Hanging On

Momma? The queen?

There were MORE fanatics?

"What the fuck . . . are you . . . talking about?" I hissed, my voice muddled and head spinning.

He ignored and dragged me onward. Eventually, I got enough sense back. I reached back, found one if his fingers, and twisted. It crunched and he let out a horrible wail, letting me go.

I rolled away and sprang to my feet, my gun drawn. "Hands up!"

However, he had already disappeared into the nearest room. I followed him, gun still up. He was by a table a few feet away from the door, rummaging with a container.

"Get your hands where I can see them and turn around slowly," I demanded, trying to focus through the splitting headache.

"We have only one choice. The honor should be going to Emma and me, but you have to learn the error and this is the only way," he was muttering.

Now I was beyond irritated. "Hands up or I'll shoot!" I snarled.

He did turn, but he was holding something. I only got a good look when he fully turned; a skeletal parasite was in his hands.

A facehugger. The thing was limp, but its limbs were twitching every few seconds.

Ice filled my veins.

"Put. It. Down. NOW!" I commanded, raising my weapon higher, trigger finger itching.

"I can wait my turn if it means teaching you what Momma was all about. Once you're carrying her heir, you'll see—you'll see how great she is. What an honor it is," he muttered, cradling the thing like an infant.

My stomach churned and I was back on that wall seven years ago, helplessly watching as the eggs hatched and I tried so hard to free myself from my prison.

I swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth and took a breath. This was different. I wasn't a helpless teenager anymore. Those punches had taken me by surprise and I couldn't see straight, but I could do this.

Adrenaline coursed through me, hot and heavy. My vision was slowly sharpening and my mind clearing up.

/You've got this, Nichole./

"Put that thing back where you found it or so help me—"

Something pricked my arm and I whirled around, battering the person next to me with my pistol. The strange woman cried out and staggered back, an empty syringe in her hands and her eyes brimming with tears.

/Where the fuck did she come from?/

"What the shit?" I spat, glancing at my arm and the speck of blood there. "What did you do to me?"

Clutching the spot on her shoulder where I'd hit her, she said, "It's just ketamine. No, don't worry, it's not, not going to kill you."

I mouthed a silent question and a strange tingling crackled down my spine and throughout my limbs. Every part of my body turned into gelatin and I staggered at her, reaching out, but she side-stepped me and I fell through the doorway, finding nothing but an open hallway.

Somehow, I managed to take another few steps until my legs gave out and I crashed to the floor, my firearm skittering across the tile and stopping a few feet away.

The woman approached me with trembling steps. "What are we going to do with her, Melvin?" Her voice shook with nerves and she stepped aside so the man could join me in the corridor.

Using the last of my strength, I propped myself up against the closest wall. "You fuckwads . . . are gonna get it."

/Just as soon as I can move./

They were ignoring me, talking amongst each other. My vision was swirling and I was soaring, unable to concentrate on more than a few words and sights.

"Thank god you showed up when you did, Emma," Melvin was saying.

Colors blended together in a shimmering prism of light obscuring my vision. Where was I? Who were these people? I'd never felt so relaxed . . .

I missed what Emma said.

"It was quick thinking," Melvin replied.

"What are we going to do with her?" she asked him again, worrying a button on her lab coat and staring at me.

I knew I was supposed to be mad at her, but for what? I sank against the wall and watched the ceiling dance.

Slowly, though, panic was beginning to set in. I couldn't move. Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I remember what was going on? I wanted to sleep, wanted to get up, I was thirsty . . .

Melvin was saying something, but it took a second for my brain to catch up and recognize the English coming from their mouths.

All I caught was Emma's reply.

"But Melvin, the plan—"

"I know what the plan was!" he snapped at her.

I strained to move and ask what they were talking about, but all that came out of my mouth was a few garbled noises. All I managed was to slump a bit.

Softer, almost so that I couldn't hear him, Melvin said, "I know—nothing's going to change. Don't worry. It was never going to be me, so I'm fine with waiting so we can teach this murderer a lesson."

Murderer? Me? Was he talking about me? I couldn't imagine who I might have murdered. Someone he knew? But who . . .

I couldn't look at them anymore. They were misshapen and odd. Staring at them was beginning to make my anxiety worse. All I wanted was to maintain this floaty feeling, but all I felt was panic.

