Page 49 of Fresh Flesh

“Which of our people has forced himself on you? Well? Was it Dlark?”

“No,” I say vehemently. “No way. I would never let that creep touch me.”

“Then who?”

“I never learned his name. I met him on the way to the west coast. He had food and shelter, and there was a price for him to share it. I paid that price gladly.”

The doctor heaves an exasperated sigh. “You must be offloaded at our next stop in what you humans called Vancouver. This is highly irregular.”

“What’s going to happen to me, and, um, the baby?”

“You will likely be sent to a farm until you give birth on the mainland. After that, I don't know.”

Cold comfort indeed. Pregnant.

What will Lurg and the others think when they find out?

Assuming I live long enough to see them, or that they even want to find me.

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