Hello, readers!

It took me a while, but here's chapter four. I would have waited to post it with more chapters, but I realized that there's a chunk of the story missing without this chapter so. :'D I would have had it done sooner, but my weekend was busy and I couldn't get to it. I cut out a lot of clutter and filler I'd used previously, so hopefully it flows better.

Hopefully I'll get the next set of chapters up soon. :'D

This chapter is updated as of 11/17/2015

~ Crayola


Chapter Five

Wicked Design

Through the panic, I remembered Anderson's advice. Through the cotton filling my skull, I remembered what to do. I continued my work with vigor, loosening the crust around my right arm. The entire time I repeated a quiet, desperate mantra in my head.

Must not lose hope. Must not panic.

Have to get out.

My hand wriggled free, then my forearm, then the rest. I flexed my fingers and bent my elbow to make it sure worked, then starting prying. The resin cut into my palm, but didn't break the skin. It took all the strength I could muster, but I was able to tease chunks from the cocoon and free my shoulder. My chest soon followed.

Feet in front of me, an egg squelched and hissed. I ignored it in favor of leaning my weight forward, straining against what remained of my prison. Teeth gnashing and muscles shaking, I broke free and tumbled to the ground. Its embrace was hard, but the pain was negligible.

I was free.

Breaths heaved from my chest in loud whimpers. Ashen legs mounted atop the hatching egg and tiny mewls heralded the arrival of the parasite. I whirled around to face the wall again, sending pieces of crust scattering into the mist at my feet. It swirled as if alive.

Anderson was there, head cocked at an unnatural angle and jaw slack. Blood and pieces of viscera tracked red down his cocoon. My shoulders quaked, but I lunged for the plastic at his hip.

Gravity shifted his body and a globule of lung matter dropped to the ground. I squeaked and recoiled from his body. My stomach churned and I almost retched again, but I swallowed the bile that rose. His gun was right there, tucked at his hip.

Have to get out.

This time, when the creature wailed, it drew my attention. I whirled around in time to see it soaring toward me, legs splayed out and tail behind it like a ribbon. Years of honed goal keeper reflexes brought my hands up in time to protect my face. The parasite hit my arms and its long tail wrapped around my bicep—it had aimed at my throat.

Despite its demure and emaciated figure (though it was bigger than my face), it was strong. Its tail tensed and flexed around my arm, pushing against me and trying to pull itself closer to my face.

I struggled against it and stumbled backwards until I hit the wall. As it thrashed, the clawed tips of its digits tore shreds from my coat's sleeves. The bottom of it was a fleshy and inflamed, puckered like something from a hentai. After another bout of struggling, the center shifted to reveal a grotesque and phallic appendage.

Disgust set my teeth on edge and brought an uncomfortable heat to my core. I slid down the wall until I was on my ass, head turned away. With it pressed against my forearms, I couldn't keep the alien mouth-cock far enough away.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins like hot molasses. Eyes wide as saucers, I flipped over and shifted so I could wedge the thing against the ground. When my hand pressed into the disgusting squishy core, my teeth gnashed. The thing bucked and almost freed itself from underneath me, but I slammed my knee into it to keep it down.

A tremor of disgust wriggled down my spine at the sickening squashing sound. It writhed and squealed, its legs lashing, but I had it pinned against the ground with my weight.

It let loose a single squeak when I pushed harder, and its grip loosened. Before it could recover, I pried its tail free of my arm and swung my arm with all the force I could muster. An angry scream ripped from my throat as I bashed the parasite against the wall, splattering it like a bug. It took two tries for a lethal rupture of green-yellow blood, then I left it suctioned there.

I watched it to make sure it was dead, shoulders and chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Broken, insides now outside, it slid down the wall with slow progress.

Otherwise, it made no sounds. It didn't move. I'd won.

The victory was short lived. Through the silence was the hiss of released air, the scuffle of skittering legs. I spun around, eyes flitting to and fro until they fell on the hatching egg.

Next to it, another unborn parasite was beginning to stir inside its womb.

There were more. So many more.

