Alien Bride (Love, Drugs, and Biopunk)

by McGill, Brie

  A winged demon, half-man, half-bat, the size of a St. Bernard, descended from the ceiling, perching on her chest.

  Head rolling to the side, Ninkasi opened her mouth, choking out a desperate plea. She glanced at her shackles; she tried to roll her head to the other side, but couldn’t muster the strength, swimming in delirium, body wrung out like a desert.

  Maybe she would die this way. . . slowly. . .

  The creature wedged its talons into her stomach, her thigh.

  Vision blurry, she stared at the demon, and at her wrists. “Free. . . me. . .”

  The demon threw his head back and cackled.

  Her stomach twisted. She wondered if it would try to eat her.

  Crossing its arms, the demon surveyed her. “I will loose your bonds in exchange for your soul.”

  Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she murmured a crackling groan. “Take. . . anything. . . Get me. . .” She mouthed the rest of her words. “Out of here. . .”

  The demon lunged forward and dug its claws into her chest, laughing again, and vanished.

  Weakly attempting to lift her wrist, she felt her shackles still in place.

  Damn it.

  Did she still have her soul? She knew of no way to determine that.

  Fingernails grazed her thigh, dripping with a warm liquid.

  She struggled to focus on the silhouette at her feet.

  Pinki Seth, the infamous celebritarian gossip queen, dragged long, black fingernails up and down Ninkasi’s legs. Wearing only a black G-string and inverted pentagrams over her nipples, she caressed Ninkasi’s stomach, swirling fingertips around her breasts. She paused to dip her fingers into a broad-brimmed golden chalice, smearing a viscous, ruddy fluid, smelling of wine and copper all over body.

  After sufficiently dousing Ninkasi with the mystery liquid, she stepped aside, allowing the presider to command the ceremony.

  The presider accepted the chalice from Pinki, and positioned it on Ninkasi’s chest, between her breasts. Raising his hands in the air, he chanted phrases melodically, waiting for the crowd to echo one phrase before singsonging the next.

  Pinki passed him a baked good, something long and narrow, like a biscotti.

  The presider held the wafer in his hands, and lifted it toward the sky, chanting steadily.

  The crowd responded with frenzied yelps and cries.

  He returned the biscuit to Pinki, and stepped backward, out of Ninkasi’s field of vision.

  Lifting the wafer above her head, Pinki silenced the crowd with an eerie hymn. Taking the cookie into one hand, she lunged forward, ramming it deep between Ninkasi’s legs, inside her.

  Ninkasi screamed, shocked, mortified. Her body stiffened and she grimaced, feeling a scratchy pain and crumbs everywhere. She would never visit a coffee shop again. She would never hate-watch another episode of Hos Over Bros again. She might not ever wear a tampon, use a dildo, or put anything between her legs that wasn’t flesh and blood again.

  She was so sorry for all the terrible things she’d done, all the bitchy things she'd said to other people, especially to her mom. She was sorry for all the times she ignored Noah for her schoolwork, or, worse, to chase after that idiot, Toby Gold. She was sorry that she wasn’t closer to her father and she was sorry that she sometimes felt ill thoughts toward Wittle Man. She was sorry that she lied to her father about being happy with her degree.

  But no, now she’d never get to tell anyone any of this, would she? This was the worst part of her punishment!

  The reality show diva twisted the biscotti.

  Ninkasi squirmed, trying to find solace in the fact that a little cookie in nimble fingers was infinitely less violent than an ass-pounding by a twelve foot man in a goat mask. If this were all she had to endure, there existed a small possibility that she may not end up in a psych ward.

  No matter what the cookie did inside her, it wouldn’t make her pregnant.

  Pinki dumped the chalice over Ninkasi, and lobbed the goblet across the room, into the crowd.

  Gasps of ecstatic surprise filled the air, everyone stampeding toward the chalice to catch it before it hit the floor.

  Ripping the biscotti from inside Ninkasi’s body, Pinki threw that to the crowd, too.

  The herd of worshippers scuttled to angrily trample the cracker, stomping on it, spitting on it, shouting in a frenzy.

