This book is part of a series, but you don't have to read them in order.

The Parallel Dimensions Series:

My Savage Alien Rescuer

My Fierce Alien Warrior

My Tormented Alien Slave

My Wild Alien Experiment

CHAPTER ONE

TIFFANY

The room was dark, and the bed felt unfamiliar. I tentatively opened my eyes. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but gradually, my mind filled in the banks. I was staying at a hotel in Vancouver for work. I loved my job as executive programming director for a rapidly expanding fitness company. My primary role was leading group fitness instructor training workshops. We were based in the US, but our trademarked programming was beginning to expand to other countries.

When I started with the company, I was strictly a Workshop Presenter, but it didn’t take me long to rise to management level. Getting to share my knowledge and help other fitness professionals to succeed was highly fulfilling. My favorite perk was getting to travel, but unfortunately, since my promotion to programming director I hadn’t done as much of that as I used to. I’d been too busy developing and filming content for our online subscription program. Instructors loved how they could use our music and choreography for an endless supply of fresh new classes without doing all the work themselves.

It was still early, but I decided that a bit of quiet time and a dose of caffeine was just what I needed. I made myself a cup of complimentary hotel coffee and sat down at the desk. As I opened my laptop to check the class roster, I saw Facebook was still open from when I had been looking at it the previous evening. My profile pic was a full-body shot of me teaching a weightlifting class. My dark brown hair cascaded down my trim, muscular body, clad in a matching crop top and leggings. I basically lived in workout clothes.

My happiness evaporated in an instant because that’s when I saw the smiling face of my ex-boyfriend. I took in a sharp, pained breath. I should have unfriended him years ago, but I guess I liked to torture myself. I wasn’t still in love with him, but I had never completely gotten over the bitterness of his betrayal. All through college, I’d thought we were going to get married and spend the rest of our lives together. But then, at the end of our senior year, he’d dumped me for my best friend, Allie.

“I guess she’s my ex too,” I muttered. “An ex-best friend.”

I gazed at the perfect little family photo. They were all dressed in white. It appeared Allie had just popped out baby number four, who was the center of attention for the photo shoot. Jealousy ate at me. That should have been my life. It was a cute baby. All their kids were cute. I felt like crying as I pressed “like” on the picture and typed a nice congratulatory comment. I truly was happy for them, but that didn’t stop the jealousy.

Deep down, I knew that Greg and I would never have made it. We really weren’t suited for each other. He’d been so condescending over my decision to study exercise science. He’d voiced repeatedly that he thought it was a dead end career-wise. How could I love someone who considered my life’s passion stupid? I wouldn’t have taken him back even if he were available. The real issue was that I was stuck in a deep rut of resentment and grief, while Greg had moved on and had a beautiful family to show for it.

I was almost forty, and I had never had another relationship serious enough to consider marriage. No partner. No children. I didn’t even have a pet because that would have complicated my travel plans. The Facebook post cruelly hammered home my deepest fears. The clock was ticking . . . and a family was probably never going to happen for me.

I struggled to suppress the urge to climb right back into bed. I reminded myself that I had a great career, and that I really made a difference in people’s lives. I still taught a few local group classes each week because I loved the camaraderie. Some of the members had attended my classes for years. I had witnessed seemingly miraculous health changes in my students. I’d seen people so sick that they could hardly walk into the fitness center transformed into vibrant, healthy individuals. That was part of why I was so passionate about health and fitness.

And then there was my hobby. I was basically addicted to mountain climbing. It gave me an adrenaline rush to push myself to the edge of my physical limits. Because I didn’t have children of my own, I volunteered my spare time teaching physical education to kids in underprivileged areas.

“My life isn’t empty, it’s meaningful,” I muttered to myself, grateful there was no one around to hear my crazy conversation with myself.

But sometimes, it was harder for me to believe that I loved my life. This was one of those days. I felt a pang of loss for what I didn’t have, what I feared I never would have. I didn’t have time for a pity party. I had work to do. I took a deep, fortifying breath and pushed my sadness aside. I needed to get myself moving. A shower seemed like the logical place to begin.

***

After a quick breakfast, I made my way to the Fitness Center. I was an hour early. It was always my goal to start on time, but it wasn’t unusual for things to go awry. We often used a different location for each workshop day because it was a lot to ask fitness centers to block off their largest room for three days in a row. To compensate them, we gave free training spots to their staff, which was a big incentive.

