Chapter 12
Alexandra
Crossfire
“Huh?”I’mdumbfounded,witnessingthe impossible happen. The red titan—pervy Dracoth—collapses, shaking the very metal ground, proving he is an actual flesh-and-blood person, not some demonic entity spewed forth from the bowels of hell for the sole purpose of tormenting me.
He just does that for kicks.
His annoying, wind tunnel-like breathing fills the silence, creating a shared moment of shock which stretches between Carmen and me. This whole ordeal has been insane—almost dragged away by even creepier space hobos to be raped. Now their bodies litter the darkened corridor in a revolting,streaming heap of gore. I can’t even look; my stomach retches at the acrid stench.
It’s like a horror movie. The only thing missing is acid blood and a handsome space marine to save me. But, of course, in my bargain-bin movie, the hunky savior is himself a kidnapping, murdering psycho, covered in multicolored alien gore like a macabre mockery of modern art. And his belt—I struggle not to barf thinking about it—is the product of a very sick, terrifying mind.
But I can’t deny a dark part of me—well, maybe more than a part—enjoyed watching Dracoth tear them to bloody pieces, seeing and hearing their terror, a reflection of the pain they caused me. Now, that’s what they call karma. Almost like my pent-up rage and despair made manifest. For once, a wish of mine came true. That’s what they get. That’s what they deserve for daring to hit me, a lady! The fucking assholes!
My hands and teeth clench, my rage simmering. I lash out to kick the horrible, formerly cow-faced Caric once more.
I exhale, exchanging a look with Carmen. The scary woman mirrors my surprise, glancing down at the fallen titan.
“What the hell do we do now?” I ask, glancing around, seeing nothing but stomach-churning gore and darkness leading off in either direction.
Back on Earth, the answer would be obvious—run the hell away and find the nearest cop. But here, there’s nowhere to run. It would be madness to risk Carmen’s plan, trying to pilot an alien spaceship in the ass end of nowhere. Just like Michael with the lights off—useless and lost. No, the awful reality is we’re stuck here. Perversely, our captor is our only chance of survival. I sigh, looking at the giant, unconscious, pervy bore.
“Joder, I don’t know,” Carmen says, glancing down the abyssal corridors, probably reaching the same conclusion as me. “Let’s shoot thependejo.”
Or maybe not.
“Take off his mask so I can shoot him in the face,” Carmen requests, her voice is tinged with panic. She points her weapon at the fallen Dracoth with a steady aim, deadly serious.
She’s just as much a psycho as pervy Dracoth!
“No, fucking way I’m doing that!” I exclaim, glaring at Carmen with disbelief etched on my face. “If we kill him, we’ll be stranded in space or, worse, Demon Egg-Head and the mini-Dracoths will kill us!”
“Demon egg-head?” Carmen glances at me with a frown. “The one frominfierno?” she questions. I nod vigorously in agreement. “Listen,chica, this is a gift, you see. Our chance to escape!” She waves her gun at the pile of mutated corpses. “The giantpendejois probably already dead.”
She’s wrong—as usual. Dracoth’s annoyingly loud breathing serves as a rhythmic ambiance, and red-green fumes still seep from behind his scary mask.
“Escape to where? Huh?” I demand, moving closer to Dracoth, trying to avoid looking at his disgusting belt of gruesome bone or strips of God knows what alien gore that clings to his armor.
He looks like a murder taco with all the works.
Carmen remains silent as I continue, “Just park the alien spaceship at the nearest black hole and hitch a ride back to New York?”
“Idiota,” Carmen snaps, lowering her gun, giving me the tiniest sense of relief. “What are you doing?”
“I’m moving him,” I reply, though the idea is a lot easier than the doing. I grimace, searching for a clean spot to grab the hulking giant from.
That looks like horrible bits of blue brain on his boots!
His knee looks the cleanest. “Eww, eww, eww,” I repeat the useless prayer, trying to ward off the disgusting thoughts. My hands wrap around his thick leg, touching something moist andno doubt atrocious, emitting a sickening squelch. “I’m going to throw up!”
“That’s it,Princesa!” Carmen’s mocking laughter stokes my temper, somehow heightening this atrocity. “Go nice and deep. Get all those guts on you!”
My anger boils over as I glare silver daggers at Carmen. Standing there, making fun of me when this is her fault... pointing her gun at Dracoth in the first place! “Will you fucking help instead of distracting me?”
“Alright,” Carmen says, recoiling with shock. “OurPrincesais touchy,” she tuts, lowering her weapon, moving to clutch Dracoth’s shoulder. I scoff, ignoring her annoying taunts, also trying to ignore the rising stench of death and blood.
Carmen looks absurd as she wrestles her two arms, struggling to encompass Dracoth’s massive armored shoulder.
