Page 69

“He said it’s behind the first ridge,” Sandra replies, her voice muffled beneath her scarf. “Must be that one,” she suggests, pointing toward a nearby rocky hill.

“Uh-huh,” I grimace, following her gaze.

“Did Farmer Joe also promise free candy from his beat-up van?” I mock, already questioning what kind of craziness Sandra has dragged me into.

I glance back at the volcanic mountain looming behind us, longing to be back in its warmth, away from this desolate, ash-covered wasteland.

“It’s not like that,” Sandra chuckles, waving me forward.

“This guy’s trustworthy. Sure, all the Klendathians have been really kind.

” Rich coming from the woman who’s in love with the giant murder bore who chained us up!

But still, I follow, because sticking together feels like the only sane option, even if my gut says otherwise.

I feel tiny and insignificant, like we’re walking on some blackened version of the moon.

It’s barren, with no sign of life anywhere—just endless cliffs and towering mountains.

Even the massive purple Klendathor sun and moon struggle to penetrate the thick clouds and fog that hang around us like a damp, suffocating blanket.

Far in the distance, an enormous mountain vanishes into the heavens above like something from biblical times. The peak erupts with streaks of violet lightning that illuminate the smog and shake the ground with booming thunder.

“Farmer Joe better be loaded and have an eight-pack, or I swear, Sandra.” My frustration is simmering, ready to blow like one of the volcanoes smoldering on the horizon.

Sandra barks a brief, nervous laugh, her gaze dropping, and I smell a little ginger rat. There’s no stud. I’ve been had. Manipulated and taken advantage of as usual.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sandra!” I yell, my voice cutting through the howling wind. “You’ve dragged me out to this fucking wasteland for nothing!”

Sandra just laughs, which infuriates me more, stoking the blood-boiling rage that flows in my veins, ready to erupt.

“What’s so funny?” I snap, glaring at her.

“Nothing, you’re just funny,” she retorts, still struggling to contain her laughter. But I’m not seeing the humor—quite the reverse, in fact.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she says, her voice softening. “I just... wanted company. And I knew you wouldn’t come if I didn’t make it sound like fun.”

I shake my head like I’ve been slapped. Unbelievable.

Betrayed even by Sandra. I thought she was better than this.

It’s all too much. Darkness threatens to ooze out of my soul, yearning to lash out, to hurt her.

I could wound her easily. Remind her of all her failures with Dracoth. Teach her a lesson. She deserves it.

I am the toilet.

The mantra interrupts my spiraling anger, just long enough for me to take a deep breath. No, I’m overreacting... but I’m still pissed at the lying bitch.

“Fine. Whatever.” I snap, folding my arms as I storm past her.

“Lexie...” Sandra’s voice trails after me, weak, like some half-hearted apology that won’t make a difference.

“Lexie what?” I sneer, picking up the pace like I’m doing that ridiculous Olympic speed-walking. “I try to keep us together, for our own safety, and you’re out here lying to me?” My voice practically sizzles with the heat of a lava stream. “Honestly, it’s ridiculous.”

“Lexie, I’m really sorry. If I’d known how—”

“Oh, what’s that!” I cut Sandra off, pointing toward a square enclosure carved into the rocky hill. “Let’s go meet Farmer Joe.” Relieved at the sight, I navigate the jagged rocks with newfound determination.

My relief, though, quickly melts into a wrinkled nose. “Why does it smell like shit?” The answer hits me the moment I crest the hill—giant snail monsters. Dozens of them, slimy, oozing, and... disgusting .

“Eww, gross!” I exclaim, turning to Sandra, who looks far too pleased with herself.

“Hail, humans!” A deep voice echoes from within the stone pen of stinky horrors.

I turn to see Farmer Joe—Farmer Letdown. Not the hunk Sandra promised, but the smallest alien I’ve seen yet, barely taller than me, with wispy gray hair and grimy, worn, scaly leather clothes. He waves us over while pouring a bucket of water into a trough.

“Gorgeous, you said,” I groan, shooting Sandra a withering look. Somehow, this is worse than my wildest fears. I mean, he’s not even wearing a hat!

“Ack, but he’s really friendly,” Sandra mutters.

Friendly? I bet he is! He saw two humans and thought: Here come the suckers .

“Hello, Celutok!” Sandra waves back like they’re besties now.

Farmer Celutok strides over, his grin stretching across his overly broad face. “Hail, I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you yet.” He bows deeply toward me.

Well, at least he has manners. I reach out to shake his hand—until I notice the slimy, luminous mucus coating his arm from the elbow down.

