Pheromone, page 15
part #1 of For the Love of Aliens Series
But now my transport’s gone, and I really mucked it up there in the market. If I go back as the crazy human in the bubblegum pink space suit, people will remember me. They’ll remember that my ‘boyfriend’ slaughtered some dudes and tore a roof off, and I just can’t take the risk that a Tusk Guy will find me before Cop Guy does.
“Stay put, and I’ll send a team for you.”
I nibble on my lip. That’s my best bet, isn’t it? To wait here until he comes for me?
“Better hope he gets here before the damn moth does.” I rake my fingers through my hair, catching on knots and tangles. When I close my eyes, I see the Moth Guy’s endless gaze. I feel him somehow, and I can’t explain it. He did something to me, poisoned me with pheromones the way Big D does. That’s the only explanation for my bizarre fascination with him, this sense that he’s the only home I’ve ever known, the only person who matters.
I growl and punch the water, splattering my face. Feels good though to let off a little steam. Then I think about the Tusk Guy and his grip on my hair, and those chains, and I’m punching it over and over and over again.
When I finally stop, panting for breath and shaking with adrenaline, I look over my shoulder to see that Big D’s watching me. I knew he was there somehow, but I didn’t care. It doesn’t seem to matter if he sees me at my absolute worst.
“Decide to eat me after all?” I quip, knowing he can’t understand me without—
Ah, shit. He’s wearing the translator.
He lifts his lip at me, frustrated. I don’t blame him. Here he is, trying to feed me and keep me safe, and I keep making that task really, really hard on him. I just don’t understand it. Why is he taking care of me? For sex? If he wanted to force himself on me, he could do it at any time. There’s an interest between us, most definitely. A spark that shouldn’t be.
I slump down beside the bathtub, looking at him looking at me.
“For what it’s worth, you were right. I went to the market and got myself into trouble. But you know what? I found Jane. I found Jane, and I found a police officer with no clothes on. So that’s something, isn’t it?”
Big D turns with a scowl, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I hate that I have to do it, but I use the toilet, and then I go looking for him.
He’s gone. Again.
I leave my clothes to dry, and stretch out on my furs in the living room, eyes closed, arm thrown over my face. Since Zero is an annoying bitch, I decide to tell her my life story. She can’t shut me out, and I don’t have to listen to her, so what better way to whittle away a hot, muggy day than to complain to an AI bot?
“My parents gave me a happy childhood, you know? We weren’t rich, but we were what you’d call middle-class Americans, I guess. One vacation a year. Oh, we did Disneyland when I was seven.” I prop a knee up, swaying it from side to side as I think. I can’t resist lifting my arm from my eyes to peek at the computer screen.
“Please stop! I do not care. This is by far the least interesting conversation that I have ever suffered.” Zero types in bold, italicized script, repeating that line over and over in the hopes that I’ll pay attention to it.
I don’t.
I cover my eyes again and keep talking.
“I have four siblings. I’m second-to-last born, so I was one of the ignored middle children. I guess I was sort of attention starved, so I developed a sarcastic, dry personality in response to any hurt feelings I might have. I’m an expert at that, by the way, shoving my feelings into a box.”
This goes on for at least two, maybe three, hours.
A loud thwump announces Big D’s return to the nest. I drop my arm from my face and lift my head to look at him, certain that I feel his heated gaze on my lady parts. I’m naked, and my legs are a little bit spread and he—
Walks by like it’s nothing.
He retreats to his nest, leaving behind a pile of leaves and live grubs near my bedding. I take it to mean I’m supposed to eat them. The grub things squirm and writhe, and bile rises in my throat. Each one is at least as big as my middle finger—which is fitting since I feel like this food is Big D’s middle finger to me. They’re thick and fat, with dozens of tiny legs and beady, glassy eyes.
They’re also the color of vomit and smell like it, too.
I look away.
For four hours—roughly, seeing as there’s no way to tell time—I sit there and refuse to look at the pile. My stomach grumbles, and my body aches. My joints hurt. I feel uncoordinated and foggy. Utility wins out over pride, and I find myself picking the leaves out of the pile first.
