I Know Exactly What I’m Seeing
Blaze
The four males are coming right toward me. They’re military. They all have swords. I don’t know why they’re not carrying laser weapons. Maybe it’s to make my death look like one ofThe Game’scontestants killed me.
Someone had the pull to re-call my drone. This is an off-the-books mission. I’m certain the network knows what’s happening. They had to allow it. No one argues with the Galactic Federation, even one of the most powerful entities on the planet like an influential network.
I’m totally expendable to TMN anyway. Especially now that they made millions off Xzavic and me last night. They have to know that’s one-and-done, right?
I wonder how they’re going to explain my death. They’re obviously not going to show the four-against-one scenario. Although they could. They’d turn public opinion against me—the little human who wanted a rifle but didn’t know how to use it. She deserved what she got.
I’m a crack shot from ten football fields away. They’re much closer than that. There’s no reason to hold my fire. It’s just that I’ve only got enough ammo to kill two, maybe three, and I have no idea how to escape after that.
There’s no time like the present, though. I take a deep breath, hold it, and pull the trigger three times in rapid succession. I strike two enemies down. Then the rifle makes a sad, fizzling sound and becomes no more helpful than a baseball bat.
The two remaining males barely give a second look at their fallen comrades. They break into a run, coming at me full blast.
For the briefest moment, I consider clambering up the side of the ravine and surrendering. Not that I think this would make them spare my life. On the contrary, I’d just make a good target. My demise would be swift and efficient.
As much as my rational mind might think this is the best plan of action, I can’t go along with it. I’ve always been a fighter.
I grab a jagged rock. It’s buff-colored like everything else on this shit planet. It fits nicely in my palm and isn’t too heavy to throw. I heave it at the male on the left. If circumstances were different, his derisive laugh as he easily dodges it would hurt my feelings.
We’re on a flat, barren parcel of land. There are no trees or bushes to shelter me. No gullies to hide in other than the one I’m currently crouched in. They have my 20. I can’t run, can’t hide, and have nothing to fight with.
Now that they’re closer, I recognize both these guys as Charthians. I should have killed them instead of the other two. Their skin is a dull gray, and they’re as big as Titan. They have spiney spikes on their foreheads, wrists, and ankles. I’m shit at hand-to-hand on my best day, but fighting against these guys will be impossible. They don’t need the swords they’re carrying. They’re deadly without them.
“Come out,” one of them calls, his voice a commanding bass.
I don’t bother to respond.
“We’re not here to kill you.”
Right. I guess it’s time for tea.
“Come out. Pissing us off more will just make it worse for you.”
These guys clearly don’t know my backstory. I’ve been bullied my whole life in every foster home I lived in. I know bullshit tactics when I hear them.
If I make them come down here and get me, I just might be able to bash one of their brains in. Then at least the odds will be even. I glance at their ugly faces once more, notice all their deadly spikes, and scoff. Not exactly even odds.
One of them comes running at me, leaps the ditch in one bound, and then both of them jump in, one from in front, one from behind. Before I can strike out with the rock in my hand, they’ve got me captured. One is gripping my upper arms so tightly they’re burning in pain, the other has me from behind by my waist.
“Too bad you left the Sunsarian this morning. He would have spared you this,” one of them sneers, then leans in to lick me from jaw to cheekbone. Between his fetid breath and his hideous face, I have to stifle my urge to vomit.
I’m an idiot. I didn’t see this coming. The Feds sent them to kill me. With the drone not recording, they’ve decided to have some fun before they complete their mission.
I may not be good at up-close combat, but that doesn’t mean I’m not trying. As I try to wiggle out of their grip, I kick the male in front of me in the shin. Instead of hurting him, I pierce my own shin with one of his wicked spines.
I let out a piercing scream, half out of pain, half out of anger at myself for being such an idiot.
“It stinks down here,” the one behind me says.
Oh yeah, my shit is less than two yards away.
He grabs me, tosses me onto the ground above the gully, and before I can stagger to my feet, he’s bounded up and caught me again.
I’ve been beaten dozens of times in foster care and juvie. I don’t know how I escaped it, but I’ve never been raped. It looks like I’m about to add that to my resume. It will be inserted just before cause of death.
