Chapter 2
I braced my forearms on the edges of the vent below me and peered through the slits into the dim room. It was small, less than ten feet long and eight feet wide. The walls and floor were the same bare metal, and the only furniture was a single dirty cot.
The only occupant was laying on that cot. As elegantly as a beached whale.
Okay, that was a rude comparison.
I was obviously looking into a cell, so the prisoner inside had no say in his ridiculously tiny cot. But it looked stupid from up here, and I was past the point of filtering my thoughts.
My lips were chapped and cracking from lack of water, my arms were shaking and I was caught in a constant state of half nausea, half dizziness.
Not to mention the stress of being on the run had triggered a phantom itch on my nonexistent calf and the unscratchable sensation was quickly eroding my sanity.
How long had it been since I had food, water? At least two days. Two days, trapped in the ventilation system, enduring frigid air and crackling heat by turns, sleeping curled up on bare metal, crawling past vents that barely hid me from more tentacle-headed aliens.
I was running out of time, and I refused to die up here. My corpse would not be sniffed out like a decomposing mouse in the wall.
Which lead me to my current predicament. Staring at a tray of untouched food in the corner of the silent, dark cell. I’d been above this vent for several hours and not once had the big, red guy moved.
Maybe he was dead, and I was sitting up here, staring at a plate full of food that could be in my belly.
I squinted through the vent slats, trying to make out if his chest was moving.
It was hard to tell, he(I assumed it was a he) was half on his side, one massive arm laying over his belly, the other curled under his head.
A head topped with giant, twisted, black horns.
Two days ago, I would have scurried right past this vent, and prayed I never encountered the beast sleeping below me. But two days ago I hadn’t been so thirsty I could hear my throat click when I swallowed.
I could smell the water sitting on his untouched tray of food.
He hadn’t moved in hours. Maybe he was dead, or unconscious or in a coma.
Maybe I was so hungry and dehydrated I’d hallucinated a red, bull alien sleeping on a cot half his size.
I grimaced as the phantom itching reached nuclear levels, my skin crawling with the need to scratch a leg that hadn’t existed for the last five years.
I blew out a breath and forced myself to focus on the threat below me. His legs sprawled off the end of his cot, black hooves resting directly on the floor.
Why did I keep fixating on how small his cot was? Was I stalling?
That decided it. Naomi Chapple did not stall, procrastinate or chicken out. I might white knuckle my way through life, but doggonnit, I made it through everything thrown at me. I could climb out of the ceiling, and steal this sleeping monster's lunch.
I could and I would.
Taking a deep breath, I bit my tongue and poked my fingers through the vent. Catching the sharp slats with my fingertips, I slowly pushed it forward until it popped free of the frame, painstakingly turned it sideways and pulled it up into the duct.
Without the vent between us, I had an unobstructed view of the cell’s occupant. I could have lived without the sight.
Black hair was hacked to just below his jaw and framed a brutal face.
Even sleeping he sneered; wide, flat nostrils flaring as his jaw flexed.
His features were human-ish, but bulky like a caveman and slightly alien.
A small tuft of black hair curled from the end of his blocky chin and black, horse-like ears sagged on either side of his head.
Smooth, scarlet skin was stretched taut over mountains of muscle, fists the size of cinder blocks twitched on his exposed belly and a throbbing, maroon dick pulsed in the cold air.
I froze, leaning halfway out of the vent. I knew guys got morning wood, but that was after they woke up, right? I’d never seen a dick in person, I wouldn’t know. Did that very alert shaft mean he was awake and trying to fool me into venturing into reach?
I didn’t move for what felt like an hour, until my hands were cramping on the edges of the vent and my parched throat ached. The alien never moved. I had to believe he was sleeping, because his lunch was calling me from across the cell and I needed that water.
Easing my foot through the hole, I hooked the nub of my short leg on the edge of the opening and slowly let my body drop from the duct. My biceps burned from the effort and my vision started to swim as I clung to the duct and pulled my shortened leg free and let my arms take my full weight.
I was sucking in air as quietly as I could manage as I searched for a way to drop to the floor without waking the monster to my right.
My foot dangled at least four feet from the ground and I knew from experience I’d probably crash to the floor when I fell.
Turns out landing on your feet was easier when you had more than one.
I hadn’t been graceful before the accident and all my years of physical therapy couldn’t fix that.
Sweat bloomed on my chest and face and I realized I had two seconds to figure out how to do this before my arms gave out.
Screw it, I couldn’t hang here all day.
My fingers released and for a moment, I was weightless and then I hit the floor. My ankle twisted and I crashed to my knees with a choked cry. My vision went hazy and a thunderous snarl drew my eyes to the cot.
Or rather, the angry alien standing in front of the cot, glaring at me with narrow, yellow eyes.
Veins and muscles bulged from his neck to his knees and I swore he expanded as he inhaled, taking up half the room in an instant. He looked furious, hateful, like the sight of me inspired murderous rage.
I knew I looked rough, two days crawling through the ceiling would do that, but I was still kinda cute, right?
I swayed backward, too tired and sore to try and run. The red monster took a step towards me, the impact of his huge hoof hitting the floor making my ears ring. Or were they ringing before he moved?
I tried to shake my head to clear it but the whole world swooped and I realized that two days was too long without food or water. I only hoped I passed out before the alien in front of me smacked my head off my neck.