Fear and Aggression (46 page)

He walked forward, but now with no
particular urgency. Instead, a dread began to creep over him. The
realities of his circumstances were beginning to distill upon him.
“What am I doing?” he said quietly, but out loud, between deep
breaths. He felt the weight of his solitude now, and was fully
aware that he was in enemy territory. He had high hopes of a great
peace between Aspiria’s people and his own; but that was impossible
now. His thoughts turned to Mark, and his heart sunk. What would
happen to him? He had effectively left him alone. Mark had just
taken a beating, and he was dealing with all of the aftermath of
Steve’s mission. People were angry with him, and were taking it out
on Mark. Now, not only would the whole world hate him, but would
the government even protect his family? Mark had his old
grandfather, and now, no one else in the world.

Aspiria is dead, and Mark
is alive. I could do something for him, but I cannot do anything
for her now. What have I done?
He began to
think. Aspiria’s body was dead weight in his arms, but she still
felt warm. She felt just as she had when she had been tranquilized.
Her body moved with every step, she had not begun to stiffen yet.
Since her face had hit the table, he had not looked down at her,
and upon it. He turned his gaze from the way in front of him, and
looked at her sweet face. There was a mark on her forehead—a bruise
that was forming. Besides this blemish, she looked flawless; she
was so extraordinarily beautiful. Her eyes were not shut, and that
gave her a peculiar look. He stopped, and went down to his knees,
so that he could use his right hand and manually close her eyelids
for her. Now she looked like a sleeping angel, and completely at
peace.

He was still breathing
deeply, but he was not tired. Still, he waited and rested for a
moment, continuing to peer at her lovely face. When he had been
here before, he could not bring himself to look at her. He had run
the entire way, without so much as glancing at the face of the
creature that he was abducting. He remembered his thoughts and his
feelings at that time. He so much wanted to get for Tammy what she
wanted, that everything else was pushed to the side. He knew that
this creature, an intelligent creature, was what Tammy wanted to
study more than anything, so he chose her over the deer that they
had tranquilized first. At the time, he had felt in his heart that
he was doing something wrong. He distinctly felt that he was
being told
to take her
back. Take the deer, he kept feeling. But he kept pushing those
thoughts away as he ran towards his ship. He had felt his
conscience prick him continually as they were making their get
away, but he would not give in. That is why he could not look at
her. For days afterwards, he could not look into her
face.

Now it was different: a
different voice inside of him was telling him that what he had
done, and was now doing was foolish. He truly felt sick inside for
his brother, Mark. But the voice that had told him to
not
take her—that voice
was bringing a feeling of peace to his soul. His conscience was
feeling clean. He knew that he was doing the right thing now,
though he saw no other benefit to his actions. As he looked at her,
he felt such sorrow for what he had done to her. She was dead, and
though he had not directly killed her, he had done so indirectly.
His choices and decisions had led to this moment. He had had plenty
of opportunities to correct this, before it had come to this. Yes,
he was going to correct it today, but time had run out. He had
ignored his conscience for too long, and now it was too late. He
could not give her back her life, but he could give his life for
her sake.

Slowly he rose to his feet, again. He still
felt no urgency, but instead walked at a comfortable pace. He
allowed himself to take in the beauty and majesty of his wooded
surroundings. This was her home, and it was fit for a person as
beautiful and majestic as she had been. He continued forward until
he could see the outline of her home, at least a portion of the
roof. His heart sunk again, as he realized that he was experiencing
the last few moments of his freedom, and probably his life. But her
sweet sleepy face brought him courage again. “She deserves this,”
he said aloud in her alien language.

As he left the wooded
area, he saw two figures walking away from the home that she had
come from. His eyes were once again uncomfortable in the
brightness, but not to the extent that they had been several
minutes before. He could make out that it was a man, and a younger
man
. That must be her husband and
son,
he thought.

“
Hello,” he shouted in his
best rendition of her language. Both of the figures stopped and
looked in his direction. Steve continued to walk forward, towards
them. He was not close enough to see their faces very well, but
they certainly seemed to be surprised.
Come what may, I am going to do what is right by her
now,
he thought as he walked
forward.

The two figures, clearly now a man and a
teenage boy, were also walking forward. The older man looked pale.
His eyes were on the body in his Steve’s hands, and not on Steve’s
face. Steve could see a great deal of pain and stress on this older
man’s face. He looked much older than Aspiria. Now, his gaze turned
to the young man by his side. He was Aspiria’s boy, there was no
question. He could see her both in features and in expression in
that boy’s face. He was also clearly the son of the man next to
him. This was indeed Aspiria’s family, and they clearly recognized
her.

“
I am so sorry,” Steve
attempted as they became within ten feet of each other. The older
man began to speak, and though it had a certain familiarity to
Steve, he could not understand what was being said. His voice had a
musical quality, like Aspiria’s, but it was deeper, and he spoke
faster, and the tone made it impossible to follow. The two came up
all the way to Steve, and the older man put his arms underneath
Aspiria’s body. Steve allowed him to take her off of his hands. The
man, her husband, looked longingly at her face, and then spoke to
Steve again. Steve listened intently, but was still lost on the
meaning of his words. “I don’t understand,” he said in their
language. This phrase he had said to Aspiria countless times, and
could say it very well.

The man, spoke more slowly this time, and
likely phrased his words more simply. This time Steve could
understand: “She is warm, is she alive? Does she sleep, like the
deer?”

Steve bowed his head, and shook it. Then
looking the man in his eyes, said, “No, she is dead. She has been
just recently killed. I did not kill her. I tried to bring her to
you alive, but she was killed before I could.” He felt sick and
self-serving as he offered this explanation, with an excuse.

