by Tammy Walsh
Would they somehow guess I’d been abducted?
Unlikely. And they were going to have a very difficult time extracting that out of me.
At least this way, I wouldn’t be sent to an insane asylum. Anything had to be better than that.
My thoughts, as always, returned to him. Nighteko aboard his ship, only now he was alone, out there among the stars, forced to abduct alien species without a crew. I suppose he’d have to go out and find a new one, one that wouldn’t mutiny him for not taking child slaves.
“There’s a streak of honor in him,” Maisie had said. It felt like a lifetime ago. She was right. There was. But he’d still lied to me. How important was a streak compared to the total blackness of a man’s soul?
He lied to me because it was in his best interest. At least he followed through on one part of his promise: to bring me home.
I wondered how I would continue with my life without my friends to lean on and guide me. At least, I was now among my own species. That had to be better than whatever my friends were being put through, didn’t it?
Wherever they were.
After my medical checkup, my aunt would come pick me up. Or a taxi would take me. It would cost a ton but it would be better than hiring another car.
Another car. Would someone try to abduct me again? Would they one day in the future?
I shook my head. I couldn’t start down that line of thinking or I’d be afraid for the rest of my life.
And yet, a small part of me considered going out tonight, hoping lightning might strike twice and I’d get abducted. And maybe, just maybe, I’d bump into Nighteko again.
I shook my head of the childish fantasy. It wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much I wished it would.
I would head back home and get on with my life. One day, the last few days would seem like a dream. I would forget about that starman in the sky and find someone to love me—a human male—and we’d have a family and my career would blossom and grow. I’d become indistinguishable from any other regular human female. I mean, woman.
I instinctively reached for my wrist, to feel the chain and sense of belonging it gave me. Of course, it was gone. In the hands of a trader somewhere in the jungles of Tordal.
I imagined being back in my apartment, so small and tiny, insignificant to the great vastness of space. I’d return to writing my stories. At least I’ll have plenty of inspiration to draw from.
A knock came at the door. It startled me. The officer on duty on the front desk entered, smiling with his crooked teeth. He placed a cup of coffee on the table alongside a couple of sachets.
“I didn’t know if you like sugar and cream,” he said. “So I brought you both.”
“Thank you,” I said warmly.
“The detective said you’re hungry? There’s a delicious sandwich shop around the corner. I could get you one.”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Any favorite filling? Actually, I think I have a mini-menu somewhere…”
He dug in his pockets until he found it. He presented it as if he were performing a magic trick.
He placed it on the table before me.
And I froze.
You know those movies where it seems like it’s over but it keeps going? And then you start to get a little nervous because you sense something’s coming but you can’t figure out what it was?
That’s what this moment felt like.
I’d been sitting in that anonymous interrogation room too long, sensing something was up, sensing something bad was going to happen.
And now, it just did.
The officer cocked his head to one side, looking at me inquisitively. “Is something wrong?”
“N-No,” I said. “Nothing’s wrong. I-I’ll have… the chicken. Any of the chicken flavors. Thanks.”
I beamed at him, my hands gripping the Styrofoam coffee cup so tight it dribbled over the side and burned my hands.
I didn’t feel a thing.
“Be right back!” he said, backing out of the room and shutting the door behind him.
I listened for the sound of a lock clicking into place. There wasn’t one.
I stared ahead, not at my cup of coffee or the tabletop, but two inches above it.
From when the officer had placed the mini-menu before me.
The sleeve of his uniform rose slightly and, just below the cheap Casio watch about his wrist, I noticed something that shouldn’t have been there.
Not if he was human.
A thick band of skin wrapped around the base of his wrist.
The officer wasn’t human. He was a Changeling.
I nudged the door open. My heart thudded so hard I could feel it in my toes. I peered up and down the hallway. Rubber soles screeched on the floor as someone approached. I ducked back in the interrogation room, leaving the door open an inch.
An officer crossed the hall a little way ahead. I waited a moment to see if he would come back out again. He didn’t.
I tiptoed out and passed the open plan office the man had entered. I glanced inside and focused on the officer’s wrists. Right where they joined his hand, there was a wrinkled band of skin.
Another Changeling.
I’d come back into town to clear up any loose ends, to prevent me from having to return to this place and keep me safe, and instead, I managed to find myself in a police station full of Changelings.
It didn’t make any sense. Why would there be Changelings here? Why would there be so many? Did they have anything to do with us being abducted? That was their business, wasn’t it? Forced enslavement?
And then something came to me. A flash of young women’s faces pinned to a noticeboard down a dark alley. Missing human females. They’d all gone missing in this place, disappeared without a trace.
And I bet none of them have ever been seen again…
Not on this planet, at least.
I had to escape the town, and maybe, just maybe, I would never have to see them ever again.
I turned to begin my hasty departure—
I slammed into someone, knocking me back on my ass.
