by Tracy Sharp
Think, Daphne. Think.
Her toes tingled. Then her fingertips felt like they were being feasted on by an army of ants. The decision forced itself on her. Standing in the entranceway of the tunnel to her left was one of those things. This one’s eyes were more orange than red, almost burnt orange.
For the first time, Daphne could see what these things were — lizards. Big fucking lizards. It started to make sense. The beady-eyed ones were babies. The gigantic ones that tried to kill her must be adults, and the one blocking her path had to be in a transitional stage between the two.
The lizard stood about Daphne’s height — five feet five, give an inch or two. It scanned the room, but didn’t pounce on her. Daphne figured that like the tentacle creatures, its eyesight couldn’t be that great. She stayed low, with her back against a dirt wall.
She crouched toward the other tunnel. A protruding root scraped her side. She winced. It was brief and barely above a breath, but enough to allow the lizard to zone in on her. It tilted its head back slightly.
There was a popping sound like the snapping of a bone. The creature unhinged its jaw. A crimson-colored tongue darted from its mouth and flapped in the air.
It’s using its tongue to find me, Daphne thought. She abandoned the plan of creeping by the lizard and sprinted to the open tunnel. A gagging smell — a mixture of blood and rot — sucker-punched her. She breathed through her mouth and kept running, weaving in and out of suspended cocoons that differed greatly from the one that imprisoned her. These pods had two tubes attached to them. One was labeled O2 and the other didn’t have a label. Must be a feeding tube. This was how they kept the women alive between breeding.
The idea that luck was on her side propelled Daphne forward. The pod she’d been in was only a holding cell. They hadn’t violated her yet.
Through muted light, a shadow appeared, freezing Daphne mid-stride. She dipped behind a cocoon.
Electricity raced through her body again. The shock had slapped her enough times within the last hour to make her understand that it was a warning signal. She held her breath as the charge became stronger. She gritted her teeth as the shadow neared her. The only thing shielding her from the lizard was the cocoon. When the lizard moved to her left, she inched right. She thought about running, but with the darkness and everything looking the same, she wasn’t confident she would move in the right direction.
Two small worm-like things explored the cocoon. When they got close to Daphne, it became clear they weren’t independent of each other. They were the fork in a tongue. A lizard tongue. Millions of hairs swayed over the crimson surface. It wasn’t a tentacle, Daphne thought. It was a tongue. A huge fucking tongue. A flashback of the singed membrane when the tongue slapped against it burned into Daphne’s memory. I can’t let it touch me.
Too late. The forks of the tongue brushed against the side of her face, right above the crease in her lips. There was no scorching, but the bile building in Daphne’s throat simmered. Tiny hairs tickled her lips. She closed her eyes. No, no, no. The forks pressed against her closed lips, prying them slightly, just enough to slip into her mouth.
The thing had found her. Daphne was out of options.
She relaxed her gritted teeth and allowed the lizard’s tongue to enter her mouth. The ferociousness of the electricity ravaging her body all but numbed Daphne to the hairs that were poking and prodding as the alien tongue explored her mouth. When it reached the back of her throat, she seized opportunity and bit down hard, severing the tongue.
The lizard jumped back, pushing the cocoon into Daphne. She slammed against the wall, hitting her head on the hard dirt. She shook off the stars in her eyes and spit the tongue on the ground.
She didn’t care if she chose the right way; she had to get the hell out of there.
Daphne ran by the lizard as it flailed against the pods like a drunk stumbling out of a bar at closing time. Run! Don’t look back.
She ran through a narrow path, and then another that ended in a dead end. Just as she was about to give up, she saw it — a ladder. Daphne ran full speed and jumped, clearing the first five rungs. She grabbed the ladder and pulled herself above ground.