Her husband’s countenance, which was already
so pale, dropped even further, and he closed his eyes, seemingly in
despair. The father spoke to his son, and it was incoherent again,
to Steve. The son came up to the body of Aspiria and kissed her on
the cheek. He grabbed her hand and placed his cheek up against
hers. The husband turned and began to walk into his home, with the
boy still holding Aspiria’s hand. Steve stood there momentarily,
not knowing what to do. Then he followed them into their home. The
man walked with Aspiria, and laid her gently on the couch, ensuring
that a pillow was underneath her head. He carefully placed her, so
that at least her body displayed the appearance of comfort. He
kneeled by her side, caressing her cheek and holding her hand. He
spoke softly, but it was not clear what he was saying, or who he
was saying it to. The young man stood at the head of the couch,
above where Aspiria’s head was, and looked down. The man bent over
and laid his forehead on her breast. Soft sobs could be heard.
Steve looked over at the young man, and he could see a tear fall
from his face; it landed on his mother’s face and rolled down her
cheek. Steve felt uncomfortable being in their room, and observing
them mourn—he, the perpetrator of their suffering. But he also felt
a sense of gladness that he was there. He knew that she deserved
this, and felt that whatever future he would have to endure, it was
worth it now.

Some minutes passed in
this manner. Eventually, the father and the son were both kneeling
by her side. Steve began to mourn, too. He mourned for this great
woman, and for the motherless child. He mourned for the husband,
now a widower. He mourned for his own brother, who was now left,
essentially, without family. He thought of how he had hated that
drunk driver, and would not forgive him. Now
he
was on the other side. He had
committed the wrongs that led to this family’s sorrows.

The husband got up and approached Steve. He
spoke slowly and simply. “Thank you for returning her. You may go
back to your people, now.” That was it: no anger, no punishment—no
revenge.

Steve stood there in silence for a moment.
Then he shook his head. “My people are gone. They have left me. I
am in your hands. You may do with me what you wish.” The man’s eyes
narrowed as he looked at and listened to Steve.

“
You are not going back?
You are staying,
here
?” The concept seemed to be beyond the alien man’s
comprehension, especially at this moment.

“
I am sorry, so sorry,”
said Steve as he bowed his head and nodded.

“
Did you know her? Did you
know, my Aspiria?”

“
Yes, she is
wonderful.”

“
You have known her since
she has been gone?”

Steve felt the sting of remorse and guilt
surge within him, “Yes, I took her. It is my fault that she has
been gone from you.”

The man nodded. There was silence between
everyone, for what exactly do you say to each other at a moment
such as this. Then, the man spoke, “You shall stay here,” and he
indicated his home. “You shall be a part of our family.”

Steve looked at him in
disbelief. Surely he misunderstood the language. But he could see
it in the man’s eyes that he was in earnest. Steve was ready for
all things: death, punishment, torture, imprisonment; but not
this—not kindness and forgiveness. The young boy walked up to Steve
now. The two looked each other in the eyes. Steve could see Aspiria
was still alive, in the face of that young man.
He must be about Mark’s age
, Steve
thought.

“
Thank you for returning
my mother to me,” he began. “I cannot imagine being as brave as you
are, and leaving your people to bring her back to me. I thought
that I would never see her again.”

Steve began to melt on the inside. The boy,
still looking at him, spoke again, “I forgive you.” He came up to
Steve, and gave him an embrace.

Steve was not sure what to say, but he again
looked into this young man’s eyes. “Not long ago, Aspiria, your
mother, heard a wonderful story. She said that she wanted to tell
it to you. She cannot tell you that story now, but I can. It is the
story of the birth, of the Son of God.”

The young man looked at
Steve curiously. The older man spoke. “You are from
that
world?”

“
Yes, I am from
that
world.”

A loud knock at the door sent chills down
Steve’s spine. The three men turned toward the door, and Roloff
made his way towards it. When the door opened, Steve’s heart
sank.

The figure in the door was that of a man.
This man, however, was grotesque. He was tall and gangly, and his
face was menacing. Steve could hear him speak, and he heard Roloff
answer, but he could not understand what was spoken. The man walked
in, and Steve got a better look. Aspiria, Roloff, and Caryell were
the only beings from this planet that Steve had laid eyes on,
before. They were all so beautiful, Aspiria extraordinarily so.
Steve, though not conscious of it, felt that all from this world
must have this characteristic. Now, it was clear to him, that this
was not so. Still, the sheer hideousness of this creature—this man
before him, caused both discomfort and confusion to swell within
him. Aspiria’s external beauty matched perfectly and harmoniously
with her internal beauty. Roloff and Caryell gave to him the same
impression. This man—this creature—could not be of the same quality
as Aspiria. Inside, Steve felt that this man could not be good.

Steve shuddered as Roloff indicated him,
with his arm, to the man who had just entered. The man turned his
expression on Steve and glared at him with a look that caused Steve
to freeze. Steve could feel every muscle in his body tighten.
Steve’s consciousness was elevated, and he understood Roloff as he
said, “He has brought Aspiria back to us. She is dead.”

The man, Seryen, turned back to Roloff, and
began to speak. “As I was returning home, I felt the distinct
impression that I was to return to your home. I felt that you
needed my help. I thought that I might find Aspiria here. I felt
her presence. Where is she?”

“
My friend, my dear
friend,” Roloff began, “she is in here.” The men made their way
slowly so that Seryen could see her body lying on the couch. Steve
stayed in place, just turning his head. Caryell made his way back
over to the couch. Seryen put his hand on Caryell’s shoulder as
they met. Then he reached with his other hand and touched Aspiria’s
face.

“
She is still warm; she
cannot be dead. Is she like the deer?” Seryen asked with hope in
his voice.