of this story and do so only for entertainment purposes. I do however own Morgan Blair, Shimar Muyo, and Jamul Langer they are invention's of my imagination. I have to add that again without the guidance of two remarkable young writers I would never have been able to get this finished. My deepest thanks Bookworm and Red for taking the time to share all that marvelous gray matter.
Second star to the right and straight on till morning. Lost children aren't the only ones who find their way there, but only children can stay.
Finally after looking, for what seemed like an eternity, she had landed a position. All those horrible interviews and miles of walking had paid off and she found a real job. The salary was great and the hours looked to be pretty reasonable. So this weekend would be spent taking it easy, resting up for the new workweek and of course the needed shopping to coordinate just the right outfits for her new position.
The only down side was the fact that she had to come through this section of town. What was the city trying to do? Half the buildings look as if a bomb had hit them and the rest were just foundations, as if someone had snatched the top floors right out of the ground, "urban renewal, go figure," she thought while trying to see through the rain that was covering her windshield.
Morgan Blair, an attractive, sepia skinned African American woman, in her late twenties, had only been back in Chicago for little more than 6 months. She had recently graduated from one of New York's top fine arts colleges and was determine to carve out a successful art career in the windy city. Of course her new job had little to do with her craft, but it would pay the bills until she could save enough to start her own gallery. She drove her new silver, pick-up truck, a graduation gift from her parents, as quickly as the law would allow even though, along with the rain, the streetlights where few and far between which made seeing that much more difficult. Thankfully there wasn't too much traf ……
Before she could finish her thought, a large image moved directly across her path and she slammed down on her brakes trying to avoid hitting it. Unfortunately she didn't stop soon enough and felt the sickening jolt of her truck knocking the object out of the way. Morgan swerved to a stop and held onto the steering wheel, so hard, her hands shook too frightened to move. She attempted to catch her breath, all the time praying that it was a garbage can or a loose piece of metal that might have fallen from one of the decaying builds. Daring to look up, the dim light of the lone streetlamp showed what she had actually hit, lying against the curb was a downed motorcycle and not far from it was a motionless body.
"Oh my, God," whispered from her shaking lips. The expression was something many used as just an expression of surprise but Morgan uttered it as an actual prayer. She pried her hands off the steering wheel and with shaking weak legs slowly climbed out and walked over to the still body. She knew enough first aid not to move them, but she just had to see if they where still breathing. She took hold of the person's shoulder and tugged pulling them over until they lay completely on their back. It was a man of considerable size with an odd-looking motorcycle helmet covering his head. She tried to find a way to take it off, but it seemed to be attached up under his chin. The best she could do was feel his neck and try to get a pulse. He must have had a thick beard because she had to push through a lot of hair before she could touch his skin, but a sigh of relief rushed over her when she was able to feel a strong but usually fast heartbeat.
If his heart was beating then he must still be breathing, but that didn't mean that he wasn't badly hurt. She ran back to her truck to dig in her bag and retrieve her cell phone only to remember that it was left at the phone shop for repairs earlier that day. She ran her hands through the small twists of wet black hair trying to figure out what she should do next. Then she looked up and noticed a phone booth about a block and a half away. Thank heaven; she could use it to call for help.
Reaching behind her seat she pulled out a small gray and white stadium blanket. She carried it back over to the injured man and laid it over him, "I don't know if you can hear me, but I have to leave you for a few minutes. There's a phone a little ways up the street. Don't move I'll be right back with some help, I hope."
Before she could stand the stranger grabbed hold of her hand, " Please don't," a low voice emitted from the helmet. Morgan jumped in surprise and tried to pull her hand away,
"No please, I won't hurt you, just don't call any one." he released her hand showing that he wasn't a threat.
Morgan stood up and back away rubbing her wrist, "I think you are really hurt and I can't just leave you out here in the rain. I have to get you some help."
"No honestly, I'm okay. Where's my bike?"
"I think it's as banged up as you are, but it's over there," Morgan point to the bike laying a few feet away.
