ran into the back of the van as it made a slow turn into a narrow driveway.
Coming to herself, she leaned on the horn as if she were an angry motorist, flipped the bird to the driver of the van, then sped on by. Careening around the next corner, she went about half a block, parked the car and killed the engine, then sat huddled in the seat, shivering.
"Please," she whispered, "I'll be so good, just don't let him be dead."
Part One Chapter Fourteen
Muffled voices.
Darkness.
Pain.
Micah lay perfectly still, listening to the sounds around him, not wanting his captors to know he had regained consciousness. His whole body felt heavy; he was so groggy, he could scarcely think.
Awareness came to him in fragments. There was a needle in his left arm.
Cold metal straps encircled his wrists and ankles, shackling him to an equally cold metal table.
He was naked.
There was some sort of covering over his face.
Stark fear congealed in the pit of his stomach and a violent tremor wracked his body as he surmised that he was in a laboratory of some sort.
Gradually, the muffled voices grew more distinct, and he deduced that there were three men in the room, quietly discussing him as if he were a creature without understanding or feelings. Bits and pieces of their conversation filtered into his mind.
"Remarkably well-formed..."
"Not injured like the other one..."
"... should be able to keep this one alive..."
He felt the sharp prick of a needle as someone drew blood from his right arm, and then rough hands began to measure the width of his chest, his neck, the length of his arms and legs. One man called out the measurements, presumably so one of the other men could write them down. Fingers probed the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.
Someone removed the covering from his face, and Micah blinked against the bright glare of the overhead light.
A tall man with dark red hair peered down at Micah, his pale blue eyes magnified by the thick glasses he wore.
"I'm gonna take his vitals," Red Hair said. "Mac, jot this down. Blood pressure, eighty over forty. Pulse, thirty-five. Respiration, twelve."
Micah gagged as Red Hair forced his mouth open and placed a glass tube under his tongue.
A short time later, Red Hair removed the tube. He studied the numbers a moment, then grunted softly.
"Temp's ninety-six." Red Hair glanced at the other man. "Got all that?"
"Eighty over forty. Thirty-five. Twelve. Ninety-six. Got it."
Next, Red Hair pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and proceeded to examine Micah's ears, his eyes, his nose, stopping now and then to make copious notes in a thick black book.
Micah grimaced as the red-haired man forced his mouth open so he could examine his teeth, his tongue.
"Easy on the blood, Mac," Red Hair admonished. "You took too much last time and the creature died."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful," Mac muttered.
Micah grunted softly as the man called Mac carelessly jabbed a needle into his right arm.
"We'll need a couple of hair samples, too," Red Hair said. "Gene, you wanna take care of that?''
"Right," the man called Gene replied. "We'll need urine, too."
"Damn!" Mac exclaimed as the syringe filled with fluid. "That brown blood throws me every time."
"Always thought Martian blood was supposed to be green," Gene said, grinning as he poked Micah in the side. "That's where you're from, isn't it, fella? Mars?"
"Do you suppose brown is its natural color?" Red Hair asked.
Mac shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. Might be a chemical reaction to our atmosphere."
"The other one had brown blood, too," Red Hair remarked. "That idiot, Herb, never did find out what caused it, or what made the alien's skin glow, either."
"I'll find out," Mac said confidently, and callously jabbed another needle into the vein in Micah's right arm.
For a moment, Gene and Red Hair moved away from the table, their heads bent over a large book, and Micah felt a twinge of hope. Maybe they were through with him.
But they weren't. Micah's entire body went rigid when Red Hair began an extensive examination of his genitals.
Micah stared at the man, focusing his mind, his energy, on destroying the man, but nothing happened. It took him several minutes to realize that whatever drug they were using to keep him sedated had rendered him powerless; it also made coherent thought difficult, but it didn't interfere with his ability to hear, to see, to feel.
He felt suddenly nauseated as he realized he was helpless, that these men could do whatever they wished