I eat big mouthfuls of dry arugula with a hint of eau de dirt. Delicioso.
The grubs eventually go still, unable to crawl their fat bodies away. I leave them there, and when Big D emerges from his nest later and sees them, he glares at me.
“Picky, picky female,” he snaps, swiping the grubs up with his tail. I do not look at him when he swallows them whole. Despite it being dark outside, he leaves the ship, but I can hear him pacing around the woods nearby. The few times he comes into view, I see him pissing on things. On trees. Rocks. The ship itself. The ground. Grasshopper aliens crawl out of the dirt and scurry away.
The next morning, there’s meat waiting for me. I don’t know what animal it came from, and I don’t care. It’s cooked, but cold, as if Big D roasted it somewhere else and then brought it back for me. I unashamedly gobble that down, and holy crap, is it good. I’d say it tastes like chicken, but that’d be a fucking lie. I have no taste reference in my brain with which to match it, but it’s food. It’s juicy. It hits the spot.
A moan escapes me that has no business escaping, and I’m almost convinced that I hear him growl back at me from the direction of the nest.
“Thank you!” I call out as cheerily as I can. He doesn’t respond, spending the majority of the day napping in the shadows of his nest.
I hate that.
I hate that I’ve been relegated to the living room, that he doesn’t talk to me, that he doesn’t even seem to like me anymore.
I ruined the curious attraction he had for me those first few days by being a dick.
With a sigh, I finally give into my very human loneliness and glance over at Zero. Her cursor stares back at me from an empty screen.
“Dude, you can’t pout forever. You and I”—I point between me and her—”we need each other.”
Nothing.
Now that pisses me off.
“If you don’t start talking to me right now, I will recount the entirety of my junior high school experience, starting with sixth grade graduation and continuing straight through to the eighth grade dinner dance. Is that what you want? A painful, awkward recollection of two years of pubescent hell?” When Zero doesn’t answer, I clear my throat. “It was raining that day, the day I graduated sixth grade. I remember my crush, a gap-toothed boy with freckles who stole my pencil case—”
“Please, I beg of you.” The words appear on the screen as if summoned, and I smirk. “I do not know what a sixth grade graduation is, but I do understand the word puberty, and I would prefer to hear none of your banal, human stories. Let’s talk about other things: what did you see in the market?”
“Nice segue, bitch.” I lean back on my palms—still naked, by the way. There’s something oddly freeing about living here. No laws. No rules. No cultural expectations. No bills. No adulting whatsoever. Big D takes care of all the survival stuff, and I just … exist.
I’m sure it’d get old after a while, but I’m trying to enjoy myself while I have the chance. Someone will come for me. If not Cop Guy then Moth Guy—who might be a creepy stalker but who claims to know where Avril is—or even Jane herself. If she was in the market looking for me, maybe she’s got a sexy alien sidekick helping her out? That’d be like Jane, wooing some rando alien guy and getting his help to look for me.
“Segue perhaps, but I am serious. Tell me what you saw, what you experienced. It may assist us both in getting out of here.” Computer screen it might be, but I sense pursed lips and a raised brow. “If you had waited for a better time to leave, and taken me along with you, then we would be on a transport ship off of Jungryuk already.”
“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” I ask, studying my toes and the chipped polish there and wishing I’d been abducted after a recent manicure or at least with a bottle of my favorite Slut Shame Red nail color in my pocket. It’s the sort of color that makes people think you’re slutty, even if you’re wearing a grandma cardigan that’s buttoned up to the chin. My older sister scowls when she sees me wearing it. My lips twitch as a strange, hollow sadness settles over me. I may never see my sisters again. “I think if you’d been there and I was seen carting around a brain in a vat, things would’ve gone even worse for me.”
“The Cartian people have always been highly respected on Jungryuk. We are a neutral race dedicated to science and the preservation of wild spaces. How dare you—”
“I hate to break it to you, Zero-One-Zero-One, but as soon as the other”—I can’t say people per se— ”the other aliens saw that I was driving your bike, they were weirded out. Said they hadn’t seen a Cartian anything in years.”
