The Deadliest Earthling

by Gibson Morales

  Johnny put a hand flat over each leg. His chin dropped and a breath escaped him.

  “Are you sure that’s why he did it?” His voice got scratchy.

  The Eagle stared long and hard at him, and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks as if he’d just made himself look childish. “Long before you were born, Orun was good friends with your parents. He joined them on several meaningful operations, much as he did with you.”

  “I heard.”

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence he sacrificed himself so you could go free.”

  Johnny swallowed, struggling to hold her gaze. He looked away, like he was inspecting an important patch on the wall. Even the mentioning of Orun invited a longing ache into the forefront of his thoughts. His mind raced, trying to find something to fill the silence.

  “So who vouched for me back there?” he asked, rubbing his thumb against the side of his other thumbnail. “Zacharia?”

  “Zacharia?” Dagos raised an eyebrow. He did seem an unlikely candidate, given their discussion about him just now.

  “I thought maybe you did, but they said it was a guy,” Johnny tried.

  “A boy. Your age actually.”

  Johnny screwed up his eyes. “My age?”

  Dagos extracted a manila folder from the pile of papers on her desk. “Why not add this question: Do you really think your friends survived the firestorm on luck?”

  She saw the confusion on Johnny’s face.

  “Don’t worry, if you liked the Snake-eaters, you’ll like him.”

  “Who?”

  “I said the strike team comprised some of our best soldiers. Not the best soldier.”

  JOHNNY ALDRIN WILL RETURN

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed The Deadliest Earthling. I really loved writing about Johnny and Sarah’s adventures in a world ruled by Anunnaki aliens. Aliens, Area 51, and conspiracies have always interested me, so it only made sense to create a universe that builds off the elements of extraterrestrial mythology. Ranging from mankind’s creation myths to stories of Roswell to recent alien films, TV shows, video games, and books, I’ll probably never be able to touch on every cultural cornerstone of extraterrestrials. But I’m sure going to try.

  That’s why I must ask you a favor. My intent is not simply to write stories about aliens, but write stories that resonate with you, the reader. Stories that add to the great wealth of currently existing novels in a positive way. Meaning each book should be at least as good, if not better, than the previous. In other words, I need your feedback.

  If you’re so inclined, I would appreciate a review of The Deadliest Earthling. Love it or hate it, let me know on Goodreads. You can leave a review on either.

  Thank you for reading The Deadliest Earthling. I hope you will join me for my next trip into The Aldrinverse.

  Gibson

  P.S. Turn the page for the bonus novella Sarah: Survivor to Slave

  SARAH:

  Survivor to Slave

  Prologue

  “Boy problems, huh?” Sarah’s stepdad said.

  She looked up at him in surprise. She was sitting on their living room couch, so obviously he’d stumble upon her at some point in the morning. Obviously he’d heard the shower.

  The idea that he’d been watching her outside as she cleaned his Humvee with Johnny and the others was the troubling part. She hated the thought of time with her friends infected by her stepdad. But it wasn’t something she could completely avoid. Only keep to a minimum.

  She choked on a response, clutching Johnny’s medals in her hand.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Sarah,” he said with both impatience and exasperation. As if she’d shattered a fancy glass vase. “I know you’re at that age where you go all crazy over boys. Especially that Johnny fellow. But that’s why I introduced you to Mitchell.”

  Sarah was supposed to meet friends at the obstacle course soon for the morning races. He was aware of it too. But she sensed that wouldn’t go as smoothly as planned.

  Tobias could’ve been her grandfather, with his grey hair and wrinkled but clean-shaven face. She’d never understood how her mom could marry him. Sometimes she’d study him when he wasn’t looking, and she’d get it for a second. Then the understanding would pass, leaving her puzzled. He was tall and bore the triangle-shaped face of a man who’d once been attractive. Slick hair, vibrant eyes, a strong jawbone. But age and worry had diminished what looks he might’ve had. And she still didn’t see how her mom tolerated his mostly sour attitude.

