Page 22 of Emerald

We reach the top of the slope, and for a brief, blessed moment, the creatures seem to falter, their movements slowing as if they're unsure of what to do next. But it's only a momentary reprieve. They'll be on us again in seconds.

"Keep going!" the woman shouts, her voice hoarse with effort. She glances back at me, her eyes meeting mine for a brief, intense moment. There's a fire in her gaze, a fierce determination that ignites something in me.

I nod, gritting my teeth as I push myself to keep moving. The ground is uneven and treacherous, but we can't afford to slow down. The creatures are still behind us, still relentless in their pursuit.

But we're not giving up. Not yet.

The woman leads us toward a rocky outcrop in the distance, a jagged formation that juts out from the barren landscape. It's not much, but it offers some cover, and a chance to regroup and figure out our next move.

We reach the outcrop just as the creatures start to catch up again. The woman spins around, raising her rifle and firing off a few more shots to keep them at bay. I do the same, my hands trembling as I take aim and squeeze the trigger.

The creatures burst into pink puddles, one after another, but there are still too many of them. They seem to realize they’ve lost an advantage and back off, finding cover while we do the same.

We can't hold them off forever. We need a plan.

"What now?" I ask, my voice shaking with exhaustion and fear.

The woman doesn't answer right away, her eyes scanning the landscape, searching for something—anything—that might give us an edge. But there's nothing. Just the barren wasteland, the distant fires of the crashed ship, and the relentless horde of alien creatures.

Finally, she turns to me, her expression grim.

"It’s time to run," she says, as if that isn’t what we’ve already been doing.

I couldn't hide my snarl even if I wanted to, "Oh, you think?!"

Then we run. And somehow live.

***

The valley is eerily quiet now, the only sound is my ragged breaths and the rhythmic thud of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. We talked a bit, shared our names, which is how I know hers is Rin, then fell silent. The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, making my limbs shake even though we've put some distance between us and the crash site. Rin and I stumble to a halt in the shadow of yet another jagged outcrop.

The creatures, thankfully, aren't visible from here.

I drop to my knees, gasping for breath, and Rin does the same, her silver hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. For a moment, neither of us says anything, just focusing on pulling air into our burning lungs. The quiet is a relief, but the silence that hangs between us is heavy with unspoken questions. The ground beneath us is rough and uneven, the dirt dry and cracked, and I can feel every sharp edge pressing into my palms as I brace myself.

We are under a bush and fighting about utter nonsense not long after, at least until I realize I can understand when she speaks a foreign language. It helps me calm down my burning brain to focus on something else besides killer aliens.

We introduce ourselves, which is how I find out her name is Rin. Then she teaches me how to clothe myself out of… nothing.

So I am now fully clothed in a spandex suit straight out of aCatwomancomic book. Handy.

Being naked for weeks is highly uncomfortable.

Then she’s reaching her hand for me and I barely resist the temptation to shrink back. Instead, I pull from my bottomless well of useless movie facts, throw on a smile, and distract my mind from the anger.

"This makes me think ofTitanicand how Jack could have gotten on the door with Rose," I say inanely, but then her eyebrows furrow.

I quickly sift through the possible emotions attached to that, hoping it isn’t anger and just let my stupid mouth keep running on. "You haven't seenTitanic? Oh my God, have you been living under a rock?"

I let out a hearty laugh, one I’ve practiced dozens of times, playing a recording back until it was perfect and luckily it draws a chuckle from her. Good, that means she probably isn’t angry.

"I have not seen it but once I can, I will," she tells me, and I nod in response.

Then I bite my tongue and pick up a rock to ground myself, sure my mask is in place with a small smile. She probably hates me.

Ninety-five percent chance, I muse.

When I look up again she’s staring at me.

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