It Isn't Tuesday Without a TEASE

Another little snip from my epic alien rebellion saga, ZERO.  Enjoy!

He releases his ravaged bottom lip, clears his throat, and lifts his gaze.  “My men seem to think you’ve been miscategorized.  That you should be a Four, or even a Five.”  When I still don’t respond, he lets loose an aggrieved sounding sigh.  “Do you know what that means?”

“Give it up, Dunc,” Mick says on a low, humorless chuckle.  “She’s not going to talk to you.  That’d be a civil thing to do, something savages don’t know anything about.”

The lieutenant grits his teeth, shoots a dark look over his shoulder.  “When I want your opinion, I will ask for it.”

“Yes, sir.”  Mick’s voice turns precise, clipped.  It’s as though he’s flipped a switch and changed into a completely different person.

Unconsciously, I crane my neck to see around the lieutenant.  I wonder if his appearance changed along with his voice, but the lieutenant turns back to me, blocking out all else.

“This base is not like the one you came from,” he begins again.  It’s almost fascinating, the way he slides so effortlessly from one dialect to another, like he’s equally comfortable on either side of the line.  “We are not a prison camp.  We’re a work camp, which means—“

“I know what a ‘work camp’ is,” I snap out bitterly.  We both know what they are here for, so why don’t they just kill me already?  What was the point in feeding me these last few days, in keeping me alive?  Why all the talking now?

“Do you really?”  He cocks his head, considering me.  He allows only the barest pause before continuing.  “Then, by all means, enlighten me.  What is a work camp?” 

The last two words push out of him hard and heavy.  He wants me to know that he didn’t miss the emphasis I’d placed on them.

I pinch my lips together.  I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with.  I should’ve just let him ramble on.

“No answer?”  He glances down at his watch.  “I’d like to say I can wait, but that’s not true.”

Like that’s going to get my mouth moving.  I cross my arms over my chest, clamping my jaw tightly shut.

Apparently unfazed, he pockets his com-pew-ter before reaching behind him.  A small click sounds as he unhooks something from his belt.  Then, his hands come back around to his front and my whole system goes into lockdown. 

The hair on the back of my neck rises, prickling with a sudden chill.  My skin crawls with millions of invisible creatures skittering over me, and my ribs begin to ache from my heart slamming so hard inside my chest.  Mouth dry, lips trembling, I try to back away from him, but wedged in next to the toy-let as I am, I’m trapped.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” he asks as he presses a button on the black box he holds.  A static whirr arises, and a light flickers on.  First, red.  Then, green.  He looks up.  “We originally made these to deal with the wildlife here.  Your animals are a whole lot more violent than the ones back on Earth.  Elephants, especially.”

He clears his throat, shakes his head.  My eyes are glued to the weapon in his hand.  I can already feel the heated jolt coursing throughout me, rendering me incapable of even basic functions.  My body quakes out its fear in hard jerks and spasms that he barely acknowledges. 

“Sorry.  What was it you call them?”  He thinks for a moment.  In my fright I’d barely noticed how he’d inserted his human word—ell-uh-fents—smack in the middle of speaking to me.  He snaps his fingers as the answer comes to him.  “Hendlings.”

I couldn’t pull my focus away from the weapon, even if I wanted to.  And, I don’t.  If I keep it in my sight at all times, he can’t sneak up on me with its electric kiss.

“They were never meant to be used on the natives,” he muses.  He raises his arm, points the box at me.  A red dot appears on my chest, bounces slightly before finding a spot to settle.  Right over the flat bone between my lungs, the one that protects my heart.  “But, as you yourself have learned recently, they can easily immobilize an animal far smaller than your hendlings.”

That animal being me.  Shivers rocket through me, my skin growing cold in anticipation of the death blow he is about to deliver me.  There is no way I will survive another shot from that thing, especially at such close range.

Either he doesn’t notice my reaction or he doesn’t care.  He continues speaking, his tone even, conversational.  “We’ve only ever had to use them on the most violent of you.  The Fives…very rarely, the Fours.  The one time a Three was tased, it died.  A shame, that.”

The red dot sticks to my chest.  It moves with me as the shakes become more and more violent.  My whole body is cold.  It’s as if the blood has retreated far within me in the hopes that if it hides it cannot be taken from me.

He licks his lips, wetting them.  “Do you understand what that means?”  He waits a beat.  “Answer me.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. 

He presses a button on the side of the box.  A second green light blinks to life next to the first.  Lifting the weapon so the red dot moves up to the base of my throat, he says again, “Answer me.”

Again, my mouth opens, my lips move, but no words form. 

Another button.  Another light.  The dot skims up my neck, over my chin, and along my nose.  I can’t see where exactly it lands, but I imagine it’s centered between my eyes.

“Answer me.”

