Universal Alien Read online

  “Yeah,” Crawford said. “So, aliens . . . do you think they’re on Earth?”

  Couldn’t help it, I snorted. Loudly. Probably meant I wasn’t going to be invited to lunch with the Beauty Queens, but oh well. “Of course not. Charles figured out that was all a hoax years ago.”

  Everyone looked shocked to stricken. Other than Crawford, who merely nodded. “Kitty, I think I know what’s going on. And I can explain it at least for you, James, and Reynolds, and maybe for Jeff, too.”

  “Okay, I’m all ears.”

  Crawford cleared his throat. “You’re in Bizarro World.”

  This was met with confused looks from everyone in the room other than those Crawford had named. Charles, James, and Martini all looked as if light bulbs had gone off over all their heads.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bizarro World,” Crawford said. “You’re in it. In this world, aliens from the Alpha Centauri system are living on the planet. You’re not married to Reynolds, though you two are still best friends. You’re married to Jeff and, as Tito said, he’s the Vice President. Just elected last November. You’ve also been an, ah, alien monster killer, the Head of Airborne for Centaurion Division, which is the military, science, and research side of American Centaurion, and an ambassador.”

  “Pull the other one, it has bells on.”

  He grinned. “I’m serious.”

  James came closer, and he had a funny expression, like he was trying to remember something important. “It’s a multiverse out there,” he said slowly. “Meaning that there can be many versions of ourselves, over and over again, with just little things different.” He looked at me and Charles. “Some people you’re connected to over and over again.” He looked at the others in the room. “And some you’re not.”

  Let this all rev in my mind for a little bit. Head hurting or not, I was able to think fast when I needed to, and I clearly needed to.

  I took a long look around the room. “Ah, Tim?”

  “Yes?”

  “All the really gorgeous ones are, um, aliens?”

  “Yes.”

  “Prove it.”

  Martini stepped closer and took my hand and put it against his chest.

  “Oh, my God, you have two hearts!”

  He nodded. “I do.” He looked at me intently. “I think Tim’s right. And so do you. I can feel it.”

  “How?”

  “I’m an empath, the strongest in the world, probably the galaxy. And I can feel everything you’re feeling.” He stroked my face. “I can read your mind, too.” He looked at Charles. “She’s not ‘my’ Kitty—she’s yours.”

  Charles shook his head violently. “No. If what Tim’s saying is right—and until we have a more rational hypothesis, I’m willing to go with the multiverse idea—then she isn’t mine, she’s married to another version of me in another universe.”

  “So, in this world, Jamie is my daughter, but . . . Charlie and Max don’t exist?” Shoved aside the horrible way this made me feel. Right now, I needed to determine if this was really what was going on or if I’d woken up in an insane asylum filled with America’s Top Models.

  “Yes, but Jeff is Jamie’s father. You’re not married to Reynolds, so the children you had with him aren’t here,” James said. “You married Jeff almost four years ago.”

  “How is Jamie here, then?”

  “What day was she born?” Crawford asked.

  “Christmas day, three years ago.”

  “Same as your Jamie here,” James said. “And she’s basically your little clone.”

  “Externally,” Charles said. “Internally, she’s Jeff’s daughter.”

  “The ties to the mother are always strongest,” Tito said.

  The door opened. Someone was actually entering this room via conventional means. I turned to see who it was, and as I did so, the wallet fell from my hands. She looked normal, hale and hearty, and I felt like the room was spinning.

  “What in the Sam Hill is going on?” she asked, all brisk authority. “Kitty, are you alright?”

  “Mom?” I went to her slowly. “Mom, is it really you?”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course it is, kitten. Who else would it be?”

  I didn’t question it any more. I just grabbed her and held on as tightly as possible. “Oh, Mom. I’ve missed you so much.” As I started to cry, I had to accept that Crawford was right—I was indeed in Bizarro World. But at this moment, it suddenly seemed worth visiting.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE FIRST NURSES WE SAW at Walter Reed didn’t like my head injury, but they felt it looked worse than it was. Once they cleaned me up it was decided that I didn’t need stitches, and by the time the RN who was doing my pre-check for the doctor came in to see us, Chuckie was pointedly asked why I was even here.