  He walked over to his armchair and reclined. His eyes narrowed at hers. “There’s a reason Mitchell hasn’t come around lately, isn’t there?”

  The way he injected himself into her personal life made her run her fingernails against the soft part of her thumb. She couldn’t bring herself to answer now.

  Patronizingly, Tobias turned his hands in his lap so his palms faced up. “These ideas of love you kids have…they’re stupid, okay?”

  She stared, waiting for him to fill the silence. Even a second of silence with him watching her felt like the world could collapse if she made the wrong move. But at least she knew to sit and listen when he was talking.

  “Do you understand?” he said, flicking his hands out as if to force a response.

  “What do you mean?” she asked quietly. She rubbed her fingers against the slick aluminum and engravings of Johnny’s medals. Mitchell was the only boy she’d ever dated, but sometimes while washing dishes, she’d look outside at other boys. Maybe spend a few seconds too long doing it. Tobias would catch her and roll his eyes or snort and shake his head. Once in a while, he’d actually comment, You wouldn’t like him or That boy’s no good for you. And every time he intruded on her, she’d feel a cold disgust.

  But he’d wanted her to date Mitchell. He was the grandson of one of Tobias’s old war buddies. One who owned several restaurants in New Bagram’s commercial district.

  He’d set it up for them. Arranged everything, really. And she’d been foolish enough to believe it might all work out smoothly.

  “I know you get uncomfortable hearing this, but love is a matter of two things,” he said calmly, hardly stirring on his chair. “Sex and money.”

  Her throat grew hot. Sarah swallowed, trying to shake off the ominous feeling his lectures always brought her. She got the sense he enjoyed bringing up this discussion, though. She preferred not to think about his reasons for it.

  “You may not like Mitchell in a romantic sense, but give him a chance and you’ll grow into it.”

  Sarah swallowed again, knowing it would be pointless to hope to go to the obstacle course sooner rather than later. “I’ve given him a chance.”

  “So why didn’t it work out?”

  Her stomach dropped. She wasn’t going to have this conversation with him. Not this early in the day. He didn’t need to know everything about their dating. Why couldn’t he let it be? It hadn’t worked out with Mitchell, and that was that.

  “I don’t know. It just didn’t.”

  Tobias waved off the explanation. His face grew stern. “He’ll be at the Feast tonight. At our table.”

  Sarah shrugged. The words came out faster than she could stop them. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

  She and Mitchell hadn’t spoken to each other in weeks. She’d made the decision to end things, and so far Mitchell had given her space.

  Tobias’s eyes fell in annoyance, and he rose from his chair. “Figure something out. You’re not stupid.”

  That’s not what you said a few minutes ago, Sarah thought.

  As if sensing her retort, he said firmly, “As long as you live here, you’ll do your part to maintain my good reputation.”

  Sarah told herself to say nothing more. She could accept this and go see the obstacle-course races. But anger at his hypocrisy wouldn’t allow that. “Is that why you’re always getting special treatment from nurses?”

  He snapped into a deadly glare. Calm and q
uiet, he said, “Shut up. You shut up about that. Get outside. Go to your obstacle course.”

  At the cocking of his head, she jumped off the couch and made for the door, too shaken to stay. At least she could leave. But all she could think about was his lashing out at her. She felt stung, sealed up in a flow of poison burning her insides. Maybe she was stupid to question him. But aside from the whole Mitchell thing, everything else he asked her to do she did. Cleaning the dishes, dusting the house, laundry, fixing dinners.

  No, she never should have brought up the nurses, though. Now he was aware that she knew what he really did with them.

  Sinking her head low as she set off at a brisk pace, she eyed her blue tunic top. It didn’t seem as nice as when she picked it out. Maybe she would wear something else for the Feast.

  Her chest was still beating wildly, her stomach ripe with acid from a glass of orange juice she had drunk earlier. She broke into a jog. The obstacle course popped into view a few minutes later. Slowing to a walk, she tried to pick out Dolores and Janet among the crowd. Dolores would be easy to spot with her red hair.