Why Yes, This is a TEASE

I know I told you fun folks yesterday that today would be a different kind of Tease, one having to do with my debut YA novel, ALWAYS AND FOREVER, which btw is a free Kindle download today.  Don't worry.  I'll wait while you slide on over there to nab your copy.

Anywho, today's tease is actually from one of my current WiPs, my epic alien rebellion saga ZERO(hope that's alright with you, peeps).

Anywho, if you'd read the last ZERO snip, you know that poor Thia has been through a bit too much trauma lately.  Hopefully today's tease gives her a little respite :)

Enjoy!

Time passes in hiccups and gasps.  I stare at the walls.  I sleep.  I wake to find trays of food, cups of stagnant water sitting just inside the door.  I never see anyone enter.  All is quiet, both in this room and beyond it. 

My mind begins to play tricks on me.  Sometimes, I am certain I see light flitting around in this windowless box.  At others, I know the pitch black for what it is: a reflection of my own heart now that my family is no longer with me.  Now that I am truly alone.

I sleep some more.  I wake.  Force the food they have left for me into my stomach.  Sip at the water.  The taste assaults me, makes me gag, but anything wet is better than nothing at all.  My life is now reduced to nothing more than a vicious cycle of uselessness and lethargy.  They are killing me with boredom, a slow cruel death.

The hours between napping and chewing up the scraps they leave for me fill with tedium.  I feel my way through the darkness, learning every inch of my cell through questing fingers and narrowed, squinting eyes.  Every miniscule crack in the rough concrete blocks that make up the walls.  Every tiny imperfection in the poured cement floor, the swirls and dips created during a rushed job at smoothing out the surface. 

I learn all of it.  The location of the door.  The corner where one of those metal bowls the humans love so much stands.  Toy-lets, they call them.  Why they feel the need to build a room in their home to take care of their business is beyond me.  I find myself whiling away the time propped up next to the toy-let, poking at the button that takes the water and waste away.  The noise of water rushing out only to be replaced by more crashes around the room, breaking through the silence. 

Somehow, it soothes me like nothing else ever has.  Mama’s softly sung lullabies as she rocked me to sleep.  Papa’s strong arms when he hugged me.  Leda burrowing into my side at night.  None of that compares to the peace that floods through me with the steady whoosh of the toy-let hard at work.

Maybe the humans aren’t so strange in their love of noise after all. 

I lay curled up on my side next to the toy-let, hovering at the edge of sleep, when muffled voices drag me up to full wakefulness.  Two of them, loud and deep.  Men.  Coming closer and closer until their words crawl through the walls and seep into my ears.

Mind whirling, I push upright, ignoring the sharp twinge slicing through my head at the quick movement.  Tiny prickles skitter just under the skin of my legs, the muscles tingling from being at rest for far too long.  One long stretch, and then I back up against the wall and crouch low next to the toy-let. 

There are only two of them.  Jabbering at each other as they are, they should be easy enough to take down. 

Shrinking further into the corner, my fingers curl into fists at my sides.  I bite down on my lower lip, my eyes trained on the area I know the door to be. 

Watch and wait.  Then…escape.

“So you just shoved her into a room and forgot about her,” a disbelieving, almost angry voice demands.  They talk so loudly, almost shouting at one another, that I can hear them clearly enough, even if their voices are a bit muffled from the thick concrete separating my room from the outside world.

“What would you have had me do with her?”  The other man’s indignant response tips my lips up into a smile.  I think I know who this voice belongs to.  The lieutenant’s brother, Mick.  In my mind’s eye, I picture him, bruised and battered from my assault.  Pride cracks my face even more.  “Give her full run of the base?  Our forces would be cut in half within the hour if she got loose.”

“So, now you agree with Jim?  That she was miscategorized.  She should be a Five?  That’s an awful big mistake.” 

“I didn’t say that, but she’s definitely no Zero, Dunc.  You didn’t see how she attacked me and Jim on the trip here.  We barely walked away from that one.  Then, when we got here, she pretended to faint and all hell broke loose.  She took out Davies.  Tried to pick up one of the little ones and make a run for it.  All with her hands still tied behind her back.”

“So, you tased her.”  It’s not a question, and no response is given.  Silence falls between them for a beat. 

Their footsteps halt.  Metal pings on top of metal, the lock disengages, and the doorknob turns.  Light floods the room as the door swings in.  After living in total darkness for so long, it pierces through me, burns my eyes.  One arm lifts automatically to shield my face from the brightness.

“Lights, ten percent,” he says, and the room dims.

Weary, I lower my arms.  Many of the humans’ devices are voice-activated, like their arms and legs are somehow defective and don’t work at full capacity.  Really, I think it’s mostly because they are just lazy.

He crouches down to my level, looming over me so he fills my line of sight.  There is nowhere to look but straight at him.  His eyes glitter, his lips quirked up in amusement, but I don’t know what’s so funny. 

“I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.  She’s a sneaky one.”

