Chapter Two

JOHN’S EYES slowly fluttered open, his body stiff and sore as he shifted on the unfamiliar mattress. He stared at the crisp white sheets that were tucked around him, reminding him of a sterile hospital bed. This was not his bed, and those were not his sheets.

Slowly he sat up and gazed around the room, taking in the oddly colored walls and the futuristic furniture. Questions and confusion swirled through his head, leaving him disoriented and out of place in this foreign setting.

A faint nagging sensation tugged at the very edge of his brain, but every time he tried to grasp it, his mind shied away. It was something about the hospital—something unsettling and ominous. And surgery. There was something about surgery. And a little girl.

Suddenly, whatever force was blocking his memory gave way, and all of it came flooding back in a tidal wave of horror and fear. The little girl. The tainted sterile field by the SWAT team who stormed in. The screaming. The fighting. Him stabbing another person.

Every detail, every emotion, played out in his mind like a gruesome movie.

The aliens. Oh God help him, the aliens. His number had been picked, something that should not have been possible, yet here he was. The insane thought crossed his mind about how livid his grandparents were going to be because they’d wasted all that money, and for what? He had been picked anyway.

His head throbbed, but he reasoned the injection must have caused it. After all, it had knocked him unconscious, and now everything was hazy and unclear in his mind.

He remembered vaguely being dragged to a black van, then taken to a weird-looking building. There had been doctors in masks darting in and out of his wavy line of vision.

Something similar to a physical had happened, but he’d been strapped down on a table, nude. That was not how a physical went.

Next came questions. Lots of questions that he felt compelled to answer truthfully. Questions about his sexual preference that he never would have answered under normal circumstances.

And the screams. The wailing cries of desperation that scraped across his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Aliens everywhere—big, tall aliens with ears on top of their heads and tails that danced against the concrete floor.

The clinical part of him understood he’d been sedated, moved, subjected to an examination, and then injected with something that made him unable to lie.

The emotional part, the very essence of his humanity, rebelled at his treatment. Then he had been knocked out again. Those who had been harvested were treated no better than cattle.

Then he woke up here. In a bed. John glanced around again, and another wave of horror overtook him as the stark realization hit him like a freight train—this was not a cell or a hospital room, but someone’s bedroom.

Panic set in as he frantically took in the foreign objects and strange technology that littered the space. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he realized he was in an alien’s bedroom. He was trapped, a prisoner in this unknown place with no means of escape.

An alien’s bedroom.

Oh God. Oh God. One of the aliens had picked him, hadn’t they? And now he was waiting to be ravished in that alien’s bed. A barrage of horrifying images flooded his mind—each one more brutal and terrifying than the last—of how he would be raped, mauled, destroyed.

He couldn’t do this. He simply couldn’t. No one should be subjected to this. He had a job. A life. He was a doctor, for crying out loud. He had responsibilities and patients, and he needed to leave immediately.

As the panic built, a door he hadn’t noticed slid open, and one of the aliens walked inside. John’s heart thumped so hard it hurt. He looked around desperately for something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing.

“John? My name is Chief Medical Officer Tanlor Kere. Most everybody calls me Doc, because, you know, I am a doctor. Like you, I understand.”

John refused to speak. It was as if his vocal cords had frozen. He was in a bed, and there was an alien standing a few feet from him. A big, muscular-looking alien.

John decided right then and there that he would go down fighting, although by the looks of that alien, it wasn’t going to be much of a fight. Then it hit him that he understood the alien perfectly. That shouldn’t be possible.

“John? Did you understand what I said?”

John just stared at him. The alien had long golden blond hair that fell past his ass and oval-shaped eyes. The irises were a startling blue with slit-like pupils—like cat eyes.

“You should be able to comprehend my speech. You were given an implant that translates numerous languages. We all have them so we can understand humans, and they can understand us. Will you at least let me know that you understand? Otherwise, we may need to do a head scan. There may be something wrong with your transmitter.”

An implant? The thought horrified John, but he still refused to speak. Panic set in as he tried to imagine where this foreign object could be inside of him—what made the most sense was his brain.

His.

Brain.

The mere thought of those aliens tampering with his brain sent him into a tailspin. Oh dear God, please, please tell him they hadn’t performed an operation on his brain. The very thought freaked him out as he struggled to process that terrifying reality.

