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Mr.Perfect Feet
How did it come to this?
The question popped up in my mind for the hundredth time as I tended to the underground garden.No matter how routine pruning and watering plants was, this place and its inhabitants felt surreal to me.I kept expecting to wake up any moment now and discover this had been a vivid nightmare.
But there would be no waking up.This was real.The world as I knew it was gone.My job at the University Botanic Garden, my friends, and possibly my parents were gone.Three apocalypses had devastated human civilization, and no one had seen them coming.First zombies, then supernatural beings and, finally, aliens.
I didn’t witness the third apocalypse unfold.Shortly before I got taken and brought here, my group of survivors heard aboutextraterrestrials on the scarce radio transmissions.They were offering humans safety from the monsters, be these the living dead, vampires, werewolves, pixies, and whatnot.We discussed leaving the Botanic Garden in the city outskirts–our hideout for months–and risking a trip to the beam-me-up coordinates.
Then I was taken.I later learned from other humans here that the extraterrestrials were no saviors.They were an apocalypse in themselves.To them, we were no more than lab mice and vessels for their tentacled offspring.
In that sense, I had lucked out by ending up with my cave-dwelling hosts.All of us humans down here–women only, of all ages and walks of life–were fed and protected from the dangers on the surface.A very important fact, given that the only weapon I was capable of using was hand pruners.We weren’t mistreated.
Still, we had to assist their gardeners by working crazy hours.After our shifts, they kept us under guard in another part of the cave, so we couldn’t leave.And not cooperating or seriously damaging plants meant a death sentence.
No one ever saw the executions.I suppose they didn’t want blood spilled in the sacred space of the underground gardens we were confined to.We just saw the rebellious woman get taken away, never to be seen again.I suspected the executioner used a bow, given our hosts’ weapon of choice–
“Up!No move!Eyes, ground!”
The familiar order, given by the guard in her bad English, made me stop pruning the azaleas.I pushed up from my kneeling position in the moist soil and lowered my gaze like everyone else.Though, I was curious to see who would be inspecting our progress in the flower garden so soon after the previous check.
Silence fell.The water springing from the cave wall to my left suddenly sounded deafeningly loud.
Then I heard the rustle of clothes.No sound of footsteps on the rocky threshold or muffled thuds on the grassy ground near theflower patches.No subtle sounds a person made unconsciously while walking.Just the faint whisper of fabrics brushing together.
No surprises there.The locals moved like ghosts, never to be seen or heard until it was too late for their victims.
That was exactly what had happened to me.One minute I was picking apples for the others at the Botanic Garden, and the next I found myself face-to-face with a creature straight out of a fantasy book.She had crept up behind me, and I hadn’t heard a thing.I turned around to discover an arrow pointed at my heart.I was too shocked to do anything except stare at the elf aiming at me.
Words being exchanged in Elvish brought me back to the present.A pair of bare feet passed by me.I kept perfectly still, hands clasped in front of me, head lowered.No one thus far had been executed for taking a peek at the guards or quality control personnel, but better safe than sorry.
The feet stopped, about to leave my line of sight, only to turn and stop again–right in front of me.
Silence reigned once more.My heart pounded in my chest like a trapped bird.I felt the elf’s eyes boring into me while he simply stood there, not saying a word.
I stared at his feet.I had no foot fetish, but this pair was hard to look away from.It wasn’t because of the striking color: his feet had the polished silver hue of every Elf I’d seen so far.It was because of their shape.Feet as well defined as these, with those delicate toes and pearl-white nails trimmed to perfection, could make any woman jealous.Especially one who hadn’t had a mani-pedi in nearly a year.
The feet before me belonged to a male, though; I could tell by their size.And whoever he was, he was no guard or quality control elf.Not with feet as clean as these.
“The flowers,” Mr.Perfect Feet said, breaking the silence.“You care for?”
His voice was as melodic as that of any elf I’d met, but his English accent was outstanding compared to theirs.
I drew in a shaky breath and exhaled slowly to calm my nerves.“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Umm… I’m not sure…” My voice trembled, both out of concern that I’d made a mistake with a plant and out of uncertainty what to say.“It’s hard to keep track of time down here.”
That was the truth.The only change in the light came when the mysterious glowing crystals on the cave walls were dimmed by our guards once our shifts ended.If that was any indication of a day’s end, I had been down here for twenty to thirty days, but who knew?
Mr.Perfect Feet asked something in Elvish, and a polite reply sounded from the entrance to the flower garden.I recognized the voice of the senior quality control elf.
“Moon cycle and half,” the newcomer said next, clearly addressing me.
I had spent a month and a half here already?Whoa.