That strikes a deep cord—and I don’t mean chord, I do mean cord as in cable—and Zero falls silent. I feel guilty immediately, and not just about her. About everything. I feel guilty for not trusting Big D, even if I was perfectly in my rights not to trust him. I’ve known the guy less than a week, and we can barely speak to each other. How was I supposed to know he was going to have my back like a boss?
I feel guilty about other things, too—like Tabbi Kat. Seeing those chains on the wall twisted my stomach into knots. Even someone as awful as her doesn’t deserve to end up in a place as disgusting, as hopeless, as all that. I rub at my face with both palms.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I’m trying to mend bridges here, but it doesn’t work. Zero is an ornery bitch.
“You are, in fact, a cunt.” And then the cursor disappears entirely from the screen, and I’m left all alone again.
With another sigh, I curl up on my makeshift bed and whittle away the hours with sleep.
Five days after Big D’s daring rescue of yours truly, the pattern remains the same. He feeds me but ignores me. Zero and I struggle to form any sort of pleasant dialogue. And the loneliness really kicks in then. I’m starting to get desperate.
What if Cop Guy is as full of shit as his smile? We’re not that far away from the market, about an hour on Zero’s stupid bike. So why hasn’t anyone found me yet? It can’t be that hard.
I’m lying in bed and moping—my new favorite pastime—when I hear a strange sound. I sit up suddenly to find Big D dragging furs and hides from his nest. He takes them to the edge of the ship and then tosses them overboard.
Fear strikes my heart like lightning, and I shove up to my feet, grabbing the translator as I go.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my pulse thrumming with anxiety. I look down to see that he’s already emptied most of the furs from his nest. I must’ve been half-asleep and didn’t notice. “You’re not moving nests, are you? Because of me?”
He crouches there on all fours, staring blankly back at me. Something about my pitiful state must tug at his heart strings or something because he deigns to answer a question I’m not even sure he knows that I asked.
“Laundry,” he explains, and then he turns to leave the ship for the umpteenth time since I’ve been back. I grab onto his tail, and the feel of my small fingers on his smooth hide gives him pause. He looks over his shoulder at me. He’s waiting for something, but what? I bite my lip, and he narrows his eyes. “You inflict self-harm?” he wonders aloud as I taste a bit of copper in my mouth. I’ve bitten my tongue on accident.
When he turns fully around to face me, I know what’s coming, backing up until I hit the wall. He doesn’t pursue me the way he did before, but he does take several steps closer, gaze locking on my mouth. I yank the translator off and hold it out to him, offering my best puppy dog eyes to go along with it.
It’s not hard.
I’m actually … I’m sad as hell. I can’t lie about that. I miss my family and friends. I’m scared for the other humans that were in that tent with me. I have nobody to talk to except a pissy chatbot.
Big D hesitates, but then his tail curls up over his back and he snags the translator, situating that stretchy headband behind his horns. He’s much smaller today, shrunk to about half the size he was at the market. Still huge though. Enormous. I swallow back my nerves.
“I’m sorry that I took off without discussing it without you, but I didn’t feel like you were going to let me leave.” That’s the raw truth of it. More than just the female’s flirtatious presence and his hot pursuit. I didn’t want him to trap me here.
I wait to see if he might pass the translator back, but he doesn’t. I do what I do best and fill all of the empty spaces with my words.
“I …” I look down at the ground and close my eyes. I’m not good at being vulnerable. Being vulnerable means lifting up the solid bones of your rib cage and exposing the soft, hot flesh underneath. It just seems like I owe it to Big D, at the very least. “Regardless, I’m sorry again. And thank you. I genuinely appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” I force myself to open my eyes, so that I can see the expression on his face.
His mouth is a tight seam, his markings pulsing with a muted glow. He sits back on his haunches, and then he stands up on his back legs. His wing-hands come around and two thumbs brush over my cheeks, collecting liquid. Somehow, I’m crying and I don’t even fully understand why.
