PROTOTYPE 16 By Heck Comments to heck@beadyeye.me.uk CHAPTER SIXTEEN The dust of the road was thick and choking. I pulled the neck of my tee-shirt up to cover my nose and mouth, but that was only a temporary solution. The fibres soon became clogged with dirt particles, and I was forced to remove my makeshift mask and breathe as best I could. Behind me, Lucy was shielded from the worst of it. A stiff crosswind blew dust from the fields, adding to that of the road itself, and we were soon filthy from it, but at least she could breathe relatively clean air. We were riding cross-country on a lane so narrow that, even on the motorcycle, if we had met an oncoming vehicle we would have been forced onto the grassy verge. According to our map, purchased at the diner, a sizeable town lay up ahead where we were confident we would find a local TV station. Eventually, I had to stop the bike and take a rest, if only to swill the dust from my mouth and nose with some of our limited water supply. I drove the machine onto the shoulder, and we dismounted. "Aren't we a tad exposed here?" Lucy wondered. "I suppose so, but it's only for a few minutes. I'll leave the motor running, just in case". We dug around in the panniers and found fresh shirts. I rinsed out my mouth and handed the canteen to Lucy. She only took a sip, saying that was all she needed, and stripped off her jacket and shirt. She wore a brassiere for comfort, although her firm and proud breasts needed little support, but was otherwise naked to the waist for a brief moment while she pulled on a clean tee. I tell you, the woman radiated such a powerful sexuality that, if she walked into a room behind you, you would have an erection before you even saw her. The sight of her trim waist with its defined musculature, and her smooth, flawless skin held me transfixed. Her shoulders were quite wide, and her fine breasts rode high on her chest. Her skin was golden and unblemished, and her arms rounded and shapely. I was privileged to be among the few people who knew the secret strength that lay within her superb body, and my knees trembled at the thought. She pulled down her shirt, her head of temporarily dark hair popping through the neck like a jack-in-a-box. She saw me staring, and I hastily lowered my gaze. "You know, Sean", she mused. "I can't make you out". "Oh? Why, er, why's that?" "You think I haven't noticed the way you look at me, sometimes, but I have. I know you want me, but you never make a move. You're either the world's most old-fashioned gentleman or you're painfully shy, and I can't figure which". "Me? Shy? Och, Come on". I tried to sound flippant, but couldn't meet her gaze. She stepped closer. "I think you are. You're bashful, aren't you?" "No", I protested. "Not shy. Not me. Well, not exactly". I heaved a sigh. In for a penny. "Aye. I suppose I am, where you're concerned. It's just that.you see ... ach, Lucy, ever since we woke you from your coma I've wanted you. In the worst way. But I ... well, I know there's no chance. You're way out of my league". Glasgow was trying hard to insinuate itself into my voice, but I fought against it. "I ken ... I know I'm not that lucky". "I don't know", she smiled, swaying another step closer. "You might be. Maybe it's because, you know, I'm giving out these signs? And you're not responding to them? Perhaps I want you, too?" "You do? Do you?" "Sean, right since you stood up for me to that horrible FBI woman, back at SETI, even though you knew you had no chance against her, I've wanted you to read my signs. I thought I was giving them loud and clear. Maybe I was being too subtle?" "Too subtle?" I was beginning to sound like a moron. I cleared my throat. "Lucy, I never realised". Spontaneously, we moved together until our bodies were almost touching. "In my head, I hardly dared hope. I wanted you right from the first, and when we saw how strong you are, it was even worse. Sometimes, I think I'll burst, I need you so much". "You like all that strongwoman stuff, huh?" She gave me a brilliant smile. "No. I mean, yes, I do. Oh, God, I do. I was never attracted to that kind of thing until I saw you, but when I first saw you using your strength I thought I was going to die with desire. It was all I could do not to, um, disgrace myself right there in my pants". "I like that you like it". Her voice had become low and husky, of a sudden. "I was beginning to worry that no man would want me, that they'd be scared off because of it". "Oh, Lucy, no! How could any man resist