  As she drew closer, she recognized Hamiad wandering away from the gravel. He looked lost in his thoughts. Far grimmer than when he’d been helping with her stepdad’s car. But then he always had that cold stare. Even when she had seen him smile, a hint of dismay lingered.

  “Sarah,” Mitchell called out to her from somewhere. On instinct, she lurched. A bad move because he would know she’d heard him. The last thing she wanted to hear right now were his apologies. Or anything from him, really.

  But she caught herself from twisting around. Instead, she played the motion off as a wave to Hamiad and called his name.

  She could almost hear Mitchell’s annoyed groan. He probably knew she was dismissing him. Well, he would have to deal with it, the same way he’d suggested she deal with his accidental kissing of the girl from their English class. At least this would give them something to talk about tonight.

  Hamiad offered her a glance, then a full-on look of curiosity. Part of her wanted to avoid him too after that whole medal prank. Even if Johnny was the real culprit, she couldn’t rule out Hamiad playing a role in it. But right now she was willing to put that concern on the back burner if it meant avoiding a chat with Mitchell.

  “Hey, Hamiad,” Sarah said, making toward him at light speed. “Thanks again for helping clean my stepdad’s car.”

  Still confused, Hamiad nodded. “Sure,” he said dully.

  “I missed the early action,” she said, motioning to the obstacle course where two more recruits were lining up. “Anything interesting happen?”

  “I lost,” Hamiad said, patting some pebbles off his arm.

  Not even a minute, and Sarah already hoped for a new topic to bridge this conversation. She opened her mouth, when a wailing alarm blared.

  The next thing she knew, Hamiad’s face lit up in terror as commotion broke out among the spectators.

  Chapter 1

  Sarah was wide-awake, so why was everything black? Her eyelashes flickered against a cloth, and she knew she hadn’t been blinded so much as blindfolded. But her mind only swarmed with new questions: Where was she being taken? And who was taking her?

  The Anunnaki were the first suspects to come to mind. Her stepfather had filled her head with plenty of stories about them abducting people. Just thinking about them quickened her pulse and brought a heavy burning sensation to her throat. She tried to force it away with a swallow. Instead, she felt a raw sting.

  Suddenly a vision of the sky blazing red flashed in her mind. Her whole body seized up. A tiny voice said the Anunnaki had unleashed a firestorm on New Bagram. But she’d be dead if that were the case. So it must’ve been a nightmare. A vivid and frightening one. And her throat, well, that was probably just dry from dehydration.

  She definitely recognized the rhythm of a wooden cart pulling her along and the sound of wheels rolling against rocks and gravel. At least this made her captors human. An escape might be possible.

  She relaxed a little at that. Dry ropes bound her wrists behind her back, but she could move her hands. A lightweight material brushed against her arms, reminding her she still wore her festive tunic top. Which meant…

  With her back strained, she curled in and felt the stainless steel clipped to a leather strap around her ankle. A little farther down, her fingers met the handle of her father’s knife. Her real father’s knife.

  There was an unintelligible sound. She froze, her ears perking up.

  A man spoke in a harsh-sounding language she didn’t recognize. Even without understanding it, she knew he was muttering about her.

  She had only one chance to defend herself and hastened to free the knife. There was the satisfying release as it snapped out.

  The man shouted in alarm. But Sarah had no intention of allowing him to kidnap her—or confiscate her father’s tactical knife, for that matter. She twisted the blade around and applied pressure against the ropes. The wooden platform beneath her lurched with the force of someone jumping aboard. If she freed her hands, she’d be glad to greet them.

  “I’m sorry,” the man cried in a heavily accented voice.

  “Don’t ever try it again.” This voice was young and familiar.

  The next thing she knew, hands lifted her up by her shoulders. Somehow she had the good sense not to resist and was placed gently on the ground.

  Light spilled into her eyes as the blindfold came off. Just inches from her face was that of a teenager’s. She twisted back in surprise, then stopped. She thought of Johnny and almost said his name, when she registered the dark, immersive eyes, large nose, and tall, slender build.

  “Hamiad?” she said in a disappointed tone without meaning to.

