Page 27 of The Commander

A weird, excited clench that she just couldn’t explain shafted through her middle. It felt a lot like when she touched herself at night and made herself come. So out of place. It was as if her pussy had become an organ with a mind of its own, but its mind was stupid. Her body had completely lost touch with reality. Now was not the time for this. Wrong place. Wrong situation. Wrong male.

So wrong that the image of his hands with that huge knife touching her triggered a hot, acidic bile in her belly along with the ping of interest. There was no time to even pause and spit out the feelingsthat thinginspired. She had to get away.

The hallway went on forever. Had she turned? She didn’t know. The place was not what she expected. Schools in this state resembled prisons. They were all the same. From the outside, old Piedmont Ed looked just like a dozen others she’d seen while traveling.

After passing several shut doors on the left, she hit some open ones on her right. She ran past the first, shadows winking at her from the inside.

Which one? Which damn door?

At the fourth door, she circled back. The last room was full of shit. The others were clean, but this one had all the leftover school furniture and other garbage.

“Here, kitty kitty. Where is my little kitty?” she heard the alien commander call. The clashing horror of his beautiful darkness went through her.

He’d cooed at her in perfect common English, mocking her fear and the way her body responded to him.

He couldn’t catch her.

Don’t make a sound. Don’t breathe. Oh, god.Biting her lips, she forced back every choked sob and frustrated scream.

She slipped inside the junk packed space. Like the other classrooms, there was no light. The windows were painted black with peeling remains of aluminum foil and lead paint falling to the floor. People had once thought aluminum could hide them from the alien radar. These remnants were part of a last stand barricade made by humans. They’d thrown up everything available to keep enemies outside at bay.

It hadn’t worked. Something had plowed inside, wrenching the door open. It had been left that way, hanging crooked, the bar at the top bent under a powerful force. It was a testament to hope, and glaring failure.

“Such a beautiful kitty. Where are you? I want to pet your red fur.” He sounded closer.

She saw the mess. The open door. If she ran outside, he would catch her. He’d moved so fast and seemed to anticipate her actions. What to do?

She had to find a weapon. Something pointy and deadly, instead of just giving up and letting that demon suck her blood again. Something in this mess would work.

More noise rang through the hall. He was taking his time, enjoying his own deranged game of hide and seek. Cara didn’t want to play.

He was doing it on purpose. Telling her where he was. How close he was getting. Maliciously enjoying it. Trapped in the nightmare, a need to run electrified every muscle in her body.

“Where, oh where, has my little kitty gone?” the alien sang out.

A door banged and bounced off the wall. Slammed shut.

“It’s ten o’clock. Do you know where your children are?” He sounded like an announcer from old time television.

Obnoxiously, confidently, loud. Another door smashed open. A riot of noise filled Cara’s head as the alien hit safety metal and fiberglass with so much power, she thought he’d knocked the door off its hinges. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, here’s Johnny!” The noise crashed through Cara’s body. Fast. Powerful.

Coming closer.

“Did I do that?” Speaking in a creaky voice to himself. Was he mimicking old human media? Human, yet bent. Wrong. No doubt he understood the nuances of language, but he didn’t understand humans at all, and it showed.

Cara bit her tongue hard, trying to keep herself from melting into a puddle of piss and cowardice.

He was approaching. It was inevitable that he would catch her because he was inevitable. This was a game she couldn’t win, and he’d known that from the start. The realization strangled her soul with a muddled mix of emotions. The fact was, some warped, fucked up part of her pulsed wet and aroused, knowing that he was so near. This excited her. Herpussy suddenly had opinions. What the hell, not even a hint of interest with any guy before. Her anxiety always saved the day. But now?

This was all so wrong. She needed to kill herself because if she didn’t…something truly terrible was going to happen. She was not the type of female that slept with males for food, favor, or survival. She wouldn’t let her own body be used against her. She wouldn’t.

It would fall on her, trapping her for him. There was crap everywhere. A few of the desks and tables were broken, their spindly metal legs in pieces and parts. She chose a bar of metal in the rubble.

She could never stab herself in the gut. Impaling herself was the best idea. But she needed height. Getting up on the bookcase was impossible for her. Or she could use the twisted, pointed end to stab him in that smooth, muscled body.

He had made her feel this ugly, warped want. He deserved to die for that and a thousand other wrongs. Damn stinking alien invaders. After taking every good thing in the world, now one of them was taking this? Taking her?

Could she defend herself? Could she kill him?

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