DEMON LOVERS V1.0, page 22
‘Take it easy, doctor,” she implored. ‘Try not to give in to these—these ideas.”
I fell silent. In her place I would feel the same alarm for a patient I found talking back to his hallucinations. Suddenly I began to wonder how many patients of mine had really been sweating out this same situation, while I stood by and murmured inanities and sympathetic clucks!
The pink ones looked me over thoughtfully and both left through the door without disturbing the hinges. Kelly finished my bath and turned me over to the day nurse, a dumpy little peroxide blonde.
“He’s raving a little, but he’s still too weak to move around,” Kelly said. She stopped at the door and gave me her own idea of a prescription, a sexy wink. Under other circumstances this would have dragged me back to reality right now, but I was already too painfully deep in my private realities, and secondly, her tired eyes didn’t manage as much sex in the wink as she thought.
The blonde was just a floor nurse, not a special. She checked on me frequently during the day, but I was alone an hour at a time. Apparently I was over the hump. I managed to suck a liquid breakfast and consume a soft lunch, which the unpretty blonde spooned into me. And I even managed a chocolate in the afternoon.
As my strength gradually came back I napped less. During my waking moments I kept sweeping the room with fearful eyes, awaiting the reappearance of the pink ones.
Just after visiting hours were over, my vigilance was rewarded. With the sunlight streaming in I wouldn’t have noticed the very thin pinkness of the female phantom, if I hadn’t been staring right at the white door when she sauntered through it
I was almost grateful to her for showing up. I had about convinced myself that my brain was indeed impaired, but now my certainty rose that what had happened was real.
She eyed the closed door behind her, then let herself flesh out into complete opacity, as she seated herself on the edge of my bed. The mattress sagged with her materialized substance, and I knew now that either I was completely insane, or my visitor was a unique but genuine article.
Her hair looked better. It was brushed and wrapped around and piled high on her head like pictures of Psyche. She appeared to have had some rest, and her beady eyes were restless as they roved over me and examined my face.
I .wanted no more misunderstandings from the hospital staff, so I kept my voice low. “What are you? What do you want with me?”
Her lower lip was full but pale. It twitched as she enunciated words in my brain. “Open up your mind so I can feel it, honey,” she said with a sensuous quiver and a voluptuousness that belied her bony frame. She sagged down over my helpless body and touched my face with clammy fingers. “Gettahellout before I scream,” I said.
“Relax, honey. You’re on to us now, so we gotta be friends.”
I closed my eyes, and that shut out her naked, revolting figure—proving that the whole thing wasn’t originating in my mind.
I didn’t pretend to understand it, but I figured I’d better learn all I could.
“Okay, so we’re buddies,” I said, trying to keep the nausea out of my voice. *T can’t open my brain to you. I guess the thing that lets me see and hear you is the same thing that closes my thoughts to you.”
She looked thoughtful. “That’s the idea Rolyx has about you. Well,” she sighed, “it’s a pity. We can’t get very intimate this way.”
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s a pity. Now fill me in, will you? Who are you? Where are you from?”
“I’m Aljor,” she said touselling my hair with a long finger. “I hang around the hospital. Me and Rolyx.”
“Why?” .
“We like it here, that’s all. More variety. Most of us like to move in with private families—better food. But it gets monotonous, same old faces alia time. Give me an institution or a hotel every time.”
I simply couldn’t convince myself I was talking to a ghost. I tried once more. “What—what are you?”
Her pink, loose face turned a deeper shade as she obviously took offense. “Whadda ya mean, what am I? I’m me, Aljor?”
“From where?”
“From—from around!” she snapped. She wrinkled her forehead pettishly at her own inability to comprehend and answer my simple questions. “How would you like it if I asked you what you were and what rock you crawled out of?” she said in a hurt manner.
“But—you’re different, you must admit that,” I said.
“Of course I’m different from you. I’m a girl!”
“I don’t mean your sex—I mean fading in and out”
“Oh, that” she said flatly. “You know, I ain’t used to sit-tin’ here talkin’ to an opie in broad daylight like this., with your eyes wide open.”
