Angel's Kiss

©2009 Ian Hobson

Dave got himself another beer from the fridge and took it into the dining room; the smell of fresh paint was not so strong in there. He'd spent the whole weekend trying to make the house presentable; though whoever bought it would probably rip out the kitchen and bathroom and redecorate the place from top to bottom. The deeds described it as a small detached farmhouse, built in 1902, making it one hundred and seven years old.

Without bothering to turn on the light, he collapsed into his aunt's old threadbare armchair, remembering the way she liked to sit there in front of the French windows, watching the sun setting behind the distant hills. He glanced at his watch - there was enough light filtering through from the living room to make out the time - almost a quarter to ten; the sun must have set over an hour ago. Sipping his Carlsberg, he looked out into the semi-darkness of a starry, moonlit night, before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the high back of the chair. It was a mistake to think that he could live out here, three miles from the nearest village and almost twenty-five from the city where he worked. Just three weeks of commuting had convinced him that it was better to sell the place.

Not that it was his to sell; his aunt had left the house to his mother, and it had been her idea that he should live there. 'Keep it in the family,' she had said. 'I don't need the money, and it's time you had a place of your own, instead of renting. Perhaps Marie will come...'

He had silenced his mother with a stony look. He didn't need that wound reopening. Marie, his girlfriend for more than twelve years, was gone for good; and that suited him just fine. Love was no longer high on his agenda.

Dave was close to falling asleep when the crockery displayed in the Welsh dresser began to rattle as though a heavy vehicle was passing; but that was impossible, the lane that ran past the house was barely wide enough for a delivery van, as he knew from when he had a fridge freezer delivered. As the noise grew louder, Dave jumped to his feet, almost spilling his beer. There was no other sound, just the rattling of the crockery but, outside, a shadow passed rapidly over the garden and the fields beyond, as a dark shape flew overhead before being swallowed by the wooded hillside.

'Fuck... ing... hell!' Dave set his beer down on the dining table and ran into the kitchen to where his jacket hung from a hook beside the back door. Fumbling through the pockets, he found his mobile phone and thumbed in 999. 'Shit!' He'd forgotten that there was no signal in the valley. He'd intended to get the land-line reconnected, but not got around to it.

All was quiet again, but an aircraft, perhaps military, had definitely come down. He raced upstairs to the larger of the two bedrooms that overlooked the back garden and, leaving the light off, he scanned the countryside to the west. Nothing. No lights, no fire: just the moon and stars, high above the dark hillside. Dave began to wonder if he'd imagined the whole thing. But he'd definitely seen something come down; though there had been no engine noise. That's it: an aircraft with engine failure! 'Shit!' What to do? If it's military, then help will be on its way, but what if it's not?

Perhaps someone else will have reported it. The nearest neighbouring property was a burned out old farmhouse, but fifty or more people lived in the village and, from the direction the aircraft was travelling, it must have passed close enough to be noticed. Dave ran into the front bedroom, cursing as he tripped over the tin of emulsion he'd left on the landing. Light from the living room spilled out over the front garden but, beyond that, there was darkness, no headlights along the road that lead up from the village, no helicopter searchlights looking for a downed aircraft; not yet, anyway.

What to do, what to do? He could drive to the village and raise the alarm; and look a complete idiot if whatever had flown over hadn't crashed. Or drive up to the end of the lane, and into the forestry track, and see for himself.

***

Within a minute, Dave had returned to the kitchen, grabbed his jacket and car keys, and was sliding into the driver's seat of his Nissan. The wheels spun in the gravel driveway as he pulled away and turned left into the lane, headlights illuminating the hedgerows and overhanging trees. A rabbit, momentarily caught in the twin light-beam, became a blur as it shot into the undergrowth.

The forestry track was a good mile and a half up the hill, just beyond the derelict farmhouse, with an old timber gate leaning against the wall beside the entrance. Upon reaching it Dave drove more cautiously; the track was meant for robust four-wheel-drive vehicles, not seven year old Nissan hatchbacks. He scanned ahead and to the sides, looking for any sign of a collision, but not until the track climbed a little higher, cresting the brow of a small hill and then veering to the left, did he find what he was looking for: two fallen pine trees lying across the track, and more fallen trees over to his right, their shallow root-balls upended like so many huge, tilted cow-pats.

