In His Alien Hands

by C. L. Scholey

Arax was aghast the healer had said aloud his own fears. Finally, the chamber settled down. The door lifted, expelling a huge amount of smoky, black vapor Arax had never seen before. Both he and the healer waved their hands in front of them, dispelling the gas. For a moment all Arax saw was an unsightly pile of mangled clothes. Normally the chamber was entered into nude, but there hadn’t been time to strip her. It appeared the machine had attacked the clothing, sensing it as noxious and harmful. His heart fell at the sight; the female might also have been shredded.

  Arax took a deep breath, looked into the machine, and then stumbled back in stunned surprise. “What the fucking hell?”

  “I was afraid of this,” the healer mumbled.

  “Oh no. What do we do?” Arax said, fighting the building panic.

  “The question is what will you do?”

  The female was alive, and she began to cry. Huge tears slipped from big green eyes fastened onto Arax. He ran a quick hand over his face in dread.

  I did this. It’s my fault. Poor little female. What have I done?

  Arax knew there was only one thing he could do. There was only one chance for her survival. He stepped forward to retrieve his new female and faced the healer.

  “For now we will tell the council she died.” Arax leveled a grim, hard look onto the healer. “Not a word, do you understand? Not a single word to anyone.”

  The healer was as grim as Arax when he nodded.

  Chapter 2

  Meadow leaned over the icy railing of the huge ship to look into the murky, black waters beneath. She was careful to keep any exposed body parts from touching the metal. Her clothes, tattered and layered piles of mismatched drab cloth, did little to protect her from the harsh chill in the air. Rolling emptiness mirrored her emotions. The waves splashed high and hard enough to catch the wind, bathing her face in a light, cold spray. It seemed to Meadow the ship rode lower each day, and each day the temperature dropped a little more. Soon it would be too cold to go above deck. And then it would be too cold below deck, and after that they would become a morbid floating block of icy death.

  The sides of the old vessel were coated in ice, and she was surprised they didn’t sink with the extra weight. Or perhaps they were, slowly, in a taunting fashion. The lower portal windows had frozen solid months ago. The deck was slick when early morning dew carpeted the walkways. In the distance chunks of ice bobbed, ominous sea assassins, playing hide-and-seek in a deadly game. One solid blow to breach the hull and they would be doomed.

  The sky overhead when she cast a quick glance up was thunderous. Dark gray, billowing, surreal clouds swayed so near to the water Meadow thought she could reach up and touch them. Every day it was the same. Each morning she’d wake to race for the deck, always hoping there was a glimpse of land—of life. Instead, she was greeted with an almost daily occurrence; the wrapped body of a deceased passenger being flung overboard. No words were said for the dead, no one mourned. Just another person here yesterday and gone today.

  The massive ship under her feet was rusted and riddled with holes after the endless two years of drifting in the pounding, merciless weather. The engines had failed long ago, the ocean current was the ship’s guide, their compass was the tide. Every once in a while the passengers were gifted with the sight of sea life, though it was a rare occurrence. More often than not the creatures were dead, and those were salvaged when possible for food. Rotted and disgusting meat was better than starvation.

  Meadow spied nothing as she cast her gaze about. The old ship groaned as it floated aimlessly, sometimes in circles. From the looks of the skies they’d soon be in a deadly game of dodgeball—only icebergs proved unforgiving when the storms waged war and there was no time-out.

  High Tide was the ship’s name. Fitting. An infinite sea vessel, the passengers never able to catch a glimpse beneath as the water was endless, never revealing anything below the surface. It was the voyage from hell with the walking dead aboard. Every person on the vessel knew it was just a matter of time before the Grim Reaper claimed them—one way or another.

  When the boat had first set sail Meadow hadn’t known this ocean world would never let her off. Regardless, there hadn’t been a choice. The encroaching waters swallowed more of the land with each passing moment. No one had set eyes on dry ground in over six months. They had come close once and lowered the lifeboats with a small search crew of men. Everyone onboard had paid the price, some with their lives.