He ignores his brother and continues to regard me for an unending moment.  The intense blue of his gaze cuts deep, seeking out all of my darkest secrets.  My skin creeps and crawls under his close scrutiny.  My body screams for me to get up and run, but I can’t.  Not yet.  I have to catch them unawares if I want to make it out of here alive. 

“I hear you’re making friends,” he finally says to me, his grin widening.

I don’t respond.  His smile fades.

“Your file says you’re a Zero.”  He slides a small, palm-sized com-pew-ter out of his pocket and pokes at it.  He doesn’t speak as he looks at the screen, his eyes jerking from side to side.  Reed-ing, the humans call it.  I still don’t know exactly what it is, but it happens to be the only thing they do without making a bunch of noise.  Well, most of them.  A few of them talk while they reed, mumbling to themselves as their eyes bounce along with whatever is on their com-pew-ters. 

He bites down on his bottom lip, his teeth pulling it into his mouth before chewing slowly.  I can’t help but stare, transfixed as he works on devouring himself with his own teeth. 

Humans are such strange creatures.

You Say I'm a TEASE & I say, "Why, Thank You"

So, if you were here for last week's epic alien tease, you know that Thia is smack dab in the middle of a very chaotic scene.  If you weren't here for that show, you can find that tease here.  I'll wait while you go read it.

...

...

Are you done yet?  No? O-kay.

...

...

...

Ready now?  Good!  On with this week's scene.  Enjoy!

After a shocked moment, the guards rush toward me, guns raised.

No time for planning, I drop my shoulders, head bowing forward, and charge.  Knocking into one guard, he crashes to the ground and I kick his gun out of his reach.  He grabs hold of my ankle, yanks.

But, Papa taught me well, and I am ready.  Instead of fighting against his hold, I let him guide me.  Using the momentum of his pull, my kick is ten times more forceful than usual and takes only half the effort.  The air sails out of his lungs in a loud whoosh, leaving him gasping for breath, his hold on my foot a long forgotten memory.

Run.  Run.  Run.

The yard is brightly lit, but with the chaos of the children being herded into the barracks and the guards scrambling after me, it might as well be pitch black out.  Every path is blocked by some obstacle. 

A little girl reaches out to me as I barrel past her.  I vaguely recognize her as being from my first camp.  Chara?  Chersha?  I can’t remember, but her fingers catch hold of my shirt, fist into the material and slow me down.

But, I don’t stop.  I can’t.

Run.  Run.  Run.  The command echoes throughout my brain.  It’s what I screamed at Leda earlier.  It’s what I shout to myself now.  Run.

“Stop,” someone shouts behind me.  “Or, I’ll shoot.”

I pump my legs harder, faster.  The little girl cannot keep up.  She loses her tenuous hold on my clothes, falls to the ground with a soft whimper.  Something breaks inside me with that small cry, and my feet slow, stop.

Something zings past my ear, heating the air next to my head.  Dirt flies up to my left.  Bullets. 

“Get up,” I shout at her.  “Hurry.”  She struggles up, hands curling around my bound wrists as she pulls herself to her feet.  When she has righted herself, I move again.  “Come on.”

Another bullet whizzes past me, this time off my right shoulder.  It’s so close my skin burns with the near contact.  I push myself harder.  My legs pump and pump and pump. 

The little girl huffs along beside me, her little legs unable to match my longer strides.  If my hands were free, I’d reach down, scoop her up into my arms, but they’re not and I can’t.  She starts to fall behind, sobbing loudly as I leave her behind.

This time, I don’t slow down.  I can’t.  If I do, it will be my end.

Another bullet cuts through the air.  This one finds its mark.  Hot, searing pain slams into my left elbow, vibrating up into my shoulder.  Wildfire spreads over the skin, covering me with the tattoo of invisible burns. 

My legs fall out from under me.  The ground rushes up to my face, my chest slamming into the hard packed earth first.  My air leaves me, and for a hairy moment, I gasp and sputter, fighting for a much-needed breath.

“Got her,” someone yells.  Feet pound toward me.  The thunder of it drowns out the shrieks and wails of the frightened children.

Run.  Run.  Run.  The command once again sprints through my mind, but this time, Leda’s voice echoes in my ears.  Run.  Run.  Run.

Panting, dizzy, near complete exhaustion, I struggle to my feet.  They are like boulders, heavy and cumbersome.  Each step will require more than I have left, but I have to do this.  For Leda.  I can’t give up now.  I won’t.  A quick glance over my shoulder shows the guards rushing toward me.  This is my last chance.  The only one I have.

One step.  A wave of nausea crashes into me, makes me sway.  I close my eyes.  Only for a second.  It’s more than I can afford right now.  Snapping them back open, I pull in a deep breath, pick up my foot to run.

