Her heart thundered. Her gut clenched. She shivered from the cold and her fear. What would the cult do? Would they murder them?
Through the vapor, a monstrous, furry gray arm reached in, grabbed Max by the ankle, and yanked his naked body out.
A
ddy screamed. At least she tried screaming, but when her mouth opened, no sound came out.
The smoke swirled and crackled as it solidified back into a solid wall once again. She was alone. Hyperventilating.
Dropping her head between her knees, she tried to control her breathing but couldn’t concentrate. What was that thing? It single-handedly dragged out a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound man like a pair of old jeans stuffed in the back of a closet.
Through a wall that turned into fog then back into a wall again!
A deep inhale through the nose filled her lungs until her chest tightened with a lump of air. She willed herself to hold it before slowly releasing it out of her mouth. A few more deep breaths and she could finally lift her head up without feeling nauseous.
The urge to run was overwhelming. Seeing as there wasn’t enough space, she did the next best thing. Paced.
Careful to avoid breakfast puddles, Addy moved back and forth across the tiny room, unable to quiet her rapid-fire questions. What was going on? What grabbed Max? An animal? A monster? What would it do with him?
Her heart skipped a couple of beats. Her breathing came fast and shallow again. If the cult murdered him, it would be her fault.
No. Not her fault. She had done nothing except defend herself. But her actions triggered his outburst, which lead to that furry arm-thing taking him away. His death would be on her conscious.
Stop it, Addy.
None of this was real. It had to be some conspiracy. Maybe she was in one of those human behavior experiments. Like that authority study where scientists made unsuspecting volunteers believe they were administering painful shock treatments to other volunteers who gave wrong answers.
But that couldn’t be. There were laws against things like that. Of course, that was back in the States. Max said they weren’t in the US, and he had used the word
alien
.
She paced again.
But what about the other word he shouted?
Earthling.
Who described themselves as an Earthling? What the hell did he mean by that?
She stared at the disappearing-reappearing wall. A smoke-and-mirrors trick. It had to be.
Pulling her hair back, she clumsily twisted it into a braid, hoping the rhythm of it would help calm her nerves. What if it wasn’t a trick? And what if
alien
didn’t refer to another country?
Could it really be true?
Slowly, she lowered her body to the floor with thoughts of vanishing walls, tiny heating cubes, flowerpot toilets, perfectly cylindrical wood that ignited without aid, and delicate yet indestructible shock collars.
And most important, that enormous, gray, furry arm, which had only three fingers!
She smacked her cheeks, hoping the sting would bring her out of this nonsensical thought. The guy was obviously a mental patient and she had been sucked into his delusion. How she wound up in the same room as him, she had no idea.
There had to be a logical explanation. There’s no way she was on another planet. Sorry. Not considering that as a possibility. After all, she had to keep her sanity in order to figure out how to escape. But still, that one word haunted her.
Why would he say
Earthling
?
Who the heck knew, but she wasn’t about to waste more time trying to figure it out. Eventually that thing would come back.
No shadows moved outside the walls. Addy scooted across the sticky floor to where the alien had entered. A door was hidden here somewhere. She had to find it and get it open. Pressing her hands flat against the wall, she pushed upward hoping it would retract into the ceiling like a garage door. Her sweaty palms slid and the wall didn’t budge.
She tried pushing it downward. Then to the left. To the right. Diagonally in four different directions, but not a damn thing worked.
There had to be a way to open the door.
She rubbed her hands over the fire. Heat seeped into them, evaporating the sweat so she could try again. Wait a minute. The wood.
She grabbed the last remaining log and stuck one end in the fire. It ignited. Then, carrying it like the Olympic torch, she padded her way between sticky, gooey breakfast blotches stopping only to kneel and peer inside the water pitcher on the floor.
Empty. Damn.
She faced the concealed doorway again, took a deep breath. She’d either burn a hole through it and escape, or catch everything on fire and kill herself.
Well, better a suicidal escape plan than homicide by a baby-selling cult.
