Page 54 of Alien Rescue

He parked the hoverbike on top of a building, helped her off, grunted, and it became invisible.

Rose stood back from him. “Why have we parked up here?”

“This area is flooded. I do not wish to keep the hoverbike down there.”

“Okay, but let’s take the stairs, eeeeee.” He grabbed her and ran down the building while she tried her best not to scream. Now that she had little killer robots floating in her bloodstream, doing who knows what, running down a building didn’t seem as frightening. But it still wasn’t a good experience.

She was glad for the uniform and boots she wore when they started to slog through water that came to her knees. A strange hierarchy had developed in the city. The less flooded the neighborhood, the more upscale it was. This area was mostly abandoned, but here and there she’d see furtive movement. It stank to high heaven, and she had visions of being back in the tent and taking a very long, hot shower.

“It’s horrific that some people have to live like this,” she muttered.

“We will improve conditions when Zacar appoints a warrior to oversee New York.”

Rose balled her fists. Even the prospect of the city restored and people having better living conditions didn’t reconcile her to the idea of ‘a warrior overseeing New York’. This was a human problem.

Just when she thought they’d spend another fruitless day, while the nanos attacked her body and the scientists worked on detonating bombs in the city where she’d been born, Zanr abruptly stopped walking. He cocked his head in that reptilian fashion.

“What’s wrong? Is this the place?”

“Yes.” He stared over her shoulder, unblinking. If she’d ever doubted that he was pure predator, that look put it to rest. “Disturbing noises,” he said. He suddenly stiffened, dropped his disguise, his skin changing to green and copper and his eyes flashing red. “They are torturing females.”

She heard nothing except the surging water that would’ve pushed her over a few times if he didn’t keep a secure grip on her. That and the faint sound of a TC playing in the building in front of them. With his ‘superior’ hearing, he could hear things coming from miles off. It always amazed her how strong his senses were.

He grabbed her, lifting her above the water, and ran across the road, her arms and legs flailing. “Hey.”

He kept running until they reached a building where the water streamed into a building whose apartments must’ve been sought after a century or more ago. Now it was a dark, dank building she would’ve preferred not to enter. Zanr set her down gently.

“I hate the water and wetness and moldy smell,” she muttered.

Zanr kept a firm hold on her and they entered the building. He managed to cross the lobby without disturbing the water that came to his calves. Unfortunately, it reached her knees and her progress wasn’t as smooth. Without making a sound, he went up the stairs leading to the first floor.

“Quiet,” he breathed into her ears.

Rose shivered from his breath wafting over her sensitive skin and nodded. Zanr turned to the left, and a beefy man, dressed in black leather, with tough-looking boots and chains around his neck, glared at them. He didn’t show any reaction to the fact that a green-and-copper alien, with a ridged head and silver-metal uniform, stood before him. Her own uniform looked like jeans and a sweater. How many Zyrgins were there walking around among the humans?

“Invitation only. Show it or bugger off,” the man said in a deep baritone.

Zanr drew himself up. “I do not have to show any invitation.”

“Yeah yeah, I heard it all before. I don’t care if you’re alien or human, you want in, you show me an invitation.”

A shrill scream came from somewhere inside the building, and Rose nearly jumped out of her skin. It did sound as if someone tortured a woman.

Zanr knocked the doorman aside as if he swatted a fly, and grabbing Rose and half carrying her, ran deeper into the building. His hearing must be phenomenal because he ran with intent through the maze-like corridors and shunned certain hallways for others. At last they reached a steel door, and he put her carefully on her feet, put his shoulder against the door, and broke it open.

The smell hit her first—blood and sweat, mold, and sex. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. At first she didn’t understand. A woman hung tied to a cross, and a small, emaciated-looking man with a whip in his hand turned to face them. He’d obviously been whipping the woman.

Religious groups and churches had gained a lot of ground these last few decades. Poverty and a feeling of hopelessness had driven people to churches that sometimes cared for their flock and sometimes shamelessly exploited them. In Rose’s opinion, most of the so-called ministers were conmen. Most churches spouted ideals of piety and conservative behavior, but in her job, she’d seen what they were capable of behind closed doors.

The churches had driven people with different appetites underground. It suddenly clicked—what they dealt with here, and she grabbed hold of the enraged alien next to her.

“Don’t kill them,” she squeaked when Zanr went for the man with the whip.

“You dare to whip a female of your species?” he snarled in the man’s terrified face.

Holding her close in one arm, he lifted the man until he dangled a good few inches off the ground.

“W...w...we were j...just p...p...” the poor man stuttered.

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