“Not so fast, Zero.”  A hand clamps down on my shoulder, spins me around.  The yellow-haired guard.  Conrad.  His lips quirk up in a humorless smile.  “I see we’re going to have problems with you.”

I don’t think.  There’s no time.  Returning his grin, I close my eyes, steady myself and slam my forehead into his.  Nails stab through my skull, pierce my brain.  His pained grunt is the most beautiful kind of music.  His hand on my shoulder slackens, falls away as he grips his head.

One step backward.  Two.  I whirl, run.  He was my last obstacle.  Now, there is nothing stopping me from fleeing.  Beyond the truck, the walls loom high, but the gate still stands open.  Freedom is so close, I can practically taste it.

Run.  Run.  Run.

Giddiness floods through me as I round the truck.  No more obstacles.  Almost there.  The muscles in my legs burn, cry out for me to stop pushing myself so hard, but I ignore them.  What’s a little pain, a little discomfort compared to finally being free?

“Dammit, stop!”  Mick’s voice cuts through the din.  It feels vaguely familiar, as if I should know by his regretful tone what will happen if I don’t heed his command.

Of course, I ignore him, even as he shouts it again.  I am almost there.  Almost free.

It’s not a bullet that finds its way to the center of my back.  It’s much worse than that.  Three tiny prongs that bring with them a wealth of memories from just a short while ago.  As with the last time, I stop, try to jerk them out of my flesh, contorting my still bound arms upward, wrenching my shoulders until they snap and crackle under the strain.

But, I am not fast enough. 

The current that runs through me is far stronger than the last time.  I barely have a second before all coherent thought leaves me, my brains scrambling, my body no longer my own.

Blackness swirls around me, pulls me way down deep.

Soooo?  What do we think?  I don't know about you folks, but I'm not sure how much more poor Thia can handle ;)

Teaser Tuesday

Welcome to Teaser Tuesday on this here blog.  In the last episode of our fun little alien uprising story ZERO, we left Thia caught and in transit to her next uncertain destination.  At the time, many of you wondered what would happen once she got to where she was going and wasn't so tied up.

Well, now you get your answer;)  Enjoy!

The rumble of the guards herding the children out of the back dies down a little.  My body tenses as I open my ears, listening intently for any and all movement.  Mick left his door partially open when he climbed out, and now, I shift so I can see through the narrow space.

Stone walls rise along the perimeter of the encampment, climbing up so high there is no telling where they end and the sky begins.  Overly bright lamps cut through the absolute pitch black of night.  They burn hard and bright, searing spots onto the periphery of my vision if I look at them overlong.  Human-made lamps are so much harsher on the eyes than even the hottest summer sun.  The brightness could blind in an instant, I’m sure. 

I squint against the onslaught and look away, but more spots crowd my line of sight.  It takes a moment more for them to fade, for me to see clearly once again. 

When I do, it is to find myself staring directly into Mick’s face.  He’s leaning over me, confusion pinching his features together. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he skims his hands up my sides.

Schooling my features into a blank mask, I return his stare.

“Right,” he says, giving a short shake of his head.  “You can’t understand me, and I don’t speak gibberish.”  He reaches for the leather strap over my mouth and pitches his voice low and slow for his next words.  “I’m going to take this off now.  If you try to bite me, it’ll go back on.”

I keep the empty-eyed stare locked firmly in place.

The strap loosens.  My jaw falls open immediately upon the pressure lessening.  A line of drool hangs off the leather as it’s pulled away.  My tongue darts out of its own accord, lapping at the spittle still clinging to my lips.  Any kind of dampness against the desiccated muscle is welcome at this point.  How long has it been since I was last allowed even a tiny sip of water?  One day?  Two?  I don’t even know anymore.

He waits, watching me dubiously.  Other than my frantically roving tongue, I make no movement.  If I am still enough, he will believe me harmless.  He will remove the bindings over my ankles, my wrists, and I will be able to make my escape.  I just have to prove to him that I am well and truly defeated. 

That I am a Zero.

He lifts a bottle to my mouth in a slow, exaggerated movement, like I am a cornered animal, wild and unstable.  He is smart, for a human.  I cannot afford to underestimate him. 

Warm water sloshes over my lips, flooding over the cracked, dried out skin.  My brain, my mouth, even my throat don’t care that this is their water.  That it reeks of decay, of dead and dying things.  It doesn’t matter that the liquid passing through my lips contains nothing to help rebuild my strength.

It is something wet.  Soothing rain after a long, hard drought.

All too soon the steady stream cascading into my mouth slows to a mere trickle and then leaves altogether.  I can’t suppress the anguished sob that climbs out, gasping out a wordless plea for just a little bit more.

