Pheromone, page 4
part #1 of For the Love of Aliens Series
And whether it’s real or not, reacting to it as if it is makes the most sense. Either way, I’m okay.
“I spend a lot of time on Earth,” the man explains, smiling in a way that says he very much enjoys his time there. The expression on his face makes me even more suspicious, but he hasn’t given me any reason to distrust him yet. That, and I’m better off here than with a giant slug or other comparable nightmare creature. “I’ve been visiting for over twenty years.”
I nod, as if that makes sense.
Aliens regularly visit Earth? I wonder, but that’s not an important question at the moment.
“I need to find my friend,” I explain, hoping to appeal to this guy’s sense of empathy. That is, if he has any. Most humans don’t either, so it’s really a stretch to pray for this alien man to have some heart. “Her name is Jane Baker, and she was the first one of us that was purchased—”
“Ah.” That’s what he says, nodding his thick head at the question. The man has gorgeous coal-black hair, I’ll give him that. It’s picked up and tousled by the wind as the wagon rolls onward, creeping closer to the deep shadows of the forest. From here, it gives off that Pacific Northwest vibe. Towering redwood trees, dewy ferns, mushrooms. Some of them are glowing, I’ll give you that, but bioluminescence isn’t totally absent on Earth either. “From what I hear, she was sold to a World Station dealer.”
A World Station dealer? Um. Come again?
“Please tell me that’s not the slug thing.” My words are low and strangled, but while I can handle a lot of things, losing my bestie would just … It’d mess me up. I won’t stay calm if I find out that Jane is in danger.
Tusk Guy laughs at me, and the sound is most definitely not human. It raises the hairs on my arms, some basic instinct deep inside of me warning that I should run. But where would I go? Back into the market with the slug and Trevor and worst of all, Tabbi Kat? Or should I run blindly across the field of what I thought were wildflowers, but appear to be Venus flytraps? As I watch, one of the purple plants eats an overly large insect out of midair.
If none of those options suffice, and I still wanted to run, I could dive into the woods and take my chances there. No, I think it’s better to stay on the wagon with the English-speaking alien for now. Besides, his pet thing—the kiyo—seems cool.
“Most definitely not.” He pauses then to scratch at the side of his jaw, offering me up another strange look. “He’ll probably resell her to a male looking for a wife.”
“A wife?!” I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is imagine Jane being … by some alien … “I have to get back to the market and look for her.” I turn as if to jump off the wagon, but Tusk Guy puts a huge hand on my leg, holding me in place.
“Your friend is no longer on this planet,” he tells me, but whether that’s true or not, I have no way of knowing. He could be saying that just to keep me here on the wagon with him. If the … whatever it was that bought Jane is looking for a wife, what’s this guy’s plan? “If she were, I would’ve tried to buy her, too.”
“You said you wanted me and Tabbi …” I start, puzzling out possibilities in my mind. “What for? Why only the females and not the male?”
“My tribe has plenty of males,” Tusk Guy replies, exhaling heavily and then digging around in the bag on his right until he’s extracted a large black canteen. He hands it over to me. “Water? It’s the same chemical compound as found on Earth.”
I want to say no, but my throat is dry, and I know I can’t survive long if I stop drinking water.
So, down the hatch it goes.
Thankfully, it’s exactly what the alien says it is: cool, clean water.
“Thanks.” I swipe an arm across my mouth, offering up a grudging nod of thanks. “If you have plenty of males then … you’re looking for wives?”
“You’ll be given a choice,” Tusk Guy explains, as if he’s made this speech a thousand times. “If you don’t like any of the available males, you can go home.”
“Seriously?” I ask, the word bursting out of me like an expletive. Tusk Guy smiles—I probably should’ve started this conversation by asking his name—and I realize I’m reacting the way he wants me to. He’s telling me exactly what I want to hear, and I’m gobbling it up out of a sense of relief.
