Page 62 of Alien Jeopardy
Darkness tunnels in front of my eyes, and I suck in a huge breath until my lungs start to ache from holding it.
We’re airborne. We’re out of the flood.
I want to sob with relief, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give tight polo Trent the viewing pleasure of my own personal mental breakdown.
So I gulp another bit of air, lightning illuminating the boat bobbing on the rushing waters below us.
Rex’s wings snap wide, and we glide down, down, towards where the boat rocks. The next thing I know, I’m yelping, thrown towards the boat—then I slam into it, rainwater in the hull splashing all around me.
Rex yells my name, and I cry out, reaching for him.
Then he’s gone.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Ka-Rexsh
At least my mate made it into the boat safely.
Water rushes up to my shoulders, but it’s not the water I’m worried about at the moment. No, it’s whatever’s currently latched to my ankle and winding around my leg.
I kick at it, then take a deep breath and hope it isn’t my last as water rushes around my head.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Ellison
“Oh, I think absolutely the fuck not,” I rage.
My hands grip the edge of the boat, holding it so hard the metal side slices into the soft flesh of my palm. Blood drips down the edge of the boat and into the water.
“Perfect, I was really hoping to get tetanus out here,” I yell. “Nothing like lockjaw to really complete this shitshow!”
Something slams against the boat, something finned and huge and terrifying, and all I can think is that if sharks can scent a drop of blood in an Olympic-sized pool, what are alien sharks’ olfactory receptors like?
Much to think on.
Rex is gone. I can’t see well enough to even know what happened, but I have a feeling the damned suspected snake that brushed up against me grabbed him. Either that, or something else did.
There’s no way Mr. Let’s Mate Forever just threw me into the boat then dove into the floodwaters on his own.
No. Way.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back to the boat, almost certain that good old sadistic Ken No Privates gave me a way of getting my man back.
Partner. Alien. Man.
Whatever.
Ignoring the sting of the new cuts on my palms and the creeping, horrifying feeling that there is something huge under the boat, I balance as well as I can. I squint through the murky rain, trying to find the so-called supplies Ken promised.
“I get that you wanted to put on a good show, but this is fucked up,” I yell.
Maybe it’s my imagination, or wishful thinking, but the rain does seem to let up, just a little. Huh.
