Page 30

Alexandra

Contemplation

W ho does he think he is? That big red asshole! I seethe with rage beneath the furs, practically vibrating, sitting cross-legged upon the cold metal floor of our cell.

“Speak less.” Dracoth’s words echo through my mind, in his big, dumb voice.

Where does he get off telling me how to behave, or what to say?

Isn’t it enough that he has me locked in this shitty prison cell, but now I’m not even supposed to speak?

Well, fuck that! He’s taken everything else from me, but he’ll not take my voice.

Prison cell. I scoff at the thought, scanning the area, seeing nothing but black metal walls and thick bars, and dim purple lights like a tacky restaurant.

Not to mention the hole in the ground that’s a disgraceful indignity.

All we have are soft furs for comfort and the riveting conversations.

I glance sourly at the almost mute, spaced-out Kazumi, and the pacing Carmen with her fiery mumbling.

Yep, I’d have been better off robbing a bank—my father’s bank. The prick—and getting thrown into Rikers. At least there I would have an actual bed, a toilet that’s not a replica of a medieval dungeon. A book or some screen time—anything, for God’s sake!

And worst of all, I can’t stop thinking about Dracoth.

It’s driving me mad! Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome, or maybe I’m just losing it.

The giant alien is a challenge, like trying to squeeze money from my tightfisted mother.

One minute he’s all, “Yes. No. No talking. I’m a big scary bore.

” Then next, he’s drooling over my boobs and ass like some horny frat boy who’s never seen a woman before.

What’s his deal? Didn’t he abduct us for some pervy reason in the first place?

“You who have done nothing. Earned nothing!” More of Dracoth’s infuriating words replay in my mind, consuming my thoughts.

What does he expect us to do? Rot away in this prison, while he comes to bore us to death occasionally?

Throwing those horrible rubbery, inedible bricks at us like we’re clapping monkeys at a zoo?

The chill from the metal floor bites through the furs I’ve wrapped around myself. Maybe Carmen has the right idea, pacing like she’s training for an Olympic gold—if murderous scowls were a category.

I could scream. These are supposed to be the best years of my life, and here I am, locked in a dark prison cell.

I should be living it up on a beautiful golden beach, sipping chocolate mochas, working on my tan.

But instead, the yawning void within my heart threatens to pull me into its soothing despair.

Familiar, comforting, and terrible, it beckons.

But I force it away, remembering my plan.

The plan to seduce Dracoth. Though it looks as likely as earning my father’s love now.

Why do they always hate me? My stomach sinks, I know Dracoth’s with Sandra—the blatant favoritism clenches my teeth.

It’s like I’m back in boarding school again, being overlooked by the teachers because they had it in for me.

My mind races with what they possibly could be doing, each a pin in my fragile balloon of hope. Why did he take her? What are they doing? Does he like her? Are they screwing right now? Ahh ! This is driving me crazy and there’s nothing I can do but sit here and wait.

I see the way Sandra looks at him—like some starstruck fangirl eyeing her favorite movie star.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Big Scary Red Alien Man. Let’s sneak off and screw in the corner.

” Please. She plays the good-girl act well.

I’ll give her that. But I see through it.

She knows what I know: pleasing Dracoth is the best way to survive, maybe even thrive in this—whatever the hell this twisted situation is.

Most would give up, but not me. Not Lexie Turner.

I’m made of sterner stuff. After all, a lady like me must demonstrate superior qualities.

Kazumi interrupts my thoughts, creeping toward the cell bars like a shadow, quiet as a whisper. But there are no secrets here—not one. With our shared toilet and open cell—the concept of privacy has long gone.

The Japanese woman is an enigma. She says almost nothing, gives nothing away as she observes quietly. Maybe she’s the smart one, staying hidden, getting lost and forgotten. Or will she be viewed as useless and thrown away... or worse, sold to horrible aliens like the ones who attacked us.

She plays a risky game. Like us all.

Kazumi peers at the bent and contorted bars, running her hand along the metal. Dracoth’s doing when he went into a fury. It looked like he barely touched them, but the freak was actually crushing them. I frown, remembering his terrifying rage. The most words he’s ever spoken, I bet.

Perhaps that’s the key? Stoking his rage? A very dangerous game...

“He is so strong,” Kazumi states the obvious in her heavy accent.

She grips the bars and strains against them with all her might, of course having no effect.

