Sunlight Moonlight

Chapter Twenty-Three

She woke to darkness. There was an incredibly vile taste in her mouth; her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. The mattress beneath her was hard and unfamiliar; when she tried to sit up, she realized her hands were cuffed to the headboard.
Terror bolted through her, clearing the cobwebs from her mind. Where was she?
She tensed as she heard someone slip a key into the lock. A moment later, light flooded the room.
"So, you're awake."
Lainey stared at the man, recognition washing over her in cold waves of fear. "You!" she exclaimed.
"So, you remember me," Red said, rubbing the back of his head. "I, of course, have good reason to remember you. What did you hit me with?''
"A tire iron."
He chuckled softly. "I admire your spunk, my dear." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe. "I've got to go out for a little while," he said, "so you'll have to go back to sleep." Lainey stared at the needle, her stomach churning with fear and revulsion.
"Wait! Why am I here?"
"All in good time, my dear." He wiped her arm with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, then inserted the needle into her arm.
"Where's Micah?" she asked. "Is he all right? Please... tell... me..."
Her words grew thick, and then darkness engulfed her once more.
Micah paused in mid-stride, his head cocked to one side. For a moment, he had imagined he heard Lainey's voice in his mind.
Going to the window, he stared into the night, his mind probing the darkness.Lainey? Lainey, can you hear me ?
Hands balled into tight fists, he listened intently, but he heard nothing, felt nothing, sensed nothing. And yet she was alive. He knew it with every fiber of his being.
She was alive, and he would find her.
When next she woke, it was daylight. She could see a thin stream of light filtering through the heavy black cloth that covered the room's single window.
Filled with an all-encompassing lethargy, Lainey stared around the room. A bed pan and some medical instruments, including a stethoscope, were strewn on a metal table at the foot of the bed. There was nothing else in the room except for a battered four-drawer dresser.
Lifting her head, she stared into the other room, felt her stomach clench with horror as she saw the skeleton in the corner. She was in the laboratory where they'd taken Micah.
Her head fell back on the pillow and she closed her eyes. Why had Red Hair brought her here? Was she bait? Or part of some bizarre new experiment?
The answer came in a flash of intuition. It was the baby. Red Hair was interested in the baby, the first to be conceived by the joining of an Earth woman and an alien man.
Fear for her own safety was suddenly unimportant. She had to get away from here!
But she was so groggy. It was hard to think coherently, hard to think of what she should do. And then Red Hair was there, an evil grin on his face as he gave her another injection.
"I'm almost ready for him," Red said. "The two of you are going to make me rich beyond my wildest dreams. Books, movies, endorsements - why, I'll be famous." He laughed softly. "Rich and famous. Who knows, I might even cut you in for a share."
"Micah..."
"I know all about your alien," Red said, gesturing at the skeleton in the other room. "We've studied his kind for years, wondering if it was possible for our races to interbreed." He patted her stomach lightly, then grinned. "Now we know it can be done."
"You can't do this," Lainey exclaimed, her horror growing by the minute. "It isn't right."
"Right! What has right got to do with it? Do you realize what an opportunity this is? All we have to do is wait and see if you've conceived a child or a monster. Either way, you'll go down in the medical journals, my dear. Why, your life story will probably be a movie of the week. I might even write it myself."
"No..."
"Yes." Opening one of the dresser drawers, he withdrew a camera and snapped several pictures. "I've spent twenty years researching alien phenomena. I have photos and medical data on two alien males and one female. Unfortunately, they all died before we could do any extended research. But the one you call Micah promises to be a most interesting specimen. He's young and healthy..."
Red walked around the bed and took another picture. "And he has a lot to live for."
Withdrawing the needle from her arm, Red left the room, whistling softly as he closed the door.
By tonight, he'd be ready. He checked the cage one last time, made sure there was a new videotape in the camcorder.
History was about to be made.
Lainey stared at Red suspiciously as he ushered her into the laboratory and instructed her to lie down on the examining table.
"What are you going to do?"
"Just relax, Miss St. John. I'm only going to take your blood pressure."
Her gaze darted to the gun snugged in the waistband of his pants.
