A/N If you haven't read Men from Earth this will seem highly random. John Oldman is the main character in Jerome Bixby's the Man from Earth. He's an immortal man born in prehistory.
The sun shone down with clean sterilizing heat, bright light banishing all but the hardiest life to the shadows of the land until the sun had finished her reign and turned toward the horizon for evening.
John watched the familiar arc out of the corner of his eye. His main focus was on a small lizard sheltering from the killing rays within a few feet of his temporary home. He carefully shifted his weight and paused, waiting for the lizard to react. It remained passive and still. Again John moved forward and the lizard failed to react.
John had two options, he could lunge forward and capture the lizard with his bare hands risking a scratch or bite, or he could use the knife secured at his hip to skewer the little animal. Going for the knife would take longer and cause more noise.
As he crouched considering his options an alien noise drifted over the sun battered landscape. Past a clump of battered twisted evergreens, into the basin where John's shelter stood, echoing off the surly hills ringing the basin and beyond.
It was an engine. John's dark eyes flickered toward the sun calculating the time of day with minimal effort. He sighed and returned his attention to the lizard. He could abandon his hunt and make his way to the edge of the basin where the only decent lay or he could capture dinner and ignore the interloper.
For years John had come to this patch of desert on the U.S. where he would meet a friend, share a bottle and some memories then go on with his life. For the past four years the friend had not shone. He knew in his quiet center self that his friend was either dead or profoundly incapacitated, for all of his wanderlust he had never missed this rendezvous, been a few days later certainly but never failed to show.
He had decided this would be his last visit, he would wait as long as he could justify and then he would return to his life and grieve for his friend. He was running low on supplies and would have to admit defeat in the next 72 hours or so.
The lizard, alerted by some unnoticed sound or simply tired of its hiding place scuttled away from John and out of sight. John frowned and rose from his crouch. Decision made for him he packed up what little gear he had unpacked the night before, shouldered his small pack and moved into the desert.
Over the years he had learned the sounds and tricks of the basin. He knew that hearing a vehicle meant he still had a good forty minutes before he would see it and another ten or fifteen minutes to intercept it.
He was curious and the road was where he had left his vehicle anyway. As he swept his gaze around his camp he said a silent goodbye, both to it and his friend. When he left he moved almost soundlessly across the sand and rocks, his movements were lithe and confident.
Somewhere in the wide hot country ahead his partner, a patient and brilliant woman was waiting for him. Tending a home and a life of her own, content to let him into and out of her life as needed. He couldn't settle for long, a decade perhaps. He had warned her, she had understood, and loved him anyway. Everytime he came home to her he let her know she was free to leave, to love another, to move on. Still, she never did.
He would go to his vehicle, perhaps intercept the stranger, and in the end return to Sandy.
Twenty minutes later he was in sight of his truck. The road ahead was still empty, the low insistent buzzing rumble of the invading vehicle was still present in the still sun baked air. He had time.
Slowing his pace and checking the sun again he conserved his energy, picked his way up the side of the basin using known paths and strong handholds. He crested and roeriented on his vehicle, now a few hundred yards to his right.
He thought of Sandy's laugh suddenly, it was a dancing rippling thing. Like a bird flying a coop after a long and deadly storm. It was her laugh that had drawn him initially.
John adjusted the pack, listened for the sound of the engine over his heartbeat and started walking once again. He reached his truck and took his time putting his pack and supplies away. It didn't take long even so. He spotted the invading vehicle as he finished stowing his things.
A red sedan, one of the dozens of nondescript jellybean cars that had ushered in the end of the 20th century. It was far enough away that John was fairly certain the driver would blast past John and his truck without noticing them.
To his surprise the sedan began to slow as it drew closer to John's patch of the road. He had parked his truck about a hundred feet from the edge of the road as he always had. Close enough to walk for help but far enough away to avoid meddling.
