Chapter 12

Lily

"Sir, are you okay? Sir?" My voice is carried away on the cold night air, tendrils of fog swirling around my words. The figure lying prone on the ground manages to open its eyes to slits. His white eyes almost glow in the dark, startling me with the intensity of his stare. Once again, I wonder if this is a robot or some kind of futuristic android. But then he lets out a raspy snarl before his eyes roll up in his head and he goes limp.

Cautiously, I press forward, my nursing instincts overcoming my fear. My mind races, worrying that the ship might explode or that the smoke rising from the ship's hull is releasing dangerous fumes into the air. Despite my fright, my compassionate side overpowers my fear.

As I scurry closer, the alien's features become clear. He's definitely humanoid, with smooth, pewter-hued skin shimmering like satin in the weak light. His face is almost harsh with sharp angles. He doesn't have any hair, adding to his android-like appearance. His eyes, now closed, are large and almond-shaped and deep-set under the thick ridge of his brow.

Hesitant, I kneel beside him, quickly scanning his nude form. He's bleeding from several wounds, but nothing looks immediately life-threatening. However, I have no idea if he has any internal injuries. I can't determine from visual inspection if he is unconscious from shock, traumatic injury, or blood loss. Perhaps all three. I can feel my heart squeeze at the sight.

I press my fingers to his throat and feel his strong heartbeat beneath my fingertips. Breathing a silent prayer of thanks for that good news, I check over at his still form. I place my hands on his chest, hoping to feel its rise and fall. I visually explore and catalog the alien landscape of his body. I wince as I come across two large, slowly bleeding punctures. The size and shape make me think they might be bullet wounds.

Moving quickly, I rip off the flannel shirt I'm wearing over my tank top, bunching it into a makeshift bandage. My heart thuds hopelessly against my ribs as I apply pressure to the wounds. To my immense relief, the bleeding is already slowing, the crimson fluid gradually saturating the fabric. It doesn't seem life-threatening – or at least, not as far as I can tell. Who knows how different alien physiology is from humans?

Running my fingers down the alien's arm, I check for signs of injuries and fractures. His skin feels warm to the touch but not noticeably different from the normal range for a human. Palpating his left arm, I find what feels like a fracture. The skin in that area is also swollen and darkly discolored as far as I can tell. A cold thrill of fear trickles through my veins, not for myself, but for this creature whose fate has been thrust onto my shoulders.

I shift my attention to his legs, checking for more injuries. The reality of tending to an alien, however humanoid, strikes me profoundly. The foreign flesh underneath my fingertips feels exactly like human skin despite its grayish color. When I reach his right ankle, I notice it looks much larger than its brother. I'm not sure if it's broken or merely sprained. I'm only guessing, of course. For all I know, this might be a normal biological response. Although ‘normal' doesn't count for much right now.

I've got this. I tell myself. No matter where he comes from, a patient is a patient. Right?

Suddenly, a low hissing noise emanates from deeper within the ship, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have no idea if it's just a normal spaceship sound or if the whole thing is about to blow up. I gnaw on my lip, worrying over the possibility that the ship might… explode or who knows? We need to leave the immediate vicinity, that much is clear.

Comparing myself to the burly frame of the unconscious alien, I take a couple of deep breaths, prepping myself for what comes next. He's a lot bigger than I am, and from what I can see under the dull luminescence of the moonlight, he is built like a bodybuilder. But I've lifted heavy patients before; it's part of my job. I was always proud of my physical strength, but this time, I wish I had a bit more of it. This is gonna suck.

"Hang on, mister," I whisper to the quiet night, rolling up my shoulders to warm them. "I've got you."

Gritting my teeth, I crouch down, slipping my arms under his armpits and clasping my hands together over his chest. Positioning myself low, I brace myself. With a groan like a dying beast, I start to drag him away from the ship. His heavy head lolls back, resting against my shoulder. I grit my teeth and offer a silent prayer, hoping some divine entity can lend me enough strength. With a deep breath, I start to slowly drag him away from the crash in heaving, curse-filled jolts.