  When Dr. Zainal arrived he recognized me, but I was greeted as an old friend, not as someone he sort of knew. Dr. Zainal didn’t mentioned aliens, Jeff, the Bahraini diplomatic mission, or anything else I’d have thought he would. He did ask how we’d enjoyed Australia and said he was glad we were back early, despite the circumstances. Just added this onto the Weirdness of the Day column and didn’t even remark on it.

  My head still hurt, but not like it had. Chuckie was clearly freaked out by my rapid improvement, but he just told Dr. Zainal about the car accident and the doctor seemed forgiving of my taking up his time, in part because the kids needed to be checked out, too.

  The kids were checked first, and all declared fine and just shaken up. Then it was my turn. “The chart says that Katherine’s head was cut open when she arrived,” Dr. Zainal said. “How did you receive your injury, Katherine?” he asked. “I would have thought the airbags in your car would have caused a different injury, depending on where your hands were on the steering wheel.”

  “The airbags never deployed.”

  Chuckie stiffened. “What? Are you sure?”

  “I’m freaking positive.”

  “Mommy’s forehead hit the steering wheel,” Charlie offered helpfully. “Then her head went back, but she didn’t really hit the seat.”

  “And no bags opened anywhere,” Max added.

  “But it’s the back of her head where the injury was,” Chuckie said.

  “Interesting,” Dr. Zainal said. “As I examine her, I see nothing. However, the amount of blood on the back of her head and on her clothing is consistent with a more severe head injury than she appears to have.”

  “I’m a fast healer.”

  Dr. Zainal gave me the “really?” look. “Not in my experience,” he said. “Not like this. However, even though there is no actual external injury we can see, the risk of a severe concussion is still there. If the hematoma doesn’t go out—and you have no bump forming—then it tends to go in, and press upon the brain.”

  “Would that explain why Kitty has memory loss and confusion?” Chuckie asked, sounding almost desperate.

  Dr. Zainal nodded. “Yes, very likely. We still know so little about what affects the brain, but a trauma such as what you described could cause many issues. But let’s see what we have otherwise.” A variety of tests were performed, and as far as I could tell, I passed them all.

  The doctor shook his head. “Her reflexes are excellent, her eyes display no signs of concussion, and she displays no other signs of trauma or even injury.”

  “I told you, I’m a fast healer.”

  “Apparently so.” But he didn’t ask any more questions. At least of me. He pulled Chuckie aside and they spoke quietly. If I was still fully human, I wouldn’t have been able to hear them. But A-Cs have enhanced hearing, so these days I did as well, and I could hear them easily.

  “She needs an MRI,” Dr. Zainal. “For starters. Potentially many other tests, especially if the MRI isn’t definitive. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
r />   “She looked much worse when I got to them,” Chuckie said. “I was amazed she was upright, but I just figured it was adrenaline rush.”

  “Maybe, but the rapid healing . . . I have no idea what could have caused that. It’s a good thing, a miracle, at least it seems so, but until we study her more, I have no guess for what’s truly going on.”

  Aside from the fact that they were discussing my healthcare without consulting or including me, it occurred to me that I didn’t want any regular hospital having a sample of my blood or tissue or anything. The less known about my improved physical makeup the better.

  “I just want to go home,” I said, before Chuckie could agree to anything. “Now. Please. The kids and I need to get home and regroup.”

  Dr. Zainal shook his head. “Katherine, you may have a severe concussion and we should probably do an MRI.”

  “No. I want to go home. Immediately if not sooner. I will not allow you to perpetrate any more medical procedures on me. Or the kids.” They didn’t need to discover that Jamie was also extra with a nice side of special, either. “Let’s go, Chuckie. Now.”

  Chuckie stared at me. “Ah, okay,” he said.