Maybe she’s not as sharp as I thought, especially when Dracoth’s built like a house.

.. if that house was covered in layers of pulsating veins and bulging muscles.

What he did to those horrible aliens... the stuff of nightmares and wonderful dreams.

“Yep,” I confirm, my tone dripping with disinterest. “He’s a big guy.” A big perv, more like.

“How strong?” Kazumi mutters more to herself, “Carbon steel, resist hundred thousand psi pressure,” she muses, moving closer to the bars, giving them a quick lick.

“ Eww !” I cringe, my face morphing with disgust. “You don’t know who or what has touched those? There could be diseases on them!” I could barf. It’s not the first time she’s done something like this, putting stuff in her mouth like some weird gremlin.

Kazumi smacks her lips, her face tightening into a thoughtful expression. “Taste is different, not steel,” she announces after a moment.

“You can taste steel?” I ask, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Has Kazumi’s mind finally snapped after witnessing Dracoth’s brutal slaughtering? My eyes dart to Carmen, perplexed, curious to see her reaction, but she just looks on, her face unreadable.

“My taste very good,” Kazumi nods her head, apparently not crazy. Just very, very strange.

I frown “Um... well, that’s good to know—”

“The aliens must use a superior alloy,” Carmen interjects, marching to stand beside Kazumi, running her hands over the black metal. “Explains why, when I shot the pendejo , it didn’t even slow him down,” she muses with a downcast frown.

“Who? Demon Egg-Head?” I ask, not sure what happened when Carmen opened fire on the creepy Ignition guy—I was too busy running for my life. Not that it got me very far.

Carmen shakes her head. “No, the big pendejo , Dracoth. I shot him in Colombia.” Her gaze grows distant, her hands tightening. “My whole crew unloaded clip after clip into him... and we couldn’t stop him.”

Images of Dracoth charging through the ship’s corridor replay in my mind: his eyes leaking plumes of crimson behind his terrifying mask; the blue energy shield deflecting bullets and strange green blasts.

It was crazy, like an insane light show—until he smashed into them like a giant, red bowling ball of destruction.

That’s when the real horror started. Dracoth is unstoppable.

Well, except when he sleeps on the job. Probably recharging his boredom generator.

“I think he killed them... the hijo de puta !” Carmen spits onto the floor, filling me with instant revulsion.

“For fuck’s sake, Carmen, will you stop doing that?” I shout, waving my hands in exasperation. “You know we’re the ones who have to sleep here, right? Like this place isn’t gross enough without rolling on your spit.”

“ Perdón ,” Carmen mutters absently, scrubbing the glob of phlegm with her foot. Yeah, that’ll fix it! God, get me out of this hell-hole!

I exhale deeply, struggling to rise above the indignity and simmering frustration. “Your friends are probably fine,” I offer, nodding towards Carmen. “I mean, we’re still alive, right? Which proves they can use stun or something.” Those claws though... I shudder.

“ Si, si ,” Carmen nods in thought. “I hope so. They were a tough bunch of cabrones . The best.”

It’s strange hearing Carmen talk about something other than revenge, or escape plans. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Did you work for the cartels?”

Carmen scoffs, her expression sharp. “What, because I speak Spanish, you think I’m a criminal?” She gives me a withering look. Well, excuse me for bloody asking! Typical, you try to be nice and she jumps down your throat.

“Well, you did mention crew,” I mumble defensively, leaving out the part about her being a violent maniac with bullet scars, getting us all shot—those minor details.

“I work for private security,” Carmen says, her face twisting like she might spit again. “We fought the cartels, bunch of maricas .”

Looking at her now, it’s hard to reconcile her pretty face with the violence she’s seen. It makes me uncomfortable, highlighting the relative comfort of my own life. But I bet she had family and friends who care about her—no one cared about me.

I turn to Kazumi, desperate to escape the awkward churn of my thoughts. “What about you, Kazumi?”

“Me?” Kazumi gestures to herself, as if surprised to be included. “I work, computer programmer, specialize in cybersecurity.” She nods, almost bowing. Not surprising, she looks like the nerdy type.

Carmen whistles low. “ Chica , if I get you one of those blue machines,” she rounds on Kazumi with a fierce intensity that forces the petite woman back a step, “could you hack the ship? Get us back to Earth?”

She is ridiculous! The most stubborn woman ever, I swear.