A tiny bit of water has transformed me into a pathetic creature, begging for even the smallest kindness from my captors.  Rage—at him, at the humans, at Mama and Papa for allowing us to be separated in the first place, at Leda for needing me so much since then, and even at myself for not being able to protect her properly, for being so weak—boils up from the deepest, darkest recesses of my being.  My body lunges upward with a surge of energy I didn’t know I still had, mouth snapping at the vanished stream.  The bindings lock me into place, cutting cruelly into my flesh as I tug futilely at them.

The bottle disappears, and his hands fall to my waist.  In one deft maneuver, he flips me over, my chin smacking the floor before he pulls back on my arms.  A soft snick sounds, and then my body unfurls, my chest and face crashing back toward the floor.  My legs fall slightly apart now that they are not bound.  My wrists, however, are still tightly lashed together. 

But, I don’t need my hands to run.  Just my feet.

“Come on,” he says as he yanks me backward once again.

My feet hit the ground, but after such a long journey twisted all up, my legs aren’t ready to bear my full weight.  I crumble almost immediately.

 “That’s the she-devil Jim was bitching about?” A voice behind me hoots.  “Nothing more than a skinny little runt, if you ask me.”

Lifting my head, I turn just enough to see who is speaking.  Flanked by several guards, he’s taller than the others and more muscular, a shock of yellow-white hair falling over his brow.  His eyes meet mine for only a second before passing right through me.  I am nothing to him, just another savage being paraded about. 

He turns his attention to my immediate right, his grin widening as he takes in the dark ring of bruises encircling Mick’s neck.  “You let her do that to you?  Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen it for myself.”

Mick’s mouth tips up in a rueful smile of his own.  He shakes his head as he grasps my shoulders and straightens me.  “Easy there,” he tells me before addressing the other man.  “I’m sure Jim wishes you would’ve been there, too, Conrad.  Maybe then, we wouldn’t have lost three of the little ones.”

Leda.  My whole system goes on alert at his mention of her.  So, she did make it out.  She is far from here.  My sister is safe.  At least, I did something right.  Finally.

“Lost?  Shit,” Conrad mutters, disgusted.  “I’ll get the dogs.  Come on, guys.”  He turns to go, the men beside him making to follow suit.

“Already done,” Mick says, his words effectively stopping them.  “Jim should be going back out within the hour.  You and your men can go with him.”

He frowns, perplexed.  “You think it’ll take long to find them?”

Mick shrugs.  “Don’t know, but after the hell this one—“ He shakes me, as if the others don’t already know who the troublemaker is.  Stupid humans.  “—put us through, I’m not taking any chances.” 

“Right.”  Conrad jerks out a curt nod, then motions to the other guards.  He’s important here.  Someone that needs to be taken out.  Quickly.  “You heard the man.  Let’s get the little ones into the barracks.  Then, we have some savages to wrangle.”

The red tide of rage within me surges forth at the gleeful way he says this.  No.  Leda needs to be safe.  She needs to stay far away from this man and his ‘dogs’.  If I do nothing else before they kill me, I will keep him from going after my sister, from hunting her down.

Even though my body is weak, my legs still unsteady, I launch into action, energized by rage and a burning need for vengeance. The element of surprise is on my side.  They are all armed and can move easily.  My hands are still tied behind my back, but I have my legs and my head.  That and speed are all I need.

Mick is first.  I slump against him, feigning dizziness.  He steps in immediately, hands out to catch me.  Just like with Snyder, he leaves himself wide open, vulnerable to attack.  Stupid humans.  They’re all the same.

Just like with Snyder, I slam my heel down on the top of his foot.  As he bends forward, howling in pain, my knee crashes upward, finding his soft middle with unerring accuracy.  He crumples, curling up into a tiny ball on the ground.

Run.  Run.  Run. 

My head swivels first right and then left, surveying the area, searching for exits.  Time is of the essence, and I am wasting precious seconds just standing there, gawking at my surroundings. 

After a shocked moment, the guards rush toward me, guns raised.

Sooooo?  What do we think?  Will Thia finally escape these evil humans?  Will she find Leda?  Questions. Questions.  I may or may not give you all the answers ;)

Teaser Tuesday!

So, this snip picks right up where last week's tease left off.  Not as much action, but our MC needs some rest after all she went through last week, don't you think?

Enjoy!

I surface some time later.  My arms and legs bent at odd angles.  Ankles bound tightly together.  Arms stretched behind me with my wrists tethered to my feet.  My back curves in on itself until I am one big circle.  It is the pain of this position that brings me back to consciousness. 

I ache in places I never knew could feel pain before.  My head pounds, raging against some invisible assassin.  I can imagine the war being waged inside my brain, bullets punching holes in the soft tissue, threatening to take my ability to think for myself.  My contorted limbs cry out for relief, but there is none in sight.  It’s all I can do not to let loose the whimpers crawling around inside my chest, inching their way up the back of my throat.

I don’t open my eyes right away.  Instead, I let myself drift, waiting for my head to clear, the dizziness to subside.  While I wait, I open my ears, listen for anything that might tell me where we are, what is going on.

