by Ivy Cross
I guess it served her well, though. Mean people live forever.
“I’m Mable, by the way.” I guess Mable got bored after a whole thirty seconds of not speaking in tongues.
I stare at her for a second. She’s pretty and would be even prettier if her hair weren’t sweat-plastered to her forehead, making her look like she’s got a bald-spot right front and center. And she’s probably my age or a little older—say 27ish. I can’t place her accent… maybe Georgia or one of the Carolinas—definitely has a southern twang. And just like every other woman up on that godforsaken spaceship, she’s wearing her nightclothes. In her case, it’s not so bad. She’s dressed in some flimsy-looking striped sleep shorts and a plain tee.
“Are—are you sure?” I ask after a moment’s consideration. There are a few loud pops from outside the vessel and it starts to feel like something is pushing back from beneath us.
“Am I sure about what?”
“That your name is Mable… I think my great grandma had a friend called Mable. Pretty sure she died of dysentery after her wagon cracked a wheel.”
The harrumph comes again. “It was my paternal grandmother’s name.” She waits a beat. “Do you have a name?”
“Kaylee”
“Kaylee… sounds like a brand name for feminine hygiene products.”
I laugh. “There you go! If we can’t be a little bitchy right now, when can we? There may be some hope for you yet, Agnes.”
That seems to loosen her up a little. “What did you do?” she asks. “Back… before all of this horrible stuff began.”
Funny, I’m not so sure I’ve seen this whole alien abduction saga as horrible exactly. Now that we’re on our way down to a potentially hospitable planet, I think it could even be a clean slate sort of thing. And God knows I needed that.
“Oh, a little of this and that,” I say. “I got by, mostly. How about you?”
She gives me a long, appraising look. “Come on. We may be moments from our deaths and you’re going with the whole a little of this and that non-speak? I’d really like to know you, Kaylee. Even if we do survive, we’re never getting off this world. So, I think we all should stick together.”
Sure, that’s what she thinks now.
“Alright, Maybelline, have it your way. I was a criminal. That’s what I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? I was a crook. I stole things mostly. It’s a hell of a lot easier than you’d think, too. I grabbed shit from shops and big-box stores on occasion, but my bread and butter was residences.”
“You stole things from people?”
“Nah, I kept it strictly to animal theft—took squeak toys and chew bones from Fido when he wasn’t looking. Of course I stole from people. And I was damn good at it. Waltzed into the ritzy part of town, took what I pleased, and waltzed right back out again. Needless to say, I moved around a lot… but every town and city is the same. There’s always a rich neighborhood.”
Mable doesn’t say anything.
“Not so keen on the meet and greet now, are you?” I laugh. “I bet you were one of the ones in the rich part of town. I can almost smell it. Okay, now that you’ve heard my piece, how about you?”
The whole pod shudders, jumps hard enough to make my safety straps cut into me, then goes completely still. The sudden silence that follows somehow seems louder than the noise from before, and it amplifies Mable’s lack of response.
“Guess we’re here…” I unsnap the too-large straps around my waist and chest and stand up. Every muscle in my body still feels like it’s buzzing from the trip down. “You want to do the honors and poke your head out of the hatch? See what we’re up against?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I mean, I like you well enough and all. But I don’t think we can live in this tin can together for very long. For one, I don’t think the bug guys packed us any lunches.” I let my eyes linger on her for a moment. “Pretty soon, one of us would have to be dinner… and I think I could take you.”
Mable unsnaps her harness and creeps toward the door. “I guess you probably could, what with your seedy background and all…”
“Hey, I never killed anyone. Not that anyone could prove, anyhow.”
She doesn’t laugh, so I’m not sure if she thinks I’m serious or not. Don’t think I really care either. It’s good to have a healthy dose of fear in a social dynamic like this. I don’t know what the world on the other side of that hatch holds for us but being queen of the hill works for a variety of scenarios.
I watch as Mable presses her ear against the hatch. She listens for a few moments, then turns back to me. “I don’t hear anything out there. Maybe it’s safe.”
“One way to know for sure.”
She steps back and stares at the hatch. “Okay, how do I open this darn door?”
“Just press your hand against the dark panel right at the side of the hatch,” I say. “Didn’t you pay attention when the alien guy put us in?”
“I guess not,” Mable says, studying the panel. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of thing a person like you would notice. How to get in and out of a place…”
“You’re welcome. And fuck you very much.”
Mable hesitates a moment longer, then brushes her hand against the panel like it might burn her. There are a slight hiss and a pop and then the metal door opens outward fully.
Sunlight pours through in a blinding stream, making the whole world beyond nothing but a white void. A void that smells faintly of cooking meat.
“Well, the air is breathable—” Mable starts.
The white void beyond the opening takes on a new color as the air fills with a spray of bright red. Mable screams and hops back, but she’s too late. When she turns to me, her face is covered in a bright red liquid. A liquid that almost has to be blood.
I take a few quick steps back until I’m pressed right up against the rear bulkhead of the pod. My eyes have adjusted enough to pick out shapes on the other side of the hatch—large hulking shapes.
A roar from outside chills the blood in my veins. I dart a look to Mable, but she seems to be in shock and is too far away to use as a shield anyway.
“Who is next!” The monstrous voice rings inside the pod as one of the hulking shapes stomps across the threshold.