Both host locations for the past two days had been exceptional. Their largest fitness rooms had been blocked off for almost the entire day since our training sessions were sold out and ran eight hours long. They had staff attending the training who were very helpful in setting up the rooms and helping with the sound equipment. 

But the last location had been very disorganized even though I had checked in with them and confirmed all the details ahead of time. When I got there in the morning, I was shocked to see that there were regular classes running in the room we were supposed to use. The manager I had been communicating with had resigned, and no one else knew what was going on. It was a scheduling nightmare, so I was very glad I had arrived early. With some quick thinking and help from the staff, an empty room was located. It wasn’t big enough for the actual exercise segments, but we were able to squeeze in enough chairs to get started.

I decided on the fly to flip the order of the workshop around and start with some of the lectures in the small room until the larger room with the equipment was available. We would have to go back and forth between the rooms to accommodate when they had classes on the schedule, but it was the best I could manage under the circumstances. I couldn’t afford to waste time getting rattled. All I could do was make the best of a challenging situation.

“We’ll all get a few extra steps today,” I joked when I explained how we would be moving back and forth between two different rooms all day.

I checked attendance on my laptop and amazingly enough I got started on time. The day flew by. The group thoroughly enjoyed the master class. This release had especially great music and choreography. The lecture portions went well. Most of the instructors were attentive as we worked through the manual. But there was one participant who seemed impossible to please.

“I always flow from Warrior Two to Reverse Warrior. Why did you go from Warrior Two to Balancing Half Moon?” an elderly instructor named Ruth asked angrily. She didn’t seem to notice or care that she’d interrupted someone else mid-question.

“Yes, Warrior Two to Reverse Warrior is a classic combination, and I use that sometimes too,” I agreed diplomatically. “But don’t you think your class might like some variety?”

“No,” Ruth answered tersely. “And besides, I teach senior classes, and they can’t do Balancing Half Moon.”

I’d been teaching a long time, so I knew her angry outburst was likely due to the fact that she couldn’t do the full posture. The older a body got, the less flexibility remained. I worked out nearly every day, and I still wasn’t as limber as I’d been as a teen. My heart filled with compassion, even though she’d been rude to me repeatedly throughout the day.

“Remember, Ruth. There is an option for everyone in the Breath Time class. Every participant needs to do the variation that is best for their body without any judgment. The best option isn’t always the most challenging one. Here in the manual, you’ll see four different levels for that pose. You don’t have to reach all the way to the floor. For example, you could use a block and always offer the basic version, which is standing sideways and either leaving one toe on the ground or lifting it.”

“That just looks stupid,” Ruth argued. “I don’t like doing easy poses.”

“Why don’t we all take a moment and work through the basic variations together?” I suggested patiently.

“Wow, I wished I’d known about this last year when I had my knee surgery,” another instructor exclaimed.

“I can’t believe how this works the same muscles,” another interjected.

“Everyone deserves a good workout, no matter what physical level they’re starting at,” I said excitedly.

Now that everyone else was using the block, Ruth had stopped complaining and was trying it out for herself. When she managed to get the posture just right, I nodded excitedly.

“Now, let’s try the whole flow from the beginning,” I said.

***

The day flew by, and as usual, I had hardly a moment to myself. I had scheduled an hour for lunch. Some instructors left, but others just wanted to hang out in the room and talk to me during the breaks. It was worth missing a meal to get a chance to empower others.

“I can’t wait to get the monthly releases. My students love always having something new!” gushed a young instructor named Barbara. “I can’t believe it’s actually you from the training videos. I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.”

Barbara giggled, and I laughed right along with her.

“I’m not quite as exciting as that, but it’s really nice to hear that you like the online training modules,” I replied.

“It really helps me to be able to rewind and keep going over the moves until I’ve mastered them,” she said.

“I feel the same way,” another instructor added.

I continued to answer their questions for what remained of the lunch break and then it was time to resume the workshop.

“Let’s break up into five groups of ten,” I said after counting to make sure that everyone had returned.

They all moved their mats to be with their groups as I gave them their assignments. 

