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I have to get to Olivia and make sure she’s safe. With the D’lorean fled, there’s only one thing left for the Rork to prey upon.
Us.
Thirty-Three
Olivia
Irun down the steps, wearing a bathrobe and my good outdoor boots. I don’t know what I can do to help Yarvok, or if he even still needs my help but damned if I’m not going to do my best and try to help him.
It sounds like the stampede has faded, but I can smell smoke. Something is on fire. Something is burning, and all I can think of is that Yarvok might be trapped somewhere in the fire. Trapped in a burning building where he’s succumbed to the smoke and I am the only one who can save him.
I can’t believe how extreme of a reaction I’m having over this. Yarvok is a Vakutan, one of the toughest sapient species in the entire galaxy. Surely he can look after himself. Yet, I can’t imagine a world without Yarvok in it.
I’ve lived most of my life without him in it. But now I don’t think I would feel whole without Yarvok. When I was in junior high I drew a sort of mental picture of what I thought the perfect boyfriend would be. It’s true that he didn’t LOOK like Yarvok, but in a lot of ways they are the same.
I wanted a man who would listen, who would care, who wasn’t afraid to show his passion, and was very passionate about me.
Yarvok fulfills all of those qualifications. And as far as him being an alien goes, it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I can’t imagine him being anything other than what he is.
I race toward the burning brewery. It looks like the fire started on the second floor but now it’s spread. Oh no, it’s going to be a total loss. What can we do?
Then a roar splits the air, and I think it’s the stampeding monsters again. But this sounds different. Yarvok said that the D’lorean were herbivores. They eat plants, not people.
But whatever this is, it sure sounds like something that would eat people. The ground shakes and on instinct I look for cover. I move quickly between two stacks of baled wheat, hoping the deep shadows between will protect me.
The vibration in my feet grows heavier. A heavy chuffing sort of sound reaches my ears. The smell of damp wheat is strong, and makes me want to sneeze. I clasp my hand over my nose and desperately try not to make a sound.
A shadow falls over my hiding place. I cringe, and then I see a leg as big as a tree trunk appear about ten feet from the bales of wheat.
I move my gaze up, my terror mounting as I take in the sight of the creature. It looks like the bastard unholy union of an alligator and an ostrich, only scaled up. scaled way way up.
It moves its head about, nostrils I could put m y fist inside of flaring. The creature chuffs again and lowers its head to the ground. It could snap me in half with one bite. It sniffs the ground and to my alarm I realize it’s picked up my scent.
Fortunately for me, it follows my scent the wrong way, back the way I had come from. But that just means it’s going to go back to the house.
I’m sure that Mylar will have the good sense to run and hide, but Neely is probably passed out drunk. I’m going to have to do something to keep them safe.
I take a deep breath and come out of my wheat hiding place. The creature is about fifty feet away at this point, but the tip of its tail is only about half that distance.
“Hey,” I shout “over here!”
It doesn’t appear to notice me, so I pick up a discarded tool and chuck it at the creature. You’d think I could hit it, as big as it is, but my errant missile sails over the monster’s back and lands in the dark.
It turns its head toward the sound, again sniffing intently. I pick up another wrench and plan to throw it a bit further away than the first. Maybe I can lure it away from the house this way, maybe all the way out of the compound.
My wrench of course strikes the creature right in the eye.
It blinks, roars, and then turns its saurian head toward me. I flee back between the wheat bales. I throw myself on my belly and hope that the thing passes me by again.
I hear it stop up outside, and nearly cry out from terror. Yarvok, where are you? You’re the resident monster fighter.
The shadows lessen and I think the beast is gone. I lift my head to find that the top most layer of the bale stacks are gone. Now my hiding place is only four feet deep, not nearly deep enough.
It looks right at me and then that dreadful maw descends, teeth longer than my forearm dripping saliva.
“Come on, Yarvok, it’s now or never.”
Thirty-Four
