Their absurd insults fade into the distance as I flee, grateful for the bickering that allowed my escape. Still, I can’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of a pair of bumbling dragon aliens. Everything feels so surreal right now. How did I go from shouting with my ex about canceling our apartment’s lease to fleeing for my life?
“Now, she’s getting away again!” Pinkie yells. I glance back to see them tumbling over each other, wings tangling together in their hurry. Their fumbling buys me a few precious seconds.
“This is all your fault!” Greenie shouts, throwing a punch at his friend…coworker?
Squealing, adrenaline fizzing through my body, I run as fast as I can. I turn the corner and a sob breaks free when I see the hallway just ends. There’s nowhere else to go. My eyes dart back and forth until they settle on a section of the wall, directly in front of me, that’s recessed. A door?
“Don’t let her reach the escape pods!” comes an urgent shout behind me.
“Thanks for the tip,” I wheeze. I’m pretty sure my heart’s about to explode, it’s beating so fast.
I slam my shoulder against the door, pushing with all my might to get it open. It groans in protest but refuses to budge. Where’s the door handle when you need one? Would I even recognize it? I seriously feel like one of those victims in horror movies, fumbling with their keys.
Squinting in the dim light, I notice a gap along one edge where the panel meets the wall. It must be a sliding door! I could face-palm myself for not considering it before.
The thunderous footsteps of the dragons close in. I dig my fingers into the crack and pull with all my strength until it’s just wide enough to slip through. I squeeze my body into the opening, metal scraping along my hips and chest as I force my way through to the other side. I scream when I feel claws graze across the skin of my arm.
I stumble into complete darkness, spinning around frantically.
“Weapon, weapon, weapon!” I chant as I cast my gaze about the room. Anything solid will do at this point. I’d even settle for the cartoon stereotype vase to smash over their heads.
The only light filters in from behind me, blocked by the hulking forms of the dragons fighting for a glimpse as they pound on the door.
“Your slave broke the blasted door! Go grab some tools!” Pinkie growls. He smashes a fist against the door.
Of course this just causes them to fall into some argument about who’s in charge and who gets to order who about. It’s so relatable, so human-like, that I have this suddenly overwhelming urge to laugh. Or maybe cry? Both seem tempting right now.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I say over my shoulder.
“Just you wait; once I find a weapon I’m coming for you guys,” I tell them with a false sense of bravado. I can barely stop my trembling, but I refuse to fall prey to my fears. I refuse to fall prey to them. A good defense is a good offense, or something like that, right?
The room stinks to high heaven of oil, chemicals and dust.
Placing a hand over my nose and mouth, I try not to breathe in as I blindly make my way into the darkness.
Groping, my fingertips brush cool metal. Now that my eyes are adjusting to the darkness, I can just make out the shape of the object in front of me. Some sort of doorway? I run my hands over it, searching for a latch or button. Some way to open the sliding door rather than force it open. My shoulder still aches from forcing the other door. Finding a hunk of metal poking out, I yank on it, pleading with the universe to just give me a break—and a door handle.
With a soft hiss, a gust of air hits my face as a section of the metal swings outward—a door! I narrowly avoid getting smacked in the nose.
Behind me, the aliens erupt into shouting. They begin to furiously beat at the door. I can practically feel the force vibrating the floor beneath me.
Out of options, I duck through the new doorway and heave it closed, cutting off the enraged roars.
“Initiating PP,” announces a very feminine voice from behind me, tinged with an unsettling alien accent of growls.
I yelp and spin around, peering into the shadows. “Who’s there?”
Blazing white lights flicker on, searing my eyes. I squint through watering eyes at the tiny room. It holds nothing but a single padded chair with restraints dangling from the arms and legs. Chills run down my spine—this looks like something from a twisted alien lab, not some escape route to safety.
“Please assume the position for PP ejection,” the voice says again in a rather bored, clinical tone.
“What are you talking about?” I shout at the empty room. The voice must be an AI system, coming from an invisible speaker. “What do you mean pee-pee? Is this some kind of sick joke? I don’t need to pee!”
Did I just stumble into an alien bathroom? Of all the dumb luck...
The floor beneath me lurches, and I’m sent slamming into the chair. I cling to the smooth armrests for dear life as the room starts vibrating and groaning like an amusement park ride.
“It is advisable to strap in,” the feminine voice speaks in a sweet tone that just puts my nerves further on edge. “PP launch in ten, nine, eight…”
