A flurry of forgotten memories surface within my mind, like brittle leaves twirling up from the ground on the wings of a breeze. My mind pulls up the memories of my progenitor – a female of the Cryzor race.
My mother was nothing like this human female. Her form was far more dangerous – hardened, sharp… she was a warrior. But something about this female’s caress makes me think of her. My mother’s touch was never this tender, this soft, but it was caring in its own way – a sort of fierce, affectionate ruggedness.
Images of her are vague, softened by time and the brutal conditioning of my warrior training pod. I hadn’t thought of the female who birthed me in years. Once I had been placed in my pod, I focused wholly on training and surviving. I had never seen her again.
I remain silent and still, focusing entirely on the woman’s touch as it trails over my skin. It gnaws at me in a way I can’t grasp. So subtle yet profound at the same time. This female’s tenderness weaves through the threads of distant memories – ties of a past unremembered until this moment, in her gentle, soft hands. Overwhelmed by the complexity of these unfamiliar feelings, I let my eyes slide fully shut, surrendering to the unexpected sensations these touches stir within me.
Suddenly, the female’s movements falter, and she makes a noise – a slight, wounded sound, like an animal in distress. I look down to find her gaze locked onto my chest, her brows furrowed, lips slightly agape in horror. Somewhere, amidst her shock and sadness, a spark of defiant anger flickers in her eyes. I watch as she traces the edge of a scar with her finger.
I swallow hard, claws extending from my fingertips without explicit command. I can easily withstand pain, fear, and anger but her horror and sorrow make me want to fight – to defend her from whatever is causing her distress. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice my claws and I force them to retract. But the question spirals in my mind: Is it the scar that unsettles her or what it represents? Is her delicate nature bothered by my disfigurements or is she upset at what I’ve been through? I shake away this useless pathway of thought. It matters not. I just need to heal and escape – it does not matter what this female thinks of me or what I’ve endured.
The female murmurs a few quiet words I wish I could understand before returning to her ministrations.
She runs the cloth up my neck, sending small rivulets of warm water trailing into the hollow at the base of my throat. With my eyes now closed, every touch is amplified to my senses. It is almost a torture. I wonder what the look on the female’s face is as she gently runs the cloth along the ridge of my brow. I have to work to keep my body pliant and lax when my muscles want to become as tense and taunt as inflated solar sails.
A frisson of electricity erupts where her fingers meet my skin, the sensation sending a powerful jolt through my system. I mentally steel myself as her fingertips brush a scar marring my jaw, an old mark left from a sparring match with one of my pod-mates. The sensation of her touch is foreign and overwhelming, a stark contrast to the harsh realities I’ve faced.
I can’t parse the feelings I’m experiencing, so I decide to ignore them for now. I can analyze them later when I’m not overwhelmed with sensation.
As she finishes washing my face, I crack my eyes open to continue to watch her. The sunlight makes her pale skin glow in the dim room. She’s entrancing, this human woman, with her strange, meticulous care for a being she ought to fear.
Humans truly are an enigma.
Finally, the female finishes my bath and gently wraps me in the thick covering. With the care that she has shown me this day, I know that I will return her gesture and make sure not to injure her when I escape. She has earned my favor.
CHAPTER 18
Lily
After cleaning up after bathing Stormy, I collapse into an overstuffed chair nearby, keeping a watchful eye on my patient. He looks so much better than the gruesome blood-covered zombie lookalike that dragged himself out of the ship’s wreckage. For some unknown reason, that sight of Stormy clean and resting peacefully eases some of the tension in my shoulders, allowing me to truly feel the weight of the past day’s events. I’ve been running on adrenalin and am feeling my lack of sleep. I grit my teeth against the pull of sleep and force myself to stay awake. I need to monitor him just in case his condition changes.
However, my eyelids start drooping against my will as fatigue sets in. Stormy has remained stable for hours, and I can’t ignore my body’s plea for rest anymore. I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute.
That is the last coherent thought I can remember before I tumble into darkness, despite my intention otherwise – the exhaustion of the past day finally drags me down in a relentless wave.
I’m unsure how much time passes before a hissing noise jolts me awake. My eyes snap open in alarm, immediately focusing on the sight before me. And, of course, it’s just Mango causing his own brand of trouble.
