Alien Species Intervention, Page 4

  A noise outside its chamber had announced the arrival. The life source stepped into sight. It was a female, a Sister, a mature one. Could that make a difference? She was staring, seemingly transfixed. That is good, a little closer, it prayed. And yes. The Sister placed her hands on the Oolahan, allowing it to suck in the life-giving energy that would nourish it back to health. How did she know? How wonderfully easy. Since its tail now had enough energy to expel, it let loose on the Sister in a gesture of gratitude, completely forgetting it was forbidden by The Womb.

  It could sense great worry from the Sister. Why is that? Can she not see? The Oolahan stared at her as it tried to understand her actions. The Sister stared back. It felt the Sister picking it up. It panicked, mewing a complaint, then relaxed as the Sister rubbed its back.

  Things are clearly out of control, the Oolahan thought as it helplessly felt the Sister place a cloth over its body. It remained motionless as the Sister walked out of the cavern with the Oolahan over her shoulder.

  Chapter 3

  Netty struggled with the unwieldy broken door of the cabin, juggling the creature as she fought with the warped boards that were her protection from the elements. The creature had made no further sound as she trudged with her burden from the woods, her wayward gold coin having been returned to its hiding place under her bodice.

  She moved directly to her old straw mat by the fireplace. Fresh straw and a good sweep and dusting had made the room serviceable. Much of her mama’s possessions had been ransacked or stolen. Having purchased a used rocker and some pots, she knew a warm fire and something in their stomachs was all they needed for now.

  She set the creature gently on the straw mat and got busy making a fire. Soon, the cabin filled with the sounds of crackling wood and warm air that aggressively pushed away the evening chill.

  Netty finally had time to sit in her split-oak rocker as her dinner pot simmered over the fire. She studied the creature as it appeared to study her, its expressive eyes now appearing bright and swirly with golden hues. How odd, yet beautiful. The little thing had looked dead, but she’d clearly been mistaken. She reminded herself what she knew from hard experience: whatever injury or illness gripped the odd creature could still bring about its death.

  Netty decided she must give the poor thing an exam. She approached it carefully, although she no longer feared it would bite. She saw its limbs appeared shrunken and withered with a sort of attachment at the end of what appeared to be its legs. The attachment looked like a foot of sort, but it wobbled when she moved it. Is it broken?

  The creature didn’t appear to feel any pain when she wiggled it. She examined its head, noticing that it wiggled like the foot. She gently turned its body to the side to examine underneath. As she did so, she noticed the creature’s head turning to follow. And turn and turn. That cannot be. It is a physical impossibility.

  Looking closer, she found the creature simply had a different type of bone structure, allowing its head to rotate around the body, as its feet probably could too. On the creature’s back, she found herself amazed by a crumpled structure that almost appeared to be tiny leathery wings; the poor thing. She wondered what unfortunate fate had come knocking at the creature’s door. She picked up the creature’s lovely tail. Since they’d left the woods, a subtle sheen had colored its crinkled leathery skin, fine golden hairs sprouting. Its abdomen was now round and gold, firm to the touch. The striking similarity between its hands and those of the great apes from the dark continent of Africa entranced her.

  The differences jumped out at her. She wanted to touch the very fragile and elongated fingers with itty, bitty fingernails just like hers. Turning them over she could make out tiny dark swirls that actually looked like a device for suction. Interesting . . .

  Taking the creature’s head in her hands, she stroked what looked like golden fuzz on its head, stopping at the point where two glittery antlers emerged from the rear of its head, growing forward and twining together like a crown. They almost looked like they were made of glass. How can that be?

  The creature suddenly smiled at her, and she felt her bruised and withered heart miss a beat. Continuing the exam, she decided it surely looked like an odd and improbable creature. Well, I am an odd creature myself, am I not?

  But it must have a name. In the back of Netty’s mind, she was mulling over the idea of keeping the creature. It smiled again which transformed Netty’s loneliness for a brief moment. She didn’t know where it came from or what it was, but she already loved it.