  Dr. Zainal clearly didn’t approve, but he stopped arguing. “Call me, day or night, if anyone feels worse. And a visit to your chiropractor would be a wise choice for the children. Katherine probably needs a visit as well, but I’m concerned about manipulation affecting her concussion negatively.”

  “Gotcha, we’ll be cautious.”

  Both men stared at me, but we were allowed to leave. Of course, it took longer than anyone wanted to get released, but we managed it. Chuckie also managed to fit in a phone call to someone that he thought I didn’t know he’d made. I could hear most of his side of the conversation and it consisted of a fast, high-level recap of everything that had happened and everything I’d said or done. My strong suspicion was that the person on the other end of the call was Reader.

  “Please stop calling me Chuckie outside of the bedroom, Kitty,” he said quietly as we were finally heading toward the car. “It makes me really uncomfortable when you call me that in front of the kids.”

  Decided to not complain about this. Everything was weird, odd, or suspicious, why not this, too? “What would you prefer then? Chuck?”

  “No. What you’ve called me for the past many years, baby—Charles.”

  “Check. Charles it is.”

  He sighed but said nothing else, got the kids into the car and tucked me in as well, then we headed off.

  The car ride wasn’t filled with an overabundance of chat. Chuckie seemed worried and a little preoccupied. The kids were quiet, though I could hear Max grumbling that no one ever listened to him about anything. And I didn’t feel like talking, since the answers I gave and got didn’t make me or anyone else feel any better about anything.

  Apparently we hadn’t been that far from wherever we lived when we’d been run off the road, as we got off at the same highway exit we’d gotten on at earlier. We turned off the main street quickly and pulled into a lovely neighborhood with mature landscaping and nice, large homes. Was fairly sure this was the Colonial Village area, but wasn’t positive. I was used to living in A-C facilities and they were gigantic, but these homes were still probably double the size of the house I’d grown up in.

  Which reminded me. “Have you called my mom yet?”

  Chuckie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Let’s get home first, okay?”

  We pulled up to a large house with a five-car garage. “This is a pretty house.”

  “Glad you still like it, since you picked it out.” One of the garage doors opened and we drove in. “You wait in the car while I get the kids out.”

  As he got out of the car, a man came into the garage from, I assumed, inside the house. It was a man I knew. He rushed to my door and opened it. “Kitty, darling, what did Doctor Zainal say? Are you and our precious little ones alright?”

  “Pierre! It’s so good to see you! Can you explain—”

  “Pierre? Why are we speaking French?” He sounded genuinely confused as he started to help me out of the car.

  “I’ll do that, Peter, please. And like I told you, she hit her head,” Chuckie said, as the boys crowded near Pierre and Chuckie got Jamie out of the car. “Hard. Doctor Zainal says the amount of blood he saw on the back of her head and clothes indicates that Kitty’s lucky she didn’t crack her head wide open. However, nothing seems wrong externally now. But she needs rest and to be watched for signs of major concussion.”

  Pierre cocked his head at me. “How did you hurt the back of your head if you were in a car accident? And if there was so much blood—and I can see that there was by the horrid state of these clothes—why don’t you have stitches?”

  “These are question no one’s going to like my answer for—I was at the football stadium, watching a cricket game, and I fell onto the steps. After I caused Jeff to spill coffee on everyone. And I have faster regeneration than regular people.”

  Pierre stared at me. “Who’s Jeff?” As I looked at him I noticed he looked a little different than he had when I’d left this morning. Like Chuckie, his hair was slightly different, and he wasn’t in the Armani Fatigues. He was dressed fashionably, but not formally.

  “That’s the question of the day,” Chuckie said as he handed Jamie to Pierre and carefully helped me out of the car. “I’m fairly sure she’s gotten our Traveler game mixed up in her mind with reality.”

  “Ah, interesting.”

  “Is it?” I asked. “Can we call my mother now?”

  Pierre and the kids stared at me. All of them looked upset.

  Chuckie sighed as he helped me into the house. “Kitty . . . I’m sorry, but . . .”

