Title: Her Paladin
Author: ken_r AKA ken242 AKA Kenneth Renouard
Genera: CC kind of
Disclaimer: Roswell story is not mine, but something had to happen later
Author note: Michael and Maria "Story of Rosie Dee" will be done as soon as Carole has time to proof it. Again this is a relative short story.
Rating: Mature
Summery: Tess returns with Max's baby. She blows up the Air Force base and is killed. Max and friends return from their road trip and go on with their lives, then... You know those aliens, half aliens, clones of aliens are hard to kill.
Admittedly, the picture of Emilie i got from some collection on the internet birthed this story. I PhotoShopped it, extensively to fit my plot and the story ran. It at least is very different.
Her Paladin
The yellow sun beat down on the hot gravel road. Her feet burned and the sharp gravel cut, but she had to push on. She had no idea or where she had come from and less where she was going. She only knew that she was now free and she must avoid being taken back to that place. “That place,” the words made little sense because she had no memory of anything further back, than a few hours ago. Even with the pain, she could only stumble going forward because she couldn’t think of going back. She could not remember what was so terrible behind her. Her feet were dirty and looking down, she could see that they were bleeding from obviously not being used to such rough treatment. She was a child of society, not the daughter of the woods. The dust of the road mixed freely with the blood and sweet running down her legs.
On either side of the narrow road, fields of grain were growing. She could see the heads, curled with the weight of the ripening grain standing in places almost shoulder height. Along the ditch running beside the road, tall plants of cannabis were growing, the fragrance adding to her confusion as she tried to bring reason to her addled mind. She continued stumbling down the middle of the road even with the threat of the hot, sharp gravel. She had tried to walk in the vegetation at the side of the road hoping for some relief, but the almost friendly looking grass also contained grass burrs and some sort of thorn called goat-heads, sort of four pointed tacks, where no matter how they lay on the ground, one sharp point always was up.
She continued to stumble down the road, the yellow sun beating down on her fair skin. Where she could see her arms, they were already turning red from burn. She could feel the burn, but she could do nothing about it. Clearly, she was not used to the raw sun. Again, she tried to order her mind, but everything conspired to continue the confusion. Who was she? Who had she been yesterday and who would she be tomorrow? She had no idea. The once beautiful woman existed without past or future. In the distance, she heard the roar of a powerful vehicle approaching. It was not coming from the direction from which she way running away, so maybe, it wasn’t chasing her.
The road was narrow, but she hoped she could get far enough to the side that the vehicle could pass without forcing her into the thorns along the shoulder.
Far ahead, she saw the shimmering mirage of the vehicle blinking like a blue wraith, above the hot road. The roar became louder and as it approached. She recoiled slightly as the noise became more the act of a burned valve than a super hot cam in a likewise hot roadster. As it approached, the blue of the vehicle became margins for the rust spots covering the badly abused car. As the vehicle pulled beside her, it slowed and stopped with the driver bending down to look out the passenger window at her.
She was confronted with a pimply face that was so dirty that she could imagine that it could be scraped removing pimples, abscesses and grime at one time. She saw a crooked tooth grin filled with yellow teeth and green scum at the gum line. That was coupled with the worst breath she had ever smelled as he tried to speak. “Hey, sweet cheeks,” he called out imitating some male mentor in the proper way to attract women. “Can I give you a lift?”
She had leaned toward the car, because it was the first thing other than her self she had seen, at least in the brief memory allotted to her. The odor from the car of stale beer, decaying food and the still terrible oral hygiene of the driver caused her to recoil back on her heels. This precipitated the pain of the hot road throwing her forward again.
In whatever life she had lived before, there would be no way that she would consort with the likes of him. Now, what choice did she have? He was the first creature she had seen. To the pimply-faced one’s glee, she started to open the passenger door. She hesitated, he was going the way she had come. That would not be wise. There was something back that way that she did not want to ever see again. The pimply-faced one saw her hesitation and quickly leaned across the car seats to grab her arm. There was no way he was willingly going to give up his prize now it was so close.
She dug in her heels and leaned back, but the youth fueled with lust was too much for her. He was now groping her tee shirt and feeling for the waist-band of her panties as he struggled to pull her into his car.
