Chapter 7: Unconscious Alien?

Immediately, she could feel the difference, now that no cold wind could blow into the cave. The outside of the canvas was dyed a dull gray to blend in with the surrounding rock face while the inside was a wonderful vibrant red, the color of her mother's favorite flower. Roses.

Sluggish and feeling decades older, Natalie walked to the back of the cavern where a narrow tunnel led to several smaller caves, eventually opening into a hidden valley. One of the smaller caves housed her store of supplies, and it was here that she found what she needed, left in a neat coil by her father. She gathered up the length of white rope, grabbed the extra shotgun from the far corner, then returned to the main cave.

She leaned the shotgun against the cave wall, then sinking to her knees beside the alien's unconscious form, she shoved with all her might, trying to get his hands behind his back to tie them together. After her third attempt, she wiped the sweat from her brow, sat back on her heels, and stared at him.

I can't even budge him. What is he made of, granite?

He lay on his back, his hands almost fisted next to his hips, as though he'd been carved that way. His skin had returned to its original bronze tone, making him seem strangely warm. If not for his odd skin color and the pronounced ridge bisecting his bald head, he could've passed for human. He was almost handsome, in a fierce, dangerous kind of way.

She snorted inelegantly at his unconscious form. "Stubborn jerk."

Changing her tactics, she wrestled his hands together in front of him instead, but each arm felt like a ton of bricks. No wonder the raiders couldn't hurt him. Her knees hurt from struggling with him on the hard cave floor, and sweat ran unpleasantly down her back as she worked.

And to think, a few minutes ago, I'd thought I'd never feel warm again.

Her torn dress tangled around her legs, adding to the difficulty of her task, until finally she jerked it up and shoved it into the waistband of her pants.

"Next time I want to feel feminine, I'll put on some makeup," she muttered.

Taking a breather, she studied his prone figure with suspicion. But nothing moved. She looked closer, watching for the rise and fall of his chest as proof he was still breathing.

Crap, I must've hit him harder than I realized.

Hesitantly, she placed her fingers against his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Leaning down, she pressed her ear against his chest. She really had no idea if his body functioned the same as hers, but there had to be some way to tell if he was still alive.

She listened for a long moment, hearing only a strange humming sound coming from somewhere deep inside his abdomen. Satisfied, she went back to her task.

After dropping the rope for the third time, she bit down on the tip of her glove and pulled it off with her teeth. Her fingers no longer restricted, she finally managed to tie his hands together.

Feeling a bit safer now that his hands were secure, she leaned back against the cave wall to rest for a moment.

It was strange. When she'd first seen him at the raiders' camp, she'd been convinced that he was there to save her. Yet now, he was her prisoner. Not that the thought gave her much comfort. Even unconscious and bound, he was the last creature she'd ever want in her cave.

Most of her knowledge about aliens was from what she'd seen in old sci-fi movies. The aliens would invade Earth, usually to hunt and kill the men and kidnap the women. If there was even an ounce of truth to those movies, she was in serious trouble.

As she rested, she studied his face. His eyelids had no lashes, but a thin ridge ran around the edge, giving them a sinister, deadly look. His ears were a lot like a human's, but more recessed into his skull. Even if she hadn't seen him slaughter a whole camp full of raiders just that morning, his sharp cheekbones and a square chin would have been enough to convince her that he was an extremely dangerous warrior.

Fierce and strong.

In the movies, she was always drawn to characters with those traits. That was one of the reasons she anxiously anticipated each new episode of Space Ranger Walker.

What on Earth am I supposed to do with him now?

She ached in places she normally didn't even notice. And while she would have loved to wash the stink and memories of the day from her body, she couldn't leave him lying in the entrance.

Looking around, she noticed the hook mounted in the wall on the right side of the cave. She vaguely remembered her father installing it there for some purpose, though what that was, she'd forgotten. It would be perfect to secure the alien to, as long as she could manage to move him that far.

After a few minutes of trying to roll him over to the wall, she gave up. He was just too heavy. She sagged, tired and sweating from the exertion.

If she couldn't secure him to the wall, what else could she do? She really didn't like the idea of him being mobile the moment he woke up, hands bound or not.

Run. Get off the mountain.

Hopeful the snow had stopped falling, she pulled back the sheet of canvas. Dammit. Her shoulders slumped. God really was punishing her. Outside, the snow lay thick on the ground. The impenetrable waves coming down made her heart stammer.

Shivering again, she dropped the canvas.

Now what?

With a stroke of inspiration, she went to retrieve the hover board she used to move coal and other heavy articles around. Despite its fancy name and high price tag, it was nothing more than a piece of plastic that forced air out the bottom, making it possible to float heavy loads around for short distances. The contract Natalie had with the Forestry Department was the only reason she'd been able to afford it.

After bringing it over to where the alien still lay unconscious, a horrifying realization struck her. Could he have been pretending this whole time? But even with her guard up, she was no match for him. So why would he bother? Just to be sure, she kicked a booted foot.

"Ow! Dammit!" she cursed softly, jumping around, holding her foot. He hadn't so much as flinched. "Beast! Son of a cow! Big-footed alien!" She resisted the urge to kick him again.

Maybe he really was made of granite.

Limping around him, she poked him in the stomach with a screwdriver. If he was faking it, surely that would startle him into a reaction. Instead, she almost lost her grip on the tool when it stopped abruptly, as though she'd jammed it against the cave wall.

Still, he didn't move.

Tossing the screwdriver aside, she stuck the hover board as far as she could under his left shoulder and hip. Groaning, she pushed his back, trying to roll the rest of him onto the hover board. He barely moved an inch. Panting and wiping the sweat off her forehead, she rested for a moment, leaning weakly against his warm, muscular side.

Who knew capturing an alien would be this exhausting?