"Don't even think about it," Red warned in a congenial voice. "Lie back now. This will only take a minute."
Reluctantly, she did as she was told. To avoid looking at him, she closed her eyes as he wrapped the cuff around her arm.
She was thinking of Micah when Red grabbed her wrist.
Lainey's eyes flew open as he fastened a thick strap around her left wrist, anchoring her arm to the table.
"What are you doing?"
"Baiting the trap, my dear."
"I don't understand," she lied, hoping he would tell her what he intended to do, hoping that, somehow, she could warn Micah.
"You will." Whistling an upbeat tune, he unlocked the front door. "My partner. Gene, believed that Xanthians were telepathic. We never had a chance to prove it, until now."
"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to perform a C-section."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No!" Adrenalin surged through Lainey at the thought of harm coming to her child. Struggling to sit up, she slapped Red across the face, hard. "Let me go, damn you!"
Red grinned impudently as he massaged his cheek, and then he slapped her back.
"Don't do that again," he warned as he pinned her right hand to the table and strapped it down.
Horrified, she watched as he filled two syringes, slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, and placed several small vials on a table.
Micah! Micah, help me!
She was sobbing when Red swabbed her arm with alcohol. Trembling with fear and impotent rage, she hardly felt the prick of the needle...
The sound of her voice echoed in his mind as he ran down the dark streets. Her rage, her fear, was like a beacon, leading him down a narrow lane. The building was as he remembered it. Old and made of dark wood, it was located well away from the street.
Lainey?
Micah... no...
He frowned as he neared the door. Her voice sounded sluggish, drugged.
Trap... Micah... go... 'way...
He swore under his breath, wishing he'd taken time to contact Lainey's father. Perhaps it wasn't too late. He glanced around, searching for a place that might have a telephone. And then he heard Lainey scream and he forgot everything but the fact that she was in danger.
He was reaching for the doorknob when a heavy net dropped over him. Before he could fight his way out of it, he felt the sharp stab of a needle, and the world went black...
And then he was drifting, weightless, sightless, in a world of darkness. For a time he thought he was on Einar Three, imprisoned in the bowels of Renegade Hell. He'd languished there for three seasons before they bothered to verify the fact that he wasn't a spy sent to ferret out information but had come on official Fleet business, sent there to act as liaison between Einar Three and Xanthia. The days and nights in the prison had passed with agonizing slowness. His cell had been cold and damp, infested with rodents the size of his fist, with tiny insects with rows of needle-like teeth. Hungry little creatures that had burrowed under his skin and feasted on his blood. Three seasons he had spent in that loathsome place, his nostrils filled with the rank odor of rotting food and his own excrement...
A harsh cry erupted from Micah's throat, jerking him out of one nightmare and into the reality of another.
He opened his eyes to darkness as black as Lainey's hair. A familiar lethargy engulfed him, rendering him powerless. The drug, he thought, struggling to clear his mind. It had to be the drug.
Gradually, he realized that a heavy metal mask covered the top half of his face, that his hands were chained to an iron ring behind his back, and that, while unconscious, he had assumed his natural form.
Lainey, he thought groggily. Where was Lainey?
I'm here. Thank God you're all right.
Are we alone?
Yes.
"Where are we?"
"In the same place they brought you before. Micah, I'm so scared."
"I know... Are you well?"
"Yes. He threatened to take the baby, but I know now it was just a ruse to get you here. Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, but the drug... it drains my power... makes it hard... to think."
"He said the mask would prevent you from using your power, too, that even if the drug wore off, you'd be helpless."
"I'm afraid he's right. Can you see me?"
"Yes. You're in a small cage across the room."
"Where are you?"
"Strapped to the examining table."
"Has he hurt you?"
"No. Micah, what are we going to do? He wants the baby, to study."
"Don't worry... I'll think of something..."
Micah closed his eyes. Communicating with Lainey had taken what little strength he had left. A dull ache pounded in his head. He wondered how long the drug would last, and what Red Hair had planned for him.
"Lainey..."
Shh! He's coming!
Micah swore under his breath. The drug, combined with the heavy mask, had not only rendered him powerless, but had slowed his reflexes and diminished his sensory capacity.