  “Yeah.” Apparently he didn’t detect it and reached out to tear off the ropes around her wrists.

  But she’d already done that, and pulled her arms apart and sat up to cut her ankle bindings. With her freedom, the fear of moments ago faded. She turned to look at him again, and a sense of revulsion replaced the fear.

  No wonder Hamiad had scared off those men. Inflamed blisters and scars marked his dark olive cheeks and forehead. His nose and chin glowed pink. And his forearms looked like he’d crawled in a field of pomegranates.

  “Thanks for that,” she said with a tremor in her voice. “How’d you find me?”

  “I woke up in some hospital and heard shouting. Yours.”

  She must’ve shouted in her sleep.

  “So you came out to rescue me,” she said, finishing his explanation.

  Trying to find an excuse to turn away without being rude, she surveyed the village surrounding them. Immediately she became aware they were nowhere near Bagram.

  They were sitting on the side of a dirt road that ran from one end of the town to the other. On either side stood a dozen straw and clay-brick structures, lined with bougainvillea, lush ferns, palm trees, and tall wooden poles. Men in brightly colored turbans, white robes, and pale long-sleeve shirts with dark pants patrolled, assault rifles tight in their grip. In a way, their dark skin and rough-looking faces resembled Hamiad’s.

  “None of this makes sense,” Sarah protested.

  “The last thing I remember, there were warning cries in New Bagram, and the sky got all red,” Hamiad offered. So they were in agreement over what happened before they arrived in this town.

  Down the road, the men and their wooden caravan jostled with bundles of grain, scrap metal, and other supplies. Her throat burned again.

  “They tried to use me as a trading good,” she thought out loud.

  How close to death, or worse, had she been? She shuddered, at once feeling exposed.

  “Guess they don’t get a lot of hotties here,” Hamiad said, staring at the dirt. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. It’s just you look perfect compared to…”

  Sarah stifled a nervous laugh at his clumsy attempt to compliment her. She couldn’t help the pity that sprang up in her. Hamiad had n
ever had things easy ever since he showed up in New Bagram. His only real friends were Johnny, Skunk, and Krem. Even as he’d risen through the ranks of the Watcher recruits, she could remember Dolores and Janet calling him “a degenerate” for the pranks he played. Sure, they and other classmates would watch him run the obstacle course against Johnny or vandalize teachers’ front doors with paint buckets. But when it was over, no one ever talked to him or invited him to parties. He was a sideshow. Not a potential friend. Now, with his face scarred, he didn’t even have his integrity.

  “It’s okay. It’ll heal in time,” she said.

  It was a lie, but what else was she supposed to say about his face? Then with a grim realization she connected the dots. Intense burns had given him those injuries.

  A shadow fell over them. She clenched her knife, half expecting to see the kidnappers.

  Instead, a short, pudgy man stood in front of them. But his lighter skin looked as soft and clean as a baby’s. Every inch of his sharp chin and ivory-cheeked face was well-groomed.

  “What do you want?” Hamiad growled.

  “I’m Bashad. The pandit of Utbashi.”

  The word “pandit” she thought she knew. It was a religious leader. But the city’s name confused her.

  “Utbashi?”

  “Yes, have you never heard of this great farming village?”

  “And how did we get here?” Sarah asked.

  “A tribe of goat herders brought you in this morning.”

  Hamiad’s hand transformed to a fist. It was obvious why. If they were here, then the Naga really had destroyed New Bagram.

  She tried to comprehend the truth about her brother and friends, but her brain had stopped working. She felt like her stepfather had roused her from bed in the middle of the night and told her to translate an essay into Nebirian. Hundreds must’ve died. Her neighbors, her cousins, her classmates. Dolores, Janet.

  A few seconds passed before her mind opened to the reality. A few more seconds passed before she actually began to accept it. A heavy dread coursed through her like poison. The rush of sadness threatened to overwhelm her. She had to think about someone whose death didn’t matter to her. So she pictured her stepdad. But a tinge of grief sprouted even for him. Yes, her stepfather, who cared more about his conspiracy theories than his family.