  “But what? What’s wrong? Did Mom get hurt? Is Dad okay?” Maybe whoever was after me and the kids had been trying to get to or hurt my mother.

  Chuckie put his arm around me and led me into what appeared to be the living room. “Kitty . . . baby, I’m so sorry that I have to tell you this, again, but . . .” He hugged me and kissed my forehead gently. “Your mother has been dead since Jamie was six months old.”

  CHAPTER 15

  MOM WAS DEAD? This did not compute. At all. “There’s no way! I just saw her last night! Is this some weird covert op?”

  “No,” Chuckie said gently. “I wish it was.”

  “Look, my mother is the head of the P.T.C.U. If she was dead, wouldn’t the President have a problem with that?”

  “P.T.C.U.?” Chuckie asked. He was clearly asking for everyone else in the room.

  “Presidential Terrorism Control Unit. She’s the head of it.”

  “Ah. There’s no such unit, Kitty.”

  “Look, I realize that it’s extremely covert. I mean, I didn’t find out about it until I was freaking twenty-seven and discovered aliens were on the planet. But is now the time to pretend? Surely the kids are aware of what you do and I did for a living.”

  “Daddy works for a think tank, but only ’cause Papa Sol thinks he needs to make his mind available,” Charlie said. Clearly he’d heard this a lot.

  “How do we afford this house?”

  “Charles made his money in convenience stores and then in the stock market,” Pierre said. “As you proudly tell anyone who asks. You’re multi-millionaires many times over, as the bank cheerfully tells me every time I pay our bills.”

  “Okay. What do you all think I do for a living?”

  “You don’t work, Mommy,” Charlie replied. “You take care of us.”

  “She homeschools us,” Max added. “Our real mommy, I mean.”

  “I told you to stop that, Maxwell,” Chuckie said sternly.

  “Uncle Peter, did Mommy go change clothes before we left this morning?” Max asked.

  “Ahh . . .” Pierre looked as if he wished he’d been briefed
on whatever story he was supposed to tell.

  “She forgot our music and went back into the house after Daddy and Uncle James left,” Charlie added.

  “That makes sense.” Now Pierre looked relieved. “I was on the phone dealing with the worst customer service in the world, so elephants could have gone in and out and I wouldn’t have noticed. Speaking of which . . .” He took my jacket and made the tsking sound that indicated he felt this item was probably beyond repair.

  “That’s it, then,” Chuckie said to Max. “Mommy decided to change to look nicer for Auntie Caro and that’s why she’s in different clothes than she was in at breakfast. Speaking of whom . . . Peter, did you reach Caroline?” He helped me sit down on a very lovely sofa. Had to admit, I liked the décor. Didn’t mention it because I had a feeling everyone would tell me I liked it because I’d picked it out.

  “Yes, she went to get Sol from the airport. She took a cab there and she’ll drive them both back here.”

  “Why would Caro have to get my dad from anywhere, let alone the airport?”

  Both men gave me the look I was becoming familiar with—the “oh dear, it’s worse than I thought” look. Pierre cleared this throat. “Ah, your father went to meet up with your Aunt Carla during her layover today.”

  “Why?”

  “Ah, so none of the rest of us would have to see her.”

  “Well, that makes sense. So, Aunt Carla’s alive, well, and exactly the same as I remember, but you insist that my mother, her younger sister, is dead?”

  Peter nodded sadly. Chuckie, meanwhile, was on his phone. “Caroline, hi. Are you with Sol? Great. Is Carla gone? Oh. Wonderful.” He didn’t sound like it was truly wonderful, which boded in the Aunt Carla department. “Well, the car’s totaled but they’re all amazingly okay. Kitty’s hit her head, though, and is having some, ah, memory issues. You’re going to need to prep Sol, and probably Carla, too, I’m sorry.” Aunt Carla department confirmed. “Yes. Ah, she remembers who you and I are, but, ah . . . yeah. She thinks she’s married to an alien.” He swallowed. “And until a couple of minutes ago, she thought Angela was still alive.”