He drove up close to the first of the two fallen pines and pulled the steering wheel hard over, pointing the car's headlights in the general direction of the line of downed trees. 'Fuck!' Something had ploughed through the upper branches of the forest, toppling a swath of trees about twenty feet wide. Now what? Torch!

Dave clambered out of the car and opened its tailgate. The rear of the vehicle was littered with junk waiting to be taken the tip but, after a minute's searching, and cursing, he found the torch and was relieved to find that there was still some life left in the batteries. Wishing that he had thought to change from his trainers into his hiking boots, he set off through the forest, finding it best to keep to the right of the tangled mass of toppled trees, but having to duck under the branches of the pines that still stood.

He soon reached the extent of the Nissan's headlights and had only the torch beam to find his way, but he kept on, guided by the swath of destruction and moving steadily downhill until the forest opened out to reveal a huge lake. A childhood memory came back to him then: his Uncle Bernard taking him up into the woods and then down to a lake that nestled in a dip in the hillside: the site of an old slate quarry. They had spent the day fishing there, but come home empty-handed.

The last of the fallen pines pointed towards the lake so, clearly, the aircraft must have hit the water and gone under. 'Poor bastards.' Whoever was flying it would surely have drowned by now, unless the pilot ejected. That last thought gave Dave hope, but didn't stop him from wondering if someone could still be trapped inside. He decided to return to his car and drive down to the village to raise the alarm but, as he was about to turn away, something caught his eye: over to his left, close to a clump of reeds, there was something in the water, and it looked like a body.

Dave ran towards it, shining the torch beam ahead and finding the ground wet beneath his feet; evidence of waves washing up onto the shore, probably caused by the impact. As he got closer, he saw that it was indeed a body and, disregarding his own safety, he waded out into the lake, his heart pounding in his chest. In the torchlight, he could see that the body, lying face down in the water, was dressed in a dark-coloured track suit and, to his surprise, it looked female. This last discovery spurred him on and, by the time he got to her, the icy cold water was above his waist. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her hand; it was cold but no colder than his own hand. She was still alive!

Clumsily, he turned her over, trying to keep the torch dry and shining its beam onto her face. For a moment, he was stunned; he had rarely seen such a beautiful woman, and she looked to be asleep, not drowned. There was no time to lose. He wrapped one arm around her and began to pull her into the shallower water, finally taking her in his arms, staggering ashore with her and laying her gently on the ground.

The light from the torch was beginning to fade but, in the moonlight, Dave could see that the woman was young, probably in her mid twenties, with short blond hair. Kneeling beside her, he felt her neck and then both of her wrists, trying to find a pulse, but there was none and she lay there lifeless. And yet she was still warm to his touch. He tried to remember the first-aid training he'd had when he was a teenager. Should he put her into the recovery position or try the kiss of life?

He opted for the latter, gently tipping her head back and then taking a deep breath before placing his mouth over hers and exhaling into her, and then feeling his own warm breath come back in his face when he stopped. Hoping that he was doing the right thing, he repeated the procedure once more. And then the most extraordinary thing happened: the woman seemed to jolt as though she had had an electric shock and, before Dave realised what was happening, she had wrapped an arm around his neck and was giving him the most forceful kiss he had ever received.

Dave struggled to free himself, but the woman wrapped her other arm around him, holding him close and continuing to kiss him as though her life depended upon it. And that was not all: there was a warmth coming from her, and something else; a strange energy, like a mild electric current. Dave began to relax in her arms as the feeling grew and then, abruptly, the woman loosened her hold on him and pushed him gently away as she came up into a sitting position.

Still kneeling beside her, Dave looked into her eyes. He had never seen eyes like them; they sparkled with many different colours, like the essence of a rainbow, while a tear fell from each. 'Are you all right?' he asked. The woman held his gaze, studying him as though she was trying to read his mind and then, as if realising for the first time that she was sitting on the ground, she rose gracefully to her feet.

Dave got up off his knees, wondering if perhaps she didn't speak English, and he was about to ask her again if she was all right, when the woman spoke first.

'Keep it in the family... Perhaps Marie will come... Fuck... ing... hell!'

'What?' Dave was astonished. The woman spoke accented English; but it was as though, somehow, she had delved into his mind.

'Poor bastards.' She spoke again, repeating what Dave had said when he had arrived beside the lake, but looking towards the water as though the words were her own.