  Pinki disappeared offstage; the presider banged the gong at regular intervals. Robed men removed her shackles.

  Ninkasi tried to sit, but she was too weak; she rolled onto her side to watch the spectacle unfold.

  After the thirteenth gong, the entire congregation dropped their robes.

  They were naked. There were no women in attendance.

  The robed men hoisted Ninkasi off the altar and onto her feet.

  Limp legs folding, she collapsed into a heap on the floor.

  One robed individual stood in front of her, supporting her in a kneeling position. The other chained her arms behind her back.

  The presider accepted the chain around her neck, dragging her toward the center of the room.

  Ninkasi tried to walk; she tripped and tumbled, gasping in strangulation each time she hit the floor. Her entire body felt like it was on fire—she needed water, needed rest, or an antidote, if there was such a thing. Awkwardly plodding ahead on her knees, with her arms bound behind her back, she had no way to catch herself from falling.

  The presider yanked her head away seconds before it hit the floor. His lips twisted into a smile of grim amusement.

  Her awareness shifted to the plug inside her.

  Members in the front of the crowd stroked themselves, many erect.

  This was it: her worst nightmare, her total, relentless desecration.

  Jungle Tobacco

  XXIII.

  At the end of a winding tunnel carving through a wall of damp earth, Orion and Aleister stood at either end of a set of double doors engraved with ancient glyphs.

  Clicking a notch on a sundial-like interface near the hammer of the anzein rifle, Orion activated the prism splitter and pumped the gun to charge it.

  The din of chanting echoed through the cavern, the musky scent of smoldering resins seeping beneath the door.

  “Are you charging that shit?” Aleister reached into his pocket to retrieve one of Wolfram’s hard candies.

  Orion pumped the gun superfluously, agitated.

  Aleister crunched. “It takes five minutes to charge.”

  Orion shook the hair from his face.

  “You know. . .” Aleister rested a hand on his hip. “Five minutes is an eternity when you’re kicking ass.”

  Pressing his lips together, Orion leveled him with a cold stare. “That’s why we wait for it to charge before we enter.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Aleister pointed at the door. “Can you hear them? There’s a horde of them in there.”

  Orion smirked. A bunch of scruffy, plebian cave-dwellers? Even if they were twice as strong as Wolfram—he doubted they were—he could punt those goons from where he stood through the back wall of the antichapel.

  Aleister shook his head. “It isn’t practical.”

  Smiling, Orion watched red light swirl through the crystals affixed to the gun. His crosshairs were set to one person. One creature. One damnable, vice-ridden, unconscionable, soul-sucking, baby-eating, self-serving, dream-crushing, unscrupulous, predatory, avaricious, gluttonous, cannibalizing, abusive, prideful, backstabbing, sycophantic, shameless, psychopathic, compulsive, lying, manipulative sot.

  Aleister waved a hand in front of Orion’s face. “Are you listening?”

  Unflinching, Orion’s eyes remained on the wall in a hard stare. “Andrealphus.”

  Aleister raised an eyebrow.

  He patted the gun. “This shot is for him.”

  Aleister glanced from side to side, and made a duck face. “I doubt he’s here.”

  Orion turned his back to his friend. “In any case, there may be others like him her
e. I’m unconcerned with the bulk of them, if Wolfram is any indicator of their health.”

  “And. . . what if they’re fiercer than you anticipate?” He bit into another candy.

  Frisking the knife—Aleister’s knife—attached to his belt, Orion shrugged.

  “How is the kluzein accumulator holding up?” Aleister shifted to one side.

  Orion clasped the device hanging around his neck.

  “You can tolerate the gun while it’s charging?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” He tilted his head and stared at the ceiling. “I feel a bit hung over, maybe.”

  Aleister’s expression flattened. “So you’re fine.”

  The charger on Orion’s anzein rifle disengaged with a click.

  He nodded at Aleister.

  Aleister flipped up a small cylinder on the back of the gun. “Light scope activated?”

  Mimicking the action, Orion nodded again.

  “Looks smoky in there.” Twisting the back of the cylinder, he ignited it like a flashlight.

  Orion did the same, and reached for a handle on the vaulted door.

