by Sabrina Kade
“Did you ask me a question?” he croaks.
“Y-yes.” Phoebe’s smile fades, but only slightly. “I’m wondering who’s going to give us further instructions.”
The frog’s smile grows wider, and he turns towards his partners. “You hear that? The whore wants to know further instructions.” The rest of the group laughs - an uneasy, earthy, gurgling sound. None of the women join in and Phoebe’s lips pursed. Idiot. She doesn’t even notice he’s reaching for his gun…
“That’s not nice—shit!” Phoebe’s voice hits a painful cry before she can finish as the leader clocks her in the mouth with the butt of his gun. She crumbles to the floor in a heap of white-blond hair and ivory skin. Blood appears immediately like a blossoming flower on the stainless steel floor, but of course, none of us have the vag to go to her. I swallow and look at York, who’s watching the scene with a detached expression. Phoebe coughs and spits up some red drops, still looking as confused as ever. “What… what are you doing—”
“Shut. Up.” Frog leader sneers and steps over, pressing his black boot to the side of her face, grinding her to the ground in the expanding puddle of her blood. Phoebe squeaks and squirms, but the frogs are powerful despite their short stature. “We don’t bring whores on our ship unless they’re good little listeners.” He grinds his boot harder into the side of Phoebe’s face.
There’s a crunch and a scream.
“Stop,” Arizona says, not moving from her spot.
The frog lifts his head, as others move towards us. Arizona holds up her hands, but that doesn’t stop him from grinding Phoebe’s face. Her protesting grows weaker until she’s gurgling just like the man crunching down on her face. I grow panicked and move forward, but Alaska catches my arm before I can advance.
“He’s going to kill her,” I whisper.
“No, he won’t,” she promises. “Please. Don’t move.”
I don’t advance, but I swear I hear another crunch under frog leader’s boot. He lifts his black eyes towards Arizona. “Say something to me, head whore?”
“I said stop.” Arizona’s voice never changes tone. She speaks the same way to me as she does to a newbie as she does to an alien client. “You’re about to deliver us to our new owners. You want to turn in damaged goods?”
Phoebe squeaks painfully as more weight settles over her skull. But I can’t move. Alaska’s words hold me in place. Fear holds the rest.
The frog seems to be considering Arizona’s words. “I’ll buy her myself,” he gurgles, not sounding like he believes this himself.
“Can you afford one of us?” Arizona takes a challenging step forward.
We, aliens and humans, watch her warily as she moves closer to Phoebe. Arizona’s hips sway. Her eyes grow hooded. Finally, the frog’s pressure lessens because Phoebe coughs violently and one of the girls rushes to her side despite weak protesting from the others. Most of the frogs are watching Arizona working her magic now.
“I’m willing to bet you can’t,” Arizona purrs, stepping right up to the frog. The skin above his eyes where his brows would be, furrow with contemplation. “But I’d be willing to give you a freebie, yeah? Would you like that?” She curls one finger around the frog’s bulbous chin. I would have thrown up, but she presses on like she’s seducing the sexiest man in the world. “I bet you’d like that. You know who I am, right?” Of course, he knows Arizona. “Why don’t you leave the puppy alone and spend some time with a real human whore, yeah?”
“The Clients. They would know,” the frog bumbles, still spinning towards his partners. “Get them out of here!” he roars. “All but you.” He turns back to Arizona. “I must warn you. Despite what I have heard, I won’t be kind to you. I am not a gentle Toda.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to be.” Arizona continues to purr, motioning with a single finger behind her back for everyone to leave as the frog asked.
“Arizona,” I say softly, moving to go past. There are about five of the guards openly pointing their weapons at us now, expecting some sort of rebellion. But though there are twenty of us, and only six of them, weapons kind of even out the numbers.
A frog’s bumpy hand grabs and yanks me through the doorway.
“Get going,” he garbles.
“But… but Phoebe.”
“I’ll bring her,” Arizona says. “Once I’m done.” She smiles at the frog.