'Is anyone trapped inside?' Dave asked. The woman didn't answer him; she just turned and gave him another of those looks before stepping towards him and taking his head in her hands. 'What are you...' Dave's words were cut off as, once again, she kissed him full on the lips. And again there was that strange sensation: that warm energy that seemed to flow from her. This time Dave made no attempt to free himself and, despite his confusion and surprise, he found himself enjoying it more and more and was beginning to become sexually aroused.

Suddenly, the woman released him again. 'English. Your communication method is called English.' She studied Dave for a moment, as though assessing his height and weight, and then looked towards the lake again. 'There are three. All died. Mission aborted.'

'Three?' said Dave, his head still swimming from the kiss. 'You mean there were four of you on-board the aircraft?'

The woman blinked before answering, as though the question had come as a surprise. 'If you include I, yes, there were four. The others did all experience biological malfunction and become died before we entered your atmosphere.'

'Our atmosphere?' Dave was beginning to wonder if this whole thing was a dream. 'But where do you...'

'You will do many questions. I will answer those that I am able. I still have instructions that must I follow. Come.' The woman stooped to pick up the torch that lay on the ground where Dave had left it and, as its beam strengthened again, she led him away from the lake and back towards where he had left his Nissan.

***

It was not until they reached the car that Dave realised that his torch batteries had somehow been recharged. 'Did you do that?' he asked, as the woman handed the torch back to him.

'Your light source did loosing energy,' she replied, while taking a close look at Dave's vehicle. 'Your transport method look primitive. I will have great interest in watching. I will sit beside.'

As the woman opened the nearside door and climbed into the front passenger seat, Dave, with his head still spinning from what had already become the weirdest night of his entire life, slid into the driver's seat beside her. 'You are sure the others are all dead?' he asked.

'Sure. One hundred percentage.'

'But how did you escape? And what was that you said about entering our atmosphere? Am I supposed to believe you're from outer space?'

'I escape through door in side of transport, which did first pass through atmosphere of your Earth planet, and, in your years, I have been travel for seven, many distances.'

'I see,' said Dave. 'And where did you learn to speak English?'

'By your mouth intercommunication method. I have still much to learn from you. Later we will try your other method. Perhaps it will be time saved. Please drive.'

Other method? Time saved? This was all too perplexing for Dave, so he started the engine, put the car into gear and reversed as far as the bend in the track, where it was wide enough for him to turn around and set off for home. As he drove through the forest, he kept glancing at his passenger; she really was incredibly beautiful, and looked none the worse for her near-drowning.
It was then that the thought struck him: this whole thing was some kind of elaborate practical joke, and the woman some kind of sophisticated kiss-a-gram. As the car passed through the forest gateway and back into the lane, he began to laugh out loud, wondering just who could have played such a complicated trick on him.

'Why do you make words that are not English?' the woman asked.

'It's called laughing,' Dave replied, deciding to play along. 'Do you not have laughter on your planet? What's your name, anyway?'

'I do not yet know this Laughing language, and I do not have name. You must choose name for me.'

Dave shook his head, still trying to figure out just who had arranged this charade. As he reached the house, with the front garden still illuminated by the light from inside, he slowed the car, pulled into the driveway and switched off the engine. 'So I get to choose a name for you?' he said, noticing the woman's sparkling, multicoloured eyes again, and guessing that she must be wearing contacts. 'Perhaps I should call you Angel, as you claim to have fallen to earth from the heavens. You can call me Dave.'

'Then that is agree, Dave,' said the woman as she got out of the car; my name is Angel. 'Is this where you home?'

'Yes, this is home, temporary home, anyway.' Dave climbed out of the car and locked the doors. 'So what do we do now? Wait for the camera crew to show up?'

***

The camera crew didn't show. Nor did any of Dave's friends, relatives or Jeremy Beadle-style TV presenters. Which left him wondering just who this mystery woman really was, and how she could look so perfect after being dragged from a lake. There were no women's clothes in the house, so he gave her his bath robe, and showed her were she could take a shower and change. Within minutes, she was back downstairs, looking even sexier in the robe than she had in her tracksuit.

'The kettle's boiled, and there's coffee or tea, if you'd like a hot drink. Not much to eat though; unless you fancy a fry-up or a ready-meal.' Dave headed for the bathroom, keen to get out of his damp clothes. While he showered, he went over everything that had happened that evening, still trying, but failing, to make sense of it. As he towelled himself dry, the bathroom door opened and in walked Angel.

'Hey! Can't a man have some privacy?' Dave covered his nakedness with the towel, and gestured towards the door, but she had closed it behind her.