Have to get out.

Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my chest. I turned to Anderson's body and did my best to censor his gaping ribcage from my mind. I zeroed in on his pistol instead and lunged. A section of his cocoon blocked it in no matter how hard I pulled or shook. Grunting, I tugged at the resin with one hand and tried to wiggle the gun free with the other.

Though it wasted precious seconds, I was able to pull out the firearm. The sudden lack of resistance had me reeling back, but I caught myself before I fell.

Thanks to the Colorado Youth Outdoors club, I knew the gist behind the weapon. My mom and I were two-year members, but all they'd taught me was gun safety for hunting. The only gun I'd ever fired before was a rifle. At skeet. For one day.

But this was my only shot. I had to hope it wasn't empty.

The firearm was foreign in my trembling hands. I checked the safety and pulled back the slide like they did in the movies—and out popped a bullet. "God dammit," I choked out, leaping back in surprise. At least I knew the gun was loaded, now. I would have to make it work with one less shot.

Behind me, something squealed. The gun was up and sighted as I whirled to face it.

It was airborne already.

My breath hitched in my throat and I squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds. The recoil jerked my hands and the sound surprised me, causing the first shot to miss. Thankfully, the second shot hit home and the parasite lurched in the air, falling flat on its back. When it continued to thrash, I popped it one more time.

That did it. It fell still and its legs curled inward as the rattle of its last breath whispered.

I was still for several seconds, but I wasn't out of the fire yet. There were others rustling around, and another parasite had fixed itself atop its egg. Now I was accustomed to my firearm—sort of—and I targeted the next one.

Click.

"No!" I bellowed, shaking the gun. I pulled back the slide and tried again.

Click.

Click click click.

Three shots. One bullet ejected on accident.

Rage replaced the fear. Red tinted my vision and I let out a strangled battle cry before charging the parasite. It was still in that foggy state of post-birth and I was able to take it by surprise. I was screaming the entire time as I punted the gross creature across the room. It slapped against the ground and I was on top of it in an instant, beating it with the butt of the gun.

Soon it was an unrecognizable mess of grotesque limbs and crumpled flesh.

My hands and face stung, the gun's grip a melted mess of plastic. Shaking, I dropped the weapon and scrambled back. I rubbed my face on my jacket sleeves and my hands on my pants, relieving some of the stinging.

Still more. More more more.

They were all going to hatch, one after the other.

Hot stones filled my torso. I ran to each egg and stopped the life from them until they turned into a heap of mush.

Though my shoes smoked, I kept at it.

Egg after egg crumpled under my boots until there were only a few left. A searing pain at the bottoms of my feet halted my progress. Gasping, I threw myself to my ass and pulled my boots off with trembling hands.

The soles had melted through to my socks. Holes littered my pant legs, but the long underwear beneath were untouched. I tossed the boots aside with confused revulsion, then peeled my tattered socks off. My feet were red and blistered, but otherwise okay.

I froze and listened.

What was left of the eggs were motionless and dormant. No sounds, just that incessant drip. I waited for what seemed to be forever, sitting, but there was nothing.

For now.

All the thrashing and moving had dispelled the mist, but the muggy humidity remained. Avoiding the puddles of acid, I padded to the rest of the eggs. The floor beneath my feet was cool and soothing on the burns I'd sustained. I dropped to my knees by each egg and, in turn, pushed them over. My feet scrabbled against the hard floor, but I was able to shove the eggs until they were up against a wall.

From there, I heaved until they crumbled or burst.

Then I was up, searching the room for others. For signs of danger.

White noise. The occasional rustle of the unconscious people on the wall. No immediate danger. No more eggs.

Nothing.

Relief washed over me and I slumped to the floor. Panting, I lifted my hand to wipe slime from my face, stopping short to stare. Blood tinged my fingers with red and the trembling started anew.

Was it Anderson's?

Was it my own?

Something fumbled to the floor across the room and I shrieked before I could stop myself, hands over my head. A moment passed and I uncurled from my ball and limped around the edge of the room toward a staggering form. It was one of the face-hugging aliens, stumbling as if drunk.