“The Breath Time Master Class that we did this morning is written in your manual, page forty-two. I’m going to put on some music, and I want you to practice a block from the Master Class choreography written in your manual. Each of you will take turns teaching that block of choreography to the others in your group.”

“Group one, you’ll do block one. Group two will do block two, etc. So between the five groups, the entire master class will be practiced. You’ll have twenty minutes to practice your section. After that, we’ll run through the master class front to back with each group presenting their portions. Any questions?” I asked.

“Tiffany, could you tell me if my alignment is correct in Triangle?” one of the participants asked.

I walked over to her to see her demonstrate the pose. Triangle was a deep side bend with wide legs. Unless she had shoulder issues that would prevent it, her top hand should have been straight up above her bottom one. I studied her form. Something wasn’t quite right. She had her arm flung behind her and was leaning backwards. I held my hand up in the air where hers should be. 

“Bring your hand forward to meet mine,” I instructed. And just like that she’d come into great alignment.

“I get it now,” she exclaimed happily.

“Your posture is perfect,” I praised warmly.

I looked around the room and made a few more form corrections.

“Okay, everyone. You have twenty minutes to practice, then we’ll run through the entire master class together.”

The rest of the workshop breezed by. After the last instructor left, I packed up my stuff and headed out, stopping at the front to thank the manager on duty for hosting. I was starving because all I’d had to eat was part of a snack bar. I was desperate for some protein, and there was a steakhouse I planned to check out. 

During my meal, I went through my email and saw that there was another confirmation from my mountain climbing guide for the next day. I’d scheduled this climb months ago with a reputable company. They had certified guides and multiple routes to choose from. I would be part of a small group, just two other people besides the guide and myself. We were all experienced and had selected an intermediate to advanced climb.

The giant granite monolith, Stawamus Chief, had been on my bucket list for some time, and I was pumped. I’d brought my mountain climbing gear with me and planned to get a good night's sleep and meet my guide, Stan, bright and early in the morning.

 Our company policy was to give time off the week after workshops to equal travel and workshop days. This gave me five days to do something before I had to go back to work. Sometimes I went to areas that had volunteer opportunities I was passionate about. The previous month I’d done workshops in Great Falls, Montana, and then I’d volunteered on the Blackfeet Indian reservation during my free time.

That had been particularly rewarding because my grandmother had always told me we had Native American blood in our ancestry. She had a copy of a census from 1880 that showed her father was born in Indian Territory in Oklahoma. Since my grandmother was no longer living, I couldn’t ask her questions. The details were pretty much lost, but the consensus was that my great-great-grandmother was one-half Native American. This meant that my great-grandfather was one quarter, my grandmother was an eighth, my mom was a sixteenth, and I was a thirty-second part Native American.

It wasn’t all that impressive, mathematically speaking. However, it was the most interesting thing about my lineage, so I was claiming it. It had to be where my defined cheekbones and square jaw had come from. I’d always been curious, but finding out more information or even confirming the tribe was a mystery I’d never solved. My mom thought it was the Blackfeet tribe, but she wasn’t sure. The information had been lost long ago, but I’d been especially excited to volunteer at the Blackfeet reservation because I’d felt like these were my people. The children on the reservation were a delight. Leading sports and physical fitness activities for them had been a rare treat.

But I’d decided not to volunteer anywhere on this trip. I’d set aside all of my free time to do something just for me. I couldn’t wait to go mountain climbing in the morning.

***

When I arrived at the gift shop near Stawamus Chief, I saw that my guide was already there. I recognized him from the booking website, and I had also watched some of his YouTube videos.

“Stan?” I asked.

“You must be Tiffany,” he said, holding out his hand to shake mine vigorously.

I felt a bit of chemistry between us. He was a ruggedly handsome man, with nicely tanned skin from a life spent outdoors. His eyes twinkled when he smiled, and the crow’s feet did nothing to detract from his appeal. After we introduced ourselves, he checked out the equipment I had in my pack to make sure it was adequate for our climb.

“I’m glad you’re wearing a parka. It’ll get colder as we climb. We’ll be in the shade most of the morning. You might want to get some more chalk,” he said.

I hurried to pick up some more chalk and paid for it while he took a phone call. After he hung up, I could tell something was wrong by the look on his face.