I barely get him ten feet, his heels dragging in the mud and my breath sawing in and out of my chest with my pulse pounding from the exertion. I have to stop for a moment and recover.

"Come on, Lily, you can do this," I give myself a pep talk, then squat down again. "Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck. Son of a fuck!" I chant as I heave him with all my strength. The cursing sorta seems to help.

I finally manage to drag the hulking alien far enough away from the wreckage that I feel a sliver of safety. My muscles blaze from the exertion, my arms and legs feeling like quivering jelly. Sweat trickles down my temples, mixing with strands of my escaped hair. Still, the physical discomfort of it all is insignificant compared to the overwhelming urgency to keep this otherworldly stranger safe.

I suck in gulps of the cool night air, trying to catch my breath. It would be undeniably easier to call the police or some government authority and let them handle the alien and his inexplicable appearance. But the bullet wounds that cross his body like a grim constellation mock that notion. My gut tells me that giving him to the government would be a terrible idea. Frankly, I don't trust that my government wouldn't do something horrible to an alien. I should have faith in my country, but I just don't. It's a stark and disturbing thought. The idea of my extraterrestrial patient being handed over to unscrupulous hands wrenches my heart. My resolve solidifies around that painful knot, instincts flashing an unwavering warning: ‘Don't call the police.'

Stifling a shudder, I kneel next to him, reinspecting his injuries. The pulses of dark, alien blood have dwindled to a sluggish ooze, and his pulse is strong beneath my fingertips. Encouraging signs. Yet, he remains limply unconscious, and the night air is growing chillingly cold. Under the moonlight, his blood almost shimmers, as if someone has stirred mica powder into the dark red liquid.

"Gotta get you back to the cabin," I mumble, half to myself, half to my unconscious companion.

I glance anxiously in the direction of the cabin. My gaze turns back to the alien. Carrying or dragging him the whole way back isn't possible; I've exhausted much of my strength just hauling him away from the wreckage.

I don't know how the hell I'm going to get his guy back to the cabin. There's no way I can get the truck through this steep terrain. I'm almost certain I would get the vehicle stuck in the soft ground. There are too many boulders and much of the ground is mud. Perhaps there is something in the cabin I can use. I need to see what supplies I can find there. I'm praying that there are materials there that I can use to create a makeshift stretcher – a blanket and rope at the very least.

I pat the alien's shoulder. "I'm not leaving you. I'll be right back," I promise.

My heart is pounding as I scramble back toward the lake's shore, twigs snapping under my shoes and the chilly wind burning in my lungs. Slivers of moonlight penetrate the dense foliage overhead and paint a surreal, silver path leading me back to the cabin. The forest's silence is broken only by my jagged breaths and the frantic thudding of my heart.

Relief floods me when the cabin comes into view. Spotting the garage next to the cabin, I veer in its direction. I'm more likely to find supplies to create a travois or something similar there. I rush inside the garage's side door, flicking on the overhead light. My eyes dart along the cluttered shelves, laser-focused on finding what I need. My eyes fall on a rolling platform – the kind that mechanics use to work on the underside of cars – half hidden under a dusty tarp. With a grunt, I yank it out. I'm pleased to see it has thick rubber wheels that should hopefully allow me to take it over rough terrain. I sent a silent thank you into the cosmos for small favors. I also grab the tarp and roll it up. Turning back to leave, I also spot a hefty length of rope and tuck that under my arm with the tarp.

I race back along the dark path, dread filling my veins at the mental image of covert government agents, or worse, more aliens, showing up. Terror is like ice in my veins. Visions of an alien invasion causing mass panic, or shadowy men in suits whisking me away for interrogation flash before my eyes. But the boiling fear doesn't repel me – instead, it fuels me.

Branches lash against me like vengeful spirits as I run full tilt back to where I left the vulnerable, unconscious alien. He's exactly where I left him, still out cold.

"You're gonna be okay. Just stay with me," I assure him, setting the mechanic's cart next to his still form. I wince, feeling every knotted muscle in my back protesting as I lay the tarp over the cart's flat surface. This is all so out-of-this-world crazy that I would think I'm in a nightmare or a weird, drugged-out dream, but it's real. I'm trying to lug an unconscious alien spaceman back to my cabin.

