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His attention was focused on the surrounding area. He was constantly on the lookout for an attack. He wouldn’t relax until we got somewhere safe.
Then I noticed something else strange about the barn.
Something that shouldn’t have been there.
I fingered a series of holes in the wood panels. They formed a dotted streak from one end to the other.
“Bullet holes,” I said. “Are we in a warzone?”
The place didn’t look like the site of a battle. At least, not one that’d taken place recently enough to have caused this damage.
Then where had it come from?
The answer hit me like a sledge to the gut.
“We’re not the first ones to be subjected to this sick gameshow of theirs, are we?” I said. “There were others.”
“No,” Chax said. “This place represents a considerable investment. They wouldn’t go to all this trouble just for us. They lower costs by reusing the same locations.”
“How can you be so calm?” I said. “Our lives are on the line and they’ll kill us the first chance they get!”
“Because we have no choice and getting crazy and upset won’t change anything. We need to be careful and think like they do.”
“Like they do?” I hissed. “How do they think? They want to kill us!”
“Then we have to do everything we can to stop them,” Chax said, giving me a peck on the lips. “Come on. I think it’s safe.”
He led us around the barn and into the open courtyard in front of the farmhouse.
I noticed movement out the corner of my eye and grabbed Chax’s arm. I motioned to a farmhouse’s upstairs window.
Staring down at us through the smashed glass was a little boy. His skin was green and his eyes bright yellow. A larger version of the boy—who had to be his father—pulled the boy back from the window and slid a torn red curtain across to block us from view.
My stomach fell between my feet. We were being hunted in a place where alien creatures still lived.
The situation didn’t feel right.
It didn’t feel right at all.
We were out in the open while the locals hid in their homes.
“Chax…” I said, the words seeping from between my lips. “I don’t think—”
“I know,” he said.
I know.
What did he know? Cos I sure as shit didn’t know anything.
“Well, well, well.”
A tall figure stepped from behind the farmhouse. It was a… a…
What the hell is that thing?
The creature stood seven feet tall and almost the same in width. The first word that came to mind was “barbarian.” And I thought Chax was a big cat! This guy stood head and shoulders over him. He carried a six-foot war hammer in one hand. The elaborate toggles on his armor clattered as he ambled toward us. It was only when he got close enough for me to make the toggles out individually that I noticed they weren’t toggles at all.
They were grenades.
