The Jumper (SF Mystery)

The Jumper 17: Stranger in a Strange Land

Not now," she said. "Then, it was common practice. Saved money on food, and labor shoveling out their cells. Just toss the bodies into the public grave once a month. Much easier than feeding them." She shuddered again.

"When was that?" he whispered, convinced by the horror on her face.

"That was, let's see, in the year of our Lord, thirteen hundred and three."

His eyes bugged. "Mr. Crane was over seven hundred years old?"

"That's right."

"Bull."

She shrugged. "It's true, Jeff. In sixty thousand years, I've taken something like one hundred and seventy bodies. That averages to something like three hundred and fifty years each. Most of them lasted nine hundred to a thousand years, but Crane started late, and his body had already had a lot of wear. He deteriorated so rapidly, at the end, I barely had time to arrange the transfer. I didn't allow for changes in police methods until the very end. Obviously, I blew it."

Jeff frowned, trying to think. "I don't think those numbers add up."

She smiled. "I know. In the early days, I jumped a lot. The first person to find me, after my crash, was a curious and brave young hunter. I was very lucky he wasn't with some tribal groups, or I would have been buried alive. I was dying, and took him just outside my ship, but I think the transition probably took me close to a month, before I fully assimilated his body.

"After that, it was easier, but I didn't know customs, language, or even foods, until I learned to accept the human side of myself. I came close to dying fifty or more times, before I developed a stable pattern, and learned how to maintain my youth. It was a very long time before I learned how to fully assimilate the spirit of the body I took."

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