you? You're lovely. You're gorgeous. You're just so ... damn.sexy!" She giggled, leaning forward so that her breasts brushed my chest. I could feel her warm breath on my neck, feel the heat radiating from her fabulous body, feel the tightening hardness at my groin and the electric frisson of excitement she generated within me. Even through our shirts, I could feel the erectness of her nipples. "Sean?" "Hm?" "Shut up and kiss me". Her lips brushed briefly against mine. I pecked back. Her tongue flicked out, tickling my moustache. We could wait no longer. I clamped my mouth over hers, enfolding her in my arms, and she responded eagerly, almost aggressively. Our lips chewed and our tongues delved, exploring the inner recesses of our mouths, sliding over and around each other. My hands stroked the firm flesh on her back and shoulders, feeling the muscles moving under her shirt as she embraced me. She pulled me even closer, surrounding me with the warm strength of her arms, and I leaned into the kiss, knowing that my weight against her would trouble her not at all. My hand found its way under her shirt and ran over her perfect skin. It cupped a breast, firm and heavy under her bra, and my thumb made little rings around the hard berry of her nipple. She moaned in response, and I felt the tingle of arousal throughout my entire body. She broke the kiss first, and pushed me back with a hand on my chest. "Whew! You're as good a kisser as I'd hoped!" she breathed. "Sean, I'm not a tease and I promise that we will make love soon". "What?" I was confused. I was good to go right now, and to hell with anything else. "Very soon. I promise. But we have more pressing stuff to deal with first. We have to get to town and find that TV station. As soon as we've done our stuff there, we'll get a room". "What?" I still wasn't getting it, and tried to pull her hard against me. With her hand on my chest, I might as well have tried to knit fog. "Sean!" A touch of ice crept into her voice. "Come on. Reality check. There are people after us. They might kill you, and God alone knows what they want to do to me. Let's get this done, then I promise I'll be all yours and we can make love as much as you want". The way I felt right then, there wasn't enough love making in the world to fulfil that criterion, but I sighed as I began to see her logic. "Aye". A stupid grin broke out on my face. "But you do want me? Don't you? You really want me? I mean, you don't have to". "Yes. Yes, I do. I think you're a wonderful, warm man, and I do want you, as much as you want me". "Really?" I held her at arm's length and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Because I think you're fantastic, and I'd love to make love to you. But I'm a realist. I know you must feel some gratitude because I was part of the team that rescued you and helped you avoid the FBI. So far. And as much as I want you, what I don't need is a thank-you fuck". I watched her carefully in case she took offence. That was a possibility and, if so, I had just blown it, big time. But her lips curved in a sensuous grin. "Forget that. I want you. I really, really do". "Yesss!" I punched the air. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" "I can see you're pleased about that", Lucy laughed. "Pleased? Pleased? Ecstatic, more like! A beautiful woman, that's you, by the way, wants me!" "You're not too shabby-looking, yourself" she chuckled. "And sexy. But that beard has got to go. All for later. Come on, Mister Lover-lover. Let's get back on that bike". * The town only qualified for the title by a hair's breadth. A single long main street, with one or two narrow side shoots, and that was about it. The usual general store, diner, and ladies salon faced each other across the thoroughfare, and at one end a mechanic's shop/charge station. We pulled in to ask and, sure enough, there was a local TV station. The bike hummed to a stop outside a long, low building about a klick out of town, bristling with antennae and satellite dishes. A sign over the door announced 'WKCG-TV. Stampford's Own'. I hauled the bike onto its stand and we went in. We must have been an uninspiring sight, both covered in road dust and me with my beard and hair becoming wild looking. The attractive young woman behind the reception desk didn't seem at all worried by our appearance, and greeted us with a ready smile. "Welcome to WKCG", she recited. "How can we help you today?" "We'd like to speak to whoever's in charge". By mutual consent, Lucy and I had