Astounding! (15 page)

“It’s
our
vacation,” Freddy responded. “I told you that already. We’re really glad you joined us. We want you to have fun too.”

John smiled sweetly. “I am. Thank you. And I’d like to go to San Francisco. I’m, uh, just not sure if… I might have to leave really soon.”

While Carter failed to ignore the clenching in his heart, the other men looked unhappy. “Where do you have to go?” Freddy asked.

“Home.” John didn’t look happy about the prospect, which shouldn’t have made Carter feel any better. But it did, dammit.

Keith nodded. “Do you want us to drive back to Portland?”

“No. No, thank you. I… I won’t need transportation.”

Freddy had that narrow-eyed, considering look, but he didn’t say anything. And Keith just nodded again. “Okay. But really—it’d be great if you could stick around awhile longer.”

“It would,” Carter said quietly, which prompted John to squeeze his shoulder.

Later that night, Carter and John went for their usual walk to the meadow. But although they sat huddled together on the soft grass, they didn’t fly right away. Instead they looked up at the stars, which seemed cold and distant tonight. Carter felt as if the waxing half-moon had turned its attention away from Earth, as if it regretted being forever chained in orbit.

“I don’t like lying to them,” John said.

“I know. Me either.”

With his bowed head, John looked suddenly very old. Carter scooted closer so their thighs pressed together. “Will you live forever, John?”

“Not forever.” He sighed. “We are… data. And we ultimately degrade. For a long time, though, we can replicate that data so it’s freshened. Renewed. Like when you scratch yourself and new skin grows to heal the wound. But errors creep in. Slowly at first, and at the beginning they can be repaired. But eventually… it’s not much different from cancer, really. It just takes longer.”

That made sense. “Do you get sick? Like… computer viruses?”

“We can. We can accidentally pick up bits of one another, and those bits can change us. Corrupt us.”

“Kill you?”

“Yes.”

Because something odd rang in John’s tone, Carter pushed a little more. “Is this ever done deliberately?”

“If you mean to ask whether we commit suicide and murder, the answer is yes. It’s not common, but it happens. We’re…. Just because we’ve shed our bodies doesn’t mean we’re infallible. We do have emotions. Flaws. Fears and desires.”

For some reason, that information soothed Carter a little. Maybe he was just relieved to learn John’s race wasn’t godlike, despite their powers. Of course John himself seemed very human. As human as anyone Carter had ever met.

John made a small unhappy noise before tugging at Carter, urging him to lie back on the ground. John settled himself beside Carter and held his hand. The night wasn’t silent. The wind rustled leaves and branches, insects and frogs chirped, a small creature whispered through the brush. More than that, Carter could feel the Earth spinning beneath him. He could feel the plants around him growing, their roots digging into the soil while their tops reached skyward. Spring flower buds hung as heavy as a pregnant woman’s belly. Green leaves breathed, converting stored sunshine into fuel. He was dizzy with it all, grateful that John held his hand.

“I don’t want to go,” John said, his voice nearly inaudible.

“But you’ve been trying for so long.”

“I know. Because I thought… I thought I’d always be alone here. And through my own efforts to return, I met you, and now I want to stay. That’s irony, right?”

With the entire planet at his back, Carter still lacked the strength to endure this. “So stay. You’ve been writing that damn story the same way for years. But I’m an editor, and you have to believe me, it’s time to revise it.” He would beg if he had to. He wasn’t too proud. But fuck, how had he gotten to this point already?

John rolled to face him and molded his body against Carter’s. He hid his face in the crook of Carter’s neck. “It’s too late. The story’s published.”

Carter tried to remember the date. He didn’t want to admit that the magazine was already in print, but no matter how many different ways he counted the days, he reached the same conclusion. The final issue of
Astounding!
had already been run through the presses.

“Maybe your people won’t come,” Carter said.

“They will.”

“Then tell them you’ve changed your mind.”

“They won’t listen.”

Carter squiggled out of John’s grip and rose to his knees. “Goddammit! Are you telling the truth when you say you want to stay or are you just bullshitting me?”