Sunshine was such a welcome sight. She lay on the ground for a few seconds, taking in the rays. The warmth didn’t last. She shivered. The air was cold and the lack of clothes made every skin cell curse her. Daphne looked toward the hole she emerged from; nothing followed her. She tuned out the chill and fell back onto a patch of grass, laughing uncontrollably. She felt free, and not because she was as naked as she was when she came into this world. She felt reborn. Empowered. Daphne had been a prisoner in the belly of the beast and had fought her way out.
Victory was short-lived. The taste of alien blood swirling around her mouth reminded her that this was just a battle and there was still a war raging. The world had changed. She spit, trying to exorcise the bitter taste that reminded her of crushed aspirin out of her mouth.
“Did I really just bite the tongue off a giant lizard?”
The remnants of a substance with the consistency of maple syrup clinging to her lips answered for her. Daphne spit again and wiped her mouth with her forearm. “Enough of this shit. I have to find something to wear.”
Chapter 2
Daphne dipped her toes into the crystal-blue ocean. White caps from waves crashing against the shore washed over her freshly painted red nails. If there was a way to bottle this moment, she would call it heaven, and make millions from selling it.
Daphne sipped on a Mai Tai, something she always wanted to do after watching Elvis in Blue Hawaii on late-night cable. Every muscle relaxed as the eighty-degree water soothed her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back on the cushion of the lounge chair she strategically placed at the spot where ocean met sand. This was the life. She deserved it. The trip to Hawaii was a gift to herself after earning a master’s degree in journalism. The vacation put her in debt, but she didn’t care; it was only a blip in the debt she’d amassed in school loans.
Just before planning the impromptu trip, Daphne got a call from the Observer offering her the editor-in-chief gig. It wasn’t “mansion on Lake Norman” money, but it was considerably more than she was getting as a reporter for a small town paper. She viewed Hawaii as her last few days before having to be an adult.
She took another sip of her drink. A drop of wetness hit her forehead. She wiped it away, but another took its place, followed by a drop on her stomach.
“I’m not letting a little rain ruin my parade,” she said, and took another sip.
The drops came faster. She swatted at them, but there were too many. Moaning followed the wetness. Daphne opened her eyes. She wasn’t on Wailea Beach. Exhaustion made her shut down. Reality woke her up. And reality was a man standing over her naked body, spilling blood onto her and moaning. She rolled on her side, narrowly missing the man’s hands as he pawed at her. Daphne got to her knees and bounced to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?” She covered her private areas.
The man moaned again and crept toward her. There was a hitch in his walk and his left arm dragged to his side as if at some point he had suffered a stroke.
Daphne took a step back. “Get away from me.”
The man ignored her. She moved to his right side. That’s when she saw the hole in his head, barely hidden by a few combed-over stray hairs. Blood dripped from his nose and his mouth. Shock skittered over her. Oh, Jesus.
He lunged at Daphne. She stepped out of his path and he fell to the ground. The small hole underneath the bad comb-over led to a larger opening in the back of his head. A good portion of his brain remained.
The sight froze her. Before she knew it, he had a grip on her ankle. She kicked, bringing her foot closer to the man’s mouth. He took a wild bite, narrowly missing Daphne’s toes. She jerked, trying to pull her foot free, but she stumbled, ending up on her ass. She scooted across the patch of grass, thankful that it was soft, unlike the walls of the dungeon below groun
d.
The man held on to her leg. He opened his mouth to take another bite. With her free foot, Daphne kicked the side of his face, changing the trajectory of his bite. Her heel went about an inch inside his head after it cracked his skull. It didn’t faze him. She pulled her leg back. The man’s teeth chattered as he focused on Daphne’s flesh again. This time she grabbed a rock that barely fit in the palm of her hand, and placed it between her leg and the man’s mouth.
A sickening, shattering noise was the prelude to chards of the man’s teeth flying in all directions. Daphne put her free foot on his shoulder and kicked herself away from his grasp. In a blur, she got to her feet, grabbed the rock, and slammed it into the man’s face, over and over again, until nothing was left but a pile of gory mush.
Daphne ran her hands through her sweat-drenched hair. A thin layer of wetness covered her bare body. The chill in the air stung. She shivered as gooseflesh popped up in places she didn’t think was possible.
“Zombies? Really? Aliens and zombies?”
After checking her feet for bite marks or open scratches, Daphne unlaced the man’s boots. They were way too big for her, but she didn’t have a choice. The disgusting footwear was enough; she wasn’t wearing his socks. She took a deep breath, unhooked his belt, and then unzipped his jeans. She turned her head away as she pulled the denim from his body, praying he wasn’t the type to go commando. He wasn’t. Thank God for small miracles. She sighed in relief and unbuttoned his red and green flannel shirt. She had clothes.
The jeans were way too big to stay up on her tiny frame. She searched through the grass for anything that would help her notch another hole in the belt. A small rock had just enough point to do the trick. She cinched the belt and walked. Her feet slid in the boots. There wasn’t much she could do about that. She knelt and tied the laces as tight as she could. It helped, but she knew blisters were in her future. It was better than the alternative — frostbite.
Daphne walked down a gravel road until it turned into a paved two-lane highway. There was a green sign that read that Charlotte was sixty miles away. In all directions, there was nothing: no people, no cars. Daphne walked toward Charlotte.
After about an hour of walking and singing every Led Zeppelin song she knew the words to, a rustling in the trees just off the highway made her go silent. Maybe it was a deer. That wouldn’t be bad. But maybe it was a bear, or worse.
She crossed the road, distancing herself from the noise. A kid, about seventeen or eighteen, ran out from between the trees toward her. The hole in his stomach was a dead giveaway he was…well, dead. He was much faster than the older man. He dove at her, sending both of them tumbling into a ravine. The kid snapped his teeth next to Daphne’s ear, missing flesh, but pulling out a lock of her brown hair. If Daphne had to inhale another whiff of his death breath, she wouldn’t have to worry about being bitten.
She drove her knee into the kid’s thigh and lifted his shoulders, tossing him over her head. He turned to take another shot at her, but Daphne was ready: she jammed a broken branch into his mouth, pushing it as hard as she could. There was a crack, followed by the kid’s head separating from his shoulders. His body crumbled. Daphne tossed the branch, with the kid’s head still impaled on it, into the ravine.
“That’s for the guy who dumped me at the senior prom, asshole.”
Daphne crawled out of the ravine. An audience of a dozen dead people waited for her on the highway. All were eyeing her like the dinner bell just rang. They weren’t as fast as the kid, but there was no way she could outrun all of them in size twelve boots. She turned back to the woods. Two more dead people were bouncing through the trees toward her.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
A car horn startled her, drawing attention away from the dead in the street. A pale yellow seventies van with the scene of palm trees surrounding an oasis on the side roared up the highway. There was no hesitation; it slammed into the zombies. Some went under the van, some went over, and some to the sides.
“Strike!” The male voice was enthusiastic.
The van slammed on the brakes, screeching to a halt, shredding a body underneath the tires.
“Did you see that? Screw the bowling league and their handicap.”
Daphne stood speechless.
“Oh shit! Behind you — duck.” The man lifted a rifle.
Daphne dropped flat to the ground. Two bangs followed by a “Hell yeah.”
“Did you see those chompers behind you?” the man asked.
Daphne didn’t answer.
“Damn, you’re not one of them, are you? How does a cheeseburger sound?”
The humor shook Daphne from her slumber. “It sounds fucking awesome.”
The man chuckled. “Well, get in then.”
Daphne started toward the van. “I’ve been away for a while; please tell me cheeseburger is not the new free candy.”
“Huh?”
“Free candy? Like ‘Hey kid, get in my van, I’ve got candy.’”
“Oh. Hell no. I’m not going to try to kill you. But, I have to be honest, I don’t have a cheeseburger. You’re the first live person I’ve met since shit got turned upside down. You getting in or are you gonna keep playing tag with those dead assholes?”
Daphne walked around the front of the van, stepping over bodies.
“I’m Ryland,” the man said, “but you can call me Rye. Like the bread, ya know.” He reached over and opened the passenger door for Daphne.
Chapter 3
“Where did you find this old thing?” Daphne asked, pulling down the sun visor. Post-it notes rained down in her lap.
“Be careful, that’s research,” Rye said. “And this old thing has a name. Sammy. I’ve had her for years. She’s reliable.” He tapped the steering wheel, filling the air with particles of dust from the cracked leather cover.
Daphne read the notes. To her, they were just a bunch of dates and names. “What kind of research?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Try me. There’s a lot of things I believe today that I didn’t a few weeks ago.”
“Tell me about it. Zombies. Can you believe that? I mean, if this was an alien apocalypse, I would be prepared. But zombies — who the hell believes in them?”
Daphne picked at a splinter in her palm caused by the branch she used earlier. “I do. I’ve had quite a few of them try to have me for lunch. Speaking of food, do you have any? I’m starving.”
Rye pointed to the glove box. “Some chips in there. I’m on my way for a food run now.”
Daphne opened the glove box and fished through a few eight-track tapes to find the chips. “What the hell is this?” she asked, holding a tape up.
“You don’t know what an eight-track is?”
“Is it like a cassette or something?” Daphne flipped the tape over and read The Best of Bread. “Like Rye?”
“Real funny. But we don’t need to listen to that; it’s kinda depressing. How about this?” Rye pulled a tape from the visor above his head. “Ventura Highway” played. “It’s by a band called America. Ever heard of ’em?”
Daphne shook her head.
“America is one of the best bands in AM Gold. Do you know what that is?”
Daphne shook her head again. “This song is talking about chewing on grass while walking down the road. It’s boring.”
“It is not boring. Some people think it’s about a bad trip, but it’s really just about being in touch with the desert.”
“Okay, if you say so, hippie.” Daphne didn’t care for the stale chips, but at that moment they tasted like the cheeseburger she had been promised. Between bites, she laughed when the song mentioned alligator lizards in the air.
“What’s funny?”
“Those lyrics are so true. Wait, what do you mean if it had been an alien apocalypse?”
“I guess I’m like an alien expert. I mean, no one ever takes me seriously, but I know a thing or two about aliens. Whenever I try to talk a
liens with anyone, they look at me like I’m crazy.” Rye swerved the van to hit a zombie. “Are aliens really that far of a stretch?”
Daphne cleared her throat. The salty chips mixed with dehydration soaked up what little saliva was left. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Those things” — she pointed to a herd of zombies gathered around an abandoned car — “aren’t the worst things we have to deal with. You should see what’s underground.”
Rye slammed on the brakes and instinctively killed the engine. “There’s something else?”
“Oh yeah, there’s something else. Giant fucking lizards. And they are breeding women, spawning little fucking lizards.”
The screeching of the brakes drew more zombies, who were devouring an unrecognizable animal on the side of the road. They moved toward the van.
“How do you know this?” Rye asked.
“I was there. They had me in some sort of cocoon.”
“You saw them breeding?”
“Well, I didn’t see the actual act. But I saw lizard babies.”
“Squamatadites.”
“What?”
“I doubt that’s really their name. In fact, I know it’s not. I made it up, but squamata means scaled reptiles. Most people — well, people who believe in aliens — call them reptilians. That’s kinda boring though. There’s a group of people who believe a race of reptilians control the Earth. A lot of it comes from David Icke’s hypothesis, The Biggest Secret. Icke thinks a group of reptiles that walk on two legs and resemble humans live on Earth, underground and in caves. I have a copy of it somewhere in here.”
“Well, they are real. Alligator lizards in the fucking air. I’ve seen the beady-eyed bastards in the flesh. How do you call yourself an alien expert and not know aliens are trying to wipe us out?”