  The small island they’d found had been guarded by its inhabitants. A brutal war waged for the food and fuel with passengers and crew against pirates. The ship was boarded by the victorious pirates who slaughtered half of the vessel’s number. Forty armed men in total abandoned the sinking island to take control of High Tide. Crew members were killed. When only passengers remained, and every large male thrown overboard, the brutal assault stopped—at least for a while. New rules were explained. Meadow wasn’t heavily into rules, and she loathed pirates with a passion.

  “You’re not gonna get any chow if you don’t hurry. You know only the first fifty eat.” Ginger raced past her as she yelled for her to hurry again.

  Meadow drew in a deep breath and sprinted to the hall where people would gather, shoving and fighting, waiting for the doors to be thrown open. The rations onboard were dangerously low. The double doors were unlocked and smashed against the walls at the passengers’ enthusiasm to gain entry.

  A waiting game ensued. The pirates decided who could eat and would pick and choose regardless of those battling their way in first. They searched out the desperate, the ones willing to do anything, or the ones they wanted to do anything to. All knew by now Meadow wouldn’t be swayed, but if they wanted her alive they would have to feed her sometime. They were trying to break her and others by toying with them.

  “Cut off’s here,” a beefy man yelled when he reached Meadow.

  Immediately there rose shouts and screams of protest. Jostling grew worse and Meadow staggered, trying to remain upright while the beefy pirate picked up a man and sent him crashing into the horde.

  “That’s only forty,” was screamed, but a few still scattered like rabbits.

  “And tomorrow it’ll be thirty,” the same man yelled.

  “Soon it will be zero. What then?” Ginger leaned back to whisper to Meadow.

  “I’ll tell you what it’ll mean,” Mick whispered, coming to stand near Meadow. Mick, the brooder of the three, always had a dismal opinion. Meadow thought his look was always grim. He was tiny and thin, Meadow felt a gust of wind could carry him away. Mick’s stature had saved his life. Standing five foot two, maybe one hundred and thirty pounds, he was no threat to the armed pirates. No one left alive was considered a threat. “It’ll mean we either start choosing who we’re gonna eat or who’s gonna be tossed over the side when they arrive last.”

  Meadow was handed a small bowl of brown beans when the rations came to her. It didn’t look as though there were two tablespoons of the sticky, half-burnt mess. Others cried around her. The people granted food clumped together for safety from the thirty passengers left with nothing. They could all try again at dinner. But as time went by there were some deprived of food for too long who didn’t have the energy. The pirates ate first, and what was left had to be divided between the seventy lost souls.

  Off to the side a woman consoled her two small children. Meadow knew the kids hadn’t eaten in two days. Meadow had gone hungry the day before. She took one small bite of cold beans and motioned the woman over. Meadow handed her bowl to the woman and put a hand to her wrist.

  “Have at least one bite,” Meadow warned, her words low. “If you die, you’ll leave them alone. What’s the point of keeping your young ones healthy for the wolves?”

  The woman nodded, took a taste, then divided the rest between the girl and boy. When the eaters were finished they were led away to work. The non-eaters weren’t expected to do anything except stay out of the pirates’ way. Anyone who complained was thrown overboard. Meado
w was led off as well. Even though she’d given her rations away it didn’t matter. She retrieved her bowl from the woman. Anyone holding a bowl must work.

  “You have to stop being everyone’s savior,” Ginger scolded.

  “I’m no one’s savior,” Meadow said. “I just want some humane action to remind me I’m human.”

  Ginger nodded. Two long years of living in hell didn’t mean they were sinners or the devil’s advocates. They were the devil’s prisoners. Mother Nature had abandoned Earth, or maybe she had died too. As long as her heart beat Meadow would remain the kind of person she had grown to be. One worthy of being loved, even if only by herself.

  The two women walked side by side down to the galley where everything would be cleaned until it sparkled. Dinner, the likes of which the passengers never saw, would be prepared for the pirates. All were monitored closely. Anyone who dared sneak a single taste would be used as knife or whip target practice before being tossed overboard.

