Page 2 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

A burst of laughter stops me cold.

Across the street, a family of three emerges from the boutique, their shopping bags swinging. Their matching Rudolf sweaters hurt my eyes with their garish red and green patterns. The dad adjusts his son's crooked Santa hat while mom beams at them both, her own hat jingling with tiny bells.

Perfect. Just perfect.

My throat tightens. Sam and I have our own Christmas traditions - hot chocolate and cookies while we decorate our tiny artificial tree. But sometimes... sometimes I catch myself wondering what it would be like to share those momentswith someone else. Someone who'd help Sam with her math homework when I'm stuck at work late. Someone who'd remember to buy milk without me writing it on three different lists.

The happy family disappears around the corner, their cheerful voices fading into the evening bustle.

I dig in my purse for my car keys, blinking hard. The metal bites into my palm as I reach my sensible sedan. Time to pick up Sam from Annie's, start dinner, help with homework, throw in a load of laundry-

My purse feels too light.

"No, no, no..." I dump the contents onto the passenger seat. Wallet, keys, lipstick, random receipts... but no phone. Great. Just great.

With a sigh that could power a wind turbine, I trudge back toward the office building. At least the halls will be quiet this time of day.

The office building looms over me, dark and quiet. I shiver, pulling my coat tighter around me as I push open the door. The lobby is empty, the security guard's desk abandoned. Guess even rent-a-cops have families to get home to.

My heels echo in the empty hallway, the sound bouncing off the walls like a bad horror movie soundtrack. The Christmas decorations that seemed so cheerful this morning now cast eerie shadows, the twinkling lights more menacing than merry.

I hurry to my desk, snatching up my phone with a sigh of relief. The screen lights up, a picture of Sam's gap-toothed grin greeting me. I allow myself a small smile. Time to head home, snuggle up with my girl, and forget about the weirdness that is my job.

I'm halfway to the lobby when I hear it. Voices, low and urgent, coming from the rarely used conference room on thefirst floor. I freeze, my heart pounding. Who else would be here at this hour?

Curiosity wars with common sense. I should leave, pretend I didn't hear anything. But something draws me closer, my feet moving of their own accord. I creep toward the door, left slightly ajar, and peer through the crack.

Mr. Gregor stands inside, his back to me. He's speaking in a language I don't recognize, the words harsh and guttural. Across from him is a man I've never seen before, tall and broad-shouldered in an expensive suit. He replies in the same strange tongue, his face expressionless.

I lean closer, straining to catch a word, a phrase, anything that might make sense. But it's all gibberish to me. The man in the suit gestures to something on the table between them, and Mr. Gregor nods. They shake hands, the movement stiff and awkward.

My phone chooses that moment to buzz, the sound as loud as a gunshot in the quiet hallway. I fumble with it, my heart in my throat, as the voices inside the room fall silent. Footsteps approach the door, and I bolt, my heels slapping against the tile.

The exit sign's red glow beckons like a lighthouse - until two security guards burst through the doors, blocking my escape.

"Stop right there!"

The stairwell door stands ajar to my left. No time to think - I dash through it, letting it slam behind me. My purse thumps against my hip as I take the stairs two at a time.

Voices echo from above. "She went this way!"

Down is my only option now. The emergency lights cast sickly shadows as I descend past the parking level, past maintenance, into depths I didn't know existed. My lungs burn. The sensible pumps I wore to work weren't made for this kind of cardio.

The bottom landing opens into a vast chamber that looks nothing like the corporate offices above. Strange machinery lines the walls, pulsing with otherworldly light. Transparent tubes snake across the ceiling, filled with swirling, iridescent liquid. The air crackles with electricity.

What is all this? My mind refuses to process what I'm seeing. This can't be real. None of this makes sense.

Footsteps thunder down the stairs behind me. I duck behind what looks like a giant metal egg, trying to control my ragged breathing. The cold steel seeps through my blouse.

When the voices fade, I peer around the egg's curved surface - and freeze.

Through a glass dome the size of my car, a face stares back at me. Not human. Dear God, not human at all. Blue fur covers massive features. Curved horns sweep back from its forehead. Its eyes are closed, but I can't shake the feeling it could wake at any moment.

The creature floats in some kind of clear liquid, tubes and wires connected to its massive body. Frost patterns the glass, suggesting whatever's inside is kept very, very cold.

My scream catches in my throat. I press my hand against my mouth, but it's too late - I hear shouting from the stairwell again. They're coming.

Symbols cover every surface of the pod - jagged marks that hurt my eyes to look at. They pulse with an eerie blue light, and though I can't read them, their meaning seems clear: DANGER. DO NOT OPEN. NOT EVEN IF THE WORLD ENDS.

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