My heart had yet to find rest. It continued to race, and I knew it was only a matter of time until it gave out completely.

I had nothing to kill it with. My feet were bare, so I didn't want to kick it, either. It soon flopped over and died, though, its legs curling in on its center. The person in front of me started coughing and I threw myself backward again.

Whoever they were, they were unconscious, so I stood and nudged the dead parasite. The dead facehugger. It must have completed whatever it was doing and died.

Its only purpose was to . . . impregnate a host.

Slime dripped down my forehead and I went to swipe it off. Again I saw the blood on my fingers, and my mind emptied. From the vacancy came Anderson's agonized scream, then the sound of his ribs splintering in half.

The squeal of the creature bursting from the cavity.

When I came back to myself, I was hiccuping and whimpering. Tears left dirty streaks down my face and I wrapped my arms around myself, as if to keep from falling apart. I spent the next several minutes doubled over, sniveling and moaning through gritted teeth.

Have to get out.

I sucked in a breath and ceased my rocking. There were things I had to do, placed I need to be. A couple more hiccups racked me, and I wiped my face, slicking slime through my hair. From my pants' pocket I pulled a hair tie, then used it to pull the sticky locks off my neck into a ponytail.

My gaze never lingered in one place long. I searched for danger whenever I could, trying to ignore the dead bodies. The angle at which their heads hung, the glazed look in their eyes.

How all the color had drained from their faces.

More sobs choked my throat. I pushed my hand against either side of my head. If I could squeeze the sights out of my mind, I could move on. I needed to leave, I couldn't be in the room anymore. I struggled to stand, the resin cool against my feet. It seemed every inch of the room was covered in the strange material.

Shoes. I needed shoes.

Having a task focused my mind. It allowed me to ignore everything that wasn't part of my mission: find shoes. I kept my eyes low and searched for a pair of feet that might be close to my size.

The dim light was enough for me to find my bearings, but not much else. I tip-toed around the edge of the room, testing my steps before committing. The last thing I wanted to do was step in more of that acid and melt my feet off.

Acid. For blood. What the fuck kind of creatures were these?

It took a few painstaking minutes of checking boots before I found a pair close enough to my size and slipped them on.

A little big, but they would do. I could even ignore how strange they felt without socks.

Next, I needed to find a way out of the room. There had to have been a door somewhere, but the walls melded together. The crusted gum fused shapes together and created an optical illusion. I paced the room with my hand against the wall, trying to find an opening.

Screeches in the distance paralyzed me.

Shit—the gunshots. My screaming and shouting . . . . The big ones were coming to investigate the noise. I cursed my lack of foresight and worked double time until I found an opening to a corridor, and I slipped out. The resin stopped at the room, as if unfinished, and I found a small cubby to wedge myself in. It seemed to be a sort of vent and hot steam poured from it.

But, I ignored the initial discomfort and shimmied in as far as I could, crouching low and curling into a ball. I hid my face in my knees, every muscle tense and quivering. Sweat beaded my forehead.

Hissing shadows shot past several heartbeats later. Though I twitched at their initial appearance, I held rigid as a statue and held my breath. Nothing was going to make me unravel from my ball; I couldn't mess this up, not after my victory.

They rummaged around the room, angry screeches battering my senses. I was certain that if they'd found me in that room with all the broken eggs and dead facehuggers, they would have killed me.

There wouldn't have been a third chance. Just death.

The creatures made an awful racket as they sprinted from the room in search for the murderer. For me. Their noises disappeared into the bowels of the ship and I waited.

And waited.

*:・゚✧

It seemed like forever that I huddled in that vent, biding my time. My legs were starting to cramp and there was an incessant itch irritating my left shoulder blade.

But I didn't dare move.

At first I'd counted to ten, but chickened out. Then I'd counted to thirty and yet again couldn't bring myself to leave. Not a single thing had made a noise since the creatures passed, but I was afraid. They could come back any second, and if they caught me with my pants down. . . .

