Page 24

Alexandra

Crossfire

“ H uh?” I’m dumbfounded, witnessing the impossible happen. The red titan—pervy Dracoth—collapses, shaking the very metal ground, proving he is an actual flesh-and-blood person, not some demonic entity spewed forth from the bowels of hell for the sole purpose of tormenting me.

He just does that for kicks.

His annoying, wind tunnel-like breathing fills the silence, creating a shared moment of shock which stretches between Carmen and me.

This whole ordeal has been insane—almost dragged away by even creepier space hobos to be raped.

Now their bodies litter the darkened corridor in a revolting, streaming heap of gore.

I can’t even look; my stomach retches at the acrid stench.

It’s like a horror movie. The only thing missing is acid blood and a handsome space marine to save me.

But, of course, in my bargain-bin movie, the hunky savior is himself a kidnapping, murdering psycho, covered in multicolored alien gore like a macabre mockery of modern art.

And his belt—I struggle not to barf thinking about it—is the product of a very sick, terrifying mind.

But I can’t deny a dark part of me—well, maybe more than a part—enjoyed watching Dracoth tear them to bloody pieces, seeing and hearing their terror, a reflection of the pain they caused me.

Now, that’s what they call karma. Almost like my pent-up rage and despair made manifest. For once, a wish of mine came true.

That’s what they get. That’s what they deserve for daring to hit me, a lady! The fucking assholes!

My hands and teeth clench, my rage simmering. I lash out to kick the horrible, formerly cow-faced Caric once more.

I exhale, exchanging a look with Carmen. The scary woman mirrors my surprise, glancing down at the fallen titan.

“What the hell do we do now?” I ask, glancing around, seeing nothing but stomach-churning gore and darkness leading off in either direction.

Back on Earth, the answer would be obvious—run the hell away and find the nearest cop.

But here, there’s nowhere to run. It would be madness to risk Carmen’s plan, trying to pilot an alien spaceship in the ass end of nowhere.

Just like Michael with the lights off—useless and lost. No, the awful reality is we’re stuck here.

Perversely, our captor is our only chance of survival.

I sigh, looking at the giant, unconscious, pervy bore.

“ Joder , I don’t know,” Carmen says, glancing down the abyssal corridors, probably reaching the same conclusion as me. “Let’s shoot the pendejo .”

Or maybe not.

“Take off his mask so I can shoot him in the face,” Carmen requests, her voice is tinged with panic. She points her weapon at the fallen Dracoth with a steady aim, deadly serious.

She’s just as much a psycho as pervy Dracoth!

“No, fucking way I’m doing that!” I exclaim, glaring at Carmen with disbelief etched on my face. “If we kill him, we’ll be stranded in space or, worse, Demon Egg-Head and the mini-Dracoths will kill us!”

“Demon egg-head?” Carmen glances at me with a frown. “The one from infierno ?” she questions. I nod vigorously in agreement. “Listen, chica , this is a gift, you see. Our chance to escape!” She waves her gun at the pile of mutated corpses. “The giant pendejo is probably already dead.”

She’s wrong—as usual. Dracoth’s annoyingly loud breathing serves as a rhythmic ambiance, and red-green fumes still seep from behind his scary mask.

“Escape to where? Huh?” I demand, moving closer to Dracoth, trying to avoid looking at his disgusting belt of gruesome bone or strips of God knows what alien gore that clings to his armor.

He looks like a murder taco with all the works.

Carmen remains silent as I continue, “Just park the alien spaceship at the nearest black hole and hitch a ride back to New York?”

“ Idiota ,” Carmen snaps, lowering her gun, giving me the tiniest sense of relief. “What are you doing?”

“I’m moving him,” I reply, though the idea is a lot easier than the doing. I grimace, searching for a clean spot to grab the hulking giant from.

That looks like horrible bits of blue brain on his boots!

His knee looks the cleanest. “Eww, eww, eww,” I repeat the useless prayer, trying to ward off the disgusting thoughts. My hands wrap around his thick leg, touching something moist and no doubt atrocious, emitting a sickening squelch. “I’m going to throw up!”

“That’s it, Princesa !” Carmen’s mocking laughter stokes my temper, somehow heightening this atrocity. “Go nice and deep. Get all those guts on you!”

My anger boils over as I glare silver daggers at Carmen. Standing there, making fun of me when this is her fault... pointing her gun at Dracoth in the first place! “Will you fucking help instead of distracting me?”