As he watched the sedan slowed further, pulled to the side of the road near him, and finally stopped. As he watched a young woman emerged and stretched her back. She looked to be in her twenties, on the short side of average. She was noticeably muscular and on the short side of average, short hair framed a fairly attractive if forgettable face. As he moved closer to her he caught sight of her green eyes, they were startling, almost cartoonish in her deeply tanned faced.
"Lost?" He asked not stirring from his truck.
"I hope not." She said and started to walk toward him. She wore hiking boots, jeans, a light flannel shirt tied around her waist and a dark gray tank top.
John tensed slightly, an unconscious response to a potentially threat. His pulse remained steady, his hands dry and relaxed.
As she drew closer he thought he recognized what she was. A being like his missing friend. It was her eyes, somehow older than the rest of her and sad.
"My name is Max, I hope yours is John." She said stopping almost exactly between her car and his truck.
"It is." He agreed.
"I have bad news for you, it's late and you've probably guessed it but...well, here I am." She sighed.
He nodded slowly and glanced at the sun again.
"Follow me to town first?" He asked. Town, that was where Sandy would be, Sandy and a stiff drink but mostly Sandy.
She looked at him speculatively. He wondered what she saw, what she knew. Finally she nodded and turned on her heel with military precision. He watched her return to her car, get in, start it and wait. Smiling very very slightly he got into his truck and started it. As it idled and recovered from its long vacation he wondered who she was, who she had been to his friend and what she might know about John. Finally, unable to delay departure further without making it clear that it was a delay he pulled onto the road.
He reached into the glovebox and retrieved his cellphone. It was a primitive thing by most standards, one step up from a smartphone. He dialed a number from memory and held it to his ear. As he waited for someone to answer he checked on Max in his rearview mirror.
She was following easily, not that there many opportunities to get lost on the straight desert road.
"Hey." Sandy said warmly.
"I'm coming home."
"What happened?" Her easy familiarity, intimacy with him was so strange and new to him. He had enjoyed the company of hundreds of partners in his long past but none had been with him for as long as her, as close to him, as exposed to his secrets.
"He didn't show but someone else did...I think she's a friend of his. We're coming home now."
"Good, I've missed you."
He smiled and hung up. They never said goodbye, never said I love you. Once she had asked him if he could still fall in love. Sadly but honestly he had simply said, 'I've gotten over it too many times."
She had never pushed him on it. She loved him, they both knew that very well but he never lied to her and claiming to love her would be a lie. The love he held for her was not what she held for him. The two were so different as to be alien to each other.
Max stayed close without tailgating as they entered town an hour later. He thought about getting a beer at the only bar in town and hashing it out there. Some part of him was still holding onto the silence of the basin and the thought of breakig it by entering a crowded sweaty bar revolted him.
They reached his home, Sandy's home less than ten minutes after arriving in town. He parked carefully and did a mental inventory of his gear in the truck. He decided none of it was irreplaceable. So he exited the truck and waited for Max.
She parked on the opposite side of the street, got out, stretched and carefully approached him. He was significantly taller than her but presented no threat.
"You knew him?"
"He saved my life more than once." She said. He nodded.
"This is my home Sandy, she knows about him and me."
"I didn't feel you."
"Think of your kind as whiskey and my kind as vodka, same basic effect different recipe."
She didn't comment on that. He grunted and lead the way to Sandy's home. it was a simple ranch style building with aluminum siding and minimal landscaping. The exception being a greenhouse tucked into the shade at the back of the house. There, John knew, she grew tomatoes and other vegetables even a few herbs.
Sandy met them at the door. She was quiet and observant by nature though when she spoke up it was with conviction and ferocity. He kissed her warm and deep, grateful for her presence and loyalty. She returned the embrace, silently studying his face as he finally broke away. He welcomed her gaze on him as he turned to Max.
"This is Max." He said.
"Welcome to our home, you must be ravenous and parched. John why don't you get some beer from the refrigerator?" Sandy suggested.
Max remained silent, watching their interplay with a passive expression. John pulled two cans of beer from the refrigerator and lead Max through the house and out back to a paved patio area. The sun was starting to set.
