Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Okay, so I scream.
A lot.
Then I sort of hyperventilate, pass out, and wake up screaming all over again. That time, I’m pretty sure one of the bulbous petroleum jelly creatures popping and slurping at me used a tranquilizer. It wasn’t a shot—I just remember a blinding flare of that same eerie, sterile light. Then darkness.
I hate opening my eyes the third time, but it has to be done. Because, surely, at some point, I’ll wake up from this nightmare?
And what if all these flashes are actually my alarms going off? I must be so late for work by now.
Capri usually makes sure I’m awake, but she’s probably as hungover as I am. Damn it.
If Addy hadn’t forced us into an alien nightclub and gotten me obliterated on neon tube shots, this never would have happened. Clearly, all that extraterrestrial peen went straight to my head.
More sucking sounds invade my ears. I nearly cry, wanting nothing more than an end to this fucking madness. But then someone speaks.
Or hisses.
“It can hear us.”
“It is a female, I believe,” a lighter, frothier bubble-squelch replies. “Her tags say she hails from Quadrant Four. An earthling. From some province called P-Pee—Pee-oh-nye-ex?”
Are… are these creatures trying to say Phoenix?
My eyelids finally fly open. And, sure enough, there are still two motherfucking aliens in front of me.
They’re about my height, but their giant egg-shaped heads take up more than forty percent of their bodies. The rest of them is vaguely human-shaped, save for the tentacles sprouting from their backs in place of arms.
Or legs, I note. My color drains as I glance at the four suction-cup-covered limbs propping each of them up. They have torsos, though. Bodies as small as tennis rackets, with long, thin necks that seem incapable of holding such enormous domes.
Maybe it works because their noggins are made of some weird, cloudy-clear goop? Everything but the tops of their heads, which are smooth and hard.
Two sets of three eyes blink at me, their gelatinous lids moving sideways, like a lizard’s.
I’m definitely going to faint again.
Possibly in a puddle of my own vomit.
“My patience runs thin,” one bubbles, the straight, horizontal slash in the middle of its face gaping to emit sloshing sounds that somehow register as speech to my ears.
The other opens its own maw, casually agreeing, “Spray it.”
“It” is me, I realize as the first fumbles with a slimy tentacle, retrieving a silver object that instantly spritzes odorless mist into my face.
I brace, half hoping it will knock me out again. Instead, any blessed reprieve I thought I might find in unconsciousness dissipates. Snapping back like a rubber band.
Suddenly, I’m too aware.
Aware of the large metal pod behind me. Aware of the curved doors hanging open at either side.
Aware of my slippery skin and bright pink dick-rocket T-shirt—oh GOD—and the fact that I’m paler than white.
Almost translucent, with all my veins standing out under my skin like a pretty purple road map of how to kill me.
Just cut here!
“You,” one of the octopus-turned-martian creatures burbles. “Earthling. Do you hear us?”
I don’t understand what they sprayed on me this time, but it’s impossible to let myself whirl into panic. I still feel it, but my mind sticks to the moment. Which means I’m forced to look at these things and try to scrape out a reply.
“Why aren’t I waking up?”
A stupid question with a stupider answer, it turns out. Because I’m obviously dead, in a coma, being pumped full of hallucinogenics, or…
Already awake.
The one alien smacks its companion with a tentacle, producing a wet thwack not unlike its next statement. “You idiot. Did you not rouse her properly? And why is it answering if it is not awake?”
Two of the second alien’s three eyes narrow. “It is awake, obviously. We know its preliminary language upload is complete. Now we must clean it off and get it ready for—”
It is awake.
Language upload.
Get it ready.
I start to scream again, but that doesn’t work, either. My mouth opens, but the high-pitched shriek dies in my throat. A strange weight fills my hands and feet, turning my attempt to scrabble backward into an awkward flop.
Stupid damn alien spray.
Clearly, these creatures are far more advanced than humans. If they’ve come up with a perfume that disables one’s ability to properly freak the fuck out… If I really am here… and awake… and alive…
I am so fucked.
But is that even possible? And what would that mean? That I’ve been… taken? Abducted? By aliens?!
“No, human,” a new voice intrudes, as smooth and soothing as cool water on a burn.
The Vaseline egg-heads in front of me freeze for half a second before scrambling into motion. Their gelatinous bodies vibrate strangely as they hurry to move aside.
In their place, a new horror appears. One that is unreasonably, unholy beautiful.
A… woman? Statuesque and white-haired, with a matching metallic jumpsuit slicked over her tall, lean body.
“You were not abducted,” she replies, somehow reading my thoughts. “You were rescued.”