Alien Nation #3 - Body and Soul (15 page)

And that was the moment that Sikes attacked.

He grabbed the giant’s arm, twisting it around with all the strength he had so that he could get the cuffs on him.

Unfortunately, all of Sikes’s strength didn’t even come close to what was required in this instance. The giant bellowed and swatted Sikes, sending him flying. He crashed into the top of the police car and rolled across the roof, thudding to the ground on the other side.

With the giant distracted by Sikes, George took the opportunity to rush the giant. The giant turned back and grabbed at Francisco, but George was too quick. He darted underneath the behemoth’s flailing arms and sprang onto his back.

The giant whirled, but George desperately hung on. Roaring defiance, the giant stumbled back and slammed up against a lamppost. The impact was bone-jarring, and for a moment, George almost lost his grip.

But then he crisscrossed his arms even tighter, and moments later had his legs intertwined around the giant’s waist. The move shoved air out of the giant’s chest and left him gasping, trying to suck in new air that was being denied him through George’s hold around his throat.

Sikes staggered to his feet and saw his partner holding on for dear life. But now George was no longer quite as desperate—with the giant’s air choked off, George went on the offensive. He jammed his thumbs under the giant’s ears.

The giant’s eyes opened wide in alarm. Sikes, a few feet away, recognized what George was doing immediately. It was a Newcomer sleeper hold, incredibly effective. The question was, would it work on so massive a Newcomer?

The behemoth staggered forward, taking one titanic step after another. He closed on Sikes, and George shouted, “Matt! Get back! Don’t help me!”

Sikes needed no urging, because he saw what was happening. The giant’s knees began to buckle, his eyeballs rolled up into their sockets. And with a final groan of protest, the giant fell forward like a tree, crashing to the ground so hard that Sikes was certain he felt the street vibrate under his feet.

The giant thrashed spasmodically a few more times, but that was after the fact more than anything else. Consciousness had already fled him.

George lay atop him, panting from the exertion. Finally, satisfied that the giant really was out of it, he relaxed the hold. Sikes was by his side, helping him to his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

The Newcomer detective examined the sleeves of his jacket. The impact had shredded both of them rather badly, and he sighed. Terrific. More things for Susan to be angry with him about.

“I’m fine. Yourself?”

“Yeah,” Sikes said, nodding briskly.

The moment he’d ascertained that Sikes was all right, George turned back to the giant. Considering that the giant, given the opportunity, would have ripped him apart, George was extremely concerned about his welfare.

The uniformed patrolmen were handcuffing him both behind his wrists and around his legs. Sikes, upon seeing the precautions, could only breathe in relief, but George called out loudly, “Don’t hurt him!”

The cops stepped back once their job was done, and they all stood in a small circle around the behemoth. The moment seemed familiar to Sikes for some reason, and then he realized why. It was like the old cartoon “Gulliver’s Travels” that Sikes had seen when he was a kid. The Lilliputians, going to extreme lengths to truss up the unconscious man of Brobdingnagian (to them) proportions, only to have him wake up and snap the bonds without even giving it any thought.

Recalling how that scene had played out didn’t exactly do a lot for Matt’s confidence.

In quiet awe, George said, “I’ve never seen a Tenctonese like this.”

“And he’s hard to miss,” said Sikes. “Where do you suppose he’s been hiding?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. But I can tell you where he’s going.”

C
APTAIN
G
RAZER STUDIED THE
afternoon newspaper with tremendous satisfaction. Damn, it was a good picture of him.

Front page, above the fold. It didn’t get better than this. There was the headline in as large a type as he’d seen recently—at least as big as when the Pope came to visit. “NEWCOMER BOMBSHELL,” it read, followed by a smaller headline that stated, “HYBRID INFANT REVEALED BY POLICE CAPTAIN.”

He looked up at his wall, trying to figure out where he would hang a framed copy of this. There were twenty copies of the newspaper piled up on a chair nearby, for whatever uses he could come up with.