 “That was the couple that was supposed to climb with us this morning. They just rescheduled. Their flight got in late, and they said they’re not up to it this morning. I’m so sorry, I know you wanted a group experience.”

He must have noticed my devastated look because he quickly offered up an alternative.

“I know you’ve had a lot of experience, so we can still go if you want to. Since you’ve never climbed the Chief, I’ll have to be the lead climber the whole way up. There will be no one else to rotate the last climber position with you, so you’ll have to retrieve all the equipment. It can get pretty heavy.”

“That’s not a problem,” I assured him excitedly.

He winked at me like I’d said exactly the right thing. “Well, we should get moving then. There’s a storm coming tonight, so we want to make sure we’re down long before it hits.”

I took off eagerly after him on the trail. He took a moment to point out a few landmarks and then started climbing. The higher we got, the more exhilarating the thrill. I was having the time of my life as I pushed my body to its limits. We both performed moves worthy of contortionists as we maneuvered the seemingly impossible route.

At times, my legs were spread wide like the splits, the rubber toes of my boots precariously lodged into toe holds. Over and over, I pulled myself skyward, fingers gliding over the smooth surface, searching for any dimple or ridge I could grasp for leverage. My feet carefully found minuscule divots to help support some of my weight. I had always felt there was something primally beautiful about traditional mountain climbing. This was why I did all of the pull-ups and strength training to prepare myself.

Four hours into the relentless vertical push, my energy still wasn’t depleted, but my muscles were getting fatigued. I paused for a moment and practiced mind over matter. I couldn’t afford to give in to the looming exhaustion. From my chilly perch, I gazed down to the valley far below and felt a rush of awe at the spectacle of the view. I was up so high that it literally took my breath away, as much from the altitude and chilly temperature as from the splendor of the scene sprawling below.

I gazed at the vista through a filtering of clouds wafting with the breeze. The trees far below looked like shrubs, and the road appeared pencil-thin. Stan whistled from above, startling me back to the present. I realized he was ready for me to continue again, and I hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Sorry,” I apologized, hurrying to catch up.

The first raindrops landed on my face, serving as a wake-up call. In an instant, I focused all of my attention back on the climb rather than the scenery. As I continued to ascend, the gentle rain soon progressed to hard and steady. I was so thankful I had dressed in layers and had on my rainproof insulated parka. I paused again, acclimating to this new development. I glanced at Stan above me to make sure he wasn’t waiting on me. 

“Be quick but careful,” he called down to me. Then, with decisive action, he was on the move again. The rain had caught us both by surprise because it was well ahead of the forecasted time. But there was no going back now. My fingers ached as I gripped the wall. My feet precariously balanced on a short stub of granite. Even though the ledge was less than half the size of my feet, I stood sideways, and it offered a bit of relief for my aching muscles.

Water pelted my face as I looked up to watch Stan high above me. I could tell he was picking up the pace because of the weather. He expertly placed a cramming device in the crevice and checked it before quickly attaching himself to it as his next anchor point. He stood firm on a short rock shelf, which had now become his next belay station. We had settled into a good pattern as we climbed throughout the day. Stan went first and placed temporary anchors on the wall. The climbing rope hung from them. I was starting to get a little stressed out, so I tried to reassure myself that this was no different than what we had been doing all day. I just had to focus more because of the slippery surface.

We were nearing the summit. Stan was secured, and he motioned to me. That was my cue to follow. I grunted as I inserted my fingers into the crevice in front of me and once again began climbing. The heavy precipitation had quickly washed the chalk from my hands, and my fingers felt slippery as I maneuvered.  

It took all of my skill to grasp the slick surfaces and not slip. I focused my attention on securing my hand and foot placement as I paused to remove yet another piece of equipment Stan had placed. One by one, I had to collect the climbing gear, and as he’d predicted, the weight was starting to add up. I remembered when I had first started trad climbing, this part seemed freaky to me. But once I thought through the logistics, I realized it was safe to remove them because I was secured from the top by the lead climber at the belay station. 

It was considered poor form to leave any equipment behind. Even though we found ourselves climbing in bad weather, we would leave no trace that we had been here. We wouldn't be going down the way we came up, so I couldn’t save the task for later. We’d be hiking off the mountain by a totally different route when we finished our climb, hopefully after the rain had stopped.

