Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
And I’m a dreamer, so I was pondering, thinking maybe that was the plan all along. Maybe this was meant to happen, and I was being prepared, throughout my life, by researching all things supernatural, paranormal, and fantastical.
Yes, I had always had my nose in a book, my head in the clouds. And now, those clouds were purple.
The extraordinarily tall men who’d scanned us had finished whatever they’d done with little electronic tablets that were lit with digital symbols, like hieroglyphics the likes I’d never seen before.
The one moving past me frowned when he had his little iPad-like screen near me. He backed up, about to speak to me, but another alien stepped up and muttered something into his ear. He blinked at me, shook his head, held his finger up in a peace sign of two fingers, and said, “A moment.” His lip movement didn’t match the words I heard. I blinked back.
A moment later, the doors opened, and we were ushered out.
“Oh God,” Celeste, a pretty brunette whispered, from beside me. Lacey and I exchanged looks. I thought, for a moment, she looked as excited as I felt, but then saw that her smile slipped, and she appeared as if she wanted to bolt. A nervous smiler.
The thirty-eight of us stood in front of those tables laid with expensive-looking wine bottles and brightly colored glasses and platters filled with fancy-looking hors d’oeuvres. We hadn’t eaten yet today, but not one of us was reaching for the strange-looking food or drinks.
I was not thinking back to reporting to the non-descript office building for my new work assignment, when I’d gotten transferred after the HR shark disappeared.
I was not thinking about the mountain of waivers that I refused to sign after realizing they were written with language that didn’t jive with what they were telling me (but that didn’t stop them from sending me here anyway).
I wasn’t thinking about the fact that we’d arrived after what felt like a week locked inside a building that was a forty-day journey through outer space where we spent a lot of time in stasis.
I was not thinking about their promises (made during mini information sessions during our trip here) of a longer life, easy reproduction, and doting, gallant, chivalrous husbands in a peaceful and beautiful paradise that happened to be hit by some strange flu (that would apparently not hurt us as long as we got vaccinated via sex) that took away all the women.
No. I wasn’t thinking anything. I wasn’t thinking anything, because I was frozen in place staring at the stone walls surrounding this place. Why? Because they were slowly opening on either side of us, and something in the air went… wired. Alert. Staticky.
In spilled men, giant men, much like the men with the pens, but definitely younger (those men looked older, but fit. These were just fit), and these men were in varying styles of dress or undress, appearing to be of a variety of races, like us, but much larger. They were making their way toward us. From both the left and the right.
Before any further directions were given, the glass doors shut behind us with a loud noise of finality that made it clear that we were on our own.
One of the alien men, coming from the left, who was at the head of the pack was running. A few others followed suit and also broke out into a run.
Girls were talking around me, I heard question-like buzz, but nothing computed from that buzz, because my eyes focused on the running man at the head of the pack on the left.
The running-man was tall. Muscled. Curly-haired. Huge. And he was several lengths ahead of them quickly. He ran fast. And I mean fast. Beyond seeing his muscles, his curly dark hair, I saw what looked like determination as he continued to sprint toward us. There were other running men, but I was focused on that one because he was fast, huge, and because of something else.
The buzz around me was revving up. Some of the girls were behind me and abuzz with nervousness at what was coming at us, but the ‘something else’ that was holding my attention was that the running guy at the head of the pack seemed like he had his eyes on me. Me.
He got almost to me, a steely, determined look in exceptionally bright icy blue eyes and was suddenly bending as if he was going to tackle me. And he did. He tackled me! I didn’t go down, though. No; I went up over his shoulder and he made a roaring sound of … triumph?
He did not slow down; he fluidly changed direction, me over his shoulder like I was a sack of flour, and before I was able to react, we were passing all the other alien men, heading for the gate he’d come in through. He seemed to speed up.