Melvin and Emma chattered like eager birds and none of it made sense to me. I caught something about the thing Melvin was holding, but I didn't know what.

"Soon," Melvin assured Emma during a brief lucid moment. "The sedative is wearing off."

He pet the ugly thing in his arms and I knew for sure I was hallucinating. Those things were all dead . . . We'd gotten rid of them . . . was I back in the hospital? I was so warm . . .

That nap I was thinking about. I'd take it. I'd feel better afterwards.

No, I couldn't. I needed my gun. I needed to move. I couldn't do either. I was floating again. High, high up, looking down at the scene. Watching these two strangers talk about me.

"She doesn't deserve to be a queen," Mindy was whining.

Wait, not Mindy. Emma. Mindy was dead. She . . . I . . . I'd killed her. Yes, but not on purpose. I was trying to kill Momma. The queen, the monster . . .

"The heir has two embryos. She'll be born as a warrior first," Melvin said.

He looked at his partner and motioned toward the end of the hallway. "What are the others doing? Will they come this way? You might need to distract them."

Emma shook her head, then dropped the syringe like it had become hot and flinched away from it, glancing from me to the needle-like she was surprised at herself.

The syringe. They'd drugged me, right? Why? I didn't do anything. Unless it was because of what I'd done to Mindy. And the Queen. Right. Yes.

"No—they're, uh . . . in the lab, trying to salvage what they can of the data. I don't think they noticed that I left."

My head swirled and the colors where shimmering again, the lights too bright. I tried to scrunch my eyes shut but couldn't.

They were still speaking to each other, but they were chattering birds again, chirping and squawking. I wanted to speak, too, but nothing came out.

"You'll be the new queen, Emma, I know it . . ." Melvin was saying.

Emma stilled her jitters and nodded once. "Yes. You're right . . . you're absolutely right. It wouldn't make any sense."

My frustration flared and I managed to move my head a bit. What didn't make sense? What were they talking about? What did they want with me?

Turning to me, Melvin's lips thinned into a terse grin and he crouched down to give me a closer look at the strange parasite.

He said something, but it was jibberish. The thing in his hands squirmed and squeaked, but it was contorted in the swirling light, making it hard to focus on it.

Despite all that, my body had a visceral reaction to it being so close. My stomach churned and I wanted to recoil, but I still couldn't control myself. I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, but I knew I wanted that thing AWAY.

It was a dark gold-black color; I could tell that much. Large and spider-like. He cradled it like a newborn, using both arms to support its spindly form and presented it as a prized trophy.

My throat worked, but I still couldn't speak.

"We were doing experiments with the queen's secretions," Melvin said. With him closer, it was easier to understand him. "When we exposed this one's egg to it, it hatched like this."

"Isn't she beautiful?" Emma marveled.

That was not the word that came to mind. I couldn't find the word that did, but I knew it wasn't that one.

My eyelids drooped, and I was still watching from a distance as my body refused to move, as these two strangers chattered and babbled more nonsense. The thing Melvin was carrying was starting to wiggle.

And then it squeaked.

Horror washed over me, but I was a bystander in my own body. An observer, silent and powerless.

Melvin stood, cradling the royal piece of shit, and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. He said something soothing to her, but the words were garbled.

"—need my help," was the only bit I caught.

She chewed on her lip and tilted her head to the side before reaching out to caress the top of the facehugger with her fingertips. I didn't catch what she said.

I tried to sit up further against the wall but ended up wriggling without effect. My head lolled with the effort, making me exert more energy to roll it back into place.

But it was something.

Both fell silent and watched the royal facehugger. My sidearm was scant inches out of arm's reach. If I could recover my fine motor skills, I could fall to my side and grab it . . .

I just needed to get back in my body!

Somehow, my fingers twitched. That was all I was going to get, it seemed.

Melvin changed the parasite's position so it was resting on one arm and extended the other toward Emma. "Calm down."

Shit, I hadn't heard what Emma had said.

"It isn't fast enough!" Emma complained.

"A watched pot never boils," recited Melvin.

Through sheer force of will and desperation, I was able to force myself to slump over into a prone position. A sheen of sweat beaded my brow and I was out of breath, but it was still some progress.

I was closer to my body now, my vision shifted just ever so slightly, like I was playing an over the shoulder, third person video game with a dying controller.

Sometimes I could get myself to do things, and other times my body did whatever it wanted.