"Please Miss, if you would just help me up and back on her, I'll be outta your hair."
"But…"Morgan couldn't help but be moved by his honest plea, his voice was so sincere and she had to do something. She knelt back down and waited for him to make the next move.
It was obvious the man was in a great deal of pain as he tried to get himself up off the ground. He tried to brace himself up on his right elbow but groaned when he put any pressure on his arm and he immediately lay back on the ground.
"This ridiculous, you can hardly sit up, I have to get you some kind of help. Look do you have any friends or family that would come get you?"
He stopped as if he were trying to figure out the answer to her question, "I…I…I don't remember exactly. My mind is just a little cloudy."
That's it I have to call somebody. Please, you need medical attention you could die. Are you running from the law? Whatever you did its not worth possible dying for."
"I'm not a criminal, but I have my reasons, please just help me to my bike and I'll be okay, please." he was almost begging.
"All right, but I know this is a mistake," Morgan reached down and slid her arm under his left shoulder and around his back. He took a bracing breath and leaned up on her as she tried to give him a little leverage to stand. He moaned but ignored the pain until they clumsily got him to his feet and Morgan almost buckled from the weight of this very tall and heavy man. They walked slowly over to the cycle and Morgan let him lean against the lamp post while she walked over and lifted the heavy bike up right causing the destruction of three of her newly manicured nails.
Strangely once upright the machine stood on its own and the rider walked over to gently touch the brown leather seat, "You okay, Darlin?" the stranger soothed as if the machine were a trusted friend. Morgan just watched and shrugged it off remembering how many times her friend, Jamul, would talk to his motorcycle like it was alive, the only strange thing was his bike never responded as this one seemed to.
Before he could even mount the machine he almost toppled over and Morgan grabbed him full around the waist with both her arms. "Look, I promise I won't call any body, but at least come sit in my truck for a couple of seconds just until you get a little more stable and we can get out of the rain." He turned his helmeted head toward her and nodded in agreement.
Morgan supported most of his weight the short distance to her truck. She opened the door and he struggled to get into the front seat. Finally in, he lay back and took a breath to let the pain subside a little.
She walked to the driver's side; her motor was still running so she flipped the heat on since they were both shivering from the cold rain that had drench their bodies. She remembered the thermos from lunch and knew there was a little warm coffee still in it. She retrieved the large metal sliver cylinder with the red plastic cup and twisted off the top, "something warm would do us both some good," she said as she removed the cup and poured out the warm black liquid. Turning to the stranger she held the cup for him to take a drink, "its okay, its just coffee," she smiled holding it closer.
He turned to face her and debated for a second then with some difficultly raised his injured right arm and leaned up slightly to remove the helmet. Morgan heard a slight hissing sound then saw him slip it off his head and turned to look at her.
Her first reaction was to sit and stare at him, and then she calmly asked, "Is there a reason for that?"
He looked at her, "A reason for what?"
"That a grown man would put on a mask, sunglasses and a motorcycle helmet and then go riding out into the dark Chicago night, in the rain? Do you have some sort of a death wish?" Morgan was mad that what seemed like some sort of childish practical joke could have gotten them both killed.
The stranger chuckled but stopped as the pain shot through his ribs, " I'm not wearing a mask and the shades, are a story you wouldn't believe, if I told you." He lay back trying to relieve the ache in his sides.
Morgan looked at him in disbelief, sat the thermos on the floor in front of her and reached over to touch his face. He made no movements to stop her and let her run her hand down his fur covered cheek, touch his ear and even tug slightly on the hair hanging on his shoulder.
In shocked realization Morgan snatched her hand away, threw open the door, jumped out of her truck and took off running. She stopped suddenly and looked back to see if he were following her. After thinking for a second she laughed at herself and walked back to the truck, opened the door again and saw that he hadn't mode a move. She took an embarrassed breath, got back in the truck and sat down.
The man who's features resembled a large tan mouse reached up to remove the black glasses with the green and yellow lens and laid them on the seat next to him. In one motion he rubbed his eyes, forehead and pushed the long tan hair away from his face, "And that's why you can't call any of the authorities, please don't run out again, I couldn't catch you if I wanted too."