It was the front desk officer who brought me coffee earlier. He juggled a bag of food he bought at the local sandwich shop. The drink almost slopped to the floor.
“Careful!” he said before looking up. “Oh. It’s you. I was just bringing you your chicken sandwich. Is barbeque okay?”
I lay on the floor, aghast. I willed myself to quit staring at that distinctive band of skin about his wrist and focused on his eyes. I didn’t blink.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s fine.”
“Where are you heading off to?” he said amiably.
“The, uh, bathroom,” I said. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“It’s down the hall on the left,” the officer said, still smiling. “I’ll put your meal in the interrogation room for you. Unless you prefer to eat somewhere more open?”
“No!” I blurted. “The interrogation room is fine.”
“Okay then. Don’t take too long. It tastes a whole lot better when it’s hot.”
He sauntered down the hall and disappeared inside the interrogation room. A moment later, he came out, clapping off his hands, and whistling as he headed back to the front desk.
I hurried down the hall and opened the bathroom door. I glanced inside and noticed there were bars over the windows. No way I could squeeze through them. I headed down the hallway where the duty officer had come from.
There had to be an exit down there somewhere.
The station had so many hallways it reminded me of a rat run. I had no idea where I was going, but if I kept going, I was certain I would find a way out of there eventually.
Bingo.
There it was. A back door that fed onto the station’s parking lot. A dozen patrol cars waited for the morning shift. I had to be long gone by then.
I left the parking lot and took off into town. I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until the police station was out of sight.
>
The station was located near the center of town. I raced down Main Street and passed the excited partiers. I glanced into one of the more popular bars. I could easily imagine being there with my friends.
I kept glancing over my shoulder and bumped into a guy who stepped into the street. He staggered and almost dropped his bottle. He looked about ready to start a fracas but I kept my eyes down and moved on.
I reached the edge of town. Just a few days ago, we’d driven out this way but the journey hadn’t ended the way we thought it would.
Drive. I needed a car. I couldn’t get home without one.
The streetlamps formed tiny haloes of light and the road stretched into endless darkness beyond. Like a tiny planet floating in space.
Then it occurred to me.
There would be no escaping these things. If I ran now, I’d be running forever. They were an advanced intergalactic species, capable of incredible feats of technology. Did I really think they didn’t know how to use Google to find me?
They already had my name and address. They had the details of my friends, my aunt, my work… My entire life.
The goal of simply running away didn’t seem so simple anymore. I couldn’t return to my normal life. I couldn’t slip seamlessly back into things.
My life had changed.
I would have to start again somewhere, get a new identity, go off the grid.
I would never see my family again.
Did I really want to start a whole new life somewhere completely alone? Always looking over my shoulder, wondering if they were going to find me? I could go through all that without knowing they hadn’t raised a single finger to chase me. After all, who would ever believe a crazy story like mine?
I didn’t want to live like that. I refused to be a victim forever.
I needed to warn the partiers. If there were lots of us, maybe they wouldn’t focus on just me. With enough bad press, they might leave the town for good and never return.
I turned away from the road of escape and ran back into town, to the nearest bar. I would speak with the workers, I decided. The managers had to take the threat of kidnapping seriously. If I changed my story, made it more believable, maybe they would help me.
I wasn’t abducted. I was kidnapped.
I wasn’t frozen in a pod for interstellar travel. I was tied up and tossed in a trunk.
I wasn’t being taken to a master on a distant world for nefarious purposes. I was being sex trafficked.
I wasn’t set free by a wayward asteroid field. The trunk lock was faulty and I managed to roll out.
And the police weren’t innocent. They knew about it. They were a part of it. They chose the targets and instructed the kidnappers of potential targets.
Once the feds got involved, I’d demand they take DNA tests of the cops to link them to the crime scene. They would discover the officers weren’t human.
That’s when the Changelings would pull out. That’s when we would all be safe.
I entered the nearest bar and weaved between the customers. I reached the front and waved for the bar tender’s attention but he was already overrun with customers. A waitress with a tray piled high with food sailed past. I grabbed her arm.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Yes?” the waitress said. She wore a nametag that identified her as Sharon.
She beamed a grin that immediately sent a shiver through me. It was fake, too forced, like someone had seen a photo and hadn’t had enough practice with making it look natural.
My eyes drifted down to her bare wrist.
The seam of skin bulged like the neck of an orange. I dragged my eyes back to ‘Sharon’s’ face.
“I, uh, need to see your manager,” I said.
“Is there a problem?” she said, her smile not faltering for a moment.
“No. It’s nothing like that. I just… really need to speak with him.”
“One moment please,” Sharon said.
She delivered the drinks to the customers, who whooped excitedly. They clinked their glasses and downed a large mouthful.
Sharon was one of them. A Changeling. My brain was too fuzzy, too exhausted to process what that might mean. Just how many of these creatures were there in this town?