After five minutes of absolute silence, I finally crawled out from my hiding spot. I glanced about, making sure the coast was clear, then wiggled out and slowly stood.

Well, somehow I'd avoided dying, now I had to figure out how to escape the ship.

I picked a direction and headed down the hall way, only to find myself back in the room. It was empty, except for the bodies on the wall and the tattered eggs. I hadn't meant to, but now that I was there I figured I'd make the best of it. Moving slower than was necessary in favor of silence, I slipped into the chamber. There were plenty of military personnel, so maybe I could find a weapon.

More guns popped into my mind, but I brushed the thought aside: they'd almost caught me once. I didn't want to broadcast my location like that again. Nor did I want to deal with the utter despair I'd felt when the gun ran out of ammo.

Would a gun even work against the things? The little creatures, maybe, but the big bugs looks tough. Could a bullet puncture their chitin? I knew there had to be some sort of weapon that could do it, but maybe not a pistol. How would I know until I tried, though? It seemed like it would be a waste no matter how I tried to spin it, though.

If the guns works, great, but I didn't have the training to aim right. How many bullets would each gun have? Not enough to kill all the monsters, of that I was sure. Then I'd be right back at square one. Or dead, more like it.

Something else, then. But what?

When faced with the task of looting corpses, though, I faltered. The cocoons covered most of their bodies, and what it didn't hide was a gaping, bloody mess. Every cell, every nerve ending, every fiber of my existence told me not touch anything. To turn and flee.

And so I stood there, rubbing my hands against my jeans and fidgeting.

That was when I felt it: a lump in my back pocket. I patted the spot once more, then pulled my phone free, hope swelling my chest. There was large fissure that cobwebbed across the top corner, but that was the extent of the damage.

"Everything's coming up Milhouse," I muttered, ticking my head to the side. A seed of hope planted itself inside me and I fumbled to wake up the phone. I was all too eager to forget the bodies.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, waiting for the black screen to come to life. It brightened after a slight delay. Excitement hindered my movement, but I was able to unlock the phone after the second try. I tapped on the phone app and brought up the keypad to type in 9-1-1. I didn't know what I was going to tell them, but I'd come up with something. All I had to do was tell them to call someone.

Then they could send help. A search party, anything.

But when I dialed and put the phone to my ear, I heard nothing. No ring, no voice asking me what my emergency was.

A big fat nothing.

"No, no," I muttered, staring at the phone. "Come on, just let me get through, just once. Just for a few seconds—I just need a few seconds!"

The second, third, and fourth tries bore similar results. I raised my hand as if to chuck my phone across the room, but thought better of it. Groaning, I crouched down and perched on the balls of my feet, hands to my head. No signal. I couldn't make any calls.

Of course not.

"Why would my phone get a fucking signal in an alien spaceship?" I said sarcastically to myself, bumping my phone against my forehead. "That would just be too easy, wouldn't it? Has to be difficult!"

If I sat and thought about it, I'd realize there was plenty of things lying around to block the signal. Not only was I miles away from civilization, but I was in the belly of an alien spaceship. Who knew what kind of electronic devices were giving off weird signals. They could have even been jamming communications on purpose.

Anger demanded I throw the phone. A pressure formed behind my eyes and I sniffed back frustrated tears. No matter how hard I stared at my phone, I couldn't will the reception to life.

Ditching the phone wouldn't help, either. It wasn't hurting anything from my pocket, and it still had battery life. If I did nothing else with it, I could use the flashlight feature to find my way around. If I was lucky, I might be able to find a spot where I could pick up a signal.

There was still the problem of what I would say, but I didn't need to go into details. All they needed to know was to send a search party.

And the entire military.

One of the women on the wall twitched and groaned. I suppressed a scream and scrambled to my feet into a half-baked battle stance. She coughed and my head jerked in her direction. I watched with fascinated horror as her body bucked, and the sound of her rib cage cracked like thunder.

Another body across the room from me started to lurch—but this man woke up.

He woke up screaming.

Not again. I didn't want to watch any more people die. I didn't want to deal with the things that burst out of their chests like rocks through paper.