'I would like to learn more from you,' she said, stepping towards him and taking his head in her hands again.

'Look, you can't keep...' Dave's words were cut off again as Angel kissed him. And once more there was that odd feeling of something electrical passing between them; something that Dave now found incredibly sexy.

Suddenly the kissing stopped. Dave's towel had fallen to the floor and Angel was unfastening her robe. 'Your other intercommunication method is called having sex. I would like to try this now.' As her robe dropped to the floor, Angel looked into Dave's eyes. 'You like this method, I think.'

Dave couldn't help himself, naked, the woman was irresistible, the most beautiful and perfect creature he had ever seen. And whether she was part of a practical joke, or even if she truly was an alien, he didn't much care; all he knew was, he wanted her.

***

Dave awoke to the sound of birdsong and sunlight streaming in through a gap in the bedroom curtains and, as he turned to look at his alarm clock, thinking that he might be late for work, the events of the previous evening came rushing back at him. 'Shit!' He sat up in bed and looked around the room. Angel, or whoever she was really, was no longer in his bed, and he felt an immediate sense of loss; where was she?

He leapt out of bed, slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and headed downstairs, noticing for the first time, the sound and smell of sizzling bacon.

'Good morning, Dave,' said Angel, as he entered the kitchen. She was wearing the bath robe again, and standing at the cooker, expertly cracking an egg over the frying pan. 'Breakfast is almost ready. Your coffee is on the table in the dining room.'

'Good morning. I wondered where you'd got to.' This was the first time Dave had seen Angel in daylight, and she looked more beautiful than ever. He casually wrapped his arms around her waist. 'Sorry I've nothing better for you to wear.'

'That's okay. I've washed my clothes and they are outside, drying in the sunshine.'

Dave turned her around and looked once more into her amazing eyes. 'Look, I've got to go to work.'

'No you don't. I've taken the liberty of telephoning your company to let them know that you will be taking a couple of days off, to finish your decorating.'

'My company? But how? There's no phone.'

'Your mobile needed a little boost, but it worked fine.'

Dave's cell phone was lying on the worktop beside the cooker. 'A little boost?' He reached for it and tried to switch it on.

'Sorry, I'm afraid I fried the batteries. But at least that means we won't be disturbed.' Angel gave Dave a brief kiss on the lips before returning her attention to the frying pan.

Dave scratched his head. 'You really are something else.' He watched as Angel slid his bacon and eggs from the pan and onto a plate. 'Hey, wait a minute! What happened to your accent?' he asked. He had just realised that Angel was now speaking perfect English, and with a northern accent very similar to his own.

'We are fully compatible now. I know all that you know. Think of it as me having downloaded all of your memories.' She smiled and carried the plate into the dining room. 'Come and get your breakfast before it goes cold.'

Dave followed her and saw that she had set place for him at the table. 'Aren't you having any?' he asked, reaching for his coffee and tasting it. It was perfect, just the way he liked it.

'I've already eaten.' This was the second time that Angel had lied to Dave. It was not something that she was accustomed to doing; but she had been ordered to use her initiative.

***

After breakfast, Dave announced that he was going to drive down and get a couple of things from the village store but, despite several attempts, he could not get the car to start.

'What are you short of?' Angel asked, as Dave got out of the car. 'You seem to have a well stocked fridge-freezer.'

'Well, what I really wanted was a look at today's papers.'

'To see if anyone spotted a UFO?'

Dave grinned. 'Okay,' he said. 'I wouldn't change last night for the world but, isn't it time you told me the truth? Who are you, and how did you come to be in the lake, and what the hell was that that flew over this house last night?'

Angel smiled back at Dave. He was the first Primitive she had ever encountered, and though she was as knowledgeable about them as any of her kind, she had been surprised to discover the depths of their intelligence, and the thing that they called emotion – this she found intriguing. Knowing that she would be leaving soon, she decided to delve once more into Dave's psyche, and because she saw no reason not to, she decided to reveal something of herself to him.

'Come inside, Dave, and I will answer all of your questions.'

Dave followed Angel back into the house and was not all together surprised when she led him upstairs to the bedroom. 'I thought you were going to answer all my questions.'

'I am,' Angel replied.

