Event

TWENTY-TWO

Gus jumped when Mahjtic suddenly sprang from the bed and ran to the window opposite the door. The quick movement had to have caused great pain in the small being's body.

"What in the sam hell are you doin'?" Gus asked, getting to his feet.

Mahjtic had almost ripped the blind away and was gazing outside into the night through the dirty window. The bald head turned first to the left, then quickly to the right, and its eyes were wider than normal. It first growled low under its breath, then became quiet again as it searched the area around the small house.

Gus had given his visitor one of his old white shirts (white when Lyndon Johnson had been president anyway) after the small alien had finished eating. The shirt was overly large and was bunched around its small, slender feet, and Gus saw the movement of the cloth as the small alien trembled. Its long, strange fingers were gripping the sill tightly as it watched the darkness outside.

"What's eatin' you, son?"

Mahjtic continued to scan the dark night, head moving to a spot, looking intently for a moment, then moving on to another area in the darkness. Again it moved its head and looked toward the pen where Gus had kept Buck, and the chicken coop that sat beside it. Then it finally turned away and glanced back at Gus.

"Maybe you heard that damn mule coming back."

The large lids slid closed from the side of its head as it blinked again. That strange tilt of the head followed. "Buck-kkk," it said in that cottony, buzz-sounding voice, trying to pronounce the word correctly.

"He's my mule," he finally said, then added quickly, "and my friend."

"He...is lost from... this... home?" Mahjtic asked, turning from the window.

Gus didn't know if not having the headaches and nose bleeds was worth the terrible noise of the alien's real voice. It was like scraping your fingernails across a chalkboard.

"Shit, Buck boy knows that damn desert better'n I do. Nah, he's not lost"

Mahjtic turned back to the four-paned window. It brought its hand to its bandaged head and touched it gingerly as its head turned left, then right, scanning the scrub and desert outside.

"The Destroyer is hunting"

The old man turned his eyes away from the window and looked at his strange guest, ignoring the pain its words caused. "You mean to say somethin's huntin' Buck?" Gus asked with raised eyebrows.

The small alien closed its eyes. The smooth nose twitched once, then it opened its eyes again and looked at the old man. "Destroyer hunts" it said in its irritatingly gravelly voice, then pointed at Gus, and then its long finger turned and pointed at itself.

"And just what is this Destroyer?" the old man asked, walking slowly away from the window.

Mahjtic silently went back to the old bed and crawled up its height and sat down. Its small, three-toed feet dangled two and half feet off the floor as it looked from the old man to the window.

"Aneemal," it said, mispronouncing the word. "Destroyer is an aneemal."

Gus went to the table and sat in one of the two chairs. He put both elbows on his knees and looked at Mahjtic.

"Never heard of no Destroyer, Matchstick."

It looked at Gus and tilted its head. "Maaaa-hJ-tiiic," it said, pronouncing its name phonetically and far more slowly.

The old man heard the correction and the indignant way it was said, but ignored it.

Mahjtic shook its head, then sat up and turned to the window above the bed and pushed the blind aside. "Mine animal... my animal," it corrected. "It is my animal captured for... work... other worlds, it is not from this... place?" It thought a moment. "It is not of Earth...It...not meant for your--world."

"You mean you let an animal loose from your spaceship or somethin'?"

The small head shook back and forth quickly. "Mahjtic not hurt life here. Destroyer escapes."

"You're savin' this thing, this Destroyer, is dangerous?" Then Gus felt stupid for asking if something called the Destroyer was dangerous.

The head bobbed up and down, up and down, still looking away from Gus and staring into the darkness outside. "It is danger, danger your world."

"That one animal brings all this danger? Then he better stay out of East Los Angeles," Gus said as a small joke.

Mahjtic looked away from the window and into Gus's eyes, confused. "Forty and eight units, danger, forty-eight units of time from when..." It was trying to think of the right word. "I... I... boom ship... crash in ship,... forty-eight... hours?"

"Why forty-eight hours?" he asked, not just a little nervously.

"Babies come."

"I don't follow you."

Mahjtic squeezed its eyes closed in exasperation. "Men come here, the mountain, tomorrow, maybe? Men help Mahjtic and Gus when sun comes again?"

"If you're askin' if the cops or army will be coming here, I don't know. In my experience the army sometimes can be a day late and a dollar short, and the cops will probably give you a ticket for crashin' your ship."

Mahjtic opened its eyes and looked at the old man long and hard. Then it slid from the bed and walked slowly toward Gus. It placed its small right hand on the table and looked at its host with its obsidian eyes. It tilted the large lightbulb-shaped head and concentrated, saying the words as clearly as its voice would allow it.

"The Destroyer has babies in ten more of your time hours. We need the many people of your species that will come to look for ship. When they find my ship, these mens will have to help find Destroyer soon, or too late, too many baby, overwhelm all life on this world. My Gray Masters live here then."

Gus blinked. The words had been pronounced slowly and clearly, even taking into account the bad quality of their vocalization.

"What makes you think the men will find your spaceship; maybe we should just walk into town and call for help."

"No, noooo, not in dark, never in dark. Never walk on ground in light-dark. Men will come to mountain, I feel it in here." The little green hand went to its head. "Must tell mans about Destroyer, the Talkhan, or too late your world. Some of my Master kind, the Gray ones, want planet, Gussss." It tilted its head and touched the old man's leg. "Gus will help Mahjtic?" it asked, eyes blinking.

Gus stood, the hand sliding away from his leg slowly. He felt Mahjtic's eyes on his back as he walked to the window once more and stared through the dirty panes.

"I s'pose I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

He turned from the window and looked at Mahjtic's downcast eyes and then shook his head.

"This is no way to impose on a new friend," he mumbled, "by extinctioning him, whatever you just said. But again I ask, I s'pose I haven't a choice, have I?"

It looked up and the small mouth formed the wondering O shape again. "Gus help?"

"Yeah, Gus will help you, you little shit," he answered angrily, and pulled down the yellowing blinds to shut out the darkness.

"Gus help little shit" it repeated with awe. Then it thought a moment. The brow furrowed and the eyes narrowed. "Not shit, Gus, Mahjtic name not shit. What is shit?"

"Shit is what I have a sinking feeling I just stepped into, son."