Chapter 3 | Kara

Chapter 3

Kara

Having a blanket was strange after surviving three nights in this city without one. I was almost starting to get used to the awful cold that struck once darkness fell. Almost. I wouldn’t have survived if I hadn’t lucked out and found this heat vent the first night, but the blanket made things almost bearable. More importantly, it smelled freaking fantastic, and when you were hiding behind a collection of alien trashcans, that was a total win.

On top of that, my stomach felt full because I had actual food, not scraps I’d taken out of the freaking trash at great risk to my health. Two full meals today—more food than I had in the three days before that combined. It was... nice. There was only one reason I was warm and full tonight: the red alien.

When I thought of him, the meal in my stomach felt heavy. I wasn’t sure if that was because of nerves or because I liked thinking about him. I knew what he was. Living at the Human Compound on Ker had included a full introductory class on all the aliens that populated the Zeta Quadrant, especially the ones that could harm a puny little human like me. The Kertinal did not mince any words, I doubted they’d ever heard of tact. Tactics yes, tact? Heck no.

The red guy was a Pretorian: a four-armed, once tree-dwelling alien with bright red skin and mood freckles that dotted his face. My Pretorian had thick, luscious black hair that he wore in a very manly bun. He had intense eyes as he scanned the bins, searching for me, yellow and green, very exotic. I didn’t know what the colors of his spots meant, but I remembered there was a guide, and they wore their feelings for everyone to see. That was refreshing; if only I could remember what the colors meant, then maybe I’d know if I could trust him.

He was cute in a rugged, slightly older kind of way. If I had to guess, I’d say he was forty, but he was in really good shape. Like, crazy good. I had plenty of time to notice because the guy didn’t wear a shirt, just snug leather pants, boots, and a pristine white apron tied around his slender waist. Yeah, plenty of time to remember those washboard abs—a solid row of at least eight—and two sets of pecs stacked on top of each other, thanks to the extra set of arms.

I wasn’t sure if he’d seen me or if he’d just sensed that something was hiding behind his trashcans. In any case, he hadn’t tried to scare me off or force me out of there. No, he’d gone out of his way to leave me food; nice, tasty food. Then the blanket came with the second meal, and I was finally not cold.

Wriggling my toes beneath the thick fabric, something like wool but not quite, I worried about what to do next. Stay there and hope my alien had more kindness up his non-existent sleeve? Hope that he would help me if he knew who I was? It had been drilled into me at every safety meeting that all other aliens would try to enslave a human if they found one. Was my alien chef going to do that too? Was it all a trick? I didn’t want to think so.

I slept fitfully. I was warm, sort of, but only if I curled into a tight ball in front of the vent and kept myself tucked under the blanket. The grate and the stone made for a hard surface to sleep on, but there was no cardboard or anything even remotely soft lying about. I had to make do.

The sunlight woke me when it reached my tiny corner, blasting me with fierce heat in that single sunbeam. This planet sucked: ice cold at night, sweltering during the day. I had to abandon my warm vent to find shade so my fair skin wouldn’t burn in the scorching sunlight. At least I had the blanket to pull over my face for extra protection.

Then my alien chef walked into the alley. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I watched to see what he’d do. I was half afraid that he had forgotten I was there, or that he’d try to drag me out of my hiding place against my will. It almost felt like he really had forgotten me when he simply opened the back door and went inside. He left the door open as he went about his business, that was new.

I could see him put on his apron, his back flexing with muscles as he used his lower hands to tie the string. His upper hands were already working on something at the kitchen counter. Everything was done silently, but when he came to the backdoor and placed a plate with a sandwich on the stoop, I expected him to speak. Nothing, just a meaningful glance in the direction of my hiding spot, and then he left.

That food was for me if I dared to grab it. My stomach rumbled as the smells hit me, savory, meaty, with a hint of nuts. The bread looked fantastic, all fluffy and soft. It wouldn’t stay tasty for long, not when the sun was still heating this alley with its punishing light. Was it worth the risk? What if he was waiting around the corner to snatch me as soon as I got to the food? With four arms, I had no doubt that I would be severely outmatched, not to mention all his muscles.

I muffled an angry groan when my eyes flitted back to the sandwich and then to the sliver of the kitchen, I could see through the open door. Safe or not safe? He appeared to be at the counter furthest away, chopping up food with at least two knives. I was going to try because I really wanted that sandwich, and I really wanted to believe that he was a good guy.

My bare feet hurt as I crossed the sun-heated cobblestones to the open door. I didn’t bother with the plate when I reached it but snatched the sandwich with both hands and dashed back to my hiding spot. When I reached the shade, I threw myself behind the nearest bin and huddled on my blanket. Blisters had formed on the soles of my feet, but I’d made it. Digging into that lush, alien bread was the best I’d ever tasted. This was fresh, what I’d had before had been leftovers, and I’d already thought those were good.

Later, when I curled on my side and watched my alien chef work, my feet throbbed worse, but I was so tired that it hardly mattered. Fear did that to a person. I’d been scared a lot ever since I’d been snatched from Earth, abducted by freaking aliens. The chef shouldn’t make me feel safe, but it felt like he was looking out for me. I didn’t mean to nap, but eventually, sleep claimed me.