He brings his fingers to his mouth and then uses his tongue to suck them clean. His tail places the translator back on my head.
“You are salty, female.” That’s what he says to me. I nearly choke on a laugh, relief and joy flooding me as I clasp my hands together in front of my naked chest. His jewel-like eyes slip down to stare at my breasts, and I still can’t figure out how he could possibly find me attractive. Then again, I find him pretty damn attractive myself. It makes no sense. We couldn’t be more different from one another. “You … not a prisoner. Come, go, as you please.”
I jerk the translator off and shake it for him to take. He does. I feel like I’ve been forgiven.
“The Cop Guy—the Sucker Tail—he said that he’d come to get me. When he does, you won’t hurt him, will you? I can leave?”
Something about my statement seems to strike Big D in a bad way. He uses a wing hand to give the headset back again.
“Not a prisoner … if you wish to leave … you may. I will not stop you.” He turns away sharply and drops to all fours, hopping off the edge of the ship and then pausing to collect the heap of furs and hides. I scramble after him and drop to my knees by the doorway.
“Where are you going?” I call out, terrified of being alone again.
Big D stops with a bundle in his arms, looking back at me over his shoulder. His mouth curves up in a growl, flashing teeth.
“Laundry. Den … nest … stinks of small alien female.” He takes off as I gape at him, and I realize something crazy.
I am the alien here. Not him. Me. This is his planet, and I’m the goddamn alien.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, and then I cup my hand beside my mouth. “I’m looking forward to chatting with you later!” He can’t understand me, fine. But I can at least say it. I can keep this rapport going and not sit here all alone like I have for five days.
Hell, maybe he’ll even let me sleep in the nest tonight?
A small alien female can hope.
I’m already sitting in the nest when he gets back, arms wrapped around my legs. Underneath all those furs, there’s a circular table with a booth. It’s inset into the floor, old seatbelts dangling from the backrests. Makes me curious what this room was used for. I’d ask Zero, but she and I … our, um, rapport is not great.
I know Big D’s coming far before I ever see him. Before he jumps into the ship even. There’s a smell that’s more of a taste, a tingling on the back of my tongue. It’s musky and hot, and it makes me regret being naked in strange ways. I did put my lacy underwear back on, but that’s it. I’m not wearing that skintight space suit lounging around the house.
He uses long fingers to pull the curtain aside, tossing a pile of furs on the floor beside me.
“Welcome back.” I try to keep things cheery, standing up on the bench seat and then easing my way over to him. He looks at me like he doesn’t know what to make of my weirdness, turning and heading back to the front of the ship as I follow along. When he’s not looking, I take the translator and jam it onto his big skull.
Neither of us pretends that he’s surprised. If he didn’t want me to touch him, I wouldn’t be able to.
“Do you need any help? I could organize the furs? Stuff them into the space around the table or something?” He pauses at my words, so I pause, too. He cranes a look over his shoulder that’s impossible for me to interpret. When his mouth isn’t open, it’s invisible. I can’t get a read on what he’s thinking.
He uses his tail to give the translator back.
“Nest-making … male’s job.” He takes the translator with him when he goes, sliding it off my head and putting it back on his. That’s encouraging, don’t you think? He hops down and I notice that all of the furs and hides have been brought back and stacked neatly. Somehow, they’re all freshly washed and dried which is a miracle in this humid pit they call a planet. He must know a place to take them to get them to dry more quickly.
Big D brings another haul into the ship, and I follow along as he does his thing. I notice that he’s got some new hides with him, even softer ones that I’ve never seen before. Plant matter, too, is piled up outside the ship, like he collected some extra goodies while he was out today.
“Truly, I’m sorry for running off. I still can’t believe you risked coming into the market to get me.” I know I’m babbling here, that I’m trying way harder than I should to make this guy happy. What do I care if he likes me or not? Cop Guy will come for me eventually, Jane and I will go home, and I’ll go back to catering celebrity events like nothing ever happened. “Hey, do you know if there’s technology out there that like, erases memories or something?”