Chestbursters.

It didn't matter that I ran. It didn't matter that I found the way out of that chamber. The sound of bones shattering and gore splattering the wall chased me into the hall before petering out. Even the man's screams came to an abrupt end.

Ahead of me, a dark shape hissed.

I didn't make it ten paces before I was face to face with one of the adult monsters. It stood in the middle of the hall, top lip drawn back and twitching. Even in the gloom I could see the glint of its silver fangs.

My breath caught in my throat and I backed away at a snail's pace, hands up and eyes locked on the beast. It rose from its crouch to stand upright and followed me, keeping the distance between us. Its posture was raptor-like, bent over and long arms hanging. Its tail brushed the floor behind it.

It pushed me back into the now-silent room. I backed up until I stumbled over one of the shoes I'd tried on earlier. Without thinking, I snatched up the steel-toed boot and stood.

Not a weapon, but it was all I had.

There wasn't a chance it would kill the biomechanical beast before me, but I had to do something. If anything, it might delay my death by a few minutes.

Teeth bared, the alien crouched low again and swung its head this way and that. It had no eyes, of that I was certain. Yet, the irate hiss it emitted as it took in the room made me think it could see. Destroyed eggs, dead facehuggers . . . general carnage.

Carnage I had caused.

And it knew.

Jaws parted and hissing, the creature rose to its full size and turned its smooth head toward me. I took a step back and it took a step toward me, tail lashing over its head. I was hyper-aware of every movement, every twitch and ripple of muscle, waiting for it to charge. It leaned forward like a snake about to strike and its leg muscles bunched.

I tensed in response, clutching my pitiful excuse for a weapon.

Singing crystal. The crunch of hard exoskeleton. Splattering blood.

A hole had appeared in the creature's midsection and it stopped short, mouth agape. It was almost comical if not for the fact that I couldn't see what had caused it.

And I was certain these things didn't suffer from spontaneous wounds.

If I squinted, I could see rivulets of blood dripping down an invisible force from its chest. It created an outline of something sharp. But why couldn't I see what it was?

Electricity charged the air and a new sound met my ears: a rattle. The creature jerked as the invisible blade wrenched upward, cleaving its chest in two. Behind it, the air shimmered and rippled like water, then it fell to the floor. My breath caught as something large appeared, standing erect like man.

Whatever it was, it was Arnold Schwarzenegger big. Maybe even bigger.

The thing looked like it was completely composed of muscle and sinew. Based on the shape of its body and the way it held itself, I had to wager it was male. Uniform, black dreads fell into place around its head, past its shoulders. A stern and impassive mask obscured its face.

Protruding from the gauntlet on its wrist was a dual set of curved blades. They showed no sign of corrosion from the creature's acid blood dripping from the tip.

They were made to kill the serpents.

My heartbeat was thunder in my ears. Trembling started deep in my chest and radiated outward to my fingers and toes. Should I run? Stand my ground?

It—or he, as he appeared masculine—wore scarce armor over his thighs, shins, and wrists. He didn't seem like he needed to wear even that much. Like he was Superman and his immaculate pectorals would deflect any attacks. A pair of knee-high boots protected his legs, and he wore an armored codpiece as well. Over his mottled torso was a mesh like fishnets, and I couldn't discern its purpose.

That was what I assumed at first glance. When I took the time to study him further, I noted several wounds. Were it not for the radioactive-green blood, I would have missed them.

If the injuries bothered him at all, he didn't show it.

This alien had to be the owner of the ship, or at least a crew member: the species appeared more sapient than the ones that had stolen me. He wore armor, used weapons, and that technology he had . . . he had been invisible!

With the way he had killed the serpent, I knew my initial guess was wrong. But if they weren't attack dogs, then what were they?

An infestation was the only sensible conclusion.

Space pests.

After a brief second of staring at one another he took a calculated step toward me. I mirrored his movement backward. His wrist blades retracted with a metallic hiss and I jumped three feet in the air with a sharp cry. Without thinking, I chucked the boot at his head.

As soon as it left my hands, I knew it would be the death of me.