I tied a knot in the rappel rope to free up my break hand so I could remove the climbing nut. At that instant, a deluge of icy flood water crashed over me from above. The strength of it swept my hands and feet from their precarious balance points. I fell, only to be jerked tight by the rope.  I scrambled to regain my footing, shocked to realize that if not for the rope, I would have fallen to my death. It was a sobering thought indeed. From my periphery, I saw that the runoff from above had created waterfalls that crashed all around me. I knew we had to get out of there, and fast. I swiftly went back to work.

“I’m okay, but the climbing nut jammed!” I called out. My fall had forced it more deeply into the crevice. I reached into my pocket to get my nut key. After a few minutes, I was able to work it loose, and then I released the temporary knot. I looked up to see how much farther I had to go to reach the belay point when a flash of lightning cracked across the sky. The weather morphed from bad to deadly. I froze, unsure what I should do. 

Recognizing my indecision, Stan yelled from above, “Keep coming! We’re almost to the top! We’ll shelter up there!”

As my chilled fingers struggled to put the nut key back in my pocket, lightning snaked down. It struck with an explosion right next to Stan, severing the bolt that anchored him to the wall. A deafening explosion of sound resonated against the mountain as the ledge splintered. Stan shot off the side of the mountain like a rocket, then plummeted, jerking me from my precarious position. In horror, I felt myself falling, attached to nothing but the rope tying us together. I screamed hysterically as I was dragged down with him. 

Terror coursed through my body as a gale-like wind assaulted me. I couldn’t help but replay the Facebook images from my depressing morning, a cruel reminder of all that I’d never gotten to experience. I knew these were my last few moments alive, that there was nothing I could do to alter my fate, and it saddened me. 

Time halted as the sky morphed to black, and my body spun like an out-of-control rag doll in a vortex. Had we gotten sucked up in a cyclone or something? Strangely intrigued, I forced my eyes open, but I still couldn’t see anything. There was nothing but a diving sensation and a strange, inexplicable warmth that made no sense as seconds before, I’d been freezing in the cold rain.

I couldn’t stop screaming as I plummeted, but the sound never seemed to reach my own ears. It was unnerving, but then I wasn’t exactly dying a calm death, so I supposed that was par for the course. I braced myself for the crushing impact that would end my life. But it never came. I thudded relatively gently onto my back on the ground. My skull didn’t crack open. I wasn’t paralyzed. I wasn’t dead. How was any of that possible?

Before I could figure out the answers to any of my questions, a horrible new sensation pushed its way to the front. I felt like I was on fire. The very air seemed to burn my lungs. I cried out in surprise. Had I landed in a volcano? I jerked my eyes open, but I didn’t see any signs of lava, just the sun.

Except it wasn’t a normal sun. This sun was red, and it looked like an angry, gaseous, belching explosion of fire. Was the world ending? And was that a cactus? I’d never seen a purple cactus before, and so far as I knew, Vancouver wasn’t even remotely near a desert. Exactly how hard had I hit my head?

“I’m dead. That’s the only thing that explains all this,” I said aloud to no one in particular. Then I stopped fighting, let go, and let oblivion wash over me.

CHAPTER TWO

TIFFANY

I woke up to someone calling my name.

“Tiffany,” a weak voice pleaded for me to help.

I fought through the oppressive heat and forced myself to sit up. When I opened my eyes, I saw a sight more bizarre than anything I could have imagined. I was surrounded by sand, but it wasn’t normal sand, it was borderline pink. Pink sand, purple cacti, and dunes? None of this made sense.

The frigid Canadian mountainscape had been erased, only to be replaced by a scorching alien desert. The fiery red sun hung high in the strange, turquoise sky. 

“This can’t be real,” I murmured, my head swimming as I rose to my knees.

I slowly pivoted around while I struggled to comprehend my impossible surroundings. I should have seen the granite dome of the Stawamus Chief, but instead, there was sandy terrain with rocky crags and mesas painted impossible hues of pink, orange, and red. It looked as if a child had taken a box of crayons and scribbled a bizarre fantasy. 

I considered the possibility that I was actually in a hospital somewhere in a drug-induced coma. It made more sense than the weird, alien desert.