John looked up at him, wide-eyed. “I’m telling the truth.”

“Then
fight
for it, for God’s sake. Tell them you’ve made your choice and they can take a flying leap into the nearest black hole.
I’ll
tell them that. I’ll tell them you’re doing just fine here with us, thanks very much.” He didn’t say
here with me
, although that was what he meant.

Unexpectedly, the corners of John’s mouth quirked into a smile. “You’d fight, wouldn’t you? If you were in my place. You’ve been stubbornly holding your own front line for fifteen years. Even when you knew you were losing the battle.”

“Losing the
war
, John.” Carter firmed his chin. “But yes. I suppose I have.”

John sat up and leaned in close. “Why? Why didn’t you give in a long time ago?”

If Carter had thought about the question, he couldn’t have found the answer. Perhaps he would have blamed simple stupidity. But he
didn’t
think about it. He just acted instead, wrapping his arms tightly around John. “Because it’s all I am. If I’d given up sooner, there would be nothing worthwhile left of me.”

John hugged him back. And then, when the embrace made their nerves tingle and their skin feel too tight, John unzipped Carter’s jacket and eased it off his shoulders. The T-shirt and Henley came next. And then John unbuttoned, unzipped, and unlaced, tugging at cloth and leather as he went, until Carter was naked. He should have been cold, but he wasn’t.

John undressed himself much more quickly.

They hadn’t brought lube, so they used spit instead. They hadn’t brought condoms either, but rubbers seemed superfluous. Safe sex was one thing, but John was a goddamn alien—infection of any sort seemed unlikely.

Carter lay on his back on the soft ground, the scent of crushed grass strong in his nose, his heels hooked over John’s wide shoulders. John eased his way into Carter’s body. He took aeons to become fully seated, but they were good aeons. Carter scrabbled at the soil in search of purchase as he raised his hips, and above them the sky stretched infinitely.

It would have been enough.

But then John looked down at him with eyes gone black as the sky and lips pulled back in a rictus of painful pleasure. “Let me in?” he rasped.

“Yes.”

They hadn’t tried this before. It hadn’t even occurred to Carter that such a thing was possible. But even as John thrust slowly, dragging his cock inside Carter with excruciating care, John also swept into Carter and bore him upward and outward.

No words could have adequately captured what Carter felt then. His physical self remained on the ground, writhing and gasping and nearly turning inside out with sensation. And he felt every bit of it, every pulsing cell, every desperate intake of oxygen. But at the same time, he and John flew like bursting fireworks, sparking and swooping in rhythm with their bodies. They spun up and down and sideways until no prepositions remained for the directions they traveled. Until everything was altogether in and out and all one glorious, ecstatic everywhere.

It ended eventually. It had to if they were to remain alive. And that was all right too, as they lay entwined on the grass that now smelled like them.

They dressed slowly, like men newly roused from a dream. They walked slowly too, the plants swishing against their legs. The meadow contained millions of lives, all connected somehow. Carter could feel every one of them.

Only when they were back on the road did they speak again. “I want to tell Freddy and Keith,” John said.

“Why?”

“They’re your friends. Our friends. I don’t want to lie. And also… this thing you and I have. I don’t know what to call it. I know it’s fragile and short-lived.”

“A soap bubble,” Carter agreed.

John laughed. “All right. A soap bubble. But it’s real. It exists. And it’s
good
, Carter. Don’t you think?”

Carter closed his eyes a moment, reliving their experience in the meadow. “Very good.”

“Then we should be honest about it.”

His logic wasn’t exactly linear, but Carter didn’t disagree. He wasn’t happy about leaving his friends in the dark either. “But… I don’t think they’ll believe you’re an extraterrestrial.”

“You believe me.”

“Well, yeah. But I didn’t at first. Not until you gave me pretty definite proof.”

John brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed Carter’s knuckles. “That’s fine. I’ve hinted about it to a couple of people over the years, but they all thought I was crazy. Keith and Freddy can think that too. I still want to do it.”

“It’s your story, John. Tell it if you want to.”

“I think it’s
our
story now.”

