Not One of Us_Stories of Aliens on Earth by Neil Clarke

Author:Neil Clarke [Clarke, Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781597809573
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Night Shade Books
Published: 2018-11-12T13:00:00+00:00

Molly Tanzer is the author of Creatures of Will and Temper, Creatures of Want and Ruin (November 2018), and the weird western Vermilion. For more information about her critically acclaimed novels and short fiction, sign up for her newsletter at mollytanzer.com, or follow her @molly_the_tanz on Twitter.

Nine-Tenths of the Law

Molly Tanzer

Donna had picked up Jared’s favorite—Romano’s to go, he liked the rosemary bread and the penne rustica—and was just putting it in the oven to keep warm when they brought him in. They being EMTs, after pounding urgently on the door, and brought him in meaning he was on a stretcher. He had an IV in his arm and his eyes were bandaged with thick layers of gauze.

Donna felt a flash of annoyance as the EMTs wheeled him toward their bedroom, sending their cat Skimbleshanks hissing and skittering nervously out of the way. She had planned to propose they separate that night, over the tiramisu she’d put in the fridge. Then Jared moaned, and she chided herself. She was still his wife . . . for now, at least. She ought to be beside herself with worry, not annoyed over having to put off an awkward conversation.

“What happened?” she asked, hovering in the doorway while they got him into his pajamas and between the sheets, fumbling in the darkness of the room. Jared seemed pretty out of it. Doped up on painkillers, maybe? “Why didn’t someone call me?”

“Workplace accident,” the woman replied, answering only the first of Donna’s questions. “He’ll be fine, he just needs to rest. Please don’t turn on those lights. His eyes are very sensitive right now.”

Jared worked in administration at Denver International Airport. “What sort of workplace accident?”

“Someone will be by to talk to you,” the woman assured her, her eyes flickering to the other EMT, a buff young man with tattoos and one of those man-buns.

“What sort of someone?” Donna did not have to fake the concern in her voice, as it was due to the oddness of the situation rather than her husband’s condition.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Donna left the EMTs to let in a man in a gray suit. His hair was short; his shoulders, broad. Donna thought he looked vaguely military, but the pin on his lapel was the new DIA logo, the white peaks of the airport’s distinctive roof against a dark blue background.

“Mrs. Crane?”

For now. She pushed away the thought, and nodded.

“My name is Mr. Smoot. I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but it’s a pleasure.” He did not try to shake her hand. “How is he?”

“He’s in bed,” she said. She suddenly smelled the food, and rushed into the kitchen to turn down the oven temperature. Mr. Smoot followed her. “That’s all I know at this point,” she said, over her shoulder. “What happened to him?”

“Nothing a few days of rest won’t cure.”

She frowned. “That he needs rest is all anyone’s told me.”

“There’s not much to tell. Just a workplace accident.

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