Hopefully, they will say what happened with Leda and those two girls.  Did they get away?  Or did the guards catch them, too?  Needles jab at my eyes with that thought.  Please let them have gotten away.  Let them be out there, somewhere, free of these evil humans. 

Let Leda be safe.

Beneath me, the truck rumbles along, each bump the tires hit, jolting through the floor and pounding into my body.  They must have placed me on the floor of the cab.  A booted foot rests on my side, a heavy persistent weight on my ribcage.  It isn’t crushing, but just enough to make me hyper-aware of its presence.

“Bitch broke my nose,” the other man grumbles. 

“You’ve already said that, Jim,” the lieutenant’s brother says.  “Twice.”

“Well, it won’t stop bleeding.” 

I want to smile at his surly reply, at the fact that I hurt him so badly, but a wide leather strap has been fitted over my mouth and under my chin, immobilizing my jaw.  I am effectively neutralized.  No weapons against them, not even my teeth to bite.  These men are so much smarter than I’d given them credit for.

“Hmm.”  The boot rolls over my side, sliding back and forth, back and forth, like he’s rocking me.  A light click-clacking sounds, and I wonder if he’s poking at one of those flat rectangles that they use all the time.  Com-pew-ters they call them.  We have no word for those glowing devices, nor have I ever bothered to figure out exactly what they do.  All I know is that these things are not weapons.  They cannot hurt us.  That is all I really need to know.

“System says she’s not one of the violent ones.”  More clicking.  “Threat level: zero.”

The other man—Jim—snorts.  “Gotta disagree with that assessment, Mick.  She practically caved my face in.  Damn near strangled you.  And, I heard that she tried to geld Snyder before they loaded her into this truck.” 

“Yeah well, Snyder’s needed to have his ass kicked for a long time now.  That he had it handed to him by a skinny savage just makes it all the better.”

“Guess you’re right,” he concedes.  “But still.  I would’ve liked to know in advance that we had a she-cat in our group.  Man, that could’ve so easily ended up going the other way.  You know?”  A pause while they both consider that.  “Did you key in her number right?  Maybe you’re looking up the wrong one.”

The boot rolls me again.  A hand skims over my shoulder, brushes aside my hair, and tugs at the collar of the ragged shirt I wear.  Warmth cascades over the back of my neck, right on the spot where the brand is. 

When we were taken captive, the first order of business had been the brands.  They’d lined us all up, pushed us down to our knees, and forced our chins to our chests.  One by one, they’d pressed a flat metal rectangle to each of our napes.  Then came the pain as the metal heated up, boiling the skin to torturous heights.  When the fire subsided, the metal plate had fused to our necks, a permanent sign of ownership.  Branding, they called it.  After a while, our wounds began to heal, new skin rising up to envelop the metal, drag it down far below the surface. 

There is no way to remove the brand, it is now a piece of me, embedded deep within my flesh.

A small metal wand allows them to read our brands through the layers of scarred skin that covers the plates, find out everything they know about us with one little swipe.  He rubs it over my neck now.  The beep it emits clangs against my ears, vibrating through my brain.  That done, he straightens, his foot pressing into my side again.  I bite down on my lip to quell the moan rising to the surface. 

A few more clicks, another beep, and he says, “Yep.  That’s the right one.  Says she’s a zero.  No violent episodes on record.”  He taps his foot on my side, rocks me again.  “Want to tell us what set you off, honey?”

“Are you crazy, Mick?  Don’t wake her up!”

“Scared?”  Mick belts out a laugh.  “Don’t worry, dude.  She’s gonna be out for a while.  Those tasers can be pretty nasty.  And, even if she did wake up right now, she’s trussed up good and tight.  No way is she taking us by surprise again.”

“Even so,” Jim grumps.  “I’d feel better if you didn’t poke at her.  My nose can’t handle any more blood loss.”

Mick’s deep, rumbly chuckles fill the truck.  He continues moving his foot over my ribs.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.  The motion lulls me even as it sends knives hurtling through my middle. 

“Still,” he musses after several silent minutes.  “I wonder what set her off.  If she was so peaceful before, what changed to turn her so violent now?”

“Don’t know.  Don’t care,” Jim replies, irritated.  “We’ll be at the base in a few hours.  Then, she’ll be your brother’s problem.”

A few hours.  I have some time to think, to plan my next move.  I may be strapped down and immobile now, but they have to untie me sometime.  When they do, I will be ready for them.

Sooooo...how do we feel about our aliens now? 

In Which I TEASE You

Long time, no tease, huh?  Well, friends, this one is from my on-again, off-again WiP involving an alien uprising, ZERO.

Enjoy!

