Chapter 4
My heart stopsand I wish I was safe in the ship. But I’m not, and it’s too far to run—if I could run properly through the snow. My heart resumes beating, hard, and fast like it can make a break for it without me. I slip my knife free of my boot and wait for whatever is lurking in the darkness to appear.
The footsteps creep closer.
I hope whatever it is won’t see me. I’m huddled against the rocks in the shadows. But the stars provide more than enough illumination.
The footsteps don’t sound friendly, nor is there a welcoming greeting.
Once again, I remind myself there is no help on this planet. The only reason I’m here is because it’s uninhabited and ripe for mining. That means the footsteps belong to an animal, which makes me the prey. If I keep sitting still, I’m going to be eaten.
A fire would’ve made me feel safer, even a small one made with the long burning chem block in the survival kit. Tomorrow I would’ve found wood and shelter. I’d had plans for daylight. Now I may not live to see the sunrise.
Carefully I stand, knife in one hand, cooling heat pack in the other. For all I know the creature in the dark is small, not a ferocious drone eating monster.
Where’s that little orb of light now? While the will-o’-the-wisp may not have been useful, at least it was something and it had made me feel less alone for a few minutes. I stare across the snow, sparkling in the starlight, searching for movement. Nothing. Then I turn, scanning the rocks behind me. The ones I’d so carefully put at my back, so I would feel safe, have betrayed me.
My eyes widen and my throat closes before a scream can escape.
On top of the rock, staring down at me is a creature, white as snow, eyes like black holes. It watches, crouched and ready to pounce. If I’d remained sitting, it would’ve landed on my head and shoulders and killed me instantly. Now I get the pleasure of terror. My muscles melt and I can’t move. My brain is little more than static. The tiny knife in my hand is next to useless.
I am already dead and am just enjoying my last few breaths.
The creature gives a wiggle as though readying to attack, or maybe it’s laughing at me, already sensing an easy dinner.
It’s enough that I find my voice. I won’t be eaten without a fight. “Shoo. Leave me alone.”
My words carry on the wind and the animal jerks its head up as though it didn’t expect dinner to argue, which only makes me bolder.
“Yeah that’s right, find something easier to eat.” I lift the knife like I’m an actual threat to the beast.
Then it bounds down the rocks toward me, all teeth and open mouth. Something knocks into me, and I scream thinking the creature has me. All I can see is white fur. I struggle against the warm body, expecting claws and teeth to pierce my skin. Then just as suddenly I’m free.
The creature snarls and I scramble back, my hands scrabbling in the cold snow.
There are two of them now. I blink and shove my hair out of my face. No, not two of the creatures, just one and something else also draped in the same white fur. The beast creeps forward, still wanting dinner, tail lashing, lips drawn back to reveal teeth as long as my fingers. The other being stands. Tall and strong, he seems to crackle with power. His skin in the same eerie purple-pink as the lightning and his long white hair whips around him like he caught in his own personal storm. In his hands is a staff that has to be my height, but it barely reaches his shoulder.
The beast considers him for several seconds that last eons, then with a final growl of defeat, it slinks away until it’s lost amongst the snow and shadows.
It’s only then I remember how to breathe. I’m not dead. My heart is still working overtime, and my legs are weak. But I am uneaten. I almost want to celebrate. Then the man who saved me turns.
He’s like no alien I’ve ever seen. The intensity of his stare, and the power radiating off him make me wonder if I wouldn’t have been safer being dinner for the beast.
“Thank you,” I squeak. The knife is still in my shaky hand. It’s clear I’m no threat to him. How much of a threat is he to me?
He’s wearing the fur of the beast. That means he’s killed at least one, but from the size of him maybe he’s wearing two. He draws in a breath and exhales. As he does he seems to lose his luminescence. His hair settles around his shoulders and he looks marginally less terrifying, but his skin still gleams unnaturally.
He shouldn’t be here. No humanoid was picked up on the scans. And yet here he is, and he’s just saved my life. Maybe I fell asleep or died and this is my brain’s final twitch.
The alien man reaches out a hand to help me up. His fingers are tipped with lethal black claws.
My gaze dances from his hand to the sharp planes of his face. He says something and smiles like he’s trying to be my friend, but those soft lips had hidden fangs.
The urge to run pumps through my blood. I don’t know what he is, only that he’s dangerous, and he’s waiting for me to take his hand. And what if I don’t?
Which danger is worse; the bitter night, or the alien who shouldn’t exist?