  That settled the matter. She felt desperately lonely and this poor creature needed her. It was probably a baby. She needed a baby. So it was settled. She would call it Baby. In the back of her head she heard the echo, “Bay-bee,” a whisper of golden colors, like an aura. Netty shook her head, cursing her sleepiness.

  She hurriedly spooned up some vegetable broth from her cooking kettle over the fire, swallowing quickly. She placed a bowl of water at the side of the straw mat for Baby and took herself off to bed after banking the fire and making sure the door to the cabin was firmly shut. Tomorrow would bring plenty of chores to catch up on.

  *

  Baby lay quietly on the straw mat. He found himself quite comfortable. The tall Sister’s behavior had been non-threatening. He wondered what he was to do with the bowl she’d left next to the mat. Was it for him? He sat up, spilling the liquid on the floor. He realized how unsteady he still was. Ignoring the spilled liquid, he put the bowl on his head, hooking it over his crown of antlers.

  He decided to stay and observe the Sister and see where this relationship would go. He’d no idea as to his offspring’s whereabouts. The urgency of his mission slowly began to fade. Perhaps if he’d been a Sister, his recovery since landing would have been different. But he was here now and knew he needed the tall Sister’s hand on him again until he found a new energy source. As he recovered, he would hear her more fully in his mind. Fleetingly, he wondered how much longer he would live until his expiration.

  Looking around the small room, he wondered where Sister had disappeared to. Spotting the door to Netty’s bedroom, he hopped up from the straw mat and worked at the door handle with his long thin fingers. His feet made soft plunks as he wobbled his way over to the jumbled platform she rested upon. Placing one foot on the bed frame, he twisted his entire body to a perpendicular level as his hands gripped the covers, placing his other foot higher on the frame until he swiveled to the top of the bed. Carefully burrowing under the blanket into the curve of Netty’s belly, he promptly went to sleep.

  *

  Netty woke, feeling the best she had since, well, since she’d been a young girl, working on the farm with her mama and papa. The memory warmed her and she stretched heartily.

  “Oh.” Shocked to feel something hard and cold in bed with her, she reached under her covers, pulling out the bowl she’d left at Baby’s bedside. Ripping off the covers, she discovered Baby curled up and looking up at her wide-eyed. Baby’s eyelashes were now quite pronounced with thick, shimmering golden hairs. Golden fur sprouted all over her head tapering to uniform fuzz, covering her entire body. Her leathery extremities were now soft and supple having filled out. Even her concave abdomen had plumped up, giving her a little tummy. As Netty watched, Baby solemnly picked up the bowl and placed it back on her head atop her crown of antlers. Then Baby smiled. Netty sat stunned. Charmed and enchanted, she gathered Baby into her arms as tears rolled down her cheeks. Baby’s long fingers traced the path of a tear, the bowl falling off her head. A flash of rainbow light and a pressure in her head shattered the moment. The pressure lessened, leaving a golden aura and a whispered word, seemingly from inside her head.

  “Sister?”

  Netty, confused, whipped her head around, finally resting her eyes on Baby. It cannot be. Am I going mad?

  They sat, just staring at one another. Netty finally reached out to stroke Baby again, with wonder and amazement. She sensed the pressure in her mind recede, leaving a softer presenc
e. Timidly, she tried to relax her mind. As Baby continued to stare intently, she felt a whisper.

  “I am Brother.”

  Brother? Baby is a little boy?

  “Yes, my Sister.”

  Is the presence reading my thoughts? The aura faded. Netty’s mind felt empty as she searched its corners, frantic to find the golden aura. Nothing. Baby just stared, his golden rainbow eyes unblinking.

  Well, Netty thought, this is a puzzle. Has my debilitated condition allowed my mind to play tricks on me? Warily, she decided to be patient, the answers would come. At least she realized she didn’t need to worry about healing Baby. He seemed to have done just fine on his own.

  Time to put the kettle on the fire, she thought, leaving Baby on her bed and wondering if she’d imagined the words in her head. She wrapped her robe tightly around her as the morning chill depressed her with the memory of the overwhelming work she still faced.