"I'm sorry you caught me a little off guard. You're not what I was expecting to see," Morgan apologized.
"Nope, I guess not, don't worry about it. If the circumstance were different and you were on my world, maybe I do the same thing."
Morgan knew he didn't mean to sound insulting, but she was just the same, "Oh and just what world do you come from where I would cause you to go screaming into the night."
He looked at her and realized how what he said must have sounded, "Mars, but just like you, I wouldn't have run very far," he gave her a weak smile.
She returned the smile, "Mars huh? Well I guess, it's as good a place to be from as any, but if I can't take you to the hospital I have to get you to where you are staying. Somebody has to be helping, you just tell me where to take you and maybe they'll be able to take care of your injuries."
A frightening puzzled expression filled his face, "I don't know, I…I can't remember."
Morgan touched his shoulder, "Don't worry, it will come back. You probably got a slight concussion when you smacked into the sidewalk. I'll take you to my place for tonight and I'm sure things will be clearer in the morning."
"My bike, what about my bike?"
"Boy, guys are the same no matter what planet they come from. You have probably broken your arm and who knows what else, you can't remember where or who you are and you are in the hands of, for all you know, somebody that might turn you over to the nearest alien reward center and you are worried about your bike?
He smiled looking at her with trust in his pink eyes and reached up to touch her face. "I don't think a lovely lady like you would do that. I've learned early who I can trust and who I can't so; I'm not worried about that.
Morgan could feel her face getting hot and the way he looked at her made her heartbeat speed up. "Oh …well…okay. You don't have to worry about your bike; I can pull it into the back. I transport a friend of mine's bike all the time. You just lay back and relax and I'll load it up and we can get out of this rain and see what I can do to patch you up," he smiled and nodded but not before running his finger gently down her cheek before taking his hand away.
Morgan coughed nervously trying to catch her breath for a whole different reason, then reached down to pulled off her black high-heeled pumps knowing they would just get in the way. She got back out and ran to the flatbed section of her truck and pulled the door open trying to ignore how cold the wet ground felt to her stocking feet. The wooden planks where still in there from the other day, when she and her friend Jamul had gone to the moto-cross finals. She pulled them out and made a small ramp. She went back to the motorcycle and the motor was now humming softly, he must have some sort of remote control to start it from inside the truck.
Pushing the cycle to the truck was no problem but she stood looking at the height from the ground to the truck. "I'm never going to get this way up there," but she was going to give it the best try she could. Taking a deep breath she started to push the machine expecting to struggle but to her surprise it moved up the ramp on it's own stopping when it was just the right distance in the truck.
"Well that's convenient. You move by yourself, why not? He's a Martian who looks like a grown up Simon and you can drive yourself, so what else is new?" She shook her head and climbed up into the truck, pulled up the planks and completely covered the bike with a large, heavy, waterproof, canvas tarpaulin. Of course her new gray linen suit was ruined not to mention the expensive matching gray rain coat, but it was all to solidify interplanetary relations," she giggled wondering if she could deduct their cost off of next years taxes.
After all was secure she finally got back in the drivers seat exhausted and frozen. The warm heat felt so good on her icy toes, feet and legs. She looked over to see how her rider was doing and his head leaned against the window and he appeared to have fallen asleep. She reached over pushing up the sleeve of the leather jacket he wore and again she felt a strong steady rapid pulse. Letting him sleep with a possible head injury wasn't the wisest thing to d, but maybe with Martians it was their way of healing. Regardless, she wasn't going to wake him up. He would need to be at least a little rested if she were going to try and get him to her apartment which thankfully was below street level.
"Okay, Miss Good Samaritan, what have you gotten yourself into now?" she sighed and sat for a second watching him sleep. "Well, I have to say one thing, I don't know how Alvin and Theodore turned out, but one can only hope it was as gorgeous as you," she laughed softly at her private little joke and pulled off to head for home.
To be continued….