“Okay, maybe something went wrong. You need to be checked and—”

John shook his head frantically.

Doc blew out a breath. “So you can understand me?”

John nodded.

“That’s good. I was worried that…. Okay, I’m going to assume you’re capable of speech, but for some reason, you’re refusing to speak. Which I understand. What you’ve been through is definitely traumatic, but I’m concerned about your welfare.”

If John hadn’t been so scared, he would’ve laughed. This alien was concerned about his welfare? That was rich.

Doc took a step toward him, and John cringed. Oh God. Was it going to happen now? Was he going to be raped? Hurt? Torn?

“I can see your pulse beating rapidly in your throat. You’re terrified, aren’t you? Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?”

John couldn’t agree more. Why wouldn’t he be?

“Please, John, calm down. I mean you no harm. You’re perfectly safe. Please believe me.”

John didn’t believe him. In fact, this was all too much. Tears coursed down his face as his body began to shake. He just… just wanted to go home. Hysteria edged closer. He was on the verge of screaming, and if he started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Again.

“I’m scaring you, aren’t I? I’m so sorry. I wish your government had not set things up this way. It makes everything so much harder. Okay, I’m going to step out and let you be for a while. You’re safe here. But I will check back later.”

When John didn’t respond, the alien backed out of the sliding door. As soon it shut, John sunk down in the bed and pulled the sheets over his head. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing.

AN UNKNOWN amount of time had passed when muffled voices outside the sliding door stirred John from sleep. He hadn’t realized he’d drifted off, but now his throat was parched and his eyes ached. Despite these discomforts, he refused to leave the bed.

Actually, maybe he should get out of it. Would that alien think John was asking for it by staying in the bed? But where would he go?

“Can we talk to him? Maybe if he spoke to someone who’s been through this, it would help.”

John didn’t recognize that voice.

“I don’t see what it could hurt. He hasn’t had any liquids since he arrived, and who knows when he last ate. I’m worried.”

But he did know that one. That was the alien called Doc.

“If I enter the room where he is, he cringes.”

Of course he did. He had been abducted and woke up in a strange alien’s bed.

“The longer I stay, the more he panics. I understand why, but it still worries me. He won’t speak to me.”

The alien didn’t understand anything.

“Maybe if he sees you and Chad, that would help calm him? His name is John.”

Who was “you and Chad”? Was John about to have company? It sounded like he was. He didn’t want it, though. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. What he wanted was to go home.

John huddled in the bed, pulling the covers tightly around himself. He was at a loss for what to do, feeling small and helpless in this strange place. Two figures, their human forms silhouetted against the bright light outside the door, entered the room. At least John was pretty sure they were human.

Then that alien joined them, and John shrunk farther into the bedding, trying to make himself disappear from their view.

“John? This is Dale and Chad.”

Doc quickly left after the introduction.

“Hey, John, can we come in?”

Dale asked.

John tried to hide his shaking as the two men stood in the doorway. Why was this person asking if they could come in? Like John had a choice in the matter. They looked human, John reminded himself. Maybe they were some sort of welcoming committee? He struggled to calm his racing thoughts, praying that these strangers meant him no harm.

“We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. My name’s Dale. My mate is Keyno. This is Chad, and his mate is Gibor.”

Mate? What did that mean? Who was Keyno? Who was Gibor? Were… were they aliens? Oh God, was this person saying he was with one of those aliens? But, that’s not what the harvest was supposed to be about.

The human named Dale spent several minutes talking about himself—like how he came to be here. John kind of zoned out. He honestly didn’t care how Dale came to be there. That didn’t affect him. All John wanted to do, again, was get out of there and go home.

Then Dale mentioned what was wrong with him when he was harvested, and John’s attention was snagged.

He leaned forward, frowning, as Dale continued to explain how he had leukemia. That, of course, caught John’s attention, considering the operation he’d been part of when he’d been taken.

Then the other human, Chad, joined in, explaining who he was and who his mate was. This time John paid closer attention. He didn’t speak, though, because he still didn’t know if he could open his mouth without screaming hysterically. But listening to these two, who seemed so—ordinary? Untraumatized? Happy?—did help relax him.

Then another alien walked in like he owned the place, Doc following him. This one had a shock of white hair, and power oozed from him. John froze.

“Shit’s gonna hit the fan now,”

Chad whispered to Dale.