With stunning dexterity, he snatched it out of the air without so much as a flinch. My heart fell into my stomach and the color drained from my face. What have I done?

Even if the boot hit, it never would have hurt him.

He studied the boot for a few seconds, his head tilted to the side. His head cocked in the other direction when he directed his attention to me. Once more he made the rattling sound and I struggled to pull in air.

Thin, red lasers swept across the ground until they came to rest over my heart. Gasping, I staggered backward and brushed at the front of my shirt, trying to rid myself of the dots. I knew it was pointless. I'd watched enough hitman movies to know a sniper bead when I saw one. There might have been three red dots instead of one, but the meaning was the same.

But I didn't know what else to do.

The boot thumped to the ground, dropped and forgotten. For a few heartbeats that stretched out to feel like hours, he appraised me. I wished I could see an expression, understand what he was thinking. Something mounted on his shoulder turned to face me. A gun? Was this how I was going to die? I swallowed hard and my muscles tensed, ready to fling myself out of the shot.

Yeah, as if.

Ages passed before he shifted his attention away from me. The laser targets arched across the devastation that I had wrought on the eggs. I doubted the scene would upset him, not after his kill. He turned away from me, making it clear he thought I was no threat, and chittered away. His shoulders rotated and he glanced back at me, then growled.

Those weren't angry sounds, I didn't think: they lacked authority. Was—was he impressed?

I moved a fraction of an inch to adjust my range of vision and that target snapped back to my chest. I immediately froze. The dots remained for a heartbeat or two, then he turned away with a derisive snort.

The target flickered out of existence.

He . . . wasn't going to kill me. Had I not been against a wall, I would have gone weak with relief. As it were, I remained upright and my eyes locked on him, just in case I'd misinterpreted his actions.

I held my breath and watched him as he moved. It was as if every movement animated his whole body, even the thick strands of braids swung with a sort of grace as he turned. I caught the glint of metal bands around each dreadlock, like jewelry.

Even though he seemed to have no interest in ending my life, I feared moving would provoke him into changing his mind. He stopped by each unconscious person in turn and stood in front of them. Each one he watched, and after a couple seconds, he sank his blade deep into their chests. Some were none the wiser, others on the cusp of awakening jerked and shuddered before falling still.

Gooseflesh prickled my skin and my stomach flopped. Were these mercy killings, or intended to put a stop to the breeding?

Whatever the case, I chose to believe the former.

As he went about his duty, I tried to wrap my head around it all. It was clear I posed no threat, but there couldn't be a reason to keep me alive, either. Maybe it was the destruction I'd caused, maybe it's because I wasn't impregnated . . . .

Maybe it was because we were on the same side. He wasn't asking me to join him, so he didn't want to be allies, though. So what was it?

In the end I decided it didn't matter. He wasn't going to kill me.

That was good enough.

For a while I watched him, trying to decide what to do. Once he finished off all the infected people, he headed for the exit. Before he turned the corner, his body melted out of view. Camouflage? A cloaking device?

Even though he wasn't going to kill me now, there was a chance he might cause me issue later. Would we meet again while I was trying to escape? What if he stopped me?

Wait . . . . He would know where the exit to the ship was and how to leave. Should I have asked him? I brushed the thought aside soon as it entered my mind; even if he could understand me, there was nothing he'd gain from helping me.

But I didn't want to be alone. Maybe I should have asked to come with him.

We could have found some way to communicate.

Anderson had told me to escape, that the best chance for my friends' survival was to find help. What could have been my only possible means of escape was walking away as I stood there, trying to decide what to do.

Time was ticking and he was moving further away. There was a single, straight hallway out of the room, so I was confident I could catch up.

He was my ticket out of here, and he was armed, but that meant it was a gamble. He would be more than capable of killing me if I annoyed him, or if he didn't want a tag-along. It also meant that if there was danger around, he would be ready for it.

I had nothing, and he had everything.

My best bet was to follow him around and hope he didn't try to kill me when he found me stalking him. I could ride in his wake and maybe get out alive.