What I should really be asking myself is this: why the fuck would these guys buy humans trafficked across so much time and space just to ask them nicely if they’re interested in an arranged marriage? That sounds like total bullshit to me. “Even if that’s true, I can’t go with you now. I’m not walking away from my best friend.”
“The buyer who purchased her is long-gone from here.” Tusk Guy grunts and gives the creature’s reins a bit of a yank, speeding up the rhythmic clomping sound of hooves. “He’s what you might call eccentric.”
I rub my fingers painfully against the rough wood, collecting splinters. The pain helps keep me sane.
Jane is … in space somewhere? I look up, but all I can see is the gray canopy above my head. With a tentative hand, I reach out and feel the overwhelming heat of the sun.
“But I don’t see the harm in heading back and asking around.” My alien savior looks over at me and blinks his strange lids again. He puts his hand back on my leg when, really, I wish he wouldn’t touch me at all. His fingers drift up the inside of my thigh, making my stomach roil. “Maybe your friend’s buyer hasn’t left the dock—”
A horrible crashing sound—like someone banging two metal trash can lids together—cracks my brain right in half. The sound precedes this nauseating feeling of spinning, and then I’m blinking once and finding myself on the ground a dozen feet or so from the wagon.
It’s now lying on its side, the kiyo rearing and dragging the overturned vehicle along for several feet until the ropes snap. The alien horse takes off into the woods, disappearing into the shadows before I can even register what’s going on.
First off, those tiny purple flytrap plants are biting at me, and it hurts. Second, I think I tore open my leg again. My head feels like an overinflated balloon as I struggle to sit up and assess the damage. There’s blood. Too much of it. So much that my entire bandage is soaked in red.
My attention is drawn up at the sound of a scream, this high-pitched roar of terror that echoes across the open plains between the market and the woods. My first thought is wow, did a thunderstorm just roll in? because all I can see is this swirl of darkness in the sky. It’s hovering behind the overturned wagon, and it’s also the thing that Tusk Guy is screaming about.
He crawls past the edge of the wagon only to be dragged back behind it, and then the darkness descends further and the screaming cuts off in a wet, gurgling sort of way. Holy shit. I scramble backwards, my gaze somehow fixated on the gruesome scene. I can’t see exactly what’s happening to Tusk Guy, but a puddle of blood—it’s as red as mine is—drains across the dirt road in front of the wagon.
Now that the screaming’s stopped, it’s been replaced with the sound of something else eating. I turn onto my hands and knees and then use the sudden surge of adrenaline to shove myself up to my feet. I’m fully aware that I’m bleeding as I run, but I can’t stop. At this point, my choices might be bleed to death or get eaten by that dark cloud.
I drag myself along as far as I can before the dizziness sets in, and I collapse to my knees. I don’t even remember falling. I was standing and then … I was down here. Not only am I bleeding from the wound in my thigh, but also from a good two-dozen bites inflicted by the purple plants. Even now, some of them are snapping at me and drawing tiny pinpricks of red from my hands and fingers.
I turn to look over my shoulder and find myself off-balance, swooning from the loss of so much blood. I end up falling backwards onto my ass, gaze lifted toward the sky. The darkness that consumed Tusk Guy … it’s heading straight toward me. My eyes widen, but even as I try to push myself back, I feel that horrible heaviness in my limbs. My vision blurs, but not enough to protect me from seeing what’s coming.
That black cloud descends on me, two massive clawed hands slamming into the ground on either side of my comatose body. And then there’s this face right up against mine, two huge purple eyes staring at me from a vaguely humanoid face. Vaguely.
In that single, still space between breaths, I find myself mesmerized by the creature. If I had the strength to lift my hand, I might. Even if it were the last thing I ever did, I’d touch its face if I could. At first glance, its solid black form doesn’t appear to have a mouth. But then it opens up nice and wide, a Cheshire cat’s grin with rows of dagger-like teeth.
Its massive black wings spread open above me, casting a shadow that causes even the carnivorous flowers to retreat, snapping their purple pod mouths shut and shrinking toward the soil. Not that I can blame them: there’s a lot of blood in and around that wide mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut, certain that this alien is the last thing I’ll ever get to see. Not such a bad sight, all things considered. He’s still better than the slug.
