lying on the ground. Not some weird creature from outer space, Sally saw instantly. But a man who looked injured somehow, despite his sad smile, and the way his eyes seemed to peer into her soul.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
The man nodded slowly.
“You need a doctor,” Sally said urgently.
The man smiled softly. “I’ll be all right. I just need to rest.”
“What’s your name?”
“John.”
She felt his gaze almost physically, like the delicate play of window curtains across her face.
“I need to rest,” John said.
It seemed to Sally that he needed more than rest. He needed comfort, security, safety, and the urge to provide these things abruptly overwhelmed her.
She rushed to where he lay, drew him tenderly from the ground, holding him firmly, but gently, as if he were made of some infinitely fragile material.
Inside the house, she rushed to Tom’s room, and woke him up while the man stood, leaning in the doorway.
“Who’s that?” Tom asked.
“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Sally answered hurriedly. “Get some pillows and an extra blanket from my bed. You’re going to sleep on the sofa tonight.”
Tom did as he was told, then Sally carefully lowered the man onto the bed.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, “just as soon as I collect my thoughts.”
It struck her as an odd choice of words, since he didn’t seem in the least confused or disoriented. “Do you need any… help with your clothes?” she asked.
“No, I’m fine,” John answered. “Thank you for taking me in.”
Sally stepped to the door, turned off the light and headed back down stairs.
Tom was making his bed on the couch. Becky stood beside him,
“Who is that guy?” Tom asked.
Sally knew she had no real answer. Who was he? She didn’t know. She only knew that she felt inexplicably connected to him. “You two should be in bed,” she said.
“Who is that man?” Tom repeated insistently.
“He’s a stranger, Tom,” Sally said. “And he’s hurt.”
“How long is he going to stay in my room?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Sally answered. “Until he’s better.” She glanced toward Becky, whose face was suddenly drawn with worry.
“Mommy, did he hit you?”
“What?” Sally asked with a quick laugh.
“Your nose,” Becky said.
“My nose?” Sally asked.
Becky stared at her worriedly. “It’s bleeding.”
Owen looked up from his desk as Howard and Marty entered his office.
“Anything on the fifth… occupant of the craft?” he asked.
“Nothing so far, sir,” Howard answered.
“Well it turns out there was another live one,” Owen told them.
Howard and Marty glanced at each other astonished.
“It lived long enough to demonstrate certain… abilities,” Owen said somberly.
“What kind of abilities?” Howard asked.
Owen smiled. He could see the spark he’d lit. “In good time,” he said. He sat back in his chair. “Colonel Campbell is a small and petty man. He confiscated the bodies and initiated a high-level cover-up.” He noticed the shock in his aides’ faces, along with the pride they took in his confiding in them. “He froze me out the way he froze you out in the field that day. But he’s not going to get away with it.” Owen’s tone grew menacing. “I’m going to take this project away from him. And I’ll take down anyone who gets in my way.” They were with him now, heart and soul. He could see it in their eyes, the glint of conspiracy. “So if you get any leads about the missing visitor, I expect you to share them with me rather than the good colonel.”
“Yes, sir,” Howard said.
“Absolutely, sir,” said Marty.
“Good,” Owen said. “But keep the abilities I mentioned in mind, and don’t confine your search to little gray men. Look for someone… some thing… a little more human.”
Sally entered the room quietly, determined not to wake John if he were still asleep. But he stirred as she entered, and she felt the odd sensation that he’d sensed her presence, saw her without using his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
John turned to face her. “I’m much better.”
She handed him the tray she’d brought for him. “Breakfast.”
He hardly looked at the food. “Maybe in a few minutes.”
“I put some towels out,” Sally told him. “And a shirt and some pants. My husband’s.” She smiled. “Before he put on weight.”
“That’s very kind,” John said. He seemed to study her a moment. “Your husband doesn’t appreciate your kindness. He doesn’t see your sadness either, but you’ve stopped wanting him to. I think you’re right. There are some things you don’t share with an uncaring person.”
Sally felt as if some part of her had been peeled away and now lay exposed before him. It was as if John had somehow pierced all the protective layers of her life and touched its tender core.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“I was in an accident,” John said.
“What kind of accident?”
“Farming.”
“You have a farm around here?”
“No, I… someone gave me a ride.”
A sudden pain streaked across Sally’s brow. She winced.
“What’s wrong?” John asked.
“Just a headache.”
Again, she sensed that the man was studying her in a way she could not grasp. It wasn’t the way some of her customers looked at her, and it didn’t make her feel un-comfortable or on display. Instead, it was a kind of inner probing, and she felt it like millions of tiny invisible wires, each simultaneously penetrating her skin and making infinitely small connections.
“You were telling me about your accident,” Sally said.
She could tell that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m sorry, would you mind letting me rest for a while?” he said.
“Of course,” Sally said. “I’ll leave the tray in case you wake up hungry.” She started to leave, then felt herself drawn back to him. “You were right, you know. He doesn’t appreciate…” She stopped, astonished that such words had broken from her. “I mean…” She laughed nervously. “Anyway, get some rest.”
She rushed from the room, the pain in her head now almost more than she could bear, a hard, steady pounding. For a moment, she leaned against the door, then pulled herself up again and went to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet was already open, though she didn’t remember leaving it that way, the bottle of aspirin clearly visible, as if waiting for her. She opened the bottle, took out two aspirin and quickly swallowed them. It was only