“Tiffany.” I heard Stan’s weak groan again and struggled to locate him. 

I tugged on the rope between us, but the frayed end alerted me to the fact that we were no longer connected.  

“Stan!” I called frantically.

He didn’t answer me, which unsettled me even further. I thought his original call had come from my right, so I started off in that direction.

“Where are you?” I cried out.

“Here,” came a barely audible response.

I tried to move faster, but with all the heat, I felt like I was walking in a furnace. “How can it be so hot?” I gasped. I’d been in desert temperatures of one hundred and twenty before, and this was easily that hot and probably more. 

The terrain was rough with short, scrubby vegetation, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Rocky sandy dunes and tall cliffs in bizarre psychedelic colors made it impossible for me to gauge the distance. I felt like I was on an acid trip and once again wondered if I was dead. No one could have survived that fall.

“Over here,” I heard Stan call in a weak, strained voice.

I climbed to the top of a crag, and my heart lurched at the sight of my guide. Stan lay sprawled on a rocky shelf, his leg turned at an impossible angle. I scrambled down the side of the incline, grabbing at the scorched vegetation to assist my descent. I gasped when I got close enough to see the femur protruding from his mangled leg. His blood had stained the pink sand red.

I struggled to choke down the bile rising in my throat. Stan needed me, which meant I didn’t have the luxury of melting down. I was CPR certified, and I knew some basic first aid stuff because it had been required for my fitness certifications. Step one: I needed to stop the bleeding. I grabbed the end of the lead rope and struggled to untie it from him.

“I’m making a tourniquet,” I said as I quickly pulled the rope around his thigh. I yanked off my backpack and pulled out a long spike. I laid it across the rope, then twisted it as tight as I could to stop the flow from his practically severed leg. I could tell from the paleness of his formerly tanned face that he didn’t have long before he bled out.

“Next, I have to try to set the bone,” I said softly. My fingers shook at the mere thought of trying to force the fractured bone back into place. Could I do it? What if I did more harm than good? I wasn’t a doctor, but I couldn’t bear the thought of such a healthy, vibrant man losing a leg.

“Don’t bother,” Stan said weakly, his fingers fluttering limply to mine. “Not gonna make it.”

“Shh, don’t say that,” I argued as I turned the makeshift tourniquet even tighter. I was relieved to see the flow of blood had stopped, but I was horrified to think that might be because he didn’t have enough blood left for his heart to pump.

“I think it’s working,” I said as I turned my gaze from my work to his face, only to see that he was no longer breathing.

“No!” I screamed, propelling myself upward to look straight into his eyes. But his eyes didn’t register my movement. He was already dead, staring lifelessly into the scorching sun. 

“No! No! No! You can’t die!” I screamed at him.

I struggled to comprehend the horror of what had just transpired. Still in denial, I placed my fingers on his carotid artery, but there was no pulse. Stan was gone. Stubbornly, I pushed aside his coat and began CPR. Relentlessly, I did compressions and breaths. I worked in a fervor, and I don’t know how much time passed before I realized I was about to pass out again. I felt faint from the effort and the heat. I sat back on my heels as thoughts of despair ran through my head.

Stan’s dead.

No one’s coming for me.

He’s gone.

I’m alone. 

Where am I?

How did I get here?  

“What should I do?” I sobbed as I stared at Stan’s lifeless face, reaching up to close his eyes with my blood-stained fingers. Part of me still wondered if I was dead or just crazy. 

“Dead or crazy, I’m going to suffocate if I don’t get some of these clothes off,” I gasped between tears. I pulled off my heavy jacket and then the white UV ultralight shirt, dropping them on the ground. 

 I kept trying to make sense of the different landscape and the radical temperature change. Thankfully, I had dressed in layers and had a tank top as the bottom layer, but I was so hot I even stripped down to my white sports bra. My khaki cargo pants had zippers to detach the bottom of the legs, effectively making them shorts. I left my boots on, but only because the sand was scalding hot.

“Stan, what should I do?” I moaned, paralyzed with indecision.

I couldn’t believe he was gone. I’d never needed a guide more, but I was totally alone in this impossible situation. I climbed back up the short distance to the top of the rise and turned to look around. It was a good vantage point. I scoured the horizon for any familiar landmarks. It made no sense, but the Chief was nowhere to be seen. How could I possibly have landed so far away from the mountain where I’d fallen off?

