Page 12 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

"Her divine flames will cleanse all wickedness from the cosmos." Gregor's alien features glow with religious fervor through my phone screen. "The Lady of Flame appeared to us, emerging from a supernova like a phoenix."

I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. This has to be some elaborate prank. Any second now, Ashton Kutcher's going to jump out and tell me I've been Punk'd.

"The Trident Alliance seeks to maintain their grip on power through corruption and deceit," Gregor continues. "They fearedAtaxia's message of purification. They hunted her faithful across the stars."

My eyes dart to Sam's closed door. How long can I keep her in there while my boss preaches about his space goddess?

"That's fascinating, but what does it have to do with-"

"We came back." Gregor's black eyes gleam. "Through the quantum breach. To this pivotal moment in Earth's history."

The phone nearly slips from my sweating palm.

"You're from the future?"

"December 2024 is when it all begins. Humanity's first step toward enlightenment... or damnation." His lipless mouth stretches wider. "That's why we need loyal converts like you, Melanie. To help shepherd your species toward Ataxia's light."

I press my back against the wall, trying to ground myself in something solid and real. Time-traveling alien cultists. Sure. Why not? It's not like this night could get any more surreal.

"And if I refuse to help 'shepherd' humanity?"

"Then you've already chosen damnation." The static intensifies, warping his features. "For yourself and your daughter."

My blood turns to ice. The threat in his voice is unmistakable.

"You leave Sam out of this you wannabe Grinch," I growl.

Gregor's face splits into that nightmare grin again. His teeth glint like needles in the phone's glow.

"I'm sorry, Melanie. I've been letting you think you actually had a choice in this matter. Some of my associates are on their way to collect you and your daughter. We have ways of adjusting your point of view that are most effective."

The screen blinks to black. My fingers stab at the power button, but nothing happens. The phone's completely dead.

I lunge for the landline on the kitchen counter. The dial tone mocks me with silence.

Gravel crunches under tires outside. My heart stops.

"Sam!" I whisper-shout, already moving. "Sam, come here right now!"

She appears in her doorway, clutching Mr. Snuggles. "What's wrong, Mommy?"

I scoop her up, one hand pressed to her mouth before she can ask more questions. The pantry door creaks as I edge it open with my foot. We squeeze past the shelves of canned goods and cereal boxes, pressing ourselves into the darkest corner behind the vacuum cleaner.

Sam trembles against my chest. I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair. The strawberry scent of her shampoo mingles with the musty smell of old flour and forgotten spices.

Car doors slam outside. Heavy footsteps crunch up our walkway.

Please don't let them find us. Please don't let them find us. Please don't let them find us.

The front door handle jiggles. A metallic scraping sound follows - they're picking the lock.

Sam's tiny fingers dig into my arm. I press my lips to her ear, breathing the quietest whisper I can manage:

"Not a sound, baby. Not one sound."

My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I swear it echoes through the pantry. Sam's breath comes in tiny puffs against my collarbone. The darkness presses close, thick with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. Christmas spices. What a joke.

Dear God, if you're listening... I'll take back every bad thing I ever said about the holidays. I'll sing carols until New Year's. I'll bake cookies for the whole neighborhood. Just please, please keep my baby safe.

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