  The cabin warmed as her breakfast kettle simmered. She wondered what Baby might need to eat. Ruefully, she realized she was ill equipped to take care of this magnificent creature, so different from all the other woodland creatures she’d ever tended. How did I miss this one? she wondered. Perhaps he was just rare. Oh well, he belongs with me now, unless he decides to return to the woods. Netty dismissed the discovery of the giant cavern as none of her business.

  She returned to the bedroom to wash and change into her work clothes. Glancing toward the bed, she saw that Baby had moved to her pillow, perching on it with his golden legs crossed, just like a little man. Oh, maybe Baby is not an infant. She went to him, picking him up to kiss his face. He made a chuffing sound, but sent no more whispers.

  With a last kiss and cuddle, Netty set Baby back on the bed. She moved to a simple cupboard in the corner of the room to remove another pair of her papa’s overalls which had been overlooked by the looters. Slipping off her nightgown, she observed a slightly trimmer waist than she was used to seeing. Not surprised, she considered her flight from her husband’s clutches, her hard work and the meager meals she now afforded herself. Moving over to her washstand, she dipped her cloth into water warmed from the fire. She loved the feeling of the cloth suffusing the water’s warmth into her skin. As she dawdled at the washstand, she felt thrown by the unfamiliar feeling of her nose through the washcloth. Something felt wrong; different.

  Dropping the cloth from her hands, she peered into the mirror over the wash bowl, speechless. Her nose looked as straight as it had been on the day of her birth, the bump nonexistent. It was the old Netty looking back at her, albeit older. Suddenly, remembering her previous night’s activities, she looked down at her feet. They were devoid of any scabs or sores, not to mention the pain that had disappeared last night. She whirled to her bed and stared at Baby. Can it be? She sat down, picking up Baby’s tail, remembering the pressure in the chamber and the strange smell. She sniffed Baby’s tail fur, not seeing the strange membrane from last night, but clearly smelling a faint trace of sulfur.

  Stunned, Netty backed away from Baby, her thoughts in a whirl. Obviously elated over the changes in her appearance and overwhelmed with the happiness Baby’s presence portended, these miracles defied logic. Wait, that’s it. They were just miracles, not a sign of the devil as she’d begun to fear. Miracles were sent by God. She ran to Baby and stared into his amazing eyes; whirling colors glimmering at her. She felt a tentative touch in her mind.

  “God?” Baby whispered.

  “Yes.” Netty felt relief course through her body. “God, our Father.”

  “Father.” The aura sent the whisper into her mind.

  “Yes, our Father protects us all, we are all his children,” she said.

  “Offspring?” Baby whispered.

  “Yes, yes, Baby, we are all one,” cried Netty.

  “Yes, the Womb,” her mind whispered, golden aura dancing. “Womb is father. Father, Brother, Sister.” Baby smiled. And Netty smiled. Somehow, they’d made a breakthrough. She didn’t know what ‘the Womb’ meant, but did it really matter? She knew everything would be just fine.

  As Netty gathered her tools for her day’s work, she ladled out a portion of breakfast porridge for Baby. Baby ignored it, spending his time following closely at her heels and inspecting everything she touched. Netty stepped out the door on to her stoop. The air contained a vague coolness, but the bright sun and translucent blue sky would soon warm her up. Planning to head to her family’s old orchard to survey what might be salvaged, she noticed Baby had lain down on the stoop, arms outstretched. She called out to him with no response. Bending over to shake him, she felt rigidity. She bent over, intending to return him to her bed, when she felt the golden aura in her mind.

  “Sister, I am eating.”

  Netty looked closer. She could actually see dust motes dancing in what looked like rays being absorbed into Baby’s leathery extremities.

  “Hungry, Sister. My eating is slow. Go. I will find you.”

  Netty felt a sense of wellbeing flood her mind. So, leaving Baby, she made her way to the orchard. Work couldn’t stop just because she couldn’t understand what Baby thought he was eating.

  Netty made her way down the road and over the slight rise to take a look at the orchard. Her family had harvested many apples, pears and her favorite black walnuts for years. She had vivid memories of removing the yellow-green husk of the walnut with its icky messy black underside, and cracking the shell to get to the fresh tart-sweet meat. Her mama used the meat in her baking, stews and breads, claiming the nut was a wonderful substitute for costly trips to Mr. Simpson’s butcher’s shop in town.

