Page 18

Alexandra

Escape?

M y stomach sinks deeper than my bank balance after a shopping spree, and my heart hammers in my chest as I anticipate the source of the approaching footsteps.

The oppressive darkness only amplifies my dread.

Instinctively, I inch closer to Carmen—whether for the light or her fierce attitude, I can’t say.

“Maybe it’s just the mini-Dracoths again?” I murmur, more to soothe myself than the others. Yeah, that must be it. They’re probably just passing by, ignoring us again, no doubt.

“Shush!” Carmen whispers, somehow still able to make it seem like a cutting rebuke. She mutters more curses as she approaches the cell bars. I mourn the loss of the light but refuse to follow. Carmen can handle whatever’s coming while I hide in the corner—she knows Kung Fu after all.

The footsteps grow louder, but something’s off.

They’re lighter than the mini-Dracoths’ and far more numerous.

I swallow the lump in my throat and tug down the inadequate scrap of fabric that dares to call itself a skirt.

Pervy Dracoth has me dressed like a Chanel-sponsored sex worker and God knows what’s heading our way.

At least it’s dark.

Suddenly, blinding blue lights flood the corridor, growing brighter with each frantic heartbeat.

Wonderful!

Carmen glances to the right, straining to see... something.

“ Joder !” she cries, recoiling from the bars, her reaction sending my pulse skyrocketing. She fumbles desperately with the cell, her fingers shaking as she works the screen until the torch blinks out. But it’s too late.

They’re here.

The glowing blue reveals a gang of even poorer-looking aliens than our captors.

I gasp, studying the bizarre assortment—each one stranger than the last. Some have pale, scaly skin with wicked pointed spikes on their heads.

Others are furred with muzzled faces, sneering at us with predatory eyes.

The larger ones have snouts and tusks jutting from their mouths.

But the worst are the creepy, bug-like creatures, their eyes and antennae darting between us like they’re deciding what dessert to order at a restaurant.

They’re armed with menacing weapons—guns, I think, but they are weird shapes and colors.

Some of the larger aliens wield bladed weapons, thick slabs of serrated, sharpened metal that seem torn from a scrap heap.

Their dirty faces and ragged clothes make me shudder.

Why are all the aliens so poor and unkempt?

Where are all the rich aliens? If our captors are space hillbillies, these guys are space hobos.

I notice many of them wearing the same emblem on their tattered clothes.

It’s hard to make out in the harsh blue light from their wrist devices.

But it looks like a laughing alien female, clutching a swaddled alien baby.

The image is strange, creepy—just like these intruders who fill me with a deep, gnawing sense of dread.

“Jackpot!” declares the scariest one of all, his deep, booming voice reverberating through the cell.

A hulking figure with rows of razor-sharp teeth embedded in a bestial face and a large horn protruding from his head like a rhino.

He leers at us, excitement obvious despite his alien features.

“See Jacyasi? Told you this ship wasn’t abandoned,” he adds, stroking his monstrous pointed jaw with a huge, clawed hand.

If I could sink further into the corner, I would. These guys send shivers of terror through me—not just because of their alienness, but the openly predatory way their beady eyes size us up. I shrink under their leering gazes, suddenly feeling very exposed and underdressed.

“Are you space police?” Sandra mutters, her voice tinged with na?ve hopefulness.

I’ll eat my Chanel if these guys are any kind of police—more likely they’re enforcers of some space hobo gang.

The idea of being whisked away by handsome, gleaming alien police from all this terror and. .. poorness is a wonderful fantasy.

“Jacyasi, get these bars open!” the horned one commands, gesturing towards one of the creepy bug-like aliens.

It scuttles closer, its limbs a nightmarish combination of elongated fingers and serrated mantis-like blades.

I could barf, watching it approach our cell—now a protective barrier separating us from the true horror on the other side.

The bug alien directs a glowing blue device towards the bars, its hands darting over a holographic console, like a skittering insect.

“Yes, boss,” Jacyasi replies, his voice tinged with utter confidence that only heightens my terror.

“Not... police,” the monstrous horned one repeats, lingering on the word as if it’s as foreign to him as he is to us.

He turns his attention to Sandra with a smirk, his broad mouth curling in a way that splits his entire face.

“What species are you? I’ve never seen such.