He heard a door open, the sound of footsteps, the thud of a heavy box being dropped on the floor.
And then he heard Red Hair's voice, speaking to Lainey.
"Sorry to leave you so long, my dear," Red said. Removing the straps from Lainey's wrists, he helped her from the table, then took her into the bedroom and handcuffed her right hand to the bedpost. "There. I think that will give you a little more freedom. See that you don't abuse it."
"What are you going to do with Micah?"
"Nothing, my dear. Don't worry. It's not good for a woman in your condition. Rest a while, and then we'll have dinner."
"Wait!" she cried, but it was too late. He'd already left the room, closing the door behind him.
Micah heard the man's footsteps crossing the floor and knew the man was standing beside the cage, staring down at him.
"So, my alien friend," Red Hair murmured. "We meet again."
"What do you want with us?"
"So you can speak! I knew it!"
"Answer me!"
Red made a tsking sound. "You're in no position to make demands, my friend. I have your woman here, and her well-being and that of your unborn child, depend heavily upon your complete cooperation."
"Answer me!"
"You're going to tell me about your world, about why you're here. I want to study the differences between us, and the similarities."
A cold chill slithered down Micah's spine as he remembered the humiliation of being strapped to the table while Red Hair examined him, thoroughly and intimately. He knew, somehow, that what the man had in mind this time would be far worse that what he had endured before.
"What of the baby?"
"Ah, the child. Of course, I intend to study it as well," the man said affably. "Think what it would mean if this child inherits your power! Think what it would mean for the human race to be able to destroy its enemies the way you do. Just burn them up with a glance."
"Lainey... ?"
"She's quite safe. You needn't worry about her. After all, I'll need her to take care of the child, for a while at least."
Fear clamped around Micah's heart. "And when you don't need her?"
"Ah, let's not think of that now. Tell me, why have you come to Earth? And how do you manage to change shape?" Red pulled a couple of Polaroid photos out of his shirt pocket. "If I hadn't seen it, and photographed it, I wouldn't have believed it."
Slowly, Micah shook his head. He could feel the drug wearing off, but he remained limp, unmoving.
"You will answer me," Red Hair warned, all friendliness gone from his tone. "You will answer me, or the woman will reap the consequences of your disobedience."
"Coward."
"Why have you come to Earth?"
Purposefully, Micah slurred his words, hoping Red Hair would think he was still heavily drugged. "Did not... come here intentionally. Ship... crashed."
"Are there others of your species here?"
"No."
"Where's your ship now?"
"Destroyed... it."
"You're lying."
Micah heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by the sound of Red Hair's footsteps. A moment later he felt a sharp burning pain in his left arm.
"A scalpel can inflict a great deal of pain without doing much permanent damage," Red Hair remarked.
Micah stifled a groan as the man made another cut in his arm.
"I bugged the woman's house," Red Hair said. "I know you returned to your own planet, and then came back. Next time you lie to me, I'll cut the woman. Where's your ship?"
"Valley... behind... mansion."
"Will it fly?"
Micah hesitated. Immediately, he felt the edge of the blade caress his cheek, felt a warm trickle of blood ooze in the wake of the blade.
"Consider your answer carefully, my alien friend. How do you think the woman will look when I cut her cheek to the bone?"
"My ship will fly."
Red Hair made a sound of satisfaction. Then, without warning, he doused the cuts in Micah's arm with a strong, alcohol-based disinfectant.
Micah swore under his breath as the liquid seeped into the wounds, searing his flesh. Moments later, he felt the sting of a needle in his right arm.
"That should help you get a good night's sleep," Red Hair said cheerfully. "I've got a couple of tests to run in the morning."
Micah heard the man lock the door of the cage; then, whistling softly, Red Hair left the room.
Lainey? Lainey?
Micah frowned. Was she asleep? Or had Red Hair taken her away?
Knowing it was useless, he tugged on the chain that secured his hands behind his back. He had to get out of here, had to get Lainey away from Red Hair before the baby was born. But tugging on the chain only made his arms ache and chafed his wrists. Lowering his head, he tried to shake off the mask, but it was securely anchored in place.
And then the drug took effect and he felt himself falling, falling, into a deep black void.