“Please, please, please,” I whisper, certain that he’s not able to understand me. I can’t seem to help myself though. “Please, please, please … fuck.” With a shuddering exhale, I just let go and scream. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The alien creature exhales, his breath warm but surprisingly pleasant considering he just ate some random guy. I crack one lid open, vision splintering into white static.
“No,” he snarls back at me—in English!—curling up the edge of his lip. “Little.”
One of his massive wings curves forward, and I realize it has a hand on the end of it, like a bat. He grabs my hair in a tight fist, and then my eyes roll back, and it’s lights out. Again. Bleeding to death fucking sucks.
A smooth, hot tongue slicks up the inside of my inner thigh, causing me to writhe and dig my fingernails into the sheets. Holy crap, that feels amazing. I almost praise my ex, Mack, for his newfound skills with his mouth, but then I remember that we broke up because he cheated on me and … fuck that guy.
I move to kick out at him, but he stops me by grabbing onto my knees and forcing my legs even further apart. His claws dig into my—
Wait.
His claws?
My eyes flutter open, and I’m greeted to a sight that I’ll likely remember every day for the rest of my (probably short) life.
The dark cloud batwing alien whatever-he-is crouches before me, the hands on the ends of his wings clamped around my knees and keeping them spread wide. His other hands are braced on the grass between my legs, and his tongue is … his long-ass, two-foot in length alien tongue is lapping at the wound on my right thigh.
He’s staring at me, too, with these enormous purple and gold eyes. They glow faintly in the shadows of the woods, but at least this time, there’s a semi-normal looking pupil. There’s no white to his eyes, but the darkness in the center is at least round in shape.
I can’t move.
Is he eating me or …. is he eating me? I wonder, trembling and fighting back a wave of revulsion at myself for not being completely and utterly freaked-out by this moment.
“Fuck,” I whisper, and for whatever reason, that word puts the alien dragon thing into a rage.
He releases me and then slams his clawed hands down on either side of my face, coming in far too close for me to do much more than lean back.
“Little,” he growls down at me, the darkness of his face splitting to reveal his mouth once again. When he closes it, it seems to disappear, leaving this enigmatic shadow in its place. He has two eyes, slits for nostrils, and massive purple striped horns that spiral up from his forehead.
With a grumble that quite literally shakes the ground beneath me, he draws back again and turns away, folding his wings in and stalking across the ground on four limbs. As I struggle to sit up, he sheathes the claws on his front feet and stands up.
Holy shit, he’s huge.
His legs are thick and muscular, but shapely, with large, clawed feet caught somewhere between a human’s and a canine’s. Only, he’s entirely covered in scales. Other than some sort of mane on his head and down his neck, there’s no other hair (or fur?) to be seen. A large muscular tail twitches behind him like a cat and, as I move to stand up, a row of spikes lifts down the center, like an animal raising its hackles. His mane rises along with it, and I realize immediately that he doesn’t have hair, just more of those strange spikes on his head, neck, and spine.
He turns a look on me over his shoulder, and I exhale sharply. He ate the Tusk Guy, after all. My gaze slips down to my inner thigh, and I see that the wound there has stopped bleeding and actually seems to have knitted together. How? From his saliva?
Dragon Dude—because that’s what he looks like to me—turns and drops back down to all fours, offering up a feline-esque stretch before he saunters off, muscles rippling beneath his shimmering scales. A quick look around tells me nothing but for the fact that we’re in the woods I’d glimpsed from the seat of the wagon.
I’m on an alien planet with no clue where I am or where to go or what to do.
Fear strikes like lightning, and I find myself scrambling up and trotting after the alien dude with the swishing tail. He’s prowling through the trees like he’s looking for trouble, but if he is looking for it, surely it won’t find him? I tell myself it’s better to stick with the devil I know than risk the shadows of the woods by myself.
