Page 61 of Galaxy Games Four-Book Box Set (Galaxy Games)

61

We’re Screwed

S adie

I ease onto the limb, glad to have Twelve’s large hands on me as he helps me down. I’m shaking in fright. That was harrowing.

I’ve never been good at giving up control. I like to be in charge, what can I say? My boyfriend in high school had a motorcycle. I loved being on it, but hated riding behind him. I wanted my own hands on the handlebars. After riding with him twice, I dipped into my babysitting money and bought my own used 250cc Yamaha. Yeah, not a fan of giving up control.

Hanging onto Twelve’s warm, furred body as he leaped through the trees was terrifying. I tried to let go and trust him, but damn, he had my life in his hands.

Right toward the end, though, I allowed myself to enjoy the ride. Feeling his powerful muscles slide under his skin, watching the blur of umber and apricot leaves as we flew by, the feeling of flying—I have to admit that under my terror it was kind of fun. Exhilarating.

“Thanks, Twelve. You got us here in one piece.”

When I look at him, I see the worried look on his face. I follow his gaze and see the obstacles in our way. Three T-Rexes are in a push-and-shove contest over the remains of some food. Dear God, please don’t let it be other contestants, I pray.

A herd of gutsy velociraptors are darting in to snatch edible morsels from between their feet.

I squat on the branch and let out a breath in frustration. We just went hours out of our way and risked our lives flying through the trees only to have our path blocked, possibly by the very same animals we took that detour to avoid. Can’t we catch a break?

“Got any bright ideas?” I ask. “I’m fresh out.”

“Got a laser rifle?” he asks.

“Twelve? Did you just tell a joke? Now? You want to develop a sense of humor right now?”

He looks panicked for a moment, like my scolding words cut him deeper than a T-Rex’s tooth.

“Just joking. I believe it’s called gallows humor.”

We both return to surveying the distance between us and the door to the hotel. I run scenarios through my mind: running around back, running straight through the pack of giant reptiles in a direct route, us flying back through the trees so we can return to our original location and start over. None of those will work. We’ll either get eaten or run out of time. We don’t have the luxury of doubling back on the off chance there are no predators waiting for us there.

“We’re screwed,” I say, fresh out of ideas.

“Intercourse? Here? Now?” he asks with a look and tone of voice that is both shocked and… interested? Obviously, his translator took me literally.

“It’s an Earth expression. It means we’re not going to make it.”

My guts are churning in fear. When I woke up in stasis with real, live aliens barking orders, I never felt this bad. I decided to put one foot in front of the other, hoping somehow things would get better.

Not being appealing enough to be bought at auction? Not my finest hour, but I figured I was still alive, so there was the chance of something good happening.

Now, though? I don’t see a way out of this.

I tip my head back, looking heavenward as if for divine intervention. Are those some kind of electrical lines?

We’re in outer space, and they have rocket ships and laser guns, yet there are electrical lines? Who knows what they are, but there’s a pole behind us with a thick wire running to the edge of the hotel roof.