The mobility needed to pick the firearm up, however, was still beyond me. My arm was pinned under my ribcage.

Melvin moved until he was in front of me again and clicked his tongue. He babbled at me, saying something about how it would be over soon. That I had to stay put.

Well, if he said so . . .

Emma asked, "Is it time?" but I missed Melvin's response.

As he said it, the royal facehugger squirmed in his grasp with new vigor. The tail was still hanging limply behind it, slipping over Melvin's arm. He held it out to me and I managed to whimper.

What could I do?

Melvin placed the floppy parasite on the ground, feet away.

It was so ugly . . . why did they like it?

My mouth gaped soundlessly save for a single strangled, incoherent plea in the form of a garbled half-wail. Melvin urged it forward and it struggled to stand on its segmented limbs.

The royal facehugger stood with increased confidence and skittered from side to side as it found its balance.

"Go on," Melvin urged, backing up until I was the closest thing to it.

There was a commotion down the hall, I was fascinated by the vile creature staggering toward me. My pulse was in my ears.

Helplessness washed over me and I choked out a single sob as more tears trailed down my face.

The crack of thunder split the air. Melvin was sent sprawling across my periphery. Emma's scream pierced through me next.

Three more jarring peals had my ears ringing. The royal facehugger jerked and squealed as holes ripped through its soft and wet body. Emma was still shrieking like a banshee.

Through some stroke of luck, I was spared any drops of acid.

Someone appeared and kicked the ugly thing down the hall.

"I've got you," the person said as I was engulfed by a pair of arms, pulled up into a warm embrace.

They were a shadow, obscured by tears I hadn't noticed before. My heart soared, though, and I mouthed something even I couldn't hear. My hand reached up unbidden and they took hold of it.

My heart eased and I let out a contented sigh. Wolf had come for me, hadn't he? Like he always did, showing up at the right time . . .

Why had I ever doubted him?

"No, Nichole, it's me."

I blinked away the hallucination and saw Devon there, holding me partially in his lap with his hand cradling my head. My arm dropped back down and smacked the floor. I didn't feel it.

"Oh, hi Devon," I murmured, words slurring on my thick, still-numb tongue.

He pulled me against his chest, embracing me close and he spoke into my ear. "I got you, don't worry. Are you alright? Nichole, what did they do to you? You look terrible."

I looked up at him and was taken aback: there was a darkness in his expression that I had never seen before. As he held me, I realized that he was shaking with anger and his fingers dug almost painfully into my skin.

However, I couldn't answer him. I was too fascinated by the way his brow was wrinkled.

He shifted and propped me against the wall before rounding on Emma. She had stopped screaming, but I wasn't sure when.

"What did you give her?" Devon demanded, indicating toward me.

Emma was too hysterical to respond.

Devon drew his sidearm again and picked Emma up by the front of her shirt. He didn't aim at her, just let the gun sit there as a silent threat.

"Bitch I asked you a asked a question!" he snarled.

"Ketamine!" Emma sobbed.

"How long ago?" Devon asked. When she just stood there sniveling, he asked again. "How LONG ago!"

She shook her head. "Five, maybe six minutes."

He dropped her, holstered his weapon, and returned to my side. "Depending on how much she gave you, you should be better soon. Just sit tight."

Somehow, I managed to nod my head. I was already feeling more lucid than before, able to follow that whole conversation, but I still couldn't get my body to obey many of my commands.

I could look around though.

Next to Emma was the unmoving body of Melvin, blood pooling under his chest. Devon forced Emma to stand against the far wall and stay there while he checked Melvin's pulse.

Emma was babbling. Her voice was wet and heavy. "What have you done? What have you done!"

She stood on trembling legs, her face red and slick with tears. Devon barely gave her a glance and shook his head. I guessed Melvin was dead.

"You killed her," Emma blubbered, staggering away from the wall. Now she had Devon's attention.

"Get back against the wall," he ordered, putting a hand up defensively.

She wasn't listening. "Now we—we lost everything! I was—I was so happy when they decided not to take our eggs today, we had more time with them . . . but now—now they're all dead and you killed Momma and our last hope for another queen!"

Devon glowered and put a hand on his sidearm. "I'm warning you."

Her tirade gained momentum and she showed no sign of relenting. "What gives you the right to deny this species existence? The fact that they're scarier than you? We were trying to create life and you destroyed it! You and that—that whore!"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth before Devon slapped her across the face. Emma reeled and stumbled backward, her hand covering her stinging cheek.

