Kate
Iscream.
My hands are leaning on a concaved chest of what was once another human being and I feel the quick tingling movements of thousands of little white worms slithering against my skin.
Flesh and blood are everywhere I look.
My fingers are in front of my face, covered in filth—I’m hearing myself scream and curse, and I can’t get away fast enough. My legs are slipping in some putrid-smelling gunk as I scramble away. It’s their insides. Those people had insides on the outside and I fell right into them. “Shit, shit, shit.”
My stomach rolls violently and I vomit up the dregs of bitter coffee beans. I’m thrashing my hands through the air and heaving coffee-flavored spit into the pool of blood the bodies are lying in.
Yeah, I’m tough.
Asshole yanks me back by my armpit and pain shoots through my chest. He pulls me a few feet away until I’m clutching my cramping stomach and huddled between his legs as he squats down, trying to get the remainder of the maggots off me.
The thought of the maggots makes me vomit again. This time, the taste of regurgitated chocolate chip muffins coats my tongue and tears sting my eyes.
When the last of the maggots are off me, I jerk away from him. I don’t know what I hate more, his alien hands on me or maggots, but I think they might be tied for first place. I swallow a few times to keep other stuff from escaping my lips and stand up on two very wobbly legs.
I wipe my face with my ruined shirt and toss it into the human pile of trash. “What the hell is that?” I ask, more to myself than to him.
The bodies look ripped to shreds, like someone ran them over with a lawnmower, or just decided to peel off all their skin. It’s a mess of severed skin and bone.
“Why are you killing everyone?” I ask in a low, hoarse voice.
“I’m not killing anyone,” he answers, eyes still locked on the stack of bodies.
“Your shitty alien friends did this,” I hiss.
“It can’t be.”
“Oh yeah, those friends of yours last night looked really peaceful.” I laugh bitterly. “What was that nice game you were playing when they ripped your face off and left you for dead?”
Somewhere close, under the shroud of fog, a low grate of metal scrapes against more metal.
“We need to leave. Now,” he says quickly.
Really? You think?
He pulls me by the shoulder of my vest and drags me with him. I stumble over garbage trying to keep up. The material of my vest is balled up in his fist and he doesn’t let go until we’re in what used to be a sidewalk newsstand.
He bends down, crouching in the corner, and yanks me to the floor alongside him. His eyes stare off into the wall in front of us as if he’s trying to listen for something.
“What happened to them?” I whisper, pulling myself out of his grasp.
His eyes dart to mine and hold my gaze for an unacceptable amount of time without answering me. It makes my muscles tighten and my lips pinch up in anger. “You listen to me right now—”
His hand, large and hot, presses up against my mouth, cutting me off. My back thuds against a rack of magazines and he holds me there, leaning his weight into his palm heavily, eyes glaring angrily into mine.
The asshole could have just shushed me. I slap at his arms to try to get free.
Then just outside, I hear a heavy storm of footsteps rushing past, making my eyes go wide. My breathing accelerates. The alien dude has his hand over my mouth and I can barely breathe through my nose. He shakes his head, telling me to stop, to calm down…and I’d be able to if he’d just let go of me. He shifts his body closer and his hand presses down harder.Sweet Jesus, he’s going to suffocate me. I try to nod my head, trying to tell him I got it, I’ll be quiet, but he doesn’t move away. I squeeze my eyes shut, and a tear escapes from the corner of one. I hope he doesn’t see it. I hope he’s not watching me crumble.
Eventually the hand covering my mouth slowly pulls down and as the footfalls become distant, I can breathe deeply again.
“You have to learn to shut that mouth,” he says.
“Then you should answer questions when I’m asking them so I know what is going on,” I reply, tilting my head away from him. “And you need to stop getting all in my space and putting your hands on me.”
“That’s the only way I can get your body to respond to what I need it to do,” he says, facing the other way and peeking his head up over the edge of the stand’s window.
“What?” I flinch back. “My body does not respond to anything you—”
He snaps his head around to face me. “Yes, it does,” he smirks. “All I have to do is put my hands on you and your pulse races and your cheeks turn red.”
“Yeah, because you assholealiensinvaded us and you fuckers are pissing me off,” I growl. “Believe me when I say, the only thing that’s on my mind when your hands are anywhere near me is getting rid of all you assholes.”