After I had investigated the area, I returned to the rock shelf and sat with my legs over the edge, staring at Stan’s body and my meager belongings on the ledge below me.

Part of me thought I should stay close to where the accident happened because maybe someone from Stan’s company would come looking for us. It seemed like I sat there for hours, but I don’t know how long I waited because my smart watch display was dead. I dug my phone out of my pocket, not surprised to see that the screen was shattered. As I took in the desolate desert landscape, I knew that I was nowhere near Vancouver. Somehow, impossibly, I was in a totally different location.

Finally coming to a decision, I picked up my discarded clothing and gear, not knowing what I might need. I stuffed the tank top and lower leg portions of my cargo pants into my backpack. Next, I wrapped the white shirt around my head, tying the sleeves together to make a makeshift turban that covered my dark hair and the back of my neck and shoulders. My head seemed to cool down almost instantly.

 After putting on my backpack, I took Stan’s canteen and poured it into mine, clipping it back with the carabiner onto my belt. With our water combined, it was almost full. 

“Goodbye, Stan,” I whispered, then climbed back up the rise.

I felt terrible about just leaving him there, but burying him seemed wrong. How would a rescue party ever find him if I covered him with sand? He’d get a proper burial later, but first, I had to find help.

There was no sign of civilization, just a relentless landscape of pink sand, rock, and crags with sparse, dead-looking vegetation and the occasional purple cactus. Where could I possibly be? I had never seen anything like this. I had no idea which way I should go, and the terrain looked pretty much the same in all directions.

With no alternative, I started walking. My plan was to keep the blasting sun over my right shoulder. I figured that would at least keep me from walking in circles. Relentlessly I trudged on. I clambered up a series of endless ridges and cliffs. Each time I hoped to find something just over the next rise, but I never did. The granite rock face we had been climbing had simply vanished. There was nothing. Nothing but endless miles of desert sand.

I rationed the steaming hot water in my canteen, barely wetting my tongue, but even at that, the level was dropping too fast. What I wouldn’t have given for an ice cold bottled water. On and on I trudged, my legs like lead weights. Any energy in my muscles was a distant memory.

The fiery red sun dipped lower on the horizon, turning orange. I witnessed a surreal sunset, unlike anything I’d ever seen on the horizon. It looked like an abstract painting with reds and purples swirling through patches of yellow and orange. It was quite the accompaniment to the colorful sand. For the thousandth time I wondered if I was really seeing the bizarre things or if it was a mirage.

My brain concocted one theory after another to explain what had happened, but none of them made sense. As the sun dipped in the sky, the temperature began to shift. When I noticed goosebumps on my sunburned skin, I took off the shirt I had tied around my head and put it back on. As I trudged toward yet another cliff, I was suddenly plunged into darkness. I continued cautiously, but then I stumbled over a rock that had been obscured by the dim light. I almost fell but managed to right myself at the last second. I remembered I still had my helmet with the headlamp and considered putting that on. 

But I was beyond exhausted, so I decided to take shelter against the base of a dune. I stopped to put on my coat and zip the lower leg portion of the cargo pants back on. I sat down, and the fatigue I’d worked so hard to ignore washed over me. Taking off my pack, I dug around and saw I only had one remaining snack bar. Why hadn’t I thought to look through Stan’s pack? I looked back wearily, feeling immensely stupid. What if his phone had survived the fall?

Sighing, I peeled the wrapper off my snack bar and forced myself to eat slowly, savoring every morsel.

My mind was filled with regrets. If this was real and I was truly lost in some bizarre wilderness, no one would miss me for days. Everyone at work was used to me going on adventures after I taught workshops. If I didn’t find my way back to civilization soon, no one would ever know what happened to me. My poor parents. I drifted into a miserable, exhausted sleep, shivering from the cold.

***

The next days and nights passed in a haze. I was so weak, battered by the scorching hot days and the freezing nights in the open. I was so tired of walking, and my hunger was at a level I had never experienced before. But none of that could compare to my endless thirst. I’d rationed it carefully, but my water was gone. I didn’t appear any closer to civilization than when I’d started. I tried to push on, forcing one foot in front of the other over and over, stