by Fiona Roarke
Maybe someday she’d find her Prince Charming, but so far, no such luck. Living all by herself for the rest of her natural life was not the future she dreamed of.
Perhaps she was meant to be alone, but she hoped not.
Alone really sucked.
<^> <^> <^>
Alone.
Astrid Harper was utterly alone. She scrambled out of the body-hugging suspended sleep chamber into the oddly tilted room with the half-crumpled walls in what looked like a spaceship’s hold.
“Hello,” she called out. Her voice echoed in the dark. She heard a strange animal howling in the distance through the partly open hatch door. Several more animals responded, howling answers she didn’t understand. What sort of animal made that kind of noise? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to find out. She saw a portable safety light at the opposite end of the hold, mounted on the bulkhead next to the half-open hatch.
Inching her way toward the half-crushed exit with careful steps, unsure she was alone in this wreck, was a little bit scary. Afraid to discover someone alive…or wounded…or dead. Please let me be all alone here.
Through the hatch, she could see another dim light source outside the ship illuminating a grassy surface below. She grabbed the portable light. It would come in handy.
Looking out of the wreckage of the spacecraft, heart pounding hard, Astrid carefully searched the soft, dewy, grassy ground below the half-open hatch. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. Where was she? Should she stay here or go find help?
This unfamiliar place was dark and lushly fragrant, but alien. She didn’t recognize the scents or the sounds or even the humid air around her. It was like breathing in a mist of water with every inhale. How extraordinary and definitely not anywhere on Alpha-Prime’s dry desert-like surface.
Casting her mind back for a frame of reference as to where she was and how she had come to be here didn’t offer any relief. Her last memory was, in a word, troubled.
Astrid had been on her home planet, Alpha-Prime, and on her way to make a report to the authorities. She remembered being forthright in her manner when she’d arranged to speak to a lawman, wanting to set something right that was, to her way of thinking, horribly wrong, even as guilt filled her entire being regarding what she was about to do.
She had been marching along the street near her home. Thinking about what she’d say in her official complaint helped assuage her guilt over her actions. She wanted to ensure complete understanding, and made a mental list of her points one by one as she walked.
Astrid looked up too late. She’d missed her turn and ended up in some remote place she didn’t recognize. A ripple of fear washed down her spine, but she forced panic down. She turned to retrace her steps and find the correct way. Not paying attention to her surroundings as she marched along completely oblivious had been foolish.
She ducked into a narrow alley between two tall buildings, thinking it might be a shortcut to get back on track. She wished she had paid attention instead of daydreaming as she walked.
It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten lost, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Her sense of direction left much to be desired. Unfortunately, the “shortcut” wasn’t one, and served only to make her more lost. She stopped dead in her tracks to reassess what to do and that’s when she heard footsteps nearby slow and stop.
She didn’t look behind her, fearful of what she’d see, and started moving forward. After several minutes, it was clear Astrid was being followed. She tried to hurry, walking faster and faster. Whoever was following her stayed in step. She tried to outrun the footsteps as she searched in every direction for help. She passed no one. In fact, she couldn’t see anyone nearby who could possibly help.
She tried to hide, hunkering down behind some dilapidated boxes near an equally run-down building. She held her breath. She closed her eyes. She waited for what seemed like forever. Until they found her. Until they grabbed her. Until they hustled her out of her poor hiding place, and…and then nothing. She didn’t see who grabbed her, just the vision of a large, meaty hand with an ink-marked mercenary symbol on his wrist, clamping down on her forearm, dragging her out as she screamed. Mercenary meant bad news in any and all regard.
Astrid didn’t remember what happened next. Just a great big nothingness until she woke up in this strange and alien place.
Had her family been involved? That would make sense.
She heard the haunting howls again and shivered. She didn’t have time to figure out what had brought her here or who had betrayed her. She needed to focus on survival. Maybe this strange alien world would offer salvation, where her home planet seemed never to measure up to her hopes, her dreams and any expectation of a normal life.
She dropped from the wrecked ship, landing on the balls of her feet, and froze, listening for anyone or anything nearby about to pounce on her. Nothing. Even the strange animal howling had stopped. Astrid surveyed the area within the meager radius of light from the ship. She turned the portable light on, pointed it outward and scanned the immediate area, seeing only more impressive foliage.
The trees in this odd place were amazing. She had never seen trees so tall, or so many of them. It was a veritable forest.
Astrid circled the spacecraft once carefully. The crushed cockpit looked like no one inside could have survived the crash. There also seemed to be no one around.
She saw a glow in the distance and headed that way, keeping the portable light on to make her way through the forest, and hoped she’d be able to find someone, anyone, to help her.
Astrid was used to being alone. She’d spent quite a bit of time alone, estranged from her family and on the outside of a lifestyle she didn’t care to join. Perhaps it would be better if they thought she was dead. Perhaps she’d take advantage of this situation and start over without anyone knowing who she was or what family she’d grown up in.
Alone was better than going back to the life she’d had.
Astrid marched forward, peaceful thoughts growing as she cast off her past like an old coat that no longer fit.
Anything this place had to offer had to be better than where she’d been.
Chapter One
<^> <^> <^>
The night of the crash
Whereabouts unknown
Waking after what felt like a deep and very troubled sleep, the man unbuckled himself from his molded chair, stumbled from the twisted wreckage and fell to his knees on the verdant ground. He picked up a handful of leaves and grass, the cool damp mass appealing as he squeezed it lightly in his fist and took a sniff. It smelled fresh and clean. Interesting. Unexpected.
Where am I? He looked up at the height of the trees, surprised by the view. For some reason, he expected to see a more desert-like panorama, but here he was in a lush, green forest with the tallest of trees. Had he ever seen trees this tall before? The ache in his head kept him from thinking too hard about that question. Once he stood up, he stretched. Though he noted aches and pains all over his body, nothing seemed broken or too seriously hurting except for the pounding in his head.
What had happened?
Before he could figure that out, a small woodland creature scampered up the tree he stood nearest to, distracting him. He walked toward the trunk of the particularly tall specimen and stroked the base, feeling the bite of the bark abrading his palm. His presence sent the small furry brown animal further upward. Fascinating.
He walked to another tree, a different variety, and stroked a much smoother surface, equally delighted by the discovery. He wandered along a semi-marked trail, touching tree after tree, amazed and delighted by each new sensation. Before long, he came to a big, black road with yellow lines painted down the center, but no traffic of any kind.
He waited for several minutes, but not a single vehicle came by. He looked up into the starry night and wished he wasn’t so tired. It was all he could do to keep his eyelids open. Stumbling more than a few times, he made it to a road sign that announced a welcome t
o Nocturne Falls, Georgia, and some more words he didn’t bother to read.
The name did not sound familiar. He wasn’t certain where he was, but his head throbbed like an orchestra of loud musical instruments had taken up residence in his head and wouldn’t stop the racket. He decided to just keep moving forward until he found someone to aid him with this barbaric headache.
Sensing he needed to find help sooner rather than later, he trudged along the open road toward town. Putting one foot in front of the other took supreme effort and not much else was taking up space in his mind anyway.
He saw streetlights and then what he guessed were dwellings, but all the lights were off inside of building after building, house after house. It was as if the world had been put to bed for the night.
He realized he didn’t even know what time it was. Likely middle of the night, given the lack of traffic. But if a vehicle did happen by before he got to town, he planned to stick one thumb out to lure it into colleting him for a ride the rest of the way. He frowned. He wasn’t sure how he knew that gesture would work, but his flagging energy was mostly used up, so he couldn’t spare it much thought.
No vehicle appeared to help, whether he had his thumb at the ready or not. So he kept moving along the quiet streets. As soon as he found any other person, he’d ask for help in ending the dreadful pain in his head.
At long last, he saw a building with lights on. Once he got closer, he heard music coming from inside. Wonderful. He was saved.
Stumbling with fatigue and mind-numbing pain, he moved through the parking lot to the rear door and opened it. The noise almost made him change his mind about entering. He put a palm over one ear and staggered inside. So this was where the musical instruments were.
“Hey, buddy. Looks like you’ve already been partying pretty hard tonight. Maybe you should head on home,” said a very tall young man with lots of bushy brown hair on his head, on his face and beneath the open V of his shirt. Mr. Hairy was right beside the door he’d just entered. Was he the doorman? Could he help?
Pointing at his hairline, he added, “You have a little bit of blood on your forehead.”
He wiped his head with the sleeve of his dark jacket, but there wasn’t much there.
The young man nodded. “You got it. There isn’t any more.”
“Headache,” he managed to utter, though it cost him dearly.
“I’ll bet you have one whopper of a head splitter, all right,” Mr. Young and Hairy answered.
He nodded once, agreeing that his head felt like it was about to split open.
He glanced around for the source of the loud music, but only saw a few patrons here and there drinking, and no clue as to where the obnoxious sound emanated from. A girl with long flaxen braids down her back fixed an unwavering gaze on him as her friend with short dark hair nudged her. Miss Flaxen Braids didn’t stop staring, but his head hurt too much to worry about either of them.
Mr. Young and Hairy put both large hands on his shoulders to guide him across the room, steering him to a small alcove and into a room through a partly open door. Inside was a small space with harsh acrid odors floating in the air and shelves on either side of the entry, holding what looked like cleaning supplies.
Ah, the smell is now explained.
Wait. Did this large hairy boy expect him to clean something? Not going to happen.
“Listen,” the young man said. “I’ll probably catch hell for this, but why don’t you rest up on the cot over there until you feel better?”
He looked up into the man’s friendly eyes and heard a voice in his head. Mr. Young and Hairy’s mouth wasn’t moving, but distinct words came anyway. Shockingly, it was like the man in front of him put words into his head…silently.
Dude, you look so bad right now. I don’t think you can make it very far. I’ve been where you are and I know how you feel. Bridget might kill me, but I’m going to let you sleep it off in here on the cot until you feel better. I won’t even call the sheriff, either.
He squinted, half in puzzlement and half in pain, and asked, “Who is Bridget? And why would you call the sheriff? I didn’t do anything wrong. I just have a headache.”
The large hairy man’s brown eyes widened in shock and he whispered, “Dude, how did you know what I was just thinking? Are you a psychic or something?”
Psychic? Didn’t that mean mind-reader? Could he read minds?
He didn’t answer because he noticed the low-slung bed next to the shelf with all the cleaning supplies. His legs wobbled in anticipation of not walking any longer. He needed to get off his feet right now or he’d drop to the ground in a heap.
Taking two very precarious steps forward, he fell onto his side on the soft surface of the little padded bed, his mind shutting down almost the moment he was no longer vertical.
One last crucial and very troubling thought slipped inside right before the welcoming oblivion of sleep encircled him.
Wait a minute…Who am I?
<^> <^> <^>
The day after the UFO crash
Nocturne Falls – approximately a mile out of town
Victoria Greene hiked along the side of the road toward Nocturne Falls, keeping a sharp eye out for any clues that the pilot, the guard or the prisoner had traveled along this same path. Nothing stuck out so far.
Two sets of space boot prints led this way from the crash site, but it was unclear if the two space travelers had been together. At one point, the prints split around a large tree on the barely-there trail before she reached the road. Since neither the pilot nor the guard would have let the prisoner roam free out of his shackles, to her trained eye, the prints had been made at different times. So she surmised it was the pilot or the guard following the escaped prisoner.
She came to the road and the prints disappeared onto the asphalt surface. Spuds. She’d changed the Alpha curse word “space potatoes” into her own personal expletive, liking the single-syllable curse much better. It was faster and more streamlined and not technically a swear word. However, the first time her mother heard her say it, she gave Victoria one of those special disapproving expressions mothers across the galaxies have perfected to keep their children in line without uttering a single word.
Victoria continued along the paved road until she got into the town. At first look, it was a very interesting place. At second look, it was like a box of Halloween decorations and costumes had exploded into the center of town and the residents decided to just leave it all there and go about their business with the new theme.
For the first hour or so, she wandered through the town, listening in on conversations here and there—both verbal and nonverbal—seeking any information about a recent stranger. A glance around made her consider a new tack, since everyone in town looked a bit strange. Perhaps she was going about this the wrong way.
Victoria retraced her steps a bit and then systematically walked down all the main thoroughfares, listening for any hints or clues specifically related to space travelers or space costumes, but heard nothing.
She could read most human thoughts to a degree and when she made the effort to listen in on the thoughts of the earthlings around her, she picked up their opinions about how fun this town was, and the names of several restaurants and places of interest that were must-sees in Nocturne Falls. She tucked the names away and hoped to get a chance to visit them herself before heading back to Alienn. For now, she needed to find the pilot, guard and prisoner who’d crashed here.
Victoria made her way back to where she’d started her strategic search, the park fountain with the cool gargoyle statues as guards. Seating herself on the edge of the fountain, she pretended to watch the main road through town as she listened to a couple of girls chatting with the animatronic gargoyle. She heard what they said, and more importantly what they didn’t say.
The gargoyle asked if they were having a good time in Nocturne Falls.
“This town is great,” said the young woman with two thick blonde braids down her back. Th
en her thoughts filled with something much more interesting.
I wonder if that dude in the torn-up flight suit made it to the hospital okay.
Victoria perked up. She straightened her posture as if that would help increase her mind-reading capabilities. What dude in the torn-up flight suit? Was it one of the three she searched for? She turned toward the girls, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, all the while sending a hard mental push in their direction.
“It sure is,” her friend added, tucking a strand of short dark hair behind one ear, “I love this town. You never know what costume you’ll see here.” She stared at the gargoyle and then at her friend, smiling, but she was busy thinking, I can’t believe Jenny stared at the guy in the spacesuit so long. He was cute. But the torn-up space uniform was over the top and so was the blood on his head. Ew. I hate blood. Howlers has the strangest crowd.
Blood? On his head? Howlers? Was that the name? Uncertain, Victoria wished she had the power to make them explain further. If she could just get a true location she’d go look for herself. She didn’t remember seeing a place called Howlers, but perhaps she’d missed it while listening in on conversations along the way.
The gargoyle asked where they were headed to next. The girls said they were going to get a bite to eat at one of the themed places.
The gargoyle said, “Well, don’t forget, the food at Mummy’s Diner is to die for.” And then he laughed in a deep, rumbly tone.
The girls thanked him, but in both of their heads she heard reference to a different place. Ah-ha. The eating place they were headed to was called Howlers, a local dive bar.
Victoria saw what looked like a dive bar during her first walk through Nocturne Falls, but she hadn’t noticed the name. She trailed the girls headed in that direction, hoping to pick up more information about the space dude bleeding from his head.