“Opie?” I asked, “what’s an opie?”
“That’s you. Your kind,” she said.
“All right,” I said in exasperation, “so I’m an opie—I suppose that stands for opaque. Now, what is your kind, and where did your kind come from?”
“My kind? Why—we—we’re the other kind. We been around a long time. How do I know where we come from? Where did your kind come from? Ask Rolyx. He’s smarter than me.”
It was a stupid answer, but the implication floored me. “Well, how do you do this disappearing act?”
She thought a minute. “You got it backwards. The hard part is not disappearing. Our natural condition is to be polarized. We’re bom that way. We have to work at disrupting this polarity in order to be solid like your kind. The second we relax, boing! back we go. It ain’t fun.”
“Why not?”
“We got to depolarize ourselves to eat and—and—” she leered at me, “—and everything. We risk discovery every time we do it. That’s why we mess around at night mostly.” “What do you do—for a living, I mean? What kind of work?”
“We don’t work,” she said with a silly smile. “We—just sort of-live offa you people. You’re the lucky ones, solid alia time without even tryin’.”
Parasites! I shrank from the thought “You mean you steal our food and live in our houses?”
“Shore. Why not? We don’t bother much. Don’t take much to feed us, and it’s mostly left-overs. We don’t dare snitch much fresh stuff or people would notice it.”
She read the disgust and loathing that must have shown on my face, because she leaned over me again. “Now, don’t be upset, honey. We’re harmless. We don’t hurt nobody none.”
Her breath was dry and cold in my nostrils.. I tried to turn my head away, but my feeble neck muscles would not respond. Just when I thought she would glom my mouth with her loose lips she pulled back quickly.
“How can a girl kiss a guy with an expression like that? Ya damned- snob! No wonder the legend says, never give an opie a waking chance! Ya think you’re so much better than we are! Well, you just wait! Just wait until you’re stronger!”
She faded into a pink mist again, and her weight eased from the springs even before she slipped off and stalked through the door.
Kelly came on duty at eight that evening to special me through the night. I had decided to say nothing to her about my “visions.” There was no longer a shred of doubt as to my sanity—in my own mind. But I realized the impossibility of convincing the hospital staff of this if I continued to insist that I was seeing pink men and women in my room.
Around ten, Kelly spooned a late snack of soft diet into me and acted so sweet I started to get another attack of patient-nursitis. But even as I began to consider how lovely and desirable she’ was, my body went rigid with the thought of what happened to her last night. My protective instinct began to bristle.
When she tucked me in I closed my eyes, but I was determined to keep watch over her. I was too weak. I dropped off within an hour and didn’t awaken until it was time for my morning ablutions.
She seemed fresher this morning. Maybe Rolyx hadn’t shown up after all. Probably afraid of me or self-conscious. I smiled at Kelly and she smiled back. “No more pink men?” she asked quietly.
“No more pink men,” I said reaching for her hand without thinking. My arm moved, and I almost made itt
My strength returned rapidly after that. The pink people failed to show up for three days, and the fourth night, Kelly had to move rather nimbly to prevent me from overextending my strength and to preserve her professional dignity.
They were feeding me meat now, and I had consumed the whole box of chocolates. I kept track of them, and apparently neither Rolyx nor Aljor had been in even to snitch a sweet. -It was costing me to keep Kelly on as a special nurse, but I had requested it when they told me 1 was out of danger. I explained to her that she’d have to wait a bit for her money, being as how interns are, to put it conservatively, underpaid. But darned if she didn’t stay on anyway. I don’t think she was quite convinced that I was over my little pink man business.
Anyway, this night I was feeling strong and wide awake.. At midnight, I took pity on Kelly and feigned sleep. I had been deliberately napping all I could in the daytime so I could keep a better watch at night, and this night it paid off.
It was about one o’clock in the morning when two things happened that snapped my eyes open. I felt a weight sink on the bed beside me, and the thrumming beat into my brain. This time I was stronger, and it did no more than make me sleepy. Anyway, the sight of Aljor’s long, unlovely figure sagging over me was more than enough to counteract the narcotic effect of the thrumming. I tried to sit up but her hand pushed me back gently.