Heart racing, she inched toward the wall, praying that fire wouldn’t be her destiny of demise. She licked dry lips then touched the flame to the door. When it didn’t ignite, she exhaled and breathed normally...as normally as one could when worrying about the plastic-looking material emitting noxious fumes.
Exactly how long she stood there torching the door, she couldn’t say, but it seemed enough time to warrant a peek at her handiwork. Lowering the torch, she squinted. Then blinked. Then wiped her eyes and looked again. Nothing had happened. There wasn’t even a brown burn mark.
She touched the door with a finger. Three fingers. Her palm.
Warm. And solid.
What kind of material doesn’t burn? Or melt? Or get hot?
She stared at the wall, bewildered, for a few more moments before tossing the log in the fireplace. Which, she realized, had also been made out of the same heat-resistant material as the walls, ceiling, and floor.
At least she tried.
Now what—sit here and wait for that thing to come back? Her stomach roiled at the thought. Max said there was no way out. She hated to admit it, but he was right.
When the wall burst into fog again, Addy jumped up and sprinted to the back of the room, cursing herself for not keeping that last log for a weapon.
The creature stuck its enormous head and shoulders into the room. She wouldn’t have been able to beat the monster had she tried. If only her firearm weren’t at the bottom of the Klamath River.
The monster reached for her with both of its three-fingered hands. She jumped to the side, cornering herself. It caught her around the waist, pulled her out and cradled her like a small child in its furry arms.
Her terrorized heart lodged in her throat, blocking her screams.
The humanoid creature stood at least ten feet tall. Dense yet neatly groomed gray fur covered its entire body except for the black leathery pads of its hands, lips, and flat nose. Eyes like black beads shone colorfully iridescent, like an oil spill. Small, furry polar-bear ears sat atop its overly long cranium.
She was in the arms of Bigfoot’s cousin.
The beast exposed its teeth, and her heart skipped more beats than was healthy. Its undersized mouth housed broad, flat, closely grouped teeth typical of herbivores. Thank God. It didn’t have the ability to eat her. Her heart started again.
Addy wriggled and pushed and tried to break loose. The creature’s mighty arms held her firm against its thickly padded chest, though not enough to hurt her.
Was it murmuring or purring? She couldn’t tell with the sound of terror drumming in her ears. She wanted to throw up and felt her stomach contract.
It stroked her hair as if trying to soothe her. Stranger still, she felt a shroud of calmness lay over her. She could sense it, but couldn’t feel it inside her body. The calm came from someplace else. The monster?
As it turned and carried her across the room, she saw three rows of boxes, like the one she had been in, stacked two high. Not boxes. Cages.
Transparent cages.
Three other couples were trapped inside. Though
they
didn’t appear to mind.
The creature—walking surprisingly graceful for its height—carried her down a long corridor and through a monstrous doorway into what looked like an examining room complete with a cold table upon which she was placed. Another large, furry humanoid creature—the color of wet sand—moved around the room as if preparing for something.
Oh God. They may not have canine teeth but there was nothing to stop them from dicing her up and boiling her in soup.
She inhaled deeply, but couldn’t detect the scent of food cooking. Rather, she smelled that same pungent cleanser odor from the pitcher in her cage. It reminded her of a sterile hospital.
Was this a lab? Was she a specimen for dissection?
As soon as the gray creature released her, she jumped from the table, ignoring the shooting pain in her ankles, and sprinted for the open doorway. The air crackled before the fog began to swirl, signaling its change into a solid wall. She had to reach it before—.
Powerful hands grabbed her leg. If she hadn’t braced herself for the fall, the floor would have broken her nose. The creature brought her back to the table.
Addy kicked. Screamed. Thrashed her body. If this were the end, she’d leave this world like she came in—fighting.
A pinprick in her thigh sent cool fluid rushing into her bloodstream.
Her body grew light, as if gravity loosened its grasp and released her into space. She stopped yelling. Not because she wanted to but because she couldn’t.
Get up and run, dammit.
Her muscles wouldn’t obey.
She blinked heavy lids. The blurry room remained unfocused.