“Ari, are you sure?” Kansas asked, following right behind me.
“As if I could resist.” Arizona wraps a toned arm around the frog’s shoulder. “The puppy will be alright. I’ll make sure of it. You make sure all these girls get out of here.” Her eyes lift and narrow directly at mine. “Kumbaya, bitch,” she whispers.
My face grows hot as the rest of the guards physically remove the rest of the girls and me from the enclosed space. Phoebe’s only beginning to get to her knees as the door closes and the frog yanks forcibly on Arizona’s arm. I can’t bring myself to say anything else as we’re led through the metal hallways, and I tug nervously at my tiny black skirt and matching crop top. Whores uniform. I’m shaking my head as I note most of us are wearing the same thing. Skirts so short I can see asscheeks. Tops so small – that nipples are not a question – but an absolute certainty.
But we’re alive. We’re all intact.
Except for Phoebe. And I have no idea what Arizona plans to make things okay.
The only sound for a few minutes is the padding of our bare feet on the metal floors and the occasional nasty joke from the other frogs. Some are jealous of Tallo’s gift. I assume Tallo is the leader currently fucking Arizona. I want so badly to run back and make sure everything’s okay, but at the end of the day, I can only watch after myself. Staying alive is all that matters.
And then, for the first time in years, I hear a different sound. A natural sound.
A low thrum is echoing from the ceiling as we’re led towards the ship’s exit. The sound beyond the opening is not mechanical, and I nervously glance around at the other girls to make sure I’m not losing my mind.
“Is that rain?” Sloane whispers excitedly. “Actual rain?”
“Mouths shut,” a frog gurgles. “No talking unless asked.”
“Find better things to do with your mouth,” says another.
“It’s rain,” Sloane continues, lowering her voice further. “Oh my God, it’s rain.”
Real rain. The sound has to be. I don’t want to get overly excited, but I haven’t seen rain in years.
“Maybe it will be like Earth here,” a girl whispers behind me. “Rain.”
I don’t answer; too transfixed to see what lies further ahead. I can see the opening of the ship now, and sure enough, there’s actual rain.
“Rain,” I gasp, hardly noticing one of the frogs elbow me sharply in the back and propelling me off the ship. The rain embraces me like a chilly hug as the humid air kisses it dry. The rain dances like a mist across the grey skies, and, narrowing my eyes into the distance, I see dark clouds everywhere, as though to keep this planet hidden from the rest of the galaxy.
I lift my chin as the rest of the girls surround me outside of the ship, pointing at the trees, the mountains, and the clouds. The frogs no longer seem to care as much now that we’re on another’s territory. Our steps are shaky, and one of the girls quickly falls to the ground, kisses the soft soil, and stands up again before a frog can grumble an order at her.
“Two moons.” York lifts a finger to the sky, and sure enough, two white moons are hanging overhead within the clouds.
“Might as well enjoy it now,” Ellis points out. “Who knows when we’ll get to see the skies again like this?”
“And with rain no less,” Sloane whispers.
They’re all right. There’s no hint of what is about to happen to us. I can’t see a single person, but I’m so focused on the rain and the clouds I could easily miss a stranger walking past. There are mountains in the distance; brown and looking so much like home despite having no snow on the tops.
How warm does this place stay all year? The air is humid and sticky; clinging to our clothes and skin like an Octonod’s tentacle, and what few trees I can see are closest to palms. I can’t see a large body of water, but I swear there’s one nearby.
“It’s like Earth,” I admit. “It has to be. I smell the ocean.”
“Where are our new owners though?” Right on cue, someone decides to break what little enjoyment I have and, darting around, Alaska’s grown close. “I don’t see any new ones here, do you?”
I shake my head. “No.” My voice is tentative. Quiet. Worried. I can’t decide whether it’s a good or bad sign that no one’s there to pick us up.
“Maybe they were all killed off,” Kansas mutters, smirking.
