Chapter 9: I Can Hit Any Target

The temperature dropped, as if the very air was terrified. The sound of the wind, slapping against the canvas over the entrance, died as the alien continued to stare at her, sitting with his hands still tied to the wall.

Her mind screamed at her to move, to get dressed, to render him unconscious once more. Anything but stand there frozen, with her hand against her throat. His gaze traveled down her body to settle on her bare breasts. She could feel the heat of his eyes, searing her flesh. At last, her muscles obeyed and she dived behind the stack of crates. Drawing her knees to her chest, Natalie closed her eyes and pressed her back against the boxes.

I tied him up; he can't hurt me.

She peeked around the corner of the containers, straight into his unblinking, red eyes.

"Uh, hello?" She waved hesitantly then cringed. "Um, excuse me while I, um - "

Hiding behind the boxes again, she fumbled for her knitted blue sweater, slipping it over her head before pulling on the thick, woollen pants. Resting her head on her knees, she closed her eyes for a moment then dried her palms on her thighs. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, then stood up and walked around the stacked boxes.

He watched her every step, like a predator stalking its prey. His nostrils flared, as if he could smell her from such a distance. Could he hear the sound of her heart, beating in intense panic, as well?

What did one ask an alien? Especially one you'd clobbered and tied up?

"Do...do you speak English?" She barely heard her own voice over the pounding of her heart in her ears. The cold, in the surrounding air and rising up from the floor of the cave, seeped into her bare feet until her knees ached. She reached for her boots, never taking her eyes off him.

His expression didn't change.

If only she could believe he was more scared of her than she was of him. This alien, this male, didn't fear anything, did he?

Desperate to get her boots on, to feel less vulnerable, she moved to sit down on the cave floor, but her sore muscles protested and she lost her balance. The empty boxes scattered as she tried to right herself, her bum landing with a faint thump. She half expected the alien to start laughing at her clumsiness, but he only continued to watch her with his intense gaze.

Natalie retrieved one of the scarred leather boots and jammed her left foot inside, only to realize it was the wrong foot. She hastily jerked the boot onto her right foot and reached for the other one. As if she wasn't frantic enough, his gaze, following her every move, was making her more self-conscious.

"Well, do you? Speak English, I mean?" she asked, more in an effort to distract him than honestly wanting to know. Although, if they could find a way to communicate on some level, it might make her feel less vulnerable. "Or maybe Spanglish?" Surely, he would've made the effort to know the languages of the country he landed in. Most people spoke a mixture of English and Spanish. Though some, like her parents, insisted on speaking pure English.

The cold from the cave floor seeped through her thick winter pants, freezing her behind. She pressed her trembling hands against the wall and pushed herself to her knees. She needed to get to the shotgun.

Keeping a wary eye on him, she walked over to where she'd propped the weapon against the wall. With slow, careful movements, she lifted it. The bullets from the shotgun wouldn't penetrate his armored skin, but her father had always said that even the now-extinct elephants had been vulnerable if shot in the eye.

Barely breathing, she watched him for any sudden moves as she inched forward, careful to stop well out of reach of his enormous, heavy-looking boots. She drew her shoulder back and purposely glared at him.

"I know the bullets from this gun won't hurt you, but let me reassure you that I can shoot any target I aim for." She motioned with the shotgun. "You make one move, and I'll shoot you in the eye. I bet those red eyes of yours aren't bulletproof," she said, proud of how tough she sounded.

The only response he gave was a low rumble, coming from deep in his chest.

The air in the cave seemed to thicken so that she could barely draw it into her lungs, and she could swear his upper lip just moved in a subtle sneer. He didn't move or make any further sound, but chills crept down her spine.

"Are you alone? Are there any more of your kind on my mountain?" she asked. She was having trouble dealing with just one of them. What would she do if there were more? She wished she'd paid attention when Julia told her about the alien spaceship. How many had landed?

He maintained his silence.

Natalie bit her lip. This wasn't going well. She had to make sure no other aliens came to her cave, but how?

She groaned inwardly and wanted to kick herself. He could have a tracking device. Why didn't she check him sooner, like while he lay unconscious? If he had any transmitter on him, she could be inundated with aliens any minute now.

Hesitating a moment, she moved closer to him. "I'm going to search you, but if you make one wrong move, I'll shoot you in the eye." She pointedly lifted the gun and sighted down the barrel at him as she took another step toward him.

Natalie's legs trembled more with every step she took, the alien still staring at her with that fierce, red gaze. By the time she was near enough to touch him, she was afraid he'd hear her knees knocking together. And remembering that television series she'd seen with flesh-eating aliens, who'd devoured the last inhabitants of the earth, wasn't helping.

With grim determination, she ignored her muscles' aching protests and crouched next to his bound legs. She really didn't want to be this close to him, but she had to search him before any of his friends showed up. Even though she was kneeling and he was sitting, he still towered over her. And she was tall for a woman.

Keeping a careful eye on him, she slowly patted his boots, feeling for the bulge of any hidden weapons or devices. They seemed to be molded to his feet, too tight against his skin to have been pulled on, and she couldn't see any kind of fasteners. They also had the oddest texture, like hardened leather. They were muddy brown now, but when he'd first appeared in the clearing that morning, she remembered they'd been a shiny, silvery color.

She pressed a finger very carefully against a raised ridge at the side of his boots and winced at how hard they felt. It seemed everything about him was hard and unyielding, even his footwear.

She braced herself for a kick, but to her surprise, he sat absolutely still, following her movements while she tried to figure out if any of the sharp ridges on his boots were a weapon or tracking device.