182. Roaches
182
Roaches
M aya
If things were different, I’d be making a holodeck joke about now. Of course, if things were different, I wouldn’t be walking through an alien spaceship’s entertainment deck.
The ship is like a small city. The area we’re traveling through was probably pretty cool when this ship was filled with people. It’s like walking through the trendiest part of town with clothes shops, artisan bakeries, and movie theaters.
It’s a ghost town now, with nothing but dusty hallways and the musty scent of disuse.
The three of us have been silent, so we all hear footsteps at the same moment. There’s more than one person. Two? Three?
My eyes pop open, the hair on my arms stands on end, and every cell in my body is back on high alert.
I imagine they were trying to sneak up on us, but they must know we heard them because now they’re running toward us.
“Backs to the wall,” I say as I get into position along the metal wall of the corridor. I don’t know how I manage to hear their footsteps over the ragged beating of my heart.
Anna is in the middle, with Emily on her right. We can see three females coming at us, thundering down the hallway.
They all look like humanoid cockroaches with exoskeletons, facial feelers, and mouths that open side-to-side. The way they’re chittering to each other makes my skin crawl.
Their bodies are protected with those hard shells. They each have four arms and two legs, giving them a distinct advantage in the attack department. Although I can’t read the expressions on their inhuman faces, I have a feeling they’re going to enjoy hurting us.
As if to underscore that thought, one of them hocks up a loogie and spits it down the hallway. Its spit must be made of acid, because the sound of the floor being eaten away floats to my ears as I see the metal turning from silver to tobacco brown.
“Holy. Fuck,” Anna moans.
I’m not so happy about my decision to emulate my gutsy mother now. Nope. I’m wishing I’d made a beeline to that back tent and gotten a one-way ticket to nowhere. Nothingness sounds a hell of a lot better than dying in an acid bath.
“Let’s have fun,” the tallest one says in a series of hissing clicks as they stand six feet in front of us. “We’ve got time to draw this out.”
She can’t be smiling. That odd insectoid face with a sideways mouth just isn’t built to do such a thing. But her voice sure sounds happy.
“Play with me, little one,” she nods at five-foot-two-inch-tall Anna.
Anna moans, terrified.
“Go ahead. Try to kill me with that knife.”
Anna doesn’t move.
“NOW!”
Anna hesitantly lifts the knife in the least threatening manner possible. I don’t blame her, whether she tries to curry the roach’s favor by being non-threatening or whether she attacks, we all know not only she, but all of us, will be dead within minutes.
My mouth is dry and my chest is heaving in terror as the back of my mind ticks off the seconds to my untimely death.
Both the roach’s two right hands beckon Anna away from the wall. When she complies, the roach situates herself to have a perfect trajectory, then emits a steady stream of ochre-colored spittle.
Poor Anna can’t help but flinch. The roach’s spray hits its mark, which was the knife. It spatters the blade, immediately sizzling and making the steel disintegrate into nothing more than metal lace. Anna yelps and is gasping in pain. I think a few drops of the roach’s acid splattered on my new friend’s arm. It’s smoking, blistering, and the stench is awful.
Emily yelps. When I glance over, it appears a few drops of acid hit her arm.
As I contemplate calling the three roaches names, just to get the full force of their wrath so I can die a quick rather than slow death, I hear footsteps to my left. Have more aliens come to watch the show? Let’s see the three humans die, shall we? Sounds like fun.
As the newcomers approach, as much as I want to keep my eyes on our insectoid attackers, a sense of self-preservation causes me to glance out of the corner of my eye.
I can’t control the gasp that escapes my mouth as my heart thunders so loud and squeezes so tight I think I’m dying of a heart attack.
This isn’t a new bunch of females. These are the humongous, terrifying Xenons wearing embossed metallic battle gear, their gauntlets complete with integrated weaponry.
“See you on the other side. At least we tried,” I manage to say before the shooting starts.