“Maybe the Todas will leave us here thinking someone else will show up,” Alaska adds. “Can you imagine? What if they leave us here and it’s an empty planet? We could start over. We’d be free to live our own lives again.”
“How would we eat? I don’t exactly see a fast food joint,” I point out.
“Or shelter,” Sloane says, pouting. “Where the hell are the buyers?”
My eyes lift once the frogs – Todas – shove us forward again, and we shuffle ahead in a daze. We’re all looking for the inhabitants of this rainy planet and our new owners. The weather has given us all a whisper of hope that the aliens might be humanoid. The oxygen, the water, the rain, the sun, even the moons, feel so familiar. Even the mountains remind me of home – or at least the homes I’d see in pictures in the magazines I read in the library.
Rain clings to my shirt, soaking to my skin and my nipples harden, enjoying the cool change mixed in with the humid hair.
“Kind of like a rainforest, eh?” Alaska asks. “Ari will like this.”
“Once she recovers.” Dakota frowns. “She shouldn’t have stood up for that idiot. She won’t even appreciate it.” She shakes her head.
“You came around eventually,” Alaska says.
“I guess I did.”
“Quiet, whores,” one of the frogs barks suddenly. “Stand still.”
We stop. We observe. We’ve only been walking for about fifteen minutes, and the landscape hasn’t changed much. I glance at the rest of the women, all soaked to the skin, antsy and nervous. There’s still no sign of any aliens – or any place to sleep out from the rain. I swallow hard as one of the frog guards lines us up.
They’re taking stock. Taking value. Trying to figure out who’s the most desirable. Who’s the least desirable.
The drill’s familiar enough, and I make myself look as presentable as possible. I don’t want to be with the dregs of this planet no matter who they are and so, I straighten my back, push out my boobs and lips, and hood my eyes like Arizona’s. Two of the frogs pace in front of us, making comments under their rumbling breaths, too soft for the translators to pick up. My hands shake.
Something’s wrong.
Where are our buyers?
“You,” the shorter frog croaks, grabbing Dakota by the arm and slinging her to her knees. “And you.” He flings Adrienne forward next. The two huddle closer as another frog steps over them and kneels.
And then – that motherfucker lifts up the ground.
Let me say it again. He lifts a flap in the ground.
Just like opening an old cellar door to a basement, the frog lifts a spot in the wet grass and exposes the rest of us to a giant gaping hole. There’s hardly any light inside, and my confusion escapes my lips before I have a chance to censor myself.
“What is that?” I gasp.
“No questions,” a frog sneers from behind before clubbing me in the back of the head with his fist. I stumble to my knees, clutching the spot where I’ve been struck, but also relieved when no blood appears on my fingers.
“Don’t hurt them. They need to be clean,” another croaks. “The two back at the ship will go there once Tallo is finished. Get those two for now.” He points towards the broken one – Taya and one whose name I can’t remember until Sloane shouts out.
“Not her.” She’s pointing at Taya. “She’s scared. You can’t put her there.”
“Let us stay,” one wails as Dakota grabs her arm.
“Don’t fight, Mia. Adrienne, stop,” she says. “At least we’ll all be together.”
“But where will you be together? Where will the rest of us go?” I snap, losing my cool as we’re quickly separated from the rest of the pack. I’m disgusted when relief washes over me. York and Sloane are still by my side. Alaska, too. She may be a member of Arizona’s clique, but she’s proven to be pretty decent so far.
We’re pushed ahead with three frogs while another three remain, shoving girls into the hole.
“What is that?” I gasp, wanting answers. “Why are we being separated?”
“Not your stop,” one frog says.
“No talking. That goes for you, Foddon,” another frog grunts.
“Sorry,” Foddon says, pushing me forward.
“Please,” I gasp, sweating as the humid air continues to wash over me and panic builds. “What’s happening to them? What was that thing? Where are we going? Where is everyone?” My voice and my actions grow more frantic as we continue to walk in silence. The trees thicken and the rain shifts from a drizzle to downpour, but I can’t enjoy it. Once I manage to pull myself together, I stumble forward to walk with York and Alaska who are whispering amongst themselves.