agreed that I should take the lead, in the first instance. "That'd be Mr Burrows", the receptionist said. "Mr Lyle Burrows. He's my daddy". "Is he in charge of news?" "Oh, yes. He's in charge of everything. He's on the air, right now, but if you folks'd take a seat, he'll be free in about twenty minutes". Lucy sat. I remained standing, reading a plaque on the wall. It looked like Lyle Burrows and his daughter were all there was of WKCG-TV. "Excuse me", I said to the woman. "Do you have the facilities to uplink to CNN from here?" "Yes", she replied warily. Why do you ask?" "Because we're going to make your daddy famous", I said cryptically. "May I use your phone?" "Is it a local call?" "No". "Then I'll have to ask you for ten dollars". I paid up, and quickly found the number for CNN in New York. A sincere- looking, scrubbed young man appeared on the screen. "CNN Newsdesk". "Let me speak to your National Editor". "One moment, please". The screen dissolved to a logo, and bland music played. After a few minutes, a grey haired and harassed looking middle aged man appeared. "Frank Scott. It's your dime". Funny how things endure. It's years since a phone call cost a dime. "Mr Scott, you don't know me, but I have something that'll blow your socks off. We're at a small TV station called WKCG-TV. I suggest you tune into it, and keep watching for a woman called Lucy Radovic". "And just why in the hell should I do that?" "Just watch, Mr Scott. What she has to say will make you sit up". "You have to give me more than that, Mr, er.?" "My name isn't important. Just take a few minutes out of your day. It'll be more than worth your while, I promise". "Well, I suppose I could ask someone to watch". "You, Mr Scott. It has to be you". I could see I had piqued his interest. "OK". "Promise you'll watch". "Yeah, OK. I promise". I hung up. My beard itched with nervous sweat. I'd be glad when I could shave the damn thing off. Lucy sat calmly, staring at nothing, and I wished I could be so collected. I tried sitting beside her but couldn't keep still, and got up to pace the floor. "Settle down, Sean", Lucy told me in her serene voice. "It'll be all right". "Will it? Are you sure? Because one thing we've not thought of, as soon as we make this broadcast, the FBI will be all over us like a rash". "Or a cheap suit", she quipped. "You mightn't have thought of it, but I did. As soon as we've made the news, we'll be out of here. We won't stick around to get caught". "But then, how will CNN find us?" "We'll find a way. Don't worry". The door behind the reception desk swung open and a short, balding, thick set bespectacled man in his early fifties came through. He was smartly dressed, in a down-home kind of way, although his collar was smeared with screen make-up. The receptionist got to her feet and whispered urgently in his ear, pointing at Lucy and me. He gave us a frowning glance, and then pasted a professional smile on his features. "Mr Burrows?" I enquired, stepping forward to shake his hand. He gave me a slightly sweaty palm in return. "Caroline tells me you got a story to sell?" "Not to sell", I corrected. "But, yes, we do have a story, and it's important we get it on air as soon as possible". "Tells me you been phoning CNN. I can't match the kind of bucks they got". "Like I said, we aren't selling anything. Just hear us out for five minutes. You'll want to put us on air, I guarantee". "I guess I've got five minutes". He sat down. "Shoot". We did. We told him everything, right from the destruction of the Europa, through all our discoveries in the lab, right up until now. He sat listening in polite silence, and when we had finished he regarded us with narrowed eyes, sucking his teeth in contemplation. "Very interesting story", he said at last. "A mite far-fetched for my taste, though. Alien rescue? Sixty-four years in coma? Military? FBI? Sounds like you should be talking to the Enquirer, not me. Fifteen times stronger? How'm I supposed to believe." "Mr Burrows", Lucy interrupted. He gave her a questioning look. She nodded toward her right hand, which was curled loosely around the thick tubular steel frame of her chair. Then she squeezed. With a tortured groan, the metal crumpled and crimped under the massive power of her grip. Borrows' glasses slid down his nose as his eyes and mouth formed triple O's of shock. Lucy removed her hand, revealing a wasp- waisted narrowing of the steel. The imprint of her fingers could clearly be seen. "Will you do that on air?" Burrows