  “Alright.” Aleister grabbed the other handle. “Let’s blast these fuckers back to the planet they came from.”

  Aleister burst through the doors, taking point position. He fired the gun with deft precision, mowing down the crowd with thunderous strikes of scarlet lightning. Toppling pews packed with masturbating worshippers, he strafed the left wing of the chapel, the right wing, and the left again with crackling blasts.

  Aleister’s marksmanship never ceased to impress Orion, and his weapon construction was equally admirable: recent modifications to the gun allowed them twice as many shots before the energy cell expired, compared to a standard-issue kluzein device.

  Clutching his gun, Orion spied an unusually large silhouette in the rear of the chamber, lurking behind an altar.

  He narrowed his eyes. Andrealphus? It was impossible to discern through the haze of smoldering incense.

  Leaping in front of Aleister, Orion bolted up the nave of the chapel, toward the crossing.

  “Hey!” Aleister abruptly ceased fire, pointing the tip of his gun in the air. “Get out of the way! I don’t want to hit you!” He pivoted and shot a throng of worshippers bumbling behind him.

  Those that weren’t shot made a panicked, stumbling exit toward the back of the chapel, moving like they were heavily intoxicated.

  Behind the first pew, Ninkasi lay on her side in fetal position, ankles shackled, arms bound behind her back, a glazed and incognizant expression on her flushed face. Orion sensed her addled confusion, her rapidly beating heart.

  One persistent fanatic knelt behind her, prodding her bare thigh with a towering erection, too inebriated to accomplish anything worse.

  Skidding to a halt, Orion dove onto one knee and smacked the worshipper in the head with the butt of his gun.

  The fanatic’s body crumpled, hitting the floor.

  “Ninkasi!” Orion ripped his shirt over his head. “Ninkasi!” He firmly slapped her face.

  She offered no recognition, staring into the pew as if something were there.

  Glancing over his shoulder, frustrated, his eyes followed the trail of flickering red light. “Aleister!” Heaving her body up from the floor, Orion pulled his shirt over her head, fitting it over her body so she was no longer exposed.

  Ninkasi fell backward, crashing against the pew, slumping sideways. The arms of Orion’s shirt fluttered limply at her sides, her wrists still chained together behind her back.

  Orion straightened her body, pressing a hand to her face. “Ninkasi, can you recognize me?”

  Her shoulders bobbled and she laughed.

  Biting his lip, Orion stood up and waved an arm. “Aleister!”

  Aleister thundered down the nave, shooting at the remaining robed men behind the altar. “Run, run, you goons!” He threw his head back and cackled, pumping the gun. “Run to your master!” He followed his taunts with another mocking declaration in the local tongue. Orion recognized only a few words of the insult, including ‘beef fat’ and ‘mother.’

  Orion looked to the stage; the Tall One was gone. Who knew how many giants existed in actuality? It didn’t matter.

  Ninkasi mattered.

  Orion had no idea what they’d done to her, what they had given her.

  Panting, Aleister squatted beside them. “You found her.”

  He pressed his lips together. “I thought you might know. . .” He glanced at the floor. “I thought you would know what they’ve given her.”

  Coughing on the fog of smoke, Aleister narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. He mashed a massive palm against her cheek, her forehead. Reaching for an empty sleeve, he frowned. “I need to check her pulse.”

  Orion placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me!” She toppled forward. “Get me a cigarette.”

  Seizing her shoulders, Orion pulled her away from the pew. “We have to break her shackles.”

  Aleister lifted the shirt, reaching for her wrist.

  “Be careful—” he admonished.

  “I said, get me a cigarette!” Ninkasi closed her eyes.

  Orion scowled. “Be careful where you touch her.”

  “Look.” Aleister shook his head. “Either you want me to help her, or you don’t.” Feeling for her pulse, he held his fingers to her wrist. After a moment, Aleister settled back on his heels.

  Grimacing, Orion tugged his shirt down over her body and rested Ninkasi against the pew.

  “You need to get me. . .” Ninkasi lurched forward.

  Orion caught her, before her face smashed into the ground.