  Captain Tray, head pirate, idly scooped at a plate containing beans, smoked ham, and canned fruit. Meadow knew he loved the term pirate, depicting him as a romancing rogue. He was nothing more than a filthy thief, a low-life scum. The only romantic images of him Meadow pictured was dancing a skillet across his cocky face.

  Tray smiled at the women who passed him while shoveling a heaping spoonful of food into his mouth. Meadow knew the captain never went without; he’d throw his own men under the bus for a moldy cupcake. He was a fat, short man with a disgusting mole on the end of his nose. So ugly only one woman lowered her standards to sleep with him. Her plump face was buried in another plate of beans and crumbs the captain allowed her to have as long as she remained his adoring lackey of anything the prick did.

  Meadow was thankful she hadn’t eaten. The sight of Captain Tray made her want to barf. When he moved to toss his plate in the sink his ass cheeks bounced as though they battled wild animals beneath the cloth. He and the woman reminded Meadow of Jabba the Hutt and his shoulder minion; characters in an old movie played repeatedly onboard to pass the time during the first six months until the power was gone. Ginger hurried Meadow along inside as she couldn’t stop her distasteful glare at the weasel and his bitch as they strolled out of the galley, leaving Meadow and the others to do preparations at stations.

  “Never mind them. What goes around comes around,” Ginger said.

  “Well, they certainly are ‘around’,” Meadow quipped, then sighed. “I have nothing against overweight people. Even amidst the starving ones who grow thinner day by day. Before the world went to shit my friend Carrie was portly. She was beautiful inside and out and knew it, it’s what I loved about her, her self-confidence. It’s that bastard who makes me angry. His sense of self-importance. He steals from innocents. He takes the food right out of their mouths and hurts their children with his sense of entitlement. I hate the way he makes me feel, as though I’d love to see him drown. I would too. I shouldn’t waste my breath on him, but he’s in my face day after day.”

  “I know, Meadow. One day he’ll get his. I feel kinda sorry for his bitch though. She’s brainwashed into thinking his shit don’t stink.”

  “I don’t feel sorry for her. I hope she ends up in the sewer-ocean with him and his shit.”

  Ginger offered her a cocky grin. Meadow sighed and smiled back.

  Meadow was put on the preparing crew. She despised that team. Handling the food the passengers never saw was sad. Only a few others besides the pirates were privy to decent food. The doctor aboard was given better rations. The Hippocratic Oath went out the window the second pirates offered her a sweeter deal. Dr. Wader’s nurse was another. The rotund woman had a mouth as big as her ass. Do no harm was a fictional fantasy aboard the vessel.

  There were too many hateful things to think about if Meadow let her mind linger on stupid fools who weren’t important enough to waste her time on. After a while, as the food dwindled to nothing, even the doctor and nurse would pay the price. They chose to join ranks with those who would be their undoing. At one time in life everyone stood on a precipice. A scary place where one met their maker whether they believed or not.

  “Uh-oh,” Ginger whispered. “You’ve got that I’m gonna do something dumb for the sake of humanity look on your face.”

  “Evil triumphs in this horrible place.”

  “Even good men can do nothing when weaponless,” Ginger retorted.

  “Who says we’re weaponless? When pressed you can find the strangest of weapons anywhere.”

  Meadow cast her gaze around the room, noting where the pirates stood or sat. Many flirted with women they knew would do something for them for a small bit of food. Meadow saw Kitty, a promiscuous woman, flirting with a large man. He dangled a butter-slathered biscuit in front of her, and she took a bite before licking his fingers. Kitty was a good person. Her behavior just because she didn’t want to starve to death didn’t define her character. She always gave away her rations above deck when chosen among those to eat. She knew once below there would be a pirate to fill her belly either before or after he filled her pussy. Kitty saw Meadow motion with her eyes. All it took was a luscious swing of Kitty’s hips and she had the attention of a number of men.

  The beefcake holding the biscuit became disgruntled by the others’ attention. She furthered her efforts until one by one many others were vying for her. Kitty winked at Meadow, acknowledging she was in, and up for whatever Meadow had in mind.

