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I need to get up, get moving and find cover. I search but the brilliant blue sky has no clouds or alien ships. I sit up, knowing they’ll find me if I stay here. Breathing is increasingly difficult but I ignore the urge to quit. My head spinning, I begin another jog to the short, spindly trees ahead. What I thought was a huge forest is actually a grove of houseplants not much taller than the average pro basketball player. Still, they’re cover and I know how to crawl if necessary.
The plants give off a sweet but pungent aroma as I get closer. My coughing starts again and my stomach begins to hurt with the effort. I hope the scent isn’t damaging my lungs but don’t know of an alternative. All I’m wearing are my comfy clothes, not a scarf or anything else I could wrap around my nose and mouth.
Finally reaching the vegetation, I go in, praying none of the native plant life is related to poison ivy. It’s warmer now, nice, but the tree roots are crazy. They skim along the ground with some as high as two feet in the air. I reach out and touch one of the tree trunks. Warm, and the leaves are wide and thick like a succulent plant on Earth. I reach out and brush my finger across the smooth bark. My touch leaves a mark, but before I can feel bad about marring the plant, the impressions fade. I have no idea what’s going on. I check my fingertips for changes but nothing’s different.
The lanky yet stunted trees’ tops reach up as if starved for light, which is odd because it’s a clear day with a bright sun. I try to take a breath and what I can inhale smells good, less rainy. I don’t have the urge to cough anymore. The leaves above hide me for the most part and I hope the trees’ heat disguises me from aliens with temperature viewers or something similar. Even then, I can’t count on clinging to weird trees to hide me from the aliens. I keep going deeper into the forest.
The land slopes down as I continue, the rocks and soil become slippery with a bright crimson scum. I hope it’s not like Earth’s red algae or my lungs are toast. With every tree I pass, I think I should turn around and find Stacie. She’s strong but too kind to other people. She needs me to fight back for her. I pause, listening for the spaceships. Nothing, but think I hear water.
Suddenly thirsty despite the dampness of the vegetation around me, I press on. Can I drink the water? Is H2O the same everywhere or will this have stuff in it Earth never dreamed of? And why am I walking away from the only speck of civilization I know? Part of me wants to turn around and beg for mercy.
I swallow, my dry throat seeming to stick together. It’s simple. I need to keep moving because I know the beings who abducted us killed several Earthlings. I saw them do it via their little ray gun. Then the tall bronze people? They seemed kind to Stacie and I hope for her sake they adore her. But can I trust them?
No.
I can’t trust them, this planet, or the air.
My coughing starts again.
I can only trust me.