She whispered, “Relax, honey. It’s only me.”
A wild scheme formed in my mind. Maybe I could betray her presence to Kelly and convince the nurse that I hadn’t been having hallucinations. I composed my face and whispered back, “I’m relaxed. What’ve you got in mind?”
A broad, loose-lipped grin spread over her face, and I felt her weight sink more deeply into the springs as she became fully depolarized and “flesh-born.”
“Just a little kiss,” she said. Her eyes glittered.
She leaned closer. I could feel the chill of her breath before I stopped her. I said “Just a moment—honey. My throat is dry.”
I rolled slowly to my side and reached for the glass of water on the night-stand. My eyes slipped over to where Kelly should have been nodding in her chair. She was on her feet, and Rolyx was just bending his bare, bullet-head-down to hers!
Then I realized that the thrumming had come from him, not Aljor! They were working—or playing—as a team. Rolyx was taking no chances with Kelly. He had her deep in the
But Aljor seemed to be taking some perverse pleasure in finding me awake and apparently ready for her.
I yelled, “Kelly, wake up!” and I threw the contents of my waterglass in her direction.
Instantly, the thrumming jumped a million decibels, emitting now, from Aljor. And I discovered what it was to have it directed at me. A billion humming birds hovered in my skull.
I don’t remember hitting the pillow, but I must have barely passed out before both pink creatures disappeared. My eyes popped open and I was wide awake.
Kelly was standing up, her head slanted sideways, eyes like poker chips, and arms draped around a shoulder-high chunk of air. Her lithe form moved sensuously for a moment, then she froze and stood stiff.
She dropped her arms and squawked, “What goes on here?” She looked down at her disheveled uniform, the wet floor and the glass in my limp hand.
It was plain she had no idea of our visitation, and it would be worse than useless to try to explain.
“You were dreaming,” I said flatly. “Sleep-walking. I tossed the water to wake you up.”
Comprehension dawned on her, and she swallowed my story. “Oh, me!” she exhaled. “I’ll say I was dreaming. I dreamed that—”
Then she looked at me with the damndest expression.
I said, “You dreamed what?”
“Never mind,” she said blushingly, taking the empty glass from my fingers and re-filling it from the pitcher. “Now go to sleep.”
Her lips trembled a little, and for some reason I chose this moment to ask a question I knew was inevitable. “Miss Kelly,” I said formally, “When I get out of bedpan alley will you do me the honor to become my bride?”
She was still fighting for control over herself. She poured the water, back into the pitcher, carefully set the glass down as though it were brimming full and said, “Why yes. Why do you ask? I mean—I think—huh?—how did you?—darnit, I’m confused! Would you repeat the question?”
This time I had enough strength to reach out and grasp her nearest hand. I said, “Kelly, I’m crazy about you. Would you consider marrying a punk intern and helping him shoo the pink people away?”
“The pink people,” she said with a faint shudder. Then she focussed her eyes on me. Her smile was real and warm, but she said, “You know as well as I do, proposals don’t count until ten days after discharge.”
Maybe some marriages are made in heaven, but I’ll bet more are made in hospitals. I was so tail-over-teakettle in love with that girl by the time they pronounced me cured that*I guess it must have rubbed off on her.
Financially, it would have been wiser to wait awhile until the end of my internship, but the deeper I fell in love the more jealous I became. The thought of Rolyx or any other polarized pink bastard having his way with hei; drove me almost insane.
So we were married.
For months after our honeymoon I looked forward to the time when I could trap one of the pink creatures to show Kelly—her first name is Timothene—so I could confide in her the whole way. A man shouldn’t have secrets from his wife.
But it doesn’t look like it’s going to work out. I don’t dare bring up the subject without proof, and the pink people, outside one’s own home, are the very devil to try to catch in solidified form.
The one around our house?
No, it would never do to try to play tricks on her. She’s a mischievous little blonde, and she could make life miserable for both of us if I offended her.
At least, that’s the way I see it.