She gaped at him, affronted, and backed away with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. The two of them stared off for a few seconds until Devon turned away and Emma retreated back to the wall.

"Talk shit get hit, right Nichole?" Devon muttered, forcing a smile for me. Behind it, though, was a darkness as he controlled his anger.

"Can you stand yet?" he asked me.

I managed to lift my arm up and he took it, trying to help me up, but my legs were still gone. He swept me up instead, staggering somewhat under my weight.

"Christ, Nichole . . . Help out a little bit will ya?" he grunted, adjusting my weight.

Though I was still out of it, I tried to hold myself up a little bit and reduce his workload. He hummed in appreciation and walked with me toward the group of onlookers I hadn't even noticed before then.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "We heard gunshots from the lab."

Devon shifted his weight to hold me straighter. "You have got to keep better track of your scientists. They just tried to infect in my partner with one of those things."

"Are you serious?" someone else gasped.

Another growled. "What happened to Melvin? What is he doing on the floor? Is Emma okay?"

Neither of us bothered to look back and Devon harrumphed. "That idiot dove in front of me when I tried to shoot the damn thing. I'm pretty sure he's dead."

Murmurs rippled, but Devon was over it.

"You, take her." Devon handed me over to some stranger and I harrumphed.

"You, give me your tie." A man in a lab coat undid his tie and handed it to Devon, who took it and tied Emma's hands behind her back.

"Give her back." I was passed over to Devon once again and I sighed, curling into him.

I was so tired. So fucking tired.

"I've got your gun," he said. "Let's go get these bruises treated."

All I did was groan a quiet "Thanks" in response.

My head waa buzzing and I cringed against him as a headache started to throb.

As we left, the gathering of lab techs scurried down the hall to where Emma was still sobbing, tied up. They harassed her with questions, but they were too far away for me to hear.

As the heavy dose started to metabolize and break down, the panic-inducing dissociation went away to a degree and I was left feeling floaty and free. I still sort of felt like I was watching someone else do things with minimal control.

"You have such nice hair," I sighed, lifting my hands to run them through Devon's dark hair.

He huffed. "Stop that."

"I thought you were Wolf," I muttered indignantly, still messing with his hair.

"That's the alien, right? The predator? Yeah, you kept muttering his name when I got you," he said with an exasperated cadence.

I let out another sigh. "I miss him."

"Sure, sure."

"How did you find me?" I asked, giggling. "Were you stalking me?"

The part of me that was still slightly lucid was horrified with my behavior, but I couldn't control it anymore than I could control what Devon was saying.

He didn't look at me, but he smiled somewhat. "I figured you'd either go to the floor with the predator or this one. I checked the predator's lab first and only found Dixon nursing a broken nose and ego, so I came here next."

That revelation left me snickering and giggling. "He's just . . . sitting down there? Sulking?"

"Probably left by now. Did you hit him?"

"May-be," I hummed, still giggling and pawing at his fluffy hair.

"I figured as much." He smirked. "I came looking for you down here, found the lab in disarray and burned to a crisp. Was that you?"

Again, all I did was giggle and say, "Probably."

"Christ, Nichole. Okay, well, I saw those guys in the lab and I asked if they'd seen you. They said you'd already left. I didn't meet you when I got off the elevator or walked down the hall, so I came looking."

"Why? Do you lo-o-ve me?"

We stopped at the elevator and he gave me a strange look. "You're my partner. I was worried about you. You seemed so . . . upset about the whole thing. And I had a bad feeling. Can you hit that button?"

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the call button, trying to dredge up enough control over my own faculties to hit the little button. In the end, I just wound up slapping at it with my palm and making effort noises like a child.

"Never mind," Devon huffed, bending at the waist to hit the call button with his elbow.

"You came looking cuz you love me," I continued to giggle.

He sighed and said, "I know you're flying pretty high right now, Nichole, but I will drop you."

Until we were in the elevator, I didn't say anything. The door opening and closing and Devon hitting the floor button were all too fascinating. Once the door was closed, however, I grinned up at him and he let out another exasperated breath.

"What is it, Nichole?"

"You won't drop me."

"And why not?" he asked, taking the bait.

I giggled and said, "Because you LOVE me."

Devon looked me directly in the eye, then dropped my ass on the elevator floor.