The lieutenant’s brother reaches for a small black box on his belt.  It is not a gun, but I’ve seen it before.  Never have they ever used one on us.  These devices are reserved for when the hendlings get out of control.  The image of the hendling, a massive animal taller than a house with skin so thick as to be nearly impenetrable and large jagged horns on either side of its elongated snout.  A hendling cannot be taken down with just anything.  It requires something with deadly strength.

The box the man is unstrapping from his belt can easily kill a hendling.  Even on its lowest setting, it will vaporize me.

Self-preservation kicks in, and I launch into action.  I kick out again, punching my foot into the other man’s neck.  He crumples instantly.  No more time to torture and punish.  I whip around, eyes searching out the nearest exit.

“Leda, run!”  I snarl.  Why is she just standing there at the door staring at me?  She should’ve been miles away by now.  She and the other two should have been well away from the truck.  “Run!”

I leap away from the two men, stumbling as my hands fly out, shoving her toward the door and pushing her out into the hazy afternoon glow.  She and the others tumble down to the hard-packed soil.  Murky gray sand and dead yellow plants surround the truck.  I don’t need to look up to the sky and see the pale blue sun, shrouded in filmy gray to know where we are.

The guards are taking us through the Sunbelt.  That arid strip of land where nothing of any value grows.  The only water running through this barren wasteland is horrid, stagnant and tastes of death.  It’s the kind of water the humans prefer.  They call it freshwater, but there is nothing fresh about it.  The water is devoid of any nutrients.  It contains nothing to revitalize, only drains our bodies of strength, makes us sick.

“Run,” I shout at her again.

Grabbing hold of the two girls, she peels out, her legs pumping in fast strides as she drags them along with her.  I watch her for only a moment, just long enough to verify that she is, in fact, fleeing.  Then, I am in motion.  Propelling myself forward, crawling to the door to make my own escape.  But, I won’t be following in her wake.  I will run in the opposite direction.  When they give chase—which they most assuredly will—it will be me they come after, and Leda will be free.

At the door, my hands grip the metal frame of the truck, one foot stepping out.  I am almost clear of the danger the man and his hendling weapon pose when a hand latches onto my ankle.  It is nothing to jerk him loose.  He is weak as a babe, a groan floating out of him as he tries and fails to catch hold of me again.

“Stop,” he commands, his voice a low, pained rasp.

A smile curves my lips as I take off.  My feet are sure.  Even barefoot, I fly over the hot sand, barely noticing the jagged rocks that leap up to slice at my soles.  Nothing can stop me now.  I have won.  I am free.

“Dammit!” he thunders behind me as he drags himself from the truck.  “I said Stop!” 

Hazarding a quick glance over my shoulder, I see him push himself upright, take the stance they all do when readying themselves to shoot at a moving target.  I double my speed, my legs pumping harder and faster than I’ve ever pushed them before.

But, it is not enough.  Not when he aims that black box at my back.  Not when he clicks the button that will end me.

Three tiny prongs land on my back, centered perfectly between my shoulder blades.  They latch onto my clothing, dig into my flesh until they attach themselves to my spine.  I stumble to a halt, arms flying up, fingers scrabbling at my back, a vain attempt to reach the prongs, dig them out before they can—

Hot, sharp, and blinding.  White heat and static noise blanket my entire being.  My brain scrambles, frying under the electric current now skipping gleefully up and down my spine.  My body is no longer my own.  My arms and legs flail.  My shoulders and hips shaking.  I am a puppet, dancing on unseen strings. 

I have no control over what happens next.  Nor can I borrow the energy to care.  For in the next minute, I lose my grip—tenuous as it is—on life, and everything is gone.

That's it for this Tuesday, folks.  Until next week, when we see if Thia makes it out of this alive:)

TEASING YOU

I never thought I'd be so wrapped up in a world where we (the humans) are the aliens.  But, here I am, folks, happily wandering through the world of ZERO, my current WiP. 

And, since I'm a giver--I know, right? you're welcome!--I'll share a little snip with you this fine Tuesday.  Enjoy!

The ship the first settlers arrived on was little more than a flat disc. Dark gray in color, it cut through the night sky with barely a sound, blending in with the heavens so that no one knew it was there until it landed, lights blazing to life as it hovered slowly to the ground.


Talk about making an entrance.

We all gathered around it, still as statues, rooted to the spot by a mixture of fear and excitement until the doors to the ship opened. Out flowed creatures like we’d never seen. They walked upright, had faces, hair and a spoken language. Just like us, but that was where the similarities ended.

These beings—humans, we later learned they liked to call themselves—were strange and captivating creatures. Their skins ran the gamut in coloring, from the pales of white and pink to shades of olive, yellows, beige, and browns so dark they were almost as black as the night sky they came in on. Their shapes, too, were vast and varied. Tall humans, skinny humans, short humans, very round humans, baby humans, and old humans.

The most surprising facet of their kind was not the colors or the shapes or even the way the years carved away at their faces and bodies. For us, it was their volume. These humans were the noisiest things we had ever encountered. Papa once said that they put a herd of wild hendlings to shame. But even with all their flaws, we were still in awe of them.