The phone had been ringing off the hook. Suddenly he was
the
source on Newcomer affairs. Undoubtedly, when any articles were written subsequently, he would be one of those “authorities” who was always contacted and liberally quoted.

Oh yes. This was going to be a major step upward.

Then there was a knock at the door. He looked up and saw a khaki officer with a Newcomer couple standing in the doorway, looking just a bit nervous over the brouhaha that was going on in the station.

“Captain,” said the officer, “these are the folks that social services sent over.”

Grazer rose from behind his desk and extended a hand. The male Newcomer shook it firmly as Grazer said, “Captain Bryon Grazer.”

“Franz Kafka,” replied the Newcomer. He indicated the female beside him. “This is my wife, Hans Brinker Kafka.”

He looked at her with interest. “They gave a female a male name? Don’t get that too often.”

She inclined her head slightly. “All earth names have no real significance to us, Captain. The name Hans has no more meaning to me than the name Bryon Grazer.”

He smiled at that, but then his smile drooped slightly. Something about her voice made it sound as if she wasn’t particularly thrilled to see him.

Franz Kafka indicated the stacked newspapers. “We read the item of which you seem to have so many copies. Quite a flattering picture of you.”

“Thanks,” said Grazer.

Then Kafka’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’ve given real thought to the likely result of your actions.”

Now Grazer was mystified. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” said Mrs. Kafka sullenly.

And then, in a tone that indicated that as far as they were concerned, this conversation was over, Kafka said, “And now, if you would be so kind, we’d like to see our foster child.”

“Of course,” said Grazer. “Right this way.” But he watched the Newcomers carefully as they preceded him out of the office.

He’d understand, they said. Now what in the world did they mean by that?

The giant sat huddled in a cell that seemed in stark contrast to his remarkable size.

Throughout the day, officers had been trickling by the holding cell area, every single one finding some flimsy excuse to stop by. The real reason was obvious, of course. But if the giant was aware that he was on display—an object of curiosity, or even fear—he gave no sign. Instead he sat there, his hands to his spotted head, bent over in almost a fetal position. Inevitably, when some cop would come by, he or she would speak in a low, hushed voice, as if in the presence of something beyond comprehension.

Which it was.

Indeed, it struck a cord of fear. Where there was one giant Newcomer, there could be more. Newcomers could be a handful under normal circumstances. If they were suddenly popping up seven feet tall—potential juggernauts of destruction—it made police work that much more dangerous.

And who was to say that the abnormal growth would be limited to seven feet?

During much of the day, Albert Einstein had stayed on the outskirts of the police traffic. He didn’t want to contribute to the general circus atmosphere that was pervading the giant’s incarceration. But, by the same token, he felt drawn to the pain that radiated from the giant. Pain so strong that he felt he could touch it.

What finally prompted Albert to action was one human police officer, a tall gangly fellow with an unkempt air. He walked in carefully, glancing right and left as if he wanted to make sure that he was unobserved. He didn’t see Albert standing off to the side, obscured by the open door of the broom closet that he was entering.

And then, from the officer’s shirt pocket, he pulled a small Instamatic camera, and aimed it at the giant.

Abruptly a broom blocked his vision before he could push the shutter release. He turned to face Albert, who was—for Albert—quite angry. Nevertheless, Albert’s voice never rose above normal conversational tones as he said, “Please don’t do that.”

The cop chuckled patronizingly and brought his camera up again. Again Albert raised the broom into his view.

This time when the cop turned to look at him, it was with a very menacing gaze. “Knock it off,” he said quietly.

But Albert, refusing to be intimidated, said, “Captain Grazer is very media-conscious. How do you think he’d react to a picture in some tabloid of the giant sitting in a holding cell? I’m sure he’ll start asking around as to who took the picture. Do you think for a moment I’ll cover for you?”

It was purely a guess on Albert’s part that the cop was going to take a picture for publication. But the expression on the officer quickly confirmed it.

The cop looked right and left for a moment, and then in a low voice he said, “Look, I’ll cut you in for twenty-five percent.” When Albert’s gaze didn’t waver, he said, “Okay . . . half. Okay? It’d be worth a—”

“Tell me, sir,” said Albert with genuine curiosity, “is however much money you get paid for this picture really going to be worth losing your job?”