Sharon emerged from a back room. “He’s checking supplies. You can either come back later or talk to him while he’s doing it.”
“I’ll talk to him now,” I said.
Sharon motioned for me to head on back.
I shut the door behind me. It cut off the majority of the bar’s noise. It must be soundproofed, I thought. I proceeded down the hallway and heard something being rolled to one side in the room at the end.
A man was busy moving barrels from one side of the room to the other. He hissed at a puddle on the floor and leaned the barrels over to see which one had the leak in its base.
“I’m looking for the manager,” I said.
“You found him,” the man said. “What’s up?”
“I need to report something,” I said. “Something that I think you should be concerned with.”
“If it’s about the food or drink, please speak to one of the waitresses,” he said, not looking up and running a finger under each barrel.
“It’s not about the food or drink,” I said. “It happened a few days ago. I was driving my minivan and—”
Hold on a minute.
The man was wearing gloves. How did I know he wasn’t one of them too? I ran my eyes over him. He moved much more naturally than the other Changelings. He spoke more naturally too. But he might just be a better performer.
“When they copy someone, they copy them in parts,” Nighteko had said. “Hands, arms, head, chest, legs, and feet. Most of the time, clothes cover their bodies making the ridges invisible.”
And that’s when I noticed his sweat gathering on his chest. Not across the top of the belly or under the arms, but around a ridge that wrapped around his shoulders and across his back.
He was one of them too.
He wiped the sweat off his face with his forearm. “So, what appears to be the problem?”
“Um, nothing,” I said. “I just… the food was cold.”
The manager nodded. “Speak with Sharon and she’ll get it fixed.”
He bent over the barrel and got back to work. I turned away, at a loss for what I was meant to do next.
The entire town was fake. It was nothing more than a trap to lure women.
“Once I have enough credits to set up my own colony.”
Who said that? Was it one of the crew? Yes. Which one? It didn’t take me long to recall. Stryder. He said it when he betrayed Nighteko. He teamed up with the Changelings as a Plan B. He was going to set up a colony.
But what did that mean? Was that what this entire town was? A way to lure young women? To let them party, to have fun and, as they headed home, abduct some of them and sell them to customers around the galaxy?
The thought alone brought me out in hives.
What would they do with me if they thought I knew the truth? Did they even believe my story earlier? Would they have records? Would they know I should be under some alien master’s thumb somewhere?
I couldn’t take that risk. I couldn’t wait for them to do whatever they wanted with me.
Especially since nobody knew I was here.
What if I called the feds? Would they listen to me? Would they send officers? And how long would it take for them to arrive? And what if they were Changelings too?
No. That was too much of a conspiracy theory.
I noticed movement out the corner of my eye. Two figures—two cops—marched through the revelers, peering around for someone.
Me.
I turned my back on them.
They were looking for me. And they were going to find me.
I needed backup. I needed help.
I turned to the nearest table of partiers. There were five of them. All girls—of course. I fell into an empty seat and waited for the co
ps to pass.
“Can we help you?” a raven-haired beauty said. She slurred her words.
I watched the cops’ fleeing backs. I’d avoided them.
This time.
“No,” I said. “No, you can’t help me. I… sat at the wrong table.”
The girls burst into laughter as I hustled away. Then I paused. The only people in this whole stinking place that were human were the people who came here to party.
Those were the people that needed to help me.
I turned back to the table and sat down again.
“You again?” the raven-haired beauty said.
She might be already half-gone but two of her friends weren’t. One wore a cheap red wig and drank fruit juice. The designated driver? I wondered. The other girl was mousey and had a geeky look about her.
“You asked if you could help me,” I said. “You can. Three days ago, I was driving a minivan with my friends back home. We were partying—just like you, and had a really good time.”
The raven-haired beauty raised her glass. “Amen to that! Woo woo!” And downed her glass.
“On the way back, we were… attacked,” I said. “Some guys kidnapped us.”
The sober pair snapped to attention.
“They put me in their trunk,” I said. “They must have taken my friends somewhere else. I managed to escape and get back here. Now I’m looking for help.”
The mousey girl leaned forward. “Have you gone to the cops?”
I nodded. “They’re in on it too.”
The raven-haired beauty waved a dismissive hand. “Not all of them can be part of it.”
“All of them,” I said meaningfully, pleased I was making headway with at least a couple of them. “They’re part of this criminal gang and they get girls drunk and then kidnap them on their way home. It was us a few days ago. It could be you when you leave.”
“Total garbage!” the raven-haired beauty said, waving her cocktail glass around and spilling it on the table. “This is America! Things like that don’t happen.”
The two sober girls weren’t so sure. And the other two girls, a little wobbly to begin with, began to sit up straight and take notice.
“Then I spoke with the manager of this bar,” I said. “But he’s in on it too. And the waitresses. I think this whole town is some sort of honeytrap. They lure us here and then figure out who they want to kidnap.”