She’s a cute little parasite, so pretty, in fact, that the occasional pink male visitors we have never look twice at Kelly.
And after all, she eats so very little—
A TOUCH OF STRANGE
Theodore Sturgeon
He Left His Clothes in the car and slipped down to the beach.
Moonrise, she’d said.
He glanced at the eastern horizon and was informed of nothing. It was a night to drink the very airglow, and the stars lay lightless like scattered talc on the blackground.
“Moonrise,” he muttered.
Easy enough for her. Moonrise was something, in her cos* mos, that one simply knew about. He’d had to look it up. You don’t realize—certainly she’d never realize—how hard it is, when you don’t know anything about it, to find out exactly what time moonrise is supposed to be, at the dark of the moon. He still wasn’t positive, so he’d come early, and would wait.
He shuffled down to the whispering water, finding it with ears and toes. “Woo.” Catch m’ death, be thought But it never occurred to him to keep her waiting. It wasn’t in her to understand human frailties.
He glanced once again at the sky, then waded in and gave himself to the sea. It was chilly, but by the time he had taken ten of the fine strong strokes which had first attracted her, he felt wonderful. He thought, oh well, by the time I’ve learned to breath? under water, it should be no trick at all to find moonrise without an almanac.
He struck out silently for the blackened and broken teeth of rock they call Harpy’s Jaw, with their gums of foam and the floss of tide-risen weed bitten up and hung for the birds to pick. It was oily calm everywhere but by the Jaw, which mumbled and munched on every wave and spit the pieces into the air. He was therefore very close before he heard the 195
singing. What with the surf and his concentration on flanking the Jaw without cracking a kneecap the way he had that first time, he was in deep water on the seaward side before he noticed the new quality in the singing. Delighted, he trod water and listened to be sure; and sure enough, he was right
It sounded terrible.
“Get your flukes out of your mouth,” he bellowed joyfully, “You baggy old guano-guzzler.”
“You don’t sound so hot yourself, chum,” came the shrill falsetto answer, “and you know what type fish-gut chum I mean.”
He swam closer. Oh, this was fine. It wasn’t easy to find a for-real something like this to clobber her with. Mostly, she was so dam perfect he had to make it up whole, like the time he told her her eyes weren’t the same color. Imagine, he thought they get head-colds tool And then he thought well, why not? “You mind your big bony bottom-feeding mouth,” he called cheerfully, “or I’ll curry your tail with a scaling-tool.” He could barely make her out, sprawled on the narrow seaward ledge—something piebald dark in the darkness. “Was that really you singin’ or are you sitting on a blow-fish?”
“You creak no better’n a straight-gut skua gull in a sewer sump,” she cried raucously. “Whyn’cha swallow that sea-slug or spit it out one?”
“Ah, go soak your head in a paddlewheel,” he laughed. He got a hand on the ledge and heaved himself out of the water. Instantly, there was a high-pitched squeak and a clumsy splash, and she was gone. The particolored mass of shadow-in-shade had passed him in mid-air too swiftly for him to determine just what it was, but he knew with a shocked certainty what it was not.
He wriggled a bare (i.e., mere) buttock-clutch on the short narrow shelf of rock and leaned over as far as he could to peer into the night-stained sea. In a moment there was a feeble commotion and then a bleached oval so faint that he must avert his eyes two points to leeward like a sailor seeing a far light, to make it out at all. Again, seeing virtually nothing, he could be sure of the things it was not. That close cap of darkness, night or no night, was not the web of floating gold for which he had once bought a Florentine comb. Those two dim blotches were not the luminous, over-long, widespaced (almost side-set) green eyes which, laughing, devoured his sleep. Those hints of shoulders were not broad and fair, but slender. That salt-spasmed weak sobbing cough was unlike any sound he had heard on these rocks before; and the (by this time) unnecessary, final proof was the narrow hand he reached for and grasped. It was delicate, not splayed; it was unwebbed, its smoothness was that of the plum and not the articulated magic of a fine wrought golden watch-band. It was, in short, human, and for a long devastated moment their hands clung together while their minds, in panic, prepared to do battle with the truth.
