V - The Original Miniseries by Kenneth Johnson Page B

apparently," answered the paramedic. "He was damn lucky. Those supercooled gases are kept at temperatures hundreds of degrees below zero. I don't know how the hell the guy managed to get in there and keep moving-he should have been a Popsicle within seconds if he had to pass through blasts of liquid nitrogen."
    Ruth leaned forward, peering intently at Caleb's jacket. Whitish flakes adhered to it-Some residue of the chemical? she wondered, scratching at one cautiously. On impulse she picked up a sterile specimen case and a pair of forceps, and scraped several of the larger flakes into the glass. She'd examine them later, under the microscope.
They almost look like skin, she thought, stepping back from the rush of monitors and doctors that surrounded Caleb Taylor. But not quite ...
    She remembered the paramedic's statement that it had been one of the Visitors who had rescued Caleb. Visitor skin? she thought excitedly. Rudolph will want to know about this! She turned to mention her suspicion to him, but he was no longer in the room. On impulse, she decided to analyze and examine the samples herself first, before telling him. No sense in getting him all excited unless she was sure what she had ...
    Caleb moaned, then spoke. "Ben?" "I'm here, Pop. You're going to be okay." Quietly, Ruth turned and tiptoed from the room, slipping the sample case into her pocket.
    ABRAHAM BERNSTEIN AMBLED SLOWLY ALONG THE STREET, THE AFternoon sun baking his shoulders beneath the worn old sweater. His companion was Ruby Engels from across the street. She was a widow, and each day the two walked the two miles to the neighborhood shopping center and back. They rarely bought anything-Social Security checks barely paid for the necessities. But it was a nice walk.
Abraham glanced up as a Visitor squad vehicle cruised by overhead. "More of them every day," he commented.
    Ruby nodded. "You get so you don't even notice them on the street anymore. It's like when my husband and I first moved here from Germany. I had never seen a black, and it was all I could do not to stare. Within a couple of months several of the ladies I rode to the market with were black, and I never gave it a second thought."
    Abraham shook his head. "It's not the same, though. These people are from a totally different world, one you and I, at least, will probably never live to see. They aren't human." He looked over at two Visitors standing casually on a street corner. "All those uniforms. And more every day. I don't like uniforms."
    Ruby took his hand in hers, giving it a little shake. "Abraham, it's been nearly forty years." Her fingers pressed the inside of his forearm, where she knew the faded tattooed numbers were. "This-and everything it represents-belongs to the past. You have to let it go."
Bernstein shrugged. "Maybe you're right, Ruby. Still-I don't like uniforms. And there are more of them every day."
     
With a sigh, Ruby changed the subject. "What is your grandson doing these days?"
    "Nice try, Mrs. Engels. But you picked the wrong subject. Daniel ... Daniel." Abraham kicked desultorily at a pop top on the concrete. "He lost the job at the supermarket. When the register came up short, he thought they were blaming him, so he quit before they could say anything. I've lost count of all the jobs he's quit."
"Abraham." Ruby didn't look at her companion. "Is it possible that Daniel was ... guilty?"
    Instead of the hot denial she expected, Abraham sighed again. "I don't know, Ruby. He's my own flesh and blood, and of course I don't think he'd steal. His father and I have done everything we could to teach him what's right in this world. But-he just never has fit in."
She touched his bent shoulder quickly. "Don't be so hard on him, Abraham! He's only eighteen." "But he's been this way for years! No good in school .. . hardly any friends ... can't keep a job, or stick to a task ..."
    "Didn't you tell me that he's gotten involved with this Visitor Friends group?" Abraham was obviously