Free Alien Taste by Wen Spencer Page A

up here for days after they brought Cally home from thehospital. His first conversation with Max had taken place here.
    He stretched out on the worn boards, still slightly warm from the sun. He was never sure why the tree made him feel so safe. It was something inside him buried too deep to touch. Maybe it was open sky, removed from all the chaos and noise of civilized life.
    There was something digging in his side. He reached into his pocket and found the ballpoint pen thing from Schenley Park. He scowled at it. What was this? Was it of any importance at all? Too many mysteries had been dropped on him today. This one he didn’t care about. He slipped it into his stash hole for safekeeping, then rolled over onto his back to stare up through the branches at the night sky.
    The stars filled the sky; Mars glittered like a bright star. The night insects were deafening, and Ukiah could only think of Haze, her eyes wild, shouting about them. Why had Rennie Shaw said Ukiah was one of them? How could he have anything in common with a man like that? Yet few people in Pittsburgh—in Pennsylvania—recognized Ukiah’s name as the name of a place. “Ukiah,” they would say, “is that a family name?”
    The kitchen screen door squeaked open, banged shut. Minutes later Mom Jo came up the ladder. She paused on the top rung to peer over the edge at him.
    â€œYou mind company?”
    Ukiah patted the board beside him, and she climbed up the rest of the way.
    â€œMars is bright tonight.” He pointed out the planet.
    She nodded, her chin eclipsing the constellation Cassiopeia from his sight as she did. “Lara can’t take her eyes off the news cast.” She suddenly pointedoff to the far eastern horizon. “Shooting star, make a wish.”
    I want to know who I am. The sudden, clear desire went through him as painfully as the sword cut. He shuddered from the thrust, and Mom Jo reached out to smooth his hair.
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œMom, tell me again about how you found me.”
    She sat silent in the darkness, only her scent marking her as his mom. What had his real mother been like? “I was a grad student.” She started at the same point she always did. “A wolf pack had been sighted in Oregon’s Umatilla National Park, the first time in almost sixty years. I jumped at the chance to do my thesis work on them. When I arrived, I discovered their situation was desperate. It had been a hard winter. The park’s elk herds were overcrowded and starving. Due to the deep snow, snowmobile trails proved to be the easiest paths for the elk to follow. The trails lead down into cattle and sheep country. Where the elk went, the wolves followed.”
    The familiar tale was normally comforting in its cadences. This time he waited impatiently for new information, something to shed light on who he was.
    â€œThe Oregon wildlife department was using humane cages to try to capture straying wolves and relocate them. My job was to monitor the cages, checking each day to see if any wolves had been captured. One day I went and found a boy inside the cage, growling with wild eyes and chewing on the bait like he hadn’t eaten in weeks—”
    â€œNo,” he interrupted her. “Not the way you usually do. Tell me as an adult.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He shrugged. “I know you don’t trust the government, but why didn’t you tell someone that youfound me? Didn’t you wonder if someone was looking for me?”
    She thought about that, stroking his hair. “Well, I guess, I didn’t tell anyone because I was young and arrogant. I never questioned that I could civilize you, that me adopting you was the best thing for you, and that I could give you everything you would ever need. Part of it was, back then, it wasn’t possible for Lara and me to have our own children, and it was unlikely that the state would let two women adopt. Deny something