***

Dave was not sure what had happened. He remembered Angel kissing him and then pulling him onto the bed. But now he could feel nothing, could see nothing, could hear nothing. It was as though his conscious mind had floated off into a black, empty, timeless space. Then suddenly, without warning, the blackness receded, and strange sights met his eyes and strange sounds reached his ears. There were voices, and the faces of pale and almost featureless beings hovering above him, while claw-like hands reached out towards him. Then blackness momentarily returned as a metallic, concave, face was lowered onto his face.

Knowledge now began to pour into him: he could see a strange planet, populated by millions of almost skeletal, featureless beings, and dominated by huge, towering structures that reached up towards a misty, pale green sky, while sleek vessels rose majestically into the air and then accelerated away as others returned.

In an instant, Dave was no longer looking up towards that green sky, but looking down at the city that sprawled across the face of the planet, touching every horizon. And then, in the blink of an eye, the planet became a dot that was lost in a universe of shining stars that, in turn, became streaks of light. And, all the while, more knowledge streamed into him: science, biology, languages, politics, mathematics, economics, the history of the universe, its stars, planets, civilizations - both advanced and primitive - until his reason for being was at last revealed.

He had no name, he was just a number – 188/0009 - and he was one of many, all the culmination of several generations of mechanical, electronic, and genetic engineering. His designated task was to travel to, and study, a relatively primitive race on a distant planet, using a newly invented technique to acquire their knowledge. He would not be the first to visit this planet, for his creators, ruled by their insatiable thirst for knowledge, had been studying this race for three generations; even borrowing some of them for a time, but always releasing them unharmed. Familiar images then passed before his eyes: cities, landscapes, lakes, oceans, familiar faces from film and television, advertisements for food, drink, automobiles, cosmetics, all showing a slightly inaccurate cross section of human life, with only the most beautiful people represented.

His education was now complete. Everything known about this distant race was now stored in his memory banks. All that remained was to complete the rest of the voyage. During this time he was assigned various tasks, following orders without question and becoming, in effect, one of the crew, until finally he, and three of the featureless beings, was transferred to a smaller craft to begin the last short leg of their journey.

But then came disaster: as they neared their destination a small piece of space debris, traveling at high velocity, struck a vital exterior part of the vessel's flight management system causing it to veer off course and be sucked in by the planet's gravity. As alarms sounded, his three companions wrestled with the controls trying to stop the inevitable collision with the planet's surface, finally shutting down the propulsion system and gliding towards what they hoped would be a soft landing.

Now, after a barely controlled crash-landing, all was still. All was silent. The craft was intact, but under water – good for concealment, but not for making repairs. The mother ship would have to be contacted, and a rescue mission scheduled. A tiny remote vehicle was released, first into the water and then up into the air, its purpose to facilitate contact with the mother ship while surveying the surrounding area. It was then that a potential security threat was noticed, and to neutralise this, 188/0009, was sent out through an escape hatch and up to the surface.

As he swam up to, and then across, the surface of the water, something blurred his vision and, once again, all was blackness; until, with a jolt, his consciousness returned. Instinctively, he clutched at what he found to be another source of knowledge, and of a new language. And yet the language was not altogether new, and as he broke away from its source, he found that he was face to face with himself.

***

When Dave awoke, it was dark outside and Angel was standing beside his bed, once again dressed in the tracksuit. 'Does that answer all your questions?' she asked.

At first Dave didn't know what to say; he just stared at her, at last seeing her for what she was: an android. Finally he found his voice. 'What happened in the lake? Why did you appear to have drowned?'

'The lake is deep in the centre, and the seals around my eyes failed against the water pressure. I had what you would call a short circuit.'

'Lucky I came along,' said Dave. 'Except that I was the reason you left your spacecraft.'

'Yes. We had to be sure you would not alert your emergency services or military.'

'And when I pulled you from the lake and gave you the kiss of life, I was...' Dave struggled to find the right word, 'just another encyclopedia.'

'Physical contact is how we are programmed to acquire and exchange knowledge. It takes time to become attuned to a subject, but it is much faster, and more reliable, than simply asking questions.'

'I must admit; you learn fast.' Dave swung his legs over the side of the bed. 'So when is the rescue scheduled for?'

'Midnight.'

'Tonight?'

'Yes, in one hour's time.'

'Then you are leaving.' It was a statement not a question.

'Yes. You may drive me back to the forest, if you wish.'

'But the car won't... Oh, that was you. You disabled the engine.'

'It was necessary.'

'Okay. I'll come and see you off.' Dave stood up and looked into Angels amazing eyes once more. 'No one will ever believe me, will they?'