Their struggles had covered the approach of another vehicle, a pickup, from behind. Yes, he might be chasing her. A muscled arm reached across and twisted her clothes out of the grasp of the over sexed youth. The arm surrounded her and pulled her back against a strong body. “Hey, ass hole, get your own girl, I saw her first,” the youth screamed.
“It’s not a matter of first. It’s not even a matter of, can you back it up. The lady’s not going with you so shove off,” the calm mature voice said.
“If I had of had a gun you wouldn’t talk to me like that,” the youth shrilled.
“If you had had a gun, I would have killed you outright. Be thankful that you can back off and live,” the cultured voice answered.
The youth was cussing and crying and gnashing his crooked teeth, but as he had no choice, he slammed the door of the car and roared off leaving a smoke trail. Yes, it had been a burnt valve. She then leaned back in the supporting arms of her benefactor and thought, “How did she know anything about burnt valves or hot cams either?” There were lingering memories about hot cars, though.
It was almost like being in a dream as her savior propelled her toward his truck. Then, seeing the condition of her feet, in one fell swoop, he lifted her in his arms to deposit her in the vehicle. Quickly the fear ran though her that he had been coming from the same direction as she had been traveling. Was he pursuit rather than rescue? This was a moot point because he didn’t give her much choice. He didn’t turn his truck around so they continued in the way she had been stumbling. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” she finally managed to squeeze out of her parched throat.
With his left hand, he reached out and unhooked something from the outside of his truck. The man handed her a leather bota, or water bag, that he had hanging in the breeze. Hanging in the dust the bota was covered with mud, but the water was cool. She now had mud added to the stains on her tee shirt and running down her bare legs. “I am your paladin and I am ordered to get you out of here,” he simply stated.
“Get me out of here to where?” her now renewed voice asked also backed with a bit of bravery from somewhere.
“Just out of here. I don’t know where to111, yet,” he again answered with little flourish.
They drove in silence, the road always going with the grain on either side, the cannabis along the fence line and the thorns on the roadside shoulder. The heat was sticky and she asked again for a drink of water, which he produced in the same manner, reaching outside the window for the bota hanging on the side of the truck. There were no other vehicles, no houses or any turn-outs from the graveled road. They could have been the last people in the world for all she could tell. That was something to think about, the paladin and the pimple boy sharing the dead and deserted world with her. As far as she could tell, the grain, the cannabis, the grass burrs and the road went on forever.
She must have drifted off because the next thing she knew was that it was dark outside. The truck had slowed considerably and was driving under very dim headlights. With no warning, the paladin swerved into a side road, the first one she had noticed. At the same time, he turned out his headlights and continued at a crawl as he navigated the almost invisible road.
She was sure that they had changed direction, but for all she could tell the road was still gravel and cannabis was still growing along the way. The gravel she heard under the tires of the truck and the cannabis still gave off a sweet heady aroma. After what seemed forever, the truck stopped and the paladin got out and led her to a faint doorway. He must have had a key, somehow they entered and after everything was buttoned up, the paladin turned on the lights. He pointed across the room to a doorway. “Bathroom and shower over there. Take a hot one and we will see about medicating your feet and sunburn.”
She slowly entered the room. It was small, but there was a shower stall with a translucent sliding door. She stripped off her panties and tee shirt. Her whole body was scratched and bruised. The smell of her clothes as she stripped them off gave rise to the thought that it had been a time since she had been free to use facilities. From the urine smell there must have been times when she had no other choice. All of her short life she had been an icon of fashion. How did she know this? She stood about five foot two, she was of slender build with streaming yellow hair. Looking in a mirror in the bathroom, she saw piercing blue eyes, which must be her most memorable characteristic. Now, looking at herself, bare feet, bare legs, skimpy black satin panties and a badly soiled tee shirt so thin she could see the outline of her breasts under it, she wondered how she came to this. Toenails, formally fashionably cared for and painted, now were in ragged tares, the nails broken into the quick and in a few places, festering at the edges, oozing puss. Hands, also, carefully manicured, now were ragged and bleeding, her cuticles cut and her skin splitting from lack of moisturizing. Those bright blue eyes were squinting from the glare of the sun.
