High-tech military-grade alien-human hybrid weapons. In large open crates across the floor are hundreds of weapons of several varieties for anyone to come upon. Lit up by Mickie and Weston’s flashlights, the gleaming silver and white guns and blades glinted so brightly they appeared like their own light sources.
“Holy shit,” Weston murmurs, taking the blade Mickie hands him and testing it out. It cuts through the air like a whip. “Now this is what I’m talking about. How many do you think there are?” he asks offhandedly, handing me the blade as he approaches a gun.
“Based on how many are in this one,” Mickie says, opening a smaller crate filled with more weapons and ammo, “and what’s in here. Maybe a couple of dozen to a couple hundred units per crate.”
“Holy shit. One of these weapons would be enough to purchase the material from Whicker.Hell, it might be enough to buy his entire second ship off him.” Weston laughs again, louder this time, and Mickie joins in with a hoot. “Coming back for another look was a better idea on Annora’s part then I gave her crap for. She’s never going to let me live this down when we arrive back at the ship with Sabs and some of these in tow.”
I test the blade out, slashing it like a knife, finding the sharp metal to be precise and light-weight for its quick momentum. It is too light to be made of any type of metal I knew of and my knives were crafted from steel. Putting the blade down, I scan the room once again. “Guys, weshouldn’t linger. We need to get back to the ship as soon as possible. Just leave everything.”
“Are you serious?” Weston guffaws. “We have been searching tirelessly for weeks for something Whicker might trade with us—and I offered himThe Wreckand us as crewhands, just to show you how desperate it’s getting out there. He says we’ve got nothing and there’s too many needy souls wanting what he has. We have to bring him something good. Something like these.”
“Sabs, this is Lurker shit.” Mickie shoots his beam at me. “This is the stuff that the military confiscates and goes on the black market for millions. We’ve got to take it with us,” Mickie argues. “If we don’t, someone else will.”
“No.” I frown, cold, quivering, and anxious. “We don’t because this shit isn’t yours. It belongs to someone else?—”
Weston laughs. “Who? A couple of ghosts? Don’t be pathetic. Annora and Tata made me come all the way back here to search for you?—”
“—search for me? Based on recent dialogue, you’re still searching for shit to sell. Not me.”
“We need a way off this planet. This isn’t just about you, it’s about all of us?—”
“Then maybe we should try a different avenue than working with a criminal!” I don’t want to take from Darolus, remembering how adamant he was that no one found out about this place. Feeling off about the weapons, I step forward. “Look, let’s calm down and figure this out.”
“Calm? You’re the one being ridiculous. These weapons can change our entire lives. This is the find of the century!”
“Don’t you think that’s a little off for you to discover so many weapons like this out here where allThe Dreadnaut’smilitary has been for the past year and a half? Or whythere’s new growth on Earth to begin with? It doesn’t matter because none of us are going to make it out of here if we don’t go right now!” If these weapons are the reason Darolus wants no one to find out about this place, I think I’m beginning to understand. “Let’s go!”
I’ve heard enough about Earth’s history and its demise to know anything to do with Lurkers shouldn’t be trusted. Yeah, their weapons sell for an exorbitant amount for how few of them there are but their history is a dark one, the darkest…
I head for the closed double doors at the very back of the room that’s behind all the crates, thinking it’s the exit. Not hearing Weston or Mickie follow me, I spin around ready to yell at them. “There is a naga that lives here that will fucking kill you guys if he finds you down here?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Sabs, and help us—and if you don’t, you might as well stay the fuck here!” Weston shouts. “For fuck’s sake. All you need is to grab several. It’s not like I’m asking you to kill someone.”
“Yeah, because the last time you did, I slapped you,” I say with a scowl.
When I’m about to stomp toward him and stab him with one of the fancy alien knives, I hear a hissing sound and the groan of the door opening behind me.
Twisting around, I raise my hands, expecting to see Darolus, but the hissing lowers and the door stops before I can see who’s behind it.
“Sabrina, get back here! That’s not even the fucking way out.”
With little light coming from either Mickie’s or Weston’s flashlights, staring back at me is a yawning darkness behind a partially opened door. Hearing the sound of a low hiss on the other side, I take a step back. “Darolus?”
“Who’s Darolus?” Mickie asks, using his own knife to rip open the plastic covering some of the crates.
I take another step back as the door creaks open a little wider, putting my hand on my knife and pulling it out of my belt. The wet blade slips in my hand. “Darolus?” I say again a little louder.
“Sabrina? What’s going on?” Weston walks up to me and the hissing from beyond abruptly stops.
“Run!” I shout, turning and pushing him back.
The door slams open and something large and fast shoots out of it, quickly followed by several more. I scream and slash out my knife as the first form whips past me, losing the knife when it’s knocked from my hand.
Dropping to the ground to find it, I scurry toward the water to my right, hoping the darkness will shadow me as I search for coverage. “Run!” I shout again.
I hear Weston’s scream and the slurp of flesh being cut and rent. Crawling faster, Mickie’s shouting fills my ears as the lights from his and Weston’s flashlight send shaking, frenetic beams across the room.
Barely able to see from the erratic lights, I recognize the beings in the room with us by their tails first. Nagas.