Barf.

“A pleasure, I’m sure. I’m Alexandra.” I incline my head with a smile that I’m sure doesn’t touch my eyes as I glance around nervously, wondering what the hell we’re doing here.

“Celutok’s a...” Sandra chimes in, trying to fill the awkward silence. “What are they called again?”

“Snarlbrocs!” Celutok beams with pride, gesturing toward the grotesque giant snail monsters. They ooze around the mucky pen with an unnerving, languid grace, their slimy, elongated tentacles grasping at the air like a pervert’s hands in a nightclub.

Ugh, so gross.

“Yep, best herd this side of Scarn. My little babies, they are.”

Not creepy at all.

“Yeah, Snarlbrocs. Thanks, Celutok,” Sandra says, as if any of this matters even remotely. “You’ve been raising them your whole life, right?”

“That’s correct, little female,” he nods, patting his chest with pride. “You see, the Gods didn’t bless me like they did my brothers, but I found my calling here—with the animals.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Celutok,” Sandra says, her tone soft with concern. She’s not wrong. Back on Earth, Celutok would have an impressive build— assuming he actually washed the slime off . “And an affinity with animals is a blessing in itself,” she adds, smiling as sweet as honey.

“Ah, you’re far too kind.” Celutok beams at her words, the red of his skin deepening.

“At least I can still serve the clan and find honor in my place.” His gaze drifts off, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s staring at.

Then, his brown eyes flicker back to us.

“But you females didn’t come here to listen to me blather on, did you? ”

Good question. What the hell are we here for?

“Here, you go.” Celutok grins, handing each of us a massive shovel—more like a snowplow than a normal spade.

“Excuse me?” I blink in disbelief, instinctively taking the shovel from him like I’m a condemned prison worker.

“I’ve already given the herd their water, but you females can help muck out their pens and stalls. After that, we’ll take them grazing.” Farmer Letdown passes the sentence down like it’s actually a good thing.

“Wow, hold on a second here.” I whirl on Sandra, grimacing. “Do you owe him money or something?” I lower my voice, leaning in like we’re planning a snail monster heist. “If you’re in trouble, I’m pretty sure we can get Dracoth to change his mind.”

Sandra flinches at my oh-so-sound advice. “No, I just thought it’d be... fun.”

“Fun?” My eyes flick to the pen, where the revolting creatures are dipping their slimy, splotchy heads into the water trough. “We have very different definitions of fun, Sandra.” I glare at her, wondering how I missed the fact that she’s completely lost her mind.

Sandra just shakes her head. “I used to work on the Campbells’ farm back home... I thought it might make me feel better.”

With that, she readies her shovel and joins Celutok, the two of them cheerfully scooping up foul-smelling piles of glistening white sludge.

I scrunch my face, feeling an odd pang of sympathy. How does she do that? Somehow, I’m the one duped into shoveling poop, yet she’s the one I feel bad for.

It’s like her superpower.

I sigh, feeling the weight of the shovel in my hand. Great. I’m about to do something incredibly stupid.

“What’s a little giant snail monster shit between friends, right?” I mutter to myself as I trudge over to join them.

“That’s the spirit!” Celutok cheers, and weirdly, I feel a flicker of pride.

Yeah, this is it... the start of my Little House on the Prairie journey. Except here I am, squelching through snail monster muck, my shoes making grotesque sucking noises in the mucus-like white filth.

“Eww. Eww,” I chant like a mantra, my face twisted in disgust.

Pretty sure they didn’t show this part on TV.

I shove my snowplow-sized spade into a fresh, steaming pile of droppings, the weight almost throwing me off balance.

My feet sink deeper into the muck with every step, and just as I’m waddling forward, my foot slips on a luminous, slimy patch.

My heart leaps into my throat as I flail, desperately trying not to face-plant into the snarlbroc sludge.

“Careful, now,” Celutok warns, steadying me with a firm hand and a warm smile. I almost drop my shovel, my heart racing. That was close—way too close. There isn’t enough scalding water in this entire mountain to scrub off the filth if I fell into this muck.

I give him a shaky smile before resuming my cautious shuffle toward the massive stone trailer, already piled high with steaming piles of feces.

My nose crinkles under the stinky assault as I grunt and tip the contents of my shovel onto the growing mound.

A cloud of black flies erupts, buzzing around like they’re at a poop rave.

So. Gross.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Sandra asks, her shovel scraping loudly against the rocky ground as she scoops up more mucus-like sludge.

Maybe the volcano has cooked her brain?

I try to ignore the sucking, squelching noise my shoes make as I approach more muck.