There was a long, annoyed pause, and then the cop pocketed the camera. “You people all stick together, you know that?”

“Yes,” said Albert reasonably.

With an annoyed snort, the cop turned and stalked away.

Albert looked back at the giant and, to his surprise, saw that the giant was gazing back at him. There was a moment of silent communication between the two of them.

“You’re very sad,” said Albert.

When this drew no response, Albert switched to Tenctonese. [
“You’re very sad.”
] He paused. [
“Are you hungry?”
]

The giant simply stared at him, that same picture of misery etched on his face. Albert reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, extending it to the giant.

[
“Here.”
] he said.

The giant recoiled, growling like a frightened dog. Albert frowned, confused. Was the giant that untrusting that he would shun food offered him, in friendship, by one of his own kind?

Then again . . . considering the giant’s size . . . maybe there was no one of his own kind. Not to him, at any rate.

At least when the Tenctonese had landed on earth, they had had each other to give support in the complex assimilation into Earth society. But here was someone who literally had no one except himself.

A true alien in every sense of the word.

Albert heard footsteps and, for a moment, feared that the cop with the camera was returning—perhaps this time with friends, who were going to try and “convince” Albert to play along. But he breathed a sigh of relief inwardly when he saw that it was Sikes and George.

“How’s Tiny?” asked Sikes. If it was meant to sound jovial, it didn’t quite succeed.

“What did he do?” Albert inquired.

“He’s a suspect in a murder case,” George said.

“Really?” Albert looked with new curiosity at the giant. Anyone as fearful as the giant didn’t seem the sort to go on some sort of killing spree. “It must’ve been an accident. He wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.”

Sikes tried not to smile at the emphatic tone of Albert’s voice. “Albert, how long have you known this guy?”

“You mean started talking to him?”

“Yeah.”

“About two minutes.”

Sikes shook his head. “And you’re ready to be his character witness.”

But George was curious about Albert’s phrasing. “You said ‘talking to him.’ Did he say anything to you?”

“No. No, it’s been kind of one-sided, actually. But I can just feel it. He’s very sad. He’s lost something.”

George and Sikes exchanged glances. “The baby?” said Sikes.

“It would seem to be the only thing that makes sense,” said George. He paused, and then said to Sikes, “I’m going to ask him who he is.”

“Brilliant, Holmes,” said Sikes.

George ignored the sarcasm, or perhaps simply didn’t pick up on it. He approached the giant slowly, still being cautious enough to keep his distance from the bars. The giant had a long reach, and it would do no one any good if George suddenly found his neck creaking under the creature’s embrace.

[
“What is your name?”
] asked George.

There was no response. Somehow, George hadn’t expected one, but nevertheless he tried again. [
“Do you understand me?”
]

And then he got a reaction out of the giant.

For a moment he thought that it had come as a result of George’s prompting, but one look at the giant’s face quickly corrected that notion. The giant had lifted his head, but he was not looking at George. Instead it was as if he were looking straight through the Newcomer detective; even straight through the wall behind him. Like a dog responding to a high-pitched whistle that only he could hear.

It was as if he were sensing something.

“I need more time with her!”

Cathy felt as if she were talking to a brick wall. She was carrying the baby, who was nestled in her arms with that same strange, impassive look. Grazer walked alongside, and at one point even gently prodded Cathy forward when she appeared to be slowing down. When he did that, she shot him a glance so poisonous that he withdrew his hand as if a snake had bitten him.

“I have to follow regulations,” he said reasonably. “We can’t keep the child.”

They turned a corner and, at the other end, there was the Newcomer couple. Cathy studied them with wary eyes as Grazer said, “Dr. Frankel, these are the Kafkas. They’ll be serving as foster parents. I’m sure they’ll provide a good home,” and then he grinned in that way he had when he was making a stupid joke, “as long as they manage to keep that cockroach problem under control, huh, folks?”

All three Newcomers stared at him.