Page 1 of Fresh Flesh

1

Maisie

The drone scorchesthe sky over what used to be the border between Texas and Nevada. I crouch down behind a scrub bush and hope that it didn’t spot me. Its sleek metal hull reflects the landscape as it cruises about ten feet above the ground.

I flatten myself onto the sand, praying there aren’t any scorpions with tiny pincers around. That’s what my uncle told me, before the Grengorans ate him. The dangerous scorpions are the ones with tiny pincers. The big ones, you see, tear things apart with their pincers, and have comparatively weak venom.

But if they have tiny pinchers, then their venom is very potent indeed. I was in double luck. No scorpions at all, lethal or not.

The drone must have detected something unusual in the area. They don’t normally fly this low. I hoped that I’d successfully bunched up enough that it couldn’t see behind or under the brush. If I had a foot or an arm sticking out, I was as good as dead.

I’d been staying out of sight of the Grengorans for about a week, since I’d escaped the camp back in Salado. I’d hopped a Grengoran unmanned rail line and gotten a lift for most of the journey. I had to make the last hundred miles on foot, which takes a lot longer than you might think it would.

Now, just when I spotted lovely mountains in the distance and figured I was home free, this damn drone comes screeching down from the perfect blue sky to ruin my day.

I guess I’m lucky. I don’t remember much about the way the world used to be before the Grengorans conquered us. They think they’re doing a good thing, you see. They believe that human beings are an infection on this planet, slowly killing it off. By managing our population, they believe they’re helping to heal the Earth.

The sad thing is, they’re probably right. I have heard stories from some of the old timers—mostly people with medical conditions that make them no good for eating. The Grengorans put them in special jumpsuits so they don’t eat them by accident, and then give them menial tasks. Anyway, they told me that the earth used to be a lot more polluted than it is now.

Of course, those aren’t the only people who the Grengorans keep around. So far, I have yet to see a female Grengoran. Only men. And when you have a lot of men, what’s one thing they always seem to need?

If you guessed food, you guessed wrong.

Now, I’ve been tempted to sell myself to the Grengorans before. A gnawing belly will do that to you, as will the constant string of ‘entertainment’ in the arena, where humans are butchered for sport before being sent away to the food processing center.

I didn’t want to become lunch on a Grengoran platter, and I didn’t think I was pretty enough to catch the eye of one of them and become their ‘comfort woman’, or as they like to call it, a sex slave.

So the only recourse seemed to run away. All of my family had long since perished anyway, so there was no point in my staying around in the camp.

Running away presented its own risks. It’s hard for a single human to survive on their own. There’s a reason we used to live in communities. The surrounding wilderness is as much our prison as any bars or guards could make.

I thought I was home free when I saw the mountains. Now the drone seems all too interested in the area I had just walked through. It hovers in place, a slight sonorous hum escaping the silver hued carapace of its outer shell.

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it darts back up into the sky and takes off to the East. I remain under the bush for a long moment, just to be sure it’s not coming back. Only when it’s been out of sight for a good five minutes do I finally rise from my hiding spot.

I make for the mountains, more urgently now. The land rises gradually at first, then grows steadily steeper, until I’m using my hands as much as my feet to move upward.

It takes the better part of the morning to make it over the foothills to the mountains proper. I follow a narrow, winding path, hoping I won’t tumble and fall.

Night falls, bringing with it some semblance of safety. At least I’ll be harder for the drones to spot. Or so I think, when suddenly a spotlight appears on the path ahead of me.

Shit! I turn to run the opposite direction, when the rocks give way beneath my heel. I yelp and then tumble down the slope.

I tuck my limbs in and put my chin near my chest, to minimize the chance I’ll get hurt. If it were different circumstances, it might almost be fun to tumble down a grassy hill like this, but I’m terrified the drone saw me or detected the noise I’m making.

At last I stop rolling at the bottom of the hill. I bump up against something thick and sturdy. Thinking it’s a tree trunk, I push off of it and rise to my feet.

That’s when I realize the ‘tree’ doesn’t have bark. It has scales.

I look up and realize I’m standing next to a Grengoran, my hand on his scaled arm. His golden eyes look at me curiously. He doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he seems happy that he’s found me.

Of course he has. He’s found an escaped human.

“Look what we have here, boys,” says a voice behind me. I turn around and find a purple eyed Grengoran leering at me. “Women are just falling from the sky now.”

“And here we thought this hunting grounds was all dried up, eh Mlarx?” says the one with golden eyes that I’d been leaning on.

Another of the Grengorans stands nearby, one with green eyes. I am cut off on all sides. Not that I could have outrun one of the nearly seven foot aliens anyway. I decide to try and make the most of the situation. If I don’t act like escaped prey, maybe they won’t treat me like that’s what I am.

I plaster a smile on my face and wave at them, acting as if I’m not about to piss my panties.

“Hey fellas,” I say cheerfully. “Nice night for a walk, isn’t it?”

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