“What is this?” I hiss.
York presses her lips together and shares a look with Alaska.
“What?” I snap. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Next,” Foddon gurgles before either girl can tell me anything. We stand erect, no longer anxious, but honest to God frightened. The frog lumbers forward, and no one bothers to tell us to line up this time.
This is our stop. Whatever that means.
Like before, Foddon opens the Earth and points to a gaping hole inside.
“I’m not going down there,” I say.
“You’ll go, or you can explain to your owner why your face is all messed up,” one garbles behind me.
So much for choices, huh?
Swallowing my fear and trying to remember I’m not going through this alone, I fall in line between Alaska and Sloane as York leads the way. Some of the girls cry behind us, and my eyes itch with unshed tears. Is this it? Are we walking to our deaths? Is my last memory of anything good going to be seeing the rain as I came off the ship?
“Be brave,” Alaska whispers. “Maybe it’s like a roller coaster or a trip to the dentist. The worst part is waiting in line. Maybe once we’re there, it’ll all be okay.” She stops in front of the hole and turns around to face me.
“Do you believe that?” I whisper, kneeling to follow behind her.
Her eyes turn playful. And sad. “No,” she admits. “But it’s better than thinking about the alternative.”
Right.
CHAPTER THREE
Blythe
The air’s as muggy and warm when we first arrived, but now the comforting sounds of falling rain fade as the guards close the gate, locking it from the outside. Or at least it sounds like that. Surprisingly, it’s not dark enough that we can’t see each other’s faces, and with a quick glance, I notice a few lighted torches against the dirt walls. Quickly, I snatch one up for my comfort and turn towards the rest of the girls. I don’t want to be a leader, but I don’t want anyone else to be either. It takes everything I have not to cry for my dead mother as I glimpse over their frightened faces.
I have no idea what to expect at this point.
We may have been divided, but there’s still a fair amount of us together, and things could be worse. They can always be worse, but right now I’m not sure how.
What if Alaska’s right? What if we’re left here, and something killed the others? What if we have to stay alive on our own? I have no idea how to hunt or fish. And, gazing down the dark hallways under the earth, I’m not sure if I’m ready to figure that out now.
“I guess we don’t have a choice,” I say, looking over the girls with me. I try to take stock.
Sloane.
York.
Alaska.
Kansas.
Celeste.
Two athletic, dark-haired girls who already know each other.
Four others.
I swallow hard, wondering if I should ask them to repeat their names but decide it’s not worth it. So instead, I push ahead; deeper into the underground cavern, beginning to sweat off the rain. It’s humid. Downright muggy. And quiet. I wipe the sweat from my brow, too afraid to look back and see if anyone has deserted us. I’m sticky, and the back my head still throbs from the blow one of those frog dickheads dealt me earlier. It could be worse. I could be Arizona or Phoebe.
Or any of the girls shoved into the mysterious first cavern.
As the minutes continue to tick by, and the cavern goes on forever, I can’t help the growing fear building in the pit of my stomach. I’m afraid. I don’t understand what’s going on, and I hate my selfish desire to be the leader. I want to collapse and fall into a deep sleep, so maybe when I wake up, this whole thing will be over. Maybe I’ll wake up back on the ship with the frogs. Maybe I’ll be back with the Entlas. Or maybe I’ll wake up; back in my bed with my dad no longer sick.
“Look,” York whispers, pointing over my shoulder.
“There’s light,” Sloane says, pushing her bright red hair away from her eyes. “Maybe this was just a passageway?”
“So why wouldn’t one of the Todas walk us down?”
“Maybe they couldn’t,” I whisper back.
There are more torches as we continue to shuffle towards the light, and the heat increases the longer we go. It reminds me of the time I went to a greenhouse on a school field trip. We all stink of sweat. Where the hell are the buyers? Are they at the end of whatever this tunnel is?