K
EITH
LOOKED
frowsy and bedheaded. He hadn’t showered yet, and he sat at the dinette table with a bowl of cereal. His T-shirt reminded everyone that Dumbledore was gay. Next to him, Freddy looked more chipper. He’d woken up early to write. He’d probably killed off several characters while John and Carter went for their jog.

“What’s up?” Freddy asked Carter, who stood beside the table, looking down at them.

This morning’s run had been farther and harder than ever, and possibly Carter’s brain was awash in endorphins. He certainly felt buzzed, as if all the colors were brighter and the sounds more melodious. And when he gazed at his friends, he knew some things with such certainty he would have bet his life on them. He knew that Keith really wanted kids but Freddy wasn’t so sure, and it was a source of discord between them. He knew that Keith worried a little about Freddy’s health. Carter knew that sometimes Freddy was certain he’d wake up and discover his success as an author was all a fluke and he’d lose everything—and it was losing Keith that terrified him the most. And Carter knew that these two men loved each other truly and deeply, that they’d work out their differences, that they’d have a goddamn happily ever after.

“Carter? Are you all right?”

Carter realized they were looking at him with concern. He shook his head to clear it and then collapsed into an empty seat. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”

“You were staring at us,” Keith said. “You had a really weird look on your face.”

“I guess I’m a little out of sorts lately.”

Keith waved a dismissive hand. “No big deal. Want me to pour you some coffee?”

What Carter wanted just then was a nice big bottle of whiskey. He hadn’t been drinking much at all in recent weeks—just an occasional beer—and hadn’t really missed the booze. But at the moment, he would have sold his soul for something fiery and strong. “Coffee would be great,” he said with a weak smile.

Keith brought him a big mugful, along with a cellophane bag of little powdered sugar donuts from their convenience store stop. He plopped them on the table. “Not exactly the breakfast of champions. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Carter stuffed one of the donuts into his mouth, but the sweetness was almost too much for him. It was as if he’d spent his life tasting in three dimensions and someone had suddenly added a fourth. He chewed slowly, ignoring the looks his friends sent his way, and then he swallowed. He chased it with a mouthful of coffee, but the bitter heat was as overwhelming as the sugar. He set the mug back on the table.

Freddy opened his mouth to say something, but the RV door swung open as John returned from the shower. His hair was wet and slicked back, and he must not have dried off very well, because his plain white tee was stuck to his chest. He looked delicious, especially when he smiled at them. Carter had to use all his willpower to resist jumping him right then and there, witnesses be damned.

Maybe realizing the effect he was having, John let his grin widen as he set his duffel bag on the floor. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and drank half of it in one long draught.

“Do you guys want to hang out awhile longer here or hit the road?” Keith asked before eating a spoonful of cereal.

Carter and John exchanged a quick look. John nodded, then slid in beside Carter. “We can leave soon,” John said. “But we wanted to talk to you first.”

Whiskey. Or maybe vodka. Something with more fire than taste, something to drown his nerves and make his stomach unclench. Carter ate another donut instead.

“Okay,” said Freddy, closing his laptop. “Spill.” And then he and Keith looked across the table at them expectantly.

But nobody said anything. Because really, how was anyone supposed to begin a conversation like this? Nothing worked. There was no way to sound anything but batshit crazy. John took Carter’s hand and held it firmly, there atop the table. Through their joined skin, Carter could feel John’s heart beating, keeping the same rhythm as his own.

“I haven’t told you much about John,” Carter said at last. “And you’ve been really good about not asking.”

Freddy gave their clasped hands a significant look. “We didn’t figure it was our business. We’re pretty sure John’s not a serial killer, and he certainly seems important to you. That’s what matters.”

It was nice to hear, and Carter smiled at him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such good friends, but he was certainly thankful for them. “I need to tell you how John and I met. It’s… sort of a strange story.”

And with John silently lending his support, Carter began. He told them about the awful submissions he’d received from the mysterious J. Harper and the nasty rejection letter he’d sent while drunk. Freddy tsked over that, but Carter wasn’t certain if he disapproved of the overimbibing, the rudeness toward an aspiring author, or both.