  Mr. Simpson was a scary man. He never smiled unless he was wielding his big knives on the carcass of a poor creature. His wife appeared to be terrified of him. At any rate, Netty wanted to stay away from town as much as possible. The walnut grove would be a great help to her diet.

  Netty knew Sussex County had experienced blight a few years back. It hadn’t spread to Norris County so she was unaware of the extent of the devastation. Hopefully, her orchard had been spared. As she topped the hill, her hopes sank. As far as she could see, her trees were nude, with only a few lonely leaves clinging hopelessly to the diseased branches. Worse yet, the trees were deformed and displayed huge hardened growths spilling from the trunks, obviously a symptom of the blight. She realized the canning supplies she’d purchased on her last walk to town wouldn’t be filled with the fruits and jams she’d need to help get her through the winter as she’d planned.

  Discouraged, she turned and started back to the cabin, planning to spend the rest of the day turning over soil in another field. She knew large supplies of seeds remained buried in caskets, hidden in the ground inside her former animal hospital. She hoped to plant enough to sell the surplus to travelers on the road into town.

  Glancing up, she saw Baby heading toward her from the bottom of the hill, his little feet clumping and wobbling at the same time. She sat and waited for him to reach her. She saw the rainbow flash in her mind’s eye, and heard the whisper.

  “Sister sad?”

  Gathering Baby into her lap, she buried her face in his fur. The little rascal actually looked plump. As he smiled at her with rainbow eyes glowing, she noticed he didn’t have any teeth. Prying open his mouth she discovered he had no tongue. Removing her hands from his mouth, she wondered how he could eat or drink. Baby certainly puzzled her.

  “Come along, Baby, we have much to do today.” She stood, ready to head home. Looking down, she saw Baby still sitting with his mouth wide open. She gently reached down and, with her fingertips, she closed his mouth. Laughing, she thought about how happy and lighthearted he made her feel, even in the face of discouragement. As she walked back to the cabin, she turned to see if Baby followed. Yes, he shuffled behind, rotating his head on its swivel, allowing him to stare at the fading orchard as he followed Netty home.

  After a quick lunch of cold porridge leftover from breakfast, Netty retired with Baby to the field she’d begun to till
the day before. As she collected the larger of the fieldstones, piling them to the side of the field, Baby observed her intently.

  “Food?” he probed in her mind.

  “No, Baby, we are going to plant seed in the soil to grow our food.” Progress was slow, but as she tilled the soil she could smell the rich organic loam. Hard work never killed anyone, she thought, energized by the idea of the independence her crops could provide her.

  As the afternoon wore on, she made excellent progress. The part of the field she was working in was now clear of rock. She raked the smaller stones to the side, adding to her pile of rock which she planned to use as field boundary markers. She knew her papa and Mr. Woods never wasted anything on the farm. Everything had a purpose. Even the weeds from the field would be used in her giant compost pile. If this season’s planting were successful, it would enable her to sell more at her stand. Her fervent hope was to purchase a horse to help her plow the field next season.

  Netty found herself filled with new hope and plans for her success; an overwhelming change from yesterday. And she knew she had Baby to thank. She reached up to happily rub her nose, smiling at him as he lay rigidly stretched out under an oak tree. Eating again, she laughed to herself. She felt feather fingers stroke her mind, the golden aura infusing her.

  “Yes, Sister.”

  Oops, I had better watch that, not much privacy with Baby.

  Netty realized Baby had brought a big lift to her spirits. The fact that he spoke to her without using words was an unexplained phenomenon. Yet, for the first time in years, she dared to think that she wasn’t alone. She knew she would go to bed tonight with anticipation for the new day instead of the normal dread.

  Maybe tomorrow she could begin some planting. She’d like to get a jump on the season, then continue clearing the field. Calling to Baby, she picked up her tools and started home. It had been quite a day.

  As Netty approached the door to the cabin, she dropped her tools, planning to open up the seed caskets and scope out her selections for the morning. Some of the beans would require soaking overnight before they could be planted.