  The galley window on deck was open. Meadow eased her way toward the bread lining the tables. She snatched one and tucked it inside her jacket. While Kitty attracted more pirates Meadow broke off a chunk of bread, and each person nearest her took a turn walking in front of Meadow as she eased her way to the window without bringing attention to them. She reached out and handed a piece to the hand that reached in. The bread was grabbed in less than a second. Meadow never saw the face of the person she fed. All of the innocent people on deck knew when it was Meadow’s turn to help in the kitchen that scraps would find their way out to them.

  People made certain to obscure Meadow’s activity as person after person continued to take a turn shielding her actions with pots or trays. When the loaf of bread was depleted Meadow went back for more. The people on deck knew not to make a scene or mad dash for food or no one would be fed and Meadow would be killed. Meadow grabbed another loaf and began to break off small pieces. She wished she could give them meat, but every piece was watched carefully. The bread baker was old and forgetful, or so he claimed. He never counted the loaves. A few more pieces found their way into eager hands.

  Just one more.

  She knew she was pushing it and her literal window of opportunity was passing. She saw some of the men lose interest in Kitty when it appeared the larger, more interested beefcake would become violent if the men didn’t back off. The last loaf of bread was half gone. Meadow screamed when her wrist was caught and she was yanked off her feet. The ugly face of a pirate grinned at her while hands grabbed her from both inside the cabin and outside the window. Others were snatched and screams followed.

  “Thief.”

  “You should talk,” Meadow howled. “I’m taking back what’s ours. We were the ones who worked for the ingredients. We loaded the ship and did all the hard work. You just reap our rewards.”

  “We’ll see what the captain has to say.”

  “Captain Shit Head can kiss my ass,” Meadow screamed.

  The pirates in the room began to drag Meadow away until someone yelled. A number of the passengers took advantage of the pirates’ distraction and wolfed down food. Soon food was thrown from the window and there was a mad dash outside. Chaos ensued. Guns fired for only seconds. An eerie silence followed.

  “They’re out of God damned ammo,” came a bellow. “Attack, now’s our chance.”

  The pirates released Meadow when a number of people came to her rescue. Too long the trodden upon had been abused and used. Revenge, though a dish best served cold, bubbled with heate
d intensity. The smell of death hung in the air.

  “Kill the pirates,” was screamed. “Throw them overboard.”

  The pirates had been separated and Meadow heard shrieks and the splash of bodies as people outside were tossed overboard. Handfuls of enraged, starving people made their way into the galley. The pirates were killed with knives, pummeled with rolling pins, smashed with pans, until the floor became slick with blood.

  A feeding frenzy began as loaves of bread were demolished, people choking while trying to eat the loaves whole. The meat locker was broken into, the lock smashed and the cabinets ripped from the walls. It was anarchy. Canned foods were hacked open and stomped on to reveal the treasure within. Life-sustaining food was finally at hand. Meadow could see the befalling disaster. All of the food would be eaten.

  “Wait,” she yelled.

  It was too late. Denied for too long, nothing would stop the crowd. Bodies outside continued to hit the water. The safest thing to do was to grab a few loaves of bread and hide until it ended. The bread tucked within her jacket, Meadow made her way topside. A huge pirate was being muscled over the side. He struck out but too many angry people had had enough. He screamed as he went over.

  “Sharks,” someone yelled.

  A quick pause to tilt her head down into the rumbling water and she was surprised to see dozens of sharks. An eerie feeling filled her belly while wondering if they had followed them all along, waiting and watching. Often enough a body was thrown over as morbid bread crumbs. She swallowed hard and turned away.

  Meadow found the woman and children she had given food to earlier and led them to a quiet area. She broke the bread into pieces and the four huddled under a broken lifeboat, waiting for the mass to calm. It was a long wait; the battle to live was the most important battle in anyone’s life. Meadow felt certain satisfaction as the captain was tossed overboard alive, kicking and screaming. The doctor and nurse fought while being dragged to their fate, but it was no use, betrayal of that magnitude would never be forgiven. Over the pair went to a cheer. Overhead the sky opened as though crying. Clouds formed menacing gray waves in the heavens, rolling in surreal fashion.