The Runaway Alien (The Lost Planet 9)

My heart is thundering in my chest. Is he really going to call for all the people to come out? Uneasiness settles in my gut.

Breccan mashes the button and clears his throat. “Hadrian?”

His voice projects, echoing off every surface and making my ears hurt. I know Hadrian and Lyric can hear from where they’re at, especially with the giant-sized hole I’d seen in the window.

“Outside the stairwell,” Smith encourages.

“I need you and the others to meet me in front of the stairwell to The Tower.”

“Tell them to bring all the females,” Smith barks out. “They belong to us.”

My skin crawls at the promise in his words. If they don’t kill us, they have nefarious plans. I refuse to be anyone’s prisoner ever again.

But what choice do we have?

None.

Not when they’ve got my baby boy.

“Make sure everyone is there,” Breccan grits out, though I can tell it pains him to do so.

“That’s good,” Smith says with sugary sweet condescension. “Real good. You can go to your mommy like I promised, kid. I do keep my promises.”

He releases Henry, who topples over onto his hands and knees, and then he pushes up and slams into me, his little body filling my arms with reassuring weight and my heart with a short-lived relief.

Smith puts a radio to his mouth. “We’re corralling them to a central location. When the big aliens are in view, shoot them.”

He gestures to the soldiers guarding Galen, who muscle him over to us. “Let’s go.” To the other soldiers, Smith says, “We’ll get the women all secured and then get the fuck out of here. We’re home free, boys.”

There’s no way in hell I’ll leave with these assholes.

Tension fills the air. I wonder at which point we’ll make a move to escape. Will Hadrian really bring up all the children, women, and morts to be sacrificed by these monsters? My mind reels with many horrible scenarios where the good guys get shot and killed while the bad guys win.

The soldiers march us back down the stairs and I stumble quite a bit—bravado fading now that I have Henry and Galen by my side. With guns pointed at our heads, they herd us all to where two morts stand side by side with a smaller person beside them. They’re shrouded in shadows, but I’m guessing it’s Hadrian and the others. The snap and crackle of the Facility burning set my nerves on edge. Another cloud of thick black smoke billows by, making the three of them seem to vanish in thin air.

“What do you mortarekkers want from us?” the other mort growls from the shadows, someplace different than where I just saw them.

“Theron, hush,” Lyric hisses.

“They found Theron,” Molly whispers, relief in her voice. “Thank baby Jesus.”

“Everything,” Smith barks out, answering Theron’s question. “We want everything. Now be a good freak and send the women this way. Do it or I’ll start cutting throats. I’ll do the kid first.”

Blood turns to ice in my veins and Galen’s sub-bones pop furiously.

“Over my dead rekking body,” Galen snarls.

“Hmph.” Smith cackles. “Guess we’ll cut your thick neck instead.”

I don’t find any relief whatsoever in them trading Henry’s life for Galen’s. All it does is add to the rage and horror swirling inside me. This has to end. We have to figure a way out of this where none of our people get hurt.

“Stick together,” Breccan orders in an undertone. “The moment we see an opening, we take it. We’re stronger, faster, and smarter. This isn’t the end of us.”

I’m hoping they have a plan because I’m all out of ideas.

Smith bellows with laughter, cold and condescending. “Smarter my ass. We’ve got you beat. You’re completely outnumbered. What part of that don’t you understand?”

Several snarling sounds come from a darkened area, drawing our attention. At first, I worry that more of those sabrevipe things that tried to eat Galen back in the caves are back. As much as I’d love to see Smith have his face chewed off, I’m not exactly eager to encounter them again.

“This part!” comes a female voice from the smoke.

We all turn to face the source of the outcry and there’s a collective gasp.

I expect Zoe or Quinn or one of the other women, but it’s not.

It’s Julie from Exilium.

And with her are aliens almost as monstrous as the morts, only they’re opposites in every conceivable way. Where the morts are pale and dark, the new aliens are golden and wild. Tanned skin, gold and black tattoos. Wild manes of hair and red eyes.

My mind goes blank, refusing to compute what my eyes are seeing for long moments.

Then all hell breaks loose.

14

GALEN

There are creatures…like us? With their own human female? I want to spend more time observing them, possibly even be wary of them, except they’ve descended upon us like a violent geostorm.