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Rail sounded more relaxed than at any time since they'd made his acquaintance.
"No need to worry concern your-self needlessly. We are now traveling the
correct course."
Kerwin stared out into the night. The headlights illumi-nated nothing but dirt
road and trees. "The correct course for what?"
"For losing cops, spitwad," snapped Seeth. "Leave him alone. He knows what
he's doing. Don't you, Rail?"
"Assuredly absolute."
I am going to wake up, Kerwin told himself silently. Any minute now I am going
to wake up. I am not an extra in a Spielberg or Lucas movie and any second now
I will wake up.
"I've never been shot at before in my life."
"Liar," said Seeth.
"Will you kindly SHUT UP." Kerwin turned back to Rail. "I'm not enjoying this,
you know."
"I understand, and I apologize for inadvertently having involved you in my
problems. What can I do to make you understand?" The look in his eyes was
considerably less maniacal since they'd shaken their pursuers.
"You could start by telling us how you happen to have seven fingers on one
hand."
Rail looked down at the hand in question. "Seven? I thought it was six."
"Sorry. I definitely counted seven."
"But I don't have seven fingers." He held up the controversial right hand and
Kerwin was stunned to see five perfectly normal-looking digits. There was no
sign of the additional pair.
"Now, that's a neat trick," said Seeth softly.
"Oh dear, now you've got me confused. I suppose I owe you a full explanation.
Considering how things have gone and how many edicts I've broken already, I
don't suppose it will hurt to break one more."
"Yeah, come on, bowling fiend, come clean," said Seeth.
"That is precisely just what I intend to do."
Rail put is hand over what looked like an ordinary wristwatch and ran fingers
along both sides. The watch didn't change. Rail did. His epidermis seemed to
flow, like a copper plate undergoing an acid bath preparatory to being used to
make etchings. His skin dissolved into noth-ingness and yet his clothes
remained intact.
Thus revealed, Arthwit Rail looked over at them out of three small eyes set in
a green ellipsoidal skull. The pink pupils were so tiny they looked like
specks floating in pools of white water. Narrower than a human head, the skull
was set on the end of a long wiry neck and was completely covered in a dark
olive-green fuzz, which had been shaved to form intricate whorls and curlicues
similar to Maori tattoos. His face looked like a miniature golf course
speckled with water traps.
Gripping the steering wheel were two long tentacles that subdivided into
double sets of smaller tentacles that subdivided still a third time. As
Kerwin stared goggle-eyed at these limbs, the smallest tentacles shrank and
disappeared only to reappear at regular intervals, like sea anemones at a
bridge party.
The only thing that hadn't changed besides his attire was Rail's voice.
"You see, the confusion arises from the fact that I can have as many digits as
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I want. Extending and withdrawing them is a nervous reaction among the
Prufillia, much as your terrestrial felines extend and retract their claws
ac-cording to their moods. When I'm especially uneasy it becomes particularly
difficult for me to control my pat-terns, hence the additional digits you
noticed back in your recreation center. Sometimes even the camouflage field
can't cover everything. You were most very observant."
"Good study habits," said Seeth.
"Big deal." Miranda was slipping her right arm into the sleeve of her blouse.
"An alien."
Kerwin chose his next words carefully. "You don't find it somewhat unusual
to be fleeing from a couple of homici-dal, maybe not-human police in a
borrowed van that's being driven up into the mountains by someone not of this
world?"
"Look, Keith, I mean, I've been around, you know?"
"Kerwin," he corrected her absently. It was apparent that Miranda didn't have
much of a memory for names.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Like, if you think he's funny looking you should see
some of the losers I've been out with. I mean, sometimes I think half the men
at school are majoring in post-doctorate dorkism." She glanced toward the rear
of the van. "Present company excepted of course, Brick."
"Brock, it's Brock, dammit! Where the hell's my belt?"
"That's more like it," said Seeth. "Belts I can get into."
"That's good. That's real good. Because as soon as I find mine I'm going
to ow!"
The van slammed through another pothole. The forestry road wasn't exactly the
Interstate and the unfortunate owner of the van was thrown sideways into a
wall.
Kerwin was still staring in wonder at Miranda. "Amaz-ing. Simply amazing.
No surprise, no shock, no fear."
"Why should there be? Hey, I go to the movies. So he's an alien. So, like,
none of us is perfect. What are you, prejudiced or something?" She eyed their
driver thought-fully. "So maybe he's not a real good looking alien..."
"How would you know?" Rail sounded a bit miffed.
"Yeah, right. Hey, nothing personal like, you know? It's been a weird night
for me."
Seeth was inspecting Rail's true appearance. "Actually, man, I think that
haircut's far out. Who mows your fuzz?"
"I primp myself, thank you. When I have the time and when I'm not operating
under the restraints of a camou-flage field."
"That the little bugger that makes you look human?" Seeth nodded toward the
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