She took the paladin’s advice and turned the temperature up as soon as she was in the shower. The stinging rivulets of the spray at first were painful, but eventually, the heat and the force of the water became soothing. She found a bar of lavender soap and then a fruity smelling shampoo. She had no idea of how long it had been since she had any bath or shower. Her blond hair was deeply matted and she spent several minutes running her fingers through trying to untangle it.
Finally, the heat and force of the shower no longer became medicinal, rather they became uncomfortable and she turned the water off. There was a knock on the sliding door and she jumped. A soft towel was flopped over the door and a voice said, “Here’s some clean clothes, the size is probably all wrong, but its better than what you had. Get dressed and we will have a look at those feet.”
She was still as a statue. What would this paladin want in return? He had rescued her and he was ordered to take care of her, but would he consider her fair game for whatever liberties he might desire? A brief thought flitted through her brain, what kind of woman was she? Would she be willing to trade liberties for sanctuary? Had she traded liberties for something before? She heard the bathroom door close and she tentatively looked out to see slacks, underwear, a bra and a tee shirt along with a pair of sandals.
The pants were too loose and required the belt to be tightened. The bra was too small and required considerable adjustment to be wearable much less comfortable. The shoes flopped a bit, but it was all better than what she had before.
Dried, dressed and limping even with the sandals, she emerged into the room with the paladin. “Sit,” he ordered and he raised her feet to place them on a chair. He deftly removed her sandals and examined her feet. “Its worse than I thought. Here stand up and drop your trousers,” he again ordered.
She shuddered at this, was she any better off with him than she would have been with that boy? Then she thought, the paladin smelled good and he wasn’t that bad to look at for a middle-aged man. She guessed she would just take what came. Her slacks in a pile on the floor, he again ordered her to sit. He took a small jar and began to rub its contents into her feet and legs. The ointment had a sweet spicy odor. “What is that?” she asked.
“Mixture of honey, royal jelly to be specific, and several herbs that are rich in vitamin E all in a matrix of bee’s wax. I add an extract of Cloves to kill pain and colloidal silver to kill germs. It works for almost anything,” he informed her.
After the dinner he fixed, they sat quietly. The cabin was warm and comfortable. She wondered how long before her memory returned. Then she wondered, did she want it to return? She had some vague feeling that she had done something terrible. After a while, the pain did seem to go away. The man continued to look at her. She became very uncomfortable, but she figured that she owed him this much. “Who are you? What is the first name that comes to your mind?” his voice hammered at her like a machinegun.
She was caught off guard. “Ttt…eresa,” she stuttered. “Teresa or maybe Tess.”
The paladin sat there and nodded. This was the first break that Teresa’s mind had found. Yes, that is what her name was, Teresa or maybe Tess. She was… Everything closed back down. All she had learned was that her name was Teresa. “Well we now know more than we did before. They didn’t tell me anything about you. They just said pick you up along side the road. I guess if I had been a few minutes later, I never would have been able to complete my mission,” he said.
Teresa was perplexed. “Who is this they?” she asked.
“They, are those who want you away from here,” he simply said. Then, he pointed to a door. “Bed in there, block the door if your will feel safer. We leave early tomorrow.”
Teresa entered the room and closed the door. There was a chair, a bed and a table with a light on it. She did block the chair under the doorknob like she had seen in the movies. Seen in the movies? What movies and when? She had no more idea than that. She sat down on the bed and removed her clothes. Where he had applied the ointment, her split skin seemed softer. She was sure that it would be several days before she could walk very well. The hot shower had removed the blood and grime from her limbs and she almost felt clean as she climbed between the sheets wearing only her panties. Who was she? She had some sense of fashion and she was uncomfortable with the condition of her non-manicured hands and feet. She had no idea of how old she was nor what she had been doing. She only knew that they wanted her out of here. “Out of here,” to where? That was the question she asked her self over and over. Who was this paladin and what did he want? Not what was he ordered to do, but what did he want as a man? Right now, he was all that stood between her and some unspeakable horror that she had only a vague memory of. The more she depended on him the more she wondered what he would want in return. She wondered if she would be able to give him whatever he demanded. Then, she found a hairbrush and comb. A half hour with these and the world seemed better.