Mustering all the barely-there strength I have left, I grasp the alien under his arms. Praying the alien doesn't wake up and freak out, I heave and grunt, feeling my muscles scream as I manage to shift his upper body a few inches onto the flat surface of the cart. I repeat the move, taking deep breaths, feeling the way sweat beads on my brow and drips down my back as I heave his lower half onto the cart. His feet hang off the bottom, but I can do nothing about that. At least the tarp should protect his skin from getting dragged along the ground.

"God, I hope you're not dangerous," I mutter to the alien, thinking about all the movies I've watched with evil aliens wanting to invade and terraform our planet.

Despite my trepidations, I wrap him gently in the tarp as if he were a swaddled baby. I pull it around him, tucking the edges beneath to ensure it stays put. Picking up the rope from where I dropped it, I tie each end to the front two corners of the cart. It's crude but should do the trick for hauling him home.

I then form a loop with a knot at the center of the rope and, bracing myself with a deep breath, step into it. I adjust it over my hips, feeling like a beast of burden.

"Okay, Lilith, you can do this," I encourage myself before setting off on the journey back to my cabin. Each step is torturous, burning my thighs and punishing my back as I drag the alien home. Several times, the wheels get stuck in the dirt, and I have to stop and dig them out, but bit by bit, I get us a bit closer to safety.

With grim determination, I slowly trudge alongside the lake and then down the forest path back to the cabin. The entire trek I berate myself because I am bringing a freaking alien to my home. He's probably dangerous. He probably eats dumb-ass nurses as a pre-dinner snack. I clearly have no sense of preservation whatsoever.

The journey to the back door is a battle against my own exhaustion and the bumpy terrain. With each jolting motion, I can't help but wince in sympathy for the extra-terrestrial being, but you know what? He's still breathing and alive. I spent the first half of the journey expecting to hear the sound of his ship exploding but it never came. A good thing, because if someone hadn't noticed his crash before, an explosion would undoubtedly bring people to investigate.

Finally, the back porch of the cabin comes into view, and for a moment, I allow myself to stop, panting heavily. I want to cry in relief when I finally spot the glow of lights from the windows. It's taken me almost two hours to traverse what I walked in less than 10 minutes earlier. Stubbornly, I shake off the fatigue swamping me and finish the last bit of the journey. Once I reach the cabin, I step out of the rope and prop open the back door.

Carefully, I use the edges of the tarp material and carefully pull him off the mechanic's cart. With a groan that makes me sound like a dying elephant, I begin to pull, each muscle straining under the weight. Dread pools in the pit of my stomach and I swallow a sob as the alien doesn't budge. How am I going to get him inside? I'm out of strength. I sit on my ass in the doorway and try to catch my breath. I silently send up a prayer for help. I am so close, I just need a little more strength.

Taking a few minutes to rest, I stare at the alien. In the light coming through the open doorway, I can get a better look at his harsh face. Most people look relaxed when asleep, but this guy looks like he's frowning, even unconscious.

Finally feeling as ready as I think I'm going to get, I grab the tarp again. I plant my feet on either side of the door jam and grit my teeth. Breathing out through my nose like a bull, I finally haul him up the singular step and into the mudroom.

I trip backward and fall as I get the upper half of his body through the back door. I lay on the floor, panting, with stars swimming before my eyes. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Suddenly, the quiet is punctuated by a plaintive meow. I jerk upward, startled, only to find Mango perched on the top of the washing machine to my right, his bright eyes watching me with an almost eerie tranquility. Relief washes over me, replacing the adrenaline in my veins.

"Well, aren't you just the king of the castle, watching your haggard subjects do all the hard work?" I pant, mustering a weak grin at my furry companion as I sit up.

I force myself to get off my ass and finish pulling the tarp until I finally get the alien safe inside. His body rests on the floor of the mudroom, his gunmetal skin standing stark against my makeshift tarp stretcher.

"Whew," I breathe out. A sweat trickles down my forehead as I squint at my cat, "Now, let's see what we can do for our guest here, Mango."