  “A fucking cigarette!” She made her demands in an ear-splitting shrill.

  Aleister reached into his pocket, retrieving a ballpoint pen. Inserting the pen into her mouth, he patted Ninkasi on her head. “This one is rolled with a fine, wildcrafted tobacco from the cloud forests of Ruta.”

  “Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath, chewing on the pen.

  Aleister tilted his head, motioning for Orion to come closer.

  Orion narrowed his eyes, leaning into Aleister. “What the hell was that?”

  “I don’t know what they’ve given her.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder.

  Ninkasi appeared content to draw on the pen, bobbing it up and down between her lips.

  “You knew to give her a pen!” Orion hissed.

  “They gave her some kind of deliriant.” He widened his eyes.

  “A deliriant?” Orion watched Ninkasi. “How do you know?!”

  He waved his hand. “Trust me, I take them all the time.”

  Orion opened his mouth to reply, but struggled for words. “What. . . does that mean? How long will she be like this?”

  “It’s impossible to say how much they’ve dosed her, or when they dosed her.” Aleister crossed his arms. “I can only tell you that there is a very small margin between a dose this high and death.”

  Orion gawked. “Do you think they gave her a lethal dose?”

  Aleister shook his head. “Apparently, they wanted her for other things.” He reached to his belt, unhooking a flask of water. “She might come down today, she might come down in a few days. My guess is that if they wanted to kill her, they would have whipped her to death.”

  He grimaced.

  “Or barbecued her.” Aleister untwisted the cap on his flask and took a big swig. “I bet she feels like she’s on a fucking barbecue right now.” Grabbing the vacant sleeve of Orion’s shirt, Aleister doused it with water.

  “My shirt—” Orion winced.

  Lifting the damp sleeve to Ninkasi’s forehead, Aleister used it like a compress to cool her. “She can’t sweat right now. She’s burning up.”

  Ninkasi moaned, mumbling something about a cigarette.

  Orion stood up. “Let’s get her out of here.”

  Aleister nodded. “Did you see Andrealphus?”

  “I saw a giant.” He sh
rugged. “Not sure if it was him.”

  “You let him get away?” Aleister squinted through the haze of smoke at the empty stage.

  He gestured to Ninkasi.

  Aleister gave an understanding shrug.

  Orion scooped her off the floor and slung her over his shoulder, ensuring the shirt covered her bottom. “Cover us.”

  His friend pumped the gun. “You don’t have to ask.”

  “Charge your gun.” Skidding to a halt, Aleister raised his anzein rifle and pumped it twice.

  Orion deduced they had finally reached the end of the lengthy, tortuous tunnel when he saw the flickering ambience of amethyst light bleeding into the cavern from a distance: he thought they made it; he thought they were safe.

  Rounding the final curve in the tunnel, Orion froze behind Aleister.

  A group of twenty-odd giants blocked the exit into town, assuming a formidable stance, some crossing their arms, some brandishing electronic weapons.

  He detected no signs of Wolfram, who should have been there to intercept them.

  Aleister gritted his teeth and shot a sideways glance to Orion. “Charge your gun!”

  Carrying Ninkasi in his arms, Orion pivoted and retreated into the tunnel. “We don’t have that many shots!”

  Breaking away in a trot, Aleister fired three supercharged explosions of strawberry light.

  Two of the giants crashed against the ground; the third slumped against another.

  The anzein rifle spluttered and fizzled.

  They broke into a hard run.

  Pumping the gun, Aleister shook his head. “We have limited shots at full power!”

  Orion smirked. “Can you run for five minutes?”

  “I didn’t think there’d be a million of them!” He looked over his shoulder.

  Orion didn’t need to turn to see the herd giving chase. “Take my gun.” He nodded at his belt, unable to put Ninkasi down.

  Snatching the gun from his friend, Aleister pumped and fired two more crackling blasts of energy.

  Two giants hit the floor.

  Rounding a corner, they barreled deeper into the corridor.

  Aleister abruptly lurched to a halt.

  Behind him, Orion jerked forward, sliding to a stop, nearly falling face-first with an unconscious Ninkasi into the ground.