“Alright,” Carmen says, recoiling with shock. “Our Princesa is touchy,” she tuts, lowering her weapon, moving to clutch Dracoth’s shoulder. I scoff, ignoring her annoying taunts, also trying to ignore the rising stench of death and blood.

Carmen looks absurd as she wrestles her two arms, struggling to encompass Dracoth’s massive armored shoulder.

No way this is going to work.

“Now!” I shout, straining with all my might. My face flushes and my back trembles with effort, but something’s not right. We haven’t even budged him! “He weighs a ton,” I gasp through labored breaths.

Carmen grunts, heaving with jerky, pulling efforts, as she spits a stream of Spanish curses. “More than a ton!” she retorts, also struggling for breath.

I straighten, stretching my aching back and grimacing in disgust. “Eww,” I mutter, noticing my hands and arms are covered in a horrible array of blood and gory bits of flesh or meat or whatever disgusting insides these aliens have.

Scrubbing only makes it worse, leaving gross stains, further ruining my Chanel suit.

Wonderful!

“Why do I even bother?”

I’ll definitely need a shower after this. If this hobo spaceship even has one, assuming it’s not a rag on a stick.

Not only have we failed to lift the titanic perv, but we haven’t even budged him. Not one iota. It’s like he’s become one with the metal floor.

“Screw this,” I announce, giving up the pointless effort.

“Any more ideas, genio ?” Carmen asks, frowning. I’m not sure what ‘ genio’ means, but knowing her, I’m sure it isn’t anything complementary. But what the hell do we do now?

I notice one of my boobs is almost exposed, spilling from the front of my Chanel suit, and the cold air is raising goosebumps on my exposed thighs and lower backside. Dracoth’s pervy doing. Maybe Carmen’s right. Maybe we should shoot him and run.

The bitter notion passes. Saving Dracoth is the smart play. He did save us after all... right?

“We need to get help. But I can’t see anything down these corridors.” I say, with a hand over my eyes, straining to pierce the darkness that seems to stretch on forever.

“ Sí , I still have this,” Carmen declares, withdrawing Kazumi’s mobile. She activates the flashlight mode, the shocking contrast with the darkness blinding me. “Wait here, Princesa ,” she commands, dashing down the gore-riddled corridor, rudely not waiting for my reply.

The cheek!

I watch her leave, taking the precious light with her, trepidation gnawing at me, being left alone in this scary dark ship. Fuck, I never thought I’d miss Carmen, of all people. She’s like a stinky old sock with holes I can’t shake off.

“Not like I can go anywhere!” I yell after the retreating woman.

An eerie silence settles as her footsteps fade into the distance, leaving only the wind tunnel-like breathing of Dracoth. Oddly soothing, even if the big idiot chose now of all times for a nap. At least he’s still alive.

My heart races. Every creak of metal, every slightest sound, sends my nerves into high alert.

Wild thoughts of more aliens arriving to drag me away send my pulse soaring.

If I wasn’t dressed like a bargain-bin sex worker, maybe I could hide among the dead?

God, I really need new clothes, new everything.

Glancing at the surrounding gruesome gore sends a shudder through me, dispelling the morbid idea.

With nothing better to do, I explore a little further down the corridor, making sure not to leave the dim azure glow of the alien wrist devices far behind.

I’m rewarded for my efforts, finding a large rectangular window.

I rush over, excitement driving me forward.

The expanse of space looms large and dark, stars shimmering like diamonds against the velvety darkness, and swirling red and blue nebulas undulate, glowing in the distance with ethereal beauty.

I was never one of those nerdy types that liked space or those boring sci-fi shows or whatever, but I can’t deny—this is breathtaking.

Our ship, surprisingly, isn’t a filthy white trailer but more of a filthy flattened black metal garbage can.

I spot numerous smaller vessels swarming like insects.

They appear small—at least compared to this ship.

Maybe Dracoth isn’t so poor after all? An intriguing and exciting thought.

These other ships are of various designs: some blocky black metal, others sleek, gleaming in white, and some are just bizarre, resembling bloated insects, puke-green with tendrils and serrated appendages, fluttering in space.

Gross.

Some of the smaller ships appear latched onto ours, like horrible ticks clamping onto our skin, seeking our blood.

Movement catches my attention. One of the ships—a gross green one—maneuvers, like a massive languid whale, banking to its right, away from our vessel. Strange green wavelike pulses ripple from numerous small orifices dotted along its bloated length.

Our ship shudders suddenly, shaking the ground beneath my feet, followed by a deafening thud. Before I can even react, two dazzling bolts streak forward, cutting through the void like the cresting waves of a brilliant azure sea against the stark blackness.