The novelty of their differences—not just to us but within their own group—appealed to our general sense of curiosity. And they were intrigued by us, too. With the velvety texture of our sand colored skin that holds the faintest tinge of green—a residual effect from the plants and mosses that make up most of our diet—the humans were always finding reasons to touch us, smooth their own papery flesh against ours.

And, they asked questions. Oh, the questions they asked! Because of the language barrier, it was difficult at first. Papa spent many frustrating hours trying to “talk” with the humans by drawing pictures in the sand and waving his arms frantically around his head. But, he always said that it was worth it in the end. That we had made new friends, and we would do well to make an effort to learn their language as he was sure they would do the same.

Of course, they didn’t make that effort. After the initial fifty settled in, sleeping in our beds, eating our food, and not even trying to help us in our chores, Papa and the rest of the Elders began to suspect these humans of bad intentions, but it wasn’t until much later when they started arriving in ships carrying thousands instead of dozens that we realized just how terrible they really were.

By then, it was already too late.

How are your WiPs coming along? Do share ;)

Friday Five: It Was A Dark And Stormy Night...

This Friday Five is going to be a little different, folks.  Instead of regaling you all with a list of five things all with a common thread as per my usual posts, I'm going to share with you the first FIVE words of my current WiP, ZERO. 

Fun, huh? 

Okay, so here we go...

When the first settlers arrived,

There you have it, folks!  What are your first FIVE words?  Do share.  (in which this is my shortest Friday Five.  EVER)

Tease!

A little minute ago, I posted a teaser from my current WiP, which I have since titled, ZERO.  Today's Teaser Tuesday post is a continuation of that scene.  Enjoy!

The head guard nods to his men, and everyone is back in motion. They grab us at random, picking up one and then thrusting her aside in favor of someone else. Fauna is tossed aside for Elle. She is taken from the shack, her arms and legs flailing as she fights to remain with her sister. Others follow in Elle’s footsteps. I count seven girls taken before the guards make their way to the corner where Leda and I are huddled.


She clutches at me, her fingernails digging painfully into my sides, drawing tiny rivers of blood. I do not cry out. I think that if I am perfectly still, completely silent, they will leave us be. They are just weeding us out. They do this every so often. There used to be sixty of us in this run-down room. When the mood strikes them, they come in and take the trouble-makers away.

Leda and I never speak out against the guards, never do anything to bring unwanted eyes upon us. This should make us safe.

Apparently, Leda is not the only one who readily believes lies.

The guard that I detest the most—the one with the dark, angry eyes and lips twisted up in a perpetual sneer, the one who is always the first to raise a hand, to dole out cruel punishments for even the smallest infractions, like taking a moment to wipe the sweat from one’s brow—marches over to where Leda and I huddle. The light on his hat flickers, and the strobe effect temporarily blinds me. I pull away from Leda to shield my face from the brightness. It’s only for the space of a moment, no more than a fraction of second.

But, it is enough.

“Thia!” Leda screams as she’s pulled from my side. Her fingernails claw at my arm as the guard yanks on her again. I try to hold on. I really do, but she is gone, and I’m left grasping at nothing but air. “Thia!”

“No!” I leap to my feet, moving faster than I have in days, weeks, months, years. They have taken everything! They can’t have her, too. I won’t let them. I’d die first. “Leda!”

I feel rather than see countless pairs of eyes—guards and prisoners alike—swing over to me, the quiet one. The girl who never argues. The girl who always does what is required.

Not anymore.

I come alive, my body humming with an electric current I haven’t felt since they first came for us, when Mama and Papa were still there, when we were still a family. They’d separated us then. I can’t—won’t—let them do so again.

I lunge at the man dragging my sister toward the door. She will not be leaving this cabin without me. That is the only truth I am sure of. I land on his back and begin to pummel.

He drops my sister and, with an outraged roar, turns on me. A fist, the size and hardness of the rocks they make us carry everyday, connects with my stomach, just below my ribcage. It is followed by its twin, only this one lands on my back.

Pain—hot and sharp—pierces me, cuts me down to my knees. “Run, Leda,” I gasp between each blow he lands. Everything goes sideways, and my vision blurs. The floor rushes up to greet my face. My forehead lands inches from his steel-toed boots. This is my end, I think. It will only take one good kick. Pull his leg back and drive his booted toe straight into my brain.

He starts to do just that.

Closing my eyes is not an option. I want to see Death coming. I need to see it. I don’t know why, but I just do.

“Stop.”

The command is spoken in their language, that harsh tongue that always sounds just a little bit angry, and of course, the guard listens. It is, after all, their language, and none of us speaks it.

As far as they know.

 
Sooo?  What do we think of my alien book so far? yes? no? maybe so?