There he is, his fluffy golden form perched confidently on the alien’s chest, unabashedly getting acquainted with our guest – who is awake. Holy shit! I sit up in shock, watching Mango arch his back and hiss right into Stormy’s face. I freeze, my muscles locking in shock and terror as the room seems to constrict around me. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs as I watch the alien’s white eyes glow brightly in the dim cabin light. A harsh growl resonates from his throat, escalating into a fearsome snarl as he bares his teeth at Mango. Oh my god, the alien’s going to eat my cat.
And, of course, Mango, that fearless idiot, is hissing back. My cat, who has all three of his brain cells plus his sense of preservation off on a cigarette break, is sitting on the massive chest of his ‘enemy’ hissing in his face.
I’m out of the chair and across the room before I can think. I scoop Mango off Stormy’s chest and rush him out of the room, tossing him into the bedroom and closing the door in his belligerent face before he can charge right back into danger.
I return to the living room, sudden silence hanging heavy in the air. My so-called ‘patient’ is exactly where I left him. Laid out on the floor, wrapped up in the blanket I’d tucked around him, trying his best to appear unconscious. He looks almost innocent like this, despite being the size of a Viking warrior on steroids. I think he’s trying to appear weak and vulnerable which would be hysterical if I wasn’t so frightened.
I stare down at his still, peaceful face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was still passed out, but I know what I saw.
I tap my foot against his. “Come on, stop faking. I know you’re awake,” I say, aiming for a light tone with a hint of sternness.
His eyes flash wide open, startling me, their glow bright and haunting. For a moment, I freeze, caught off guard by his intimidating gaze. I feel a prickle at the back of my neck, an instinctual reaction to the predator before me. He looks at me like he’s imagining tearing me limb from limb. He looks like a possessed demon with dark skin and glowing white eyes. If he had horns and a tail, I’d be chanting prayers.
For the first time since I pulled Stormy from the wreckage, I realize that I really could die. He could easily kill me. There’s no way I could stop him. I had somehow just optimistically assumed that if I helped him, my assistance would count for something.
The alien lifts his lip at me in a silent snarl. I find myself staring, frozen in fear, into the void of glowing white eyes of a malevolent fiend who looks absolutely murderous. He’s angry and fierce, but there’s something else there too. There’s fear in his reaction, a fear that matches my own. It comforts me in the strangest way. I can only imagine what he’s feeling – waking up as a stranger in a strange place after a crash, injured and vulnerable.
He continues to stare, his gaze neither wavering nor softening. As if he’s waiting for my next move, weighing his odds. I brace for an attack, but he merely watches me, calmly appraising. My heart pounds in my chest, the reality of the situation washing over me.
“Can you understand me? Do you know where you are and what happened? Do you know what I’m saying?” I speak in soft soothing tones, trying to make sure he understands that I am not a threat to be eliminated. I stare expectantly at him, waiting to see what his response is. He stops baring his teeth at me but doesn’t respond further to my words.
With each beat of my heart matching the tick of the clock on the fireplace mantle, we’re locked in a silent face-off. Unless he’s faking, I don’t think he can understand my words.
Taking a deep breath, I push my nervous energy aside and meet the angry stare of the alien lying on the cabin’s rug. His white eyes gleam in the soft flicker of late afternoon sun. “Are you… hungry?” I mime eating with my hands, praying the sign for food transcends our language barrier.
A pause, and then, to my relief, he dips his head in a single nod. Despite the tension threading the room, I can’t help the quick smile that spreads across my face. This is progress. It’s the first sliver of common ground we’ve discovered, and the absurdity of it all strikes me with sudden force.
“I’ll be right back then. Don’t move,” I say, holding up what I hope is the universal sign for ‘hold for a minute’. Judging by what seems like understanding lighting his eyes, it seems to work, and with that, I head towards the kitchen.
I spoon cold chicken noodle soup into a bowl and put it in the microwave. The appliance’s familiar hum is a comforting lullaby against the cabin’s eerie silence.
As the bowl rotates inside the microwave, my gaze keeps straying back to the living room, where the alien remains spread out on the floor. His head is turned in my direction, and he watches my every move, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that belies the wary look on his alien features.
The warmth from the soup wafts out as I open the microwave door. Grabbing a spoon and paper towels, I return to my patient.
Gingerly balancing a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, I head back to Stormy. I can hear Mango loudly complaining from where I still have him locked up in my bedroom, but I ignore his caterwauling. I can’t risk his safety until I figure out if this alien being is dangerous.
“All right, mister, it’s chow time,” I call out cautiously, the scent of broth wafting in the air, making me slightly hungry.
