Human-alien encounters -- Fiction; Life on other planets -- Fiction; Science fiction
The ground here, shielded from the direct rays of the sun, felt
almost cool by contrast. Lea opened her eyes when he put her down,
peering up at him through a haze of pain. She wanted to apologize to
him for her weakness, but no words came from the dried membrane of
her throat. His body above her seemed to swim back and forth in the
heat waves, swaying like a tree in a high wind.
Shock drove her eyes open, cleared her mind for an instant. He
really was swaying. Suddenly she realized how much she had come to
depend on the unending solidity of his strength--and now it was
failing. All over his body the corded muscles contracted in ridges,
striving to keep him erect. She saw his mouth pulled open by the
taut cords of his neck, and the gaping, silent scream was more
terrible than any sound. Then she herself screamed as his eyes
rolled back, leaving only the empty white of the eyeballs staring
terribly at her. He went over, back, down, like a felled tree,
thudding heavily on the sand. Unconscious or dead, she couldn't
tell. She pulled limply at his leg, but couldn't drag his immense
weight into the shade.
Brion lay on his back in the sun, sweating. Lea saw this and knew
that he was still alive. Yet what was happening? She groped for
memory in the red haze of her mind, but could remember nothing from
her medical studies that would explain this. On every square inch of
his body the sweat glands seethed with sudden activity. From every
pore oozed great globules of oily liquid, far thicker than normal
perspiration. Brion's arms rippled with motion and Lea gaped,
horrified as the hairs there writhed and stirred as though endowed
with separate life. His chest rose and fell rapidly, deep, gasping
breaths racking his body. Lea could only stare through the dim
redness of unreality and wonder if she was going mad before she
died.
A coughing fit broke the rhythm of his rasping breath, and when it
was over his breathing was easier. The perspiration still covered
his body, the individual beads touching and forming tiny streams
that trickled down his body and vanished in the sand. He stirred and
rolled onto his side, facing her. His eyes were open and normal now
as he smiled.
"Didn't mean to frighten you. It caught me suddenly coming at the
wrong season and everything. It was a bit of a jar to my system.
I'll get you some water now--there's still a bit left."
"What happened? When you looked like that, when you fell...."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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