Page 18 of Rook
She walked through it all, her body alive with nervous energy. Every shout made her jump. She scanned for alien eyes, for hard jawlines, for signs of anything otherworldly.
But there was only the familiar litany of RV life. Hoses coiled beneath bumpers, dogs yapping, someone grumbling about a leak.
“Hey, girl, thought you’d finally pulled out for greener pastures.” The voice was raspy with too many cigarettes and too much laughter.
Sasha turned and smiled automatically. Janice stood there in a faded tie-dyed shirt and cargo shorts, a battered straw hat on her cropped gray hair. She clutched a beer can, her rings catching flashes of sunlight. “I’d say goodbye if I did,” Sasha promised.
“That makes one of you, honey.” Janice’s eyes lingered on Sasha’s face, sharp and knowing. “People come, people go.”
Sasha willed herself not to flinch. The words brought Erik’s face flashing to mind.
Someone had to have noticed he was missing by now. No cops had come by asking questions, but they would. And what the hell would she tell them? Alien dragons burnt him to a crisp when they decided they didn’t want to leave witnesses?
If she thought her van was tiny, she didn’t want to find out how cramped a padded cell was.
“Who left?” she asked, pushing the thought away.
“Vanessa, over in one of the rentals. Little nurse, cute nose ring. I’ve been poking around, but nobody’s seen her in days.”
“Oh.” Sasha knew Vanessa a little. “Last I heard, she was talking about getting an apartment.”
Janice sniffed, unconvinced. “Could be, but she left her cactus on the windowsill, and that plant was her baby.” She shrugged, finishing her beer with a practiced swig. “But what do I know?” With a wave, Janice wandered off.
Sasha drifted along the cracked road, her boots scuffing the gravel. The air smelled like hot dust, pine needles, and sunscreen. It was all so fucking ordinary.
She read the community board outside the shower block out of habit. Flyers for dog sitters and yoga classes blurred past until her eyes snagged on the word MISSING.
Vanessa’s smiling face stared back at her from an off-center selfie.
Have you seen this person?
The flyer listed her description, her car, and a phone number to call. So Janice was right. Vanessa hadn’t just left.
Then Sasha noticed the other posters. More of them lined the board now. A man with a sheepish smile under a fisherman’s cap. Two kids in matching hoodies. A young woman named Monica whom Sasha sometimes saw doing her laundry late at night.
What had Rook said again? The slavers came to Earth to take people. Had Erik been helping them find victims? People no one would miss. Except they were missed. Missed enough for these faded, hopeful posters.
Her stomach tightened. She had to find Rook. She had to figure this out. But how was she supposed to call down an alien dragon lord? She didn’t exactly have his number.
Sasha cursed, shoving her hands through her hair.
She felt it first. A wave of heat, unnatural against the fading warmth of the day. The hairs on her arms prickled. A thunderous crack shattered the air before she could process it. The explosion rattled up her spine, and a dark plume of smoke unspooled from the north end of the park. Another bang followed, closer this time, and the world tipped into chaos.
People ran, screaming, their faces blank with panic. Sasha stood frozen, her mind scrambling for a rational explanation.
A gas leak. A generator accident.
Her hope died when a man strode onto the main path—one of the slavers. Even at this distance, the dark, metallic glint of his bodysuit caught the setting sun. He moved with an unnatural confidence, a weapon from a nightmare cradled in his hands. It had a glowing red barrel and wires coiling around the grip.
Her body finally remembered how to move. She bolted, her boots hammering the dry ground as she dove behind a nearby dumpster.
Two more slavers emerged, their strange weapons sweeping side to side. They fired in short bursts that sent fountains of dirt into the air. One blast caught a folding table, which erupted in an unnatural blue fire.
Sasha hunched lower. Running for her van was a death sentence. She couldn’t outrun that fire.
A sob scraped through the noise. Janice was down near the laundry block, clutching a bloody thigh, her face pale with shock.
Sasha’s heart hammered. She dropped to a crouch and darted across the open space. “I got you,” she hissed, skidding to Janice’s side.