demanded, when he regained the power of speech. Lucy nodded. "Then you got yourself a show. Caroline, when's the next station break, darlin'?" "About six minutes, Daddy". "OK. Come on through, folks. We got to get ready". "I won't be appearing", I explained. I could see Burrows didn't care. He had his star. "Just Lucy. But be sure to uplink to CNN". "You got it". He ushered us into a cramped control room. "You can sit right here. Me and the lady'll be right through there". He gestured to a window onto a tiny studio with a single remote camera. He fiddled with some controls. "All set?" "I can't go on like this", Lucy protested. "I'm a mess". "All the better", Burrows said as he showed her into the studio. "You look beautiful, but you also look like you've been on the run. Adds realism". He directed her to a comfortable chair and sat down opposite. "When the red light comes on, we're live. Just relax, and tell it like you told me. Any second". The professional grin appeared as if by magic. "And, in five, four, three ... We interrupt this afternoon's movie to bring you a breaking news story, exclusive to WKCG-TV. With me in the studio is Lucy Radovic, a survivor with a remarkable story to tell. Sixty-four years ago, the Space Shuttle Europa was tragically destroyed in a mysterious accident. Lucy, why don't you tell us, in your own words, what happened to you?" It went fine. Lucy related her story in a calm and convincing way, and obliged by repeating her trick with the chair arm. Even before the interview was over, Caroline came into the control room where I sat. "Frank Scott from CNN, on the phone for you". I went with her to reception, where Frank Scott was on the phonescreen. He obviously had the vidcam set to wide angle, and I could see him pacing up and down behind his cluttered desk. "This is all flim-flam, isn't it?" he demanded without preamble. "All this guff about aliens, and the FBI, and that chair thing. That's all just a trick". "No, Mr Scott", I replied earnestly. "I can assure you that it isn't. A close friend of ours was killed, during our escape. Professor Michelangelo DeLuca. You can contact his family, if you like, but all they'll be able to tell you is he was suddenly called away on urgent government business. I can even show you where we buried him". "Hm". I could see he still had doubts, but was willing to play along, for now. "What is it that you want?" "Protection. We want you to plaster Lucy's name all over the airways, make her public property. Assign a well-known reporter to us, to cover her twenty-four seven. Send a helicopter to bring us in, and keep Lucy in the public eye so the powers-that-be are forced to acknowledge her existence and won't be able to spirit her away to do whatever it is that they want to do to her". "You want a lot, for what might be just tabloid sensationalism. I need proof". "You'll get it. You'll see Lucy for yourself, see what she can do. You can repeat all the tests Professor DeLuca and I made, and any others you can dream up". He leaned on the desk, scowling into the lens. "All right. I'll think about it. How will I contact you?" "You won't. We'll contact you". "All right. I'm not paying you anything, mind". "We don't want you to. We just want to be safe". "What if I check with the FBI?" "Help yourself. They'll probably deny everything, but once Lucy's safe, feel free". We left it at that. Scott said he would expect to hear from us within twenty-four hours, and I promised him he would. Lucy and Lyle Burrows appeared just as I was hanging up. She lifted a questioning eyebrow at me. "It's all set", I said. "CNN are going to do everything we wanted. Soon we'll be safe at last". "Where are they going to pick us up?" "I have to contact him inside twenty-four hours. We'll know then". "How do we contact him?" "It'll have to be from a payphone. We daren't buy a cellular. It'll be traceable to us". "Not if we use false names". "They'll have thought about that. They know where we transmitted from, and the odds are they'll put a tracer on every recently purchased cellphone in the area". "Hold up", Lyle put in. He scrabbled in a drawer. "You can use this one. It's a spare, contracted to WKCG, and they might think it's just me. You can throw it away after you've used it". "Good idea", Lucy said, taking it from him. "Thanks". "We better get going", I said. "Thanks again Lyle, Caroline". "No, thank you", Lyle said. "Best piece of television we've put out in an age. I just hope you get everything sorted out. Good luck!"