.. soft females before.” He chuckles, a sound soon echoed by his ogling followings.

“Humans, hijo de puta ,” Carmen spits on the ground. I suppress a groan, wondering if she’s just blown any slim chance of friendly first-contact. But one look at their greedy eyes and menacing weapons tells me it was always a foolish hope.

The horned one’s smirk deepens, his beady yellow eyes narrowing ominously. “Now, now. That’s no way for a pleasure house whore to behave.” His words freeze my blood. This can’t be happening. How can things keep getting worse? Haven’t I already plunged to the depths of awfulness?

Kazumi bursts into racking sobs, her cries only fueling the excited laughter of these horrible alien intruders.

Carmen’s hands curl into tight fists as she spits more useless curses, while I shake my head in frantic disbelief.

This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?

Any minute now, a camera crew will burst in and explain I’m on some twisted reality show.

I’ll be pissed, sure, but it could be funny when the big reveal happens.

“Exotic beauties, all lined up for us,” chimes in a brown-furred, muzzled alien as he presses against the bars, making me feel like an exhibit at the zoo. “Must be our lucky day!” he exclaims, drawing more jeering laughter from the others.

A large black-and-white mottled alien with massive tusks glares at me, his dark eyes traveling the length of my body.

It’s a look I’ve seen before, usually from drunk, horny guys at nightclubs.

But this is way worse—it makes my skin crawl.

I scramble to cover myself, hating Dracoth for these lewd alterations to my clothes.

Where the fuck is the giant bore? Shouldn’t he be protecting us? This is all his fault!

“The fat blonde one makes my cock hard,” the horrible beast declares, sending a shudder of disgust and rage through me.

“Who are you calling fat? You ugly, sneering alien cow!” The words burst out of me, my anger flaring so hot it tinges my vision red.

I storm up to the bars, glaring at him in defiance. But the sneering aliens only jeer louder. “You’ve got your hands full now, Caric!” one of them shouts, prompting more laughter.

They think this is all some sick game, but I’m not playing. “I’ll turn you into hamburger meat if you fucking try anything!” I roar, locking eyes with the brutish, tusked alien.

He smirks, his tongue licking at his thick lips. “I do enjoy mating the feisty ones. Their wiggling makes it fun,” he sneers, his thick fingers tightening on the handle of his serrated blade.

“Break them in, but keep them pretty. We’ll make a fortune selling them to an exotic pleasure house,” the horned one commands, filling me with dread that almost snuffs out my seething anger.

My heart hammers in my chest as the cell doors come crashing down—our last line of defense washing away the remnants of my rage in a flood of icy terror.

“ Princesa ,” Carmen whispers frantically, clutching my arm. “Help me get a gun.” I barely register her words, shock holding me captive as the gang of numerous aliens pours into our cell, eager to claim their prize—us.

One of the creepy bug aliens skitters toward Carmen, its limbs reaching out. She screams obscenities, throwing a punch that lands square on the alien’s elongated, narrow head, sending it sprawling to the ground.

Carmen pounces on the fallen alien, desperately trying to wrest its gun away.

“Now, Princesa !” she shouts. But I remain frozen, paralyzed by fear. What the hell can I do against so many terrifying aliens?

“She’s the feisty one!” The horned alien laughs cruelly, delivering a sickening kick into the midriff of the prone Carmen.

She crumples, spluttering and clutching her ribs in agony.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Kazumi, moving like a ghost along the edge of the cell, almost invisible avoiding the blue wrist lights.

The larger aliens haul Carmen to her feet with rough, merciless hands. She gasps for air, her lungs rasping, yet she still struggles to break free, cursing and thrashing like a wild animal. They wrestle her into submission, binding her hands with a wicked length of wire.

“A good, hard mating is what this one needs,” one of the horrible spikey aliens states triumphantly, now that Carmen is restrained.

The horned alien turns his attention to Sandra, approaching with outstretched, clawed hands—a mockery of gentleness.

“Oh, what a beauty,” he says with a sick sort of wonder. Sandra curls into a fetal position, trying to disappear into the cold, unforgiving metal walls. “Have you ever seen fur this color?” he marvels, running his grotesque claws through her ginger hair, his voice tinged with twisted admiration.

Poor Sandra’s hair is like crack to these pervy aliens, and she sobs at his touch, rocking back and forth in terror.