Silently John sat at one a quartet of carved wooden chairs arranged around a steel brazier. She sat next to him in a similar chair and accepted the cold can from him.
"How did you find me?"
She opened her beer and took a deep draft before answering.
"He was clever. He left...timebombs. One of them went off a few weeks ago. So now I'm here."
"Timebombs?"
"Letters mostly, some photos. He went around the world paying expensive lawyers to hold letters and other documents for him in trust. If a certain amount of time passed with no communication the paperwork was mailed."
"Efficient." John said and sipped his beer.
"Not really, but it was secure and it worked." She sighed and leaned into the chair.
"Did you know him long?"
"He saved my life, taught me what I was … made sure I was worth a damn." She sipped more beer.
"How did it happen?"
"Ironically that's classified."
John laughed and shook his head.
"Really it is. Look, he died...he died doing hat he thought was best, I swear. It wasn't...it wasn't by a sword...one day I'll tell you everything I just can't right now." Her voice caught on the word can't, she drank more beer and fell silent.
"His letter, what did it say?"
"That I was to come to a set of GPS coordinates at this tie of year and wait for a certain man. He included a sketch of you, not a bad likeness."
"That was all?"
"He also said that...that you were very very old but not immortal."
John nodded and finished his beer.
Sandy arrived with more beer, she took the free chair on John's opposite side. Max accepted another can when John offered it.
"It was his choice? He died well?"
"There's no dying well, there's dead and not dead. It was his choice...I tried to stop him, I was too late."
"When?" John asked as the trio fell into silence. The sun was half gone now, on the opposite side of the sky John could see stars.
"Almost five years ago."
John was quiet then, it was Sandy who broke the silence.
"What about his woman?" The archaic phrasing coming from a modern educated woman threw Max.
"Emily is...she's dealing. She's tough."
"You were there when it happened? You're certain he's gone?" John asked.
"Yes, I'm positive."
"It seems impossible."
"Just like us." She said softly.
"What did his letter say?"
"I only followed the instructions, this is for you." She said and pulled a battered envelop out of her back pocket.
He accepted it and studied it for a few moments.
"I should go." Max said finishing her beer.
John watched her as she rose and said farewell to Sandy. Sandy, to her credit was quietly observant, sensing that this was a part of John's life that she had visited but never really been invited to join.
As Sandy walked Max to their door John joined them. Sandy smiled knowingly and returned to her work leaving Max and John alone.
"Who did it?"
She looked up at him, green eyes black in the dim evening light and shook her head ever so slightly.
"No one did. I was there….believe me the only one to blame was him."
"Suicide?"
"No." She said emphatically and reached for the door.
"Wait." He said softly. She paused and watched him as he regarded the envelope again. He looked up at her, expression calm then opened the envelope.
Inside was a neatly folded slip of heavy parchment paper. John unfolded it and glanced at Max for a heartbeat then quietly read the letter. He frowned and handed it to her.
Two words were written in a familiar scrawl, I'm sorry.
She handed it back to him wordlessly.
"Did he…" John seemed to flounder for the right words.
"There was no letter for me." She said softly and put a hand on John's shoulder.
"Maybe he knew you wouldn't need one." He suggested.
"Oh I don't know, I think he got a kick out of the idea of me running his errands while he was cold and dead. He had a twisted sense of humor." She said with faint smile.
"Take care of yourself." He said as he opened the door for her.
"How old are you?" She asked as she stepped out and untied her flannel shirt and slipped it on. With the setting sun the desert air had grown frozen teeth.
"Fourteen thousand years, I think."
She smiled, then grinned and shoved her hands into her hip pockets.
"That's funny?"
"With lives like ours it's nice to be pleasantly surprised from time to time. Thanks for the beer John Oldman." He listened to her steps in the gravel driveway after the darkness of the desert night swallowed her, heard the car door open and close and the engine catch before he went inside.