Fear swept over John. Who was this alien? And why were they just standing there in his room? Was Chad’s cryptic statement a warning or a threat? Was one of the two humans in trouble? Oh God, was he about to see somebody be beaten? Was he going to be beaten? John’s mind raced with questions and concerns.

The white-headed alien glared at Dale, his hands on his hips. Why wasn’t Dale trembling where he stood? John certainly was. A whimper climbed up his throat. Who was this alien? John clutched the sheet to his throat, glancing frantically between the alien and Dale.

“John? This is Keyno. My mate,”

Dale said, then elbowed the big alien.

Keyno immediately softened his posture, not that it mattered. John was terrified.

Keyno sighed. “Dale, I thought I told you to stay away from levels—”

“Yeah, but I thought—”

Chad jumped in the middle of the conversation. “Um, Keyno, see, here’s the deal. Dale thought we could help John. Dale commed me this morning. And, and, well. He said that you said that John wasn’t doing too well, and he thought—I mean, we thought, well, maybe….”

Chad hemmed and hawed.

John blinked.

While Chad tried to explain what they were doing there, Dale moved a little closer to John. “Did I mention I have a nickname?”

John was aware that Dale was trying to take the focus off Keyno and Chad. He slowly shook his head.

“You’re going to hear it any minute now.”

Chad was losing the discussion with Keyno.

“Hold on—wait for it.”

Dale smiled at John. About that time, Chad admitted that this was all Dale’s idea, while Doc tried to defend Dale.

“Dammit, Dale,”

Keyno growled.

“And there we go—my nickname!”

Dale shouted.

John’s jaw dropped in shock as he stared at Dale. How was he not terrified of the alien standing before them? As John studied Dale closer, he noticed a lack of fear in his expression.

Despite the intimidating size and appearance of the white-haired alien, Dale seemed completely unfazed. In fact, as the two locked eyes, John could see a glimmer of what looked like almost exasperated fondness in the alien’s steely gaze. John blinked again. Actually, that’s exactly what it was—exasperated fondness.

Dale gave John a bland smile in return and jerked a thumb at Keyno. “Most of his sentences start that way when I’m in the room.”

Keyno huffed, but John also noticed he didn’t deny it.

And he knew then that Dale was no victim. Well, at least in the traditional sense. He hadn’t been physically abused or mistreated, but in John’s eyes, anyone who had gone through a harvest was a victim. It was up for debate as to who they were a victim of—the US government? Or the Tah’Narians?

But as he analyzed Dale’s expression, he saw genuine happiness. His gaze then shifted to Chad, who also appeared carefree and content. It was almost too surreal to see them both in such a state after everything they had been through. Was this some sort of coping mechanism? Or were they truly free from any harm or danger?

Neither of them seemed frightened.

A small, timid smile broke across John’s face. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on here, but fear did not play a part in any of this. Well, except for his.

Doc inhaled sharply when John smiled.

“Dale....”

Keyno trailed off. “I need to return to the Bridge soon. That’s our command center, John. Dale, I must know where you are at all times, especially right now.”

Dale patted John on the hand as he started to get up.

Oh no. Panic jolted through John as he watched Dale prepare to leave. He couldn’t explain the sudden fear that consumed him. He barely knew Dale, or his friend Chad, but it didn’t matter.

There was something about Dale, an inexplicable comfort that John clung to desperately. He reached out and grabbed Dale’s hand, shaking his head vigorously in a silent plea for him to stay.

“Whoa,”

Dale said. “It’s all right.”

“Don’t go,”

John whispered.

John saw the relief on Doc’s face.

“Look, I can come back and visit you.”

Dale looked at Keyno, who nodded his head.

“You will?”

John asked, because he really, really needed Dale to say that he would come back.

“Yes, but in return I want you to eat or drink something, okay? Doc’s worried about you.”

John fiddled with the sheet for a moment. Finally, he released a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”

“Try to remember what I told you—Doc won’t hurt you.”

Dale patted John’s sheet-covered knee. “I’ll buzz Doc later and tell him when I can come back. In the meantime, I want you to try and eat, and then maybe take a nap, okay? It’ll make you feel better.”

A very relieved Doc hurried to John’s side. The sudden movement surprised John, but this time he didn’t shrink away. Now that fear wasn’t quite clouding his mind so much, he could see the concern on Doc’s face.

Dale waved goodbye, and then he, Chad, and Keyno left.