The creature released her. Still, she couldn’t move. They had drugged her and she could do nothing more than close her eyes.
And await death.
D
a, she’s waking up.”
“Aye. Ye best fetch her a drink.” The voice was deep and male. Soft footsteps retreated, yet there was still a presence at her side. “Lass, can ye hear me?”
Celtic aliens? She squeezed her eyes tight, not wanting to confront another unknown. In the distance, liquid splashed into a glass. The footsteps returned.
“Dinna be afraid,” the brogue voice said.
Mentally cursing her curious nature, she peeked with one eye. Two faces—both human, thank God—hovered over her. She opened the other eye. A girl about her age holding a cup, and an older man with graying temples smiled.
Addy tried sitting up, but the movement made her head pound and vision blur.
Not again. She collapsed back into the soft cushions of a couch. “What happened?” she croaked.
“I’ll explain everything to ye in due time. But first, drink.” He helped her sit up.
Thankfully, she was wearing clothes; jean shorts and a white T-shirt that probably belonged to the girl. The girl placed a cup in Addy’s hands.
Neither one of them seemed to take offense when, instead of drinking, she glanced around the room. Behind them, three normal doors—two open and the center one closed—led into other small rooms. A knickknack-cluttered end table and a wingback chair were arranged along the wall to her right. An oak sideboard and hutch, and a knee-high cherrywood Japanese-style table with mismatched pillows stacked neatly beneath it were to her left. Daylight streamed into the ten-by-twenty-foot room through an entire wall made of glass. About fifty yards of mowed lawn lay between the wall and a wooded area. Was it a forest?
“Where am I?” Addy tried getting the words out of her dry throat.
“Ye best drink, lass. It will help ye get yer voice back.”
Addy brought the cup to her nose and sniffed. “Orange juice?”
“Aye.”
She inhaled again noticing another aroma she couldn’t quite place. “What else is in this?”
“Just a wee bit of the malt.”
The girl turned to him. “You spiked our juice?”
“Well, I had to make it palatable.”
“Who are you two?” Were they with the cult or with the prisoners...or with the aliens?
“The name’s Duncan. This lovely lass is my daughter, Tess.” He flashed Addy a cheerful smile that made his warm, brown eyes twinkle. The lines around them couldn’t hide the kindness radiating from him. He appeared to be in his late fifties and attractive for an older guy. Or maybe she was just a sucker for the accent.
He was a big man, though whether he was stout or muscular she couldn’t tell. The eggplant color, Charles Dickens–like cloak he wore hid his body.
Where Duncan had a big presence, Tess was quite the opposite. She had a frail look to her; small boned, thin, and so pale Addy could see the dark blue veins under the sheer skin of her neck. Her gray eyes were the color of silver moss and a beautiful contrast to her fiery red hair. Like her, Tess was dressed in jeans shorts and a T-shirt.
“I guess ye can call us the welcoming committee,” Duncan said.
Addy shifted on the couch. “Where am I? What were those creatures? What happened to Max?”
“Max?” Tess glanced at her father.
“Ye mean the gladiator, Max?”
“I don’t know. He’s a big guy with big muscles, dark hair, and the greenest colored contacts I’ve ever seen.”
“Aye. She’s met Max.”
“Met him. I was assaulted by him.”
“Oh, honey.” Tess moved to sit next to her on the couch. “I’m so sorry.”
“I dinna understand. Ye’ve been to a breeding box without going to the Yard first? Hmm.”
Addy took a small sip of her drink—.
“Och, well, ye must be ovulating.”
—and spewed the juice on Duncan. “Does anyone here, besides me, feel
uncomfortable
discussing my biological clock?”
“Settle down, settle down.” He used his cloak to wipe the droplets from his face. “Usually they bring ye new ones to the Yard first so we can explain how things work here.”
“Where is here? What happened to me?”
“Perhaps first ye should tell me all that ye ken.” Duncan sat in the wingback chair while she explained everything: the forest fire, waking up in the room and not remembering how she got there, what Max said about the baby-making cult, his attack, his breakdown, the alien creatures, and getting drugged.