up.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Captain,” he said as he stepped away.
Owen remained in place as the pilot walked briskly across the tarmac. All right, he thought, the colonel had anticipated his move. But it was only his first move, he told himself, already making his second.
A few minutes later, Anne opened the door. She seemed surprised to see him, and Owen took that as a good sign. It was always good to catch a woman off guard.
“Can you go for a ride?” he asked her.
She smiled delightedly. “I’ll get my car coat.”
“I said a ride, not a drive.”
Within minutes they were alone in the desert, dusk settling over the rocky hills as they rode their horses together slowly, like two lovers strolling down a familiar street.
“You’re doing great,” Owen told her.
“Can we go faster?” Anne asked excitedly.
“Just loosen up on the reins a little,” Owen said. He took her hand and showed her just how much to relax the reins.
Anne’s horse began to trot, Owen careful to keep pace beside her, noting how easily her timidity slipped away.
“Are you all right?” he asked after a moment.
“I’m wonderful.”
He slapped his horse and the trot became a canter, the two horses in stride with each other, Anne’s hair blowing loosely in the wind. Her smile was as radiant as a child’s, and Owen was quick to realize that in a way, a child is what she remained, utterly under her father’s command, a woman already trained to obey.