“Excuse me,” I call out softly, reading the agitation in the creature’s body. He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t look back at me either. He just keeps padding along through the underbrush, but he spoke to me in English before, so why couldn’t he do it again? No. Little. What the hell does that even mean? I guess to him, I am fairly small, but why bother saying that? “Wait.”
I jog a little quicker, shredded black slacks flopping around my legs. Somehow in all the chaos, I ended up barefoot, and my shirt appears to be missing. I hadn’t even registered until just now that I was only wearing a bra. Maybe the medics used it for something? Not that it matters.
Who cares about modesty or shirts in the middle of an alien forest?
“Can you help me?” I ask, ignoring the way my vision cracks and wavers. My new dragon friend might’ve licked away the bleeding, but he can’t replenish all the blood I’ve already lost. I need water, food, and sleep, but how do I know what I can eat here? Even if I were on Earth, I wouldn’t know the first place to start looking for food in the woods. “If you could just point me in the direction of the market …”
I trail off and come to a stop, hope flaring in me and then dying just as quick. There’s a massive hunk of metal on my right. A building? A spaceship? Whatever it is, it’s a sign of civilization. I stop walking and creep toward it, parting the fronds of an oversized fern to peer past it.
“Fuck.” The thing I’m looking at is huge, three times the size of my mother’s SUV. It’s also busted up and dented, as if it crashed here once upon a time. There are so many plants growing around and over it that it’s nearly obscured.
With a surge of panic, I jerk back to see if I’ve lost the alien dragon man.
Only, I haven’t. He’s right there, looking over his shoulder at me with those huge purple eyes. He curls up his lip, revealing that hidden mouth of his, lets out a low, rumbling growl and turns away again. He pads off at a quicker pace, and I struggle desperately to catch up.
I can’t decide if he’s waiting for me or if he just finds me amusing or … what.
As we walk, I see several other downed ships. Some of them are the size of small cars while others soar up toward the canopy above us and disappear beyond the limbs of giant trees. None seem to be operational, as if they all crashed here and were left. There are dozens of them, too, in various states of deshabille. One looks brand-new, its sides shiny and silver and scuffed only from the force of the crash.
Sunlight peeks in through the destroyed trees around it, creating this halo effect in the shadowed underbrush. Strange pink flowers strain upward from the forest floor, taking advantage of the break in the heavy canopy. One of them turns to look at me as I pass, and goose bumps rise all over my exposed skin.
“Gross.” I keep following the dragon man until he comes to the base of yet another downed ship. This one has an open cargo hold about fifteen feet up in the air, a space that the alien guy clears with little effort, bunching up those powerful legs and landing softly on the metal surface up above. “Um. Hey.”
I wave my arms around, but he doesn’t come back to the edge, leaving me standing there beside the twisted trunk of some bamboo-esque tree with a curve in its trunk that acts as a seat. I climb up onto it, but that doesn’t get me any closer to being able to scale the side of the massive ship.
Panic starts to set in then.
I’ve been winging it from one moment to the next, so absorbed in the immediacy of every move that I was making that I haven’t had time for existential dread to kick in. What if this is really happening? What if I’m truly alone, stuck in an alien forest while Jane … becomes something’s freaking wife?
“Goddamn it.” I start to pant, sliding down to sit on the tree’s curved trunk. Looking around, I can see that the already dusky shadows are growing even darker. Night is coming. How long does night even last on this planet? Better yet: what comes out at night on this planet?
A sound echoes through the woods, like the scream of something fighting for its life.
I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my hands over my ears, struggling to control my breathing. I’m so weak right now, it wouldn’t take much for me to pass out yet again. And down here, all alone on the forest floor? I’d be easy prey.
I force my eyes open and drop my hands to my lap. Thankfully, the screaming’s already stopped. Probably whatever it was that was crying out for help is dead. I wrap my arms around my mostly naked upper body and wrack my brain for a plan. If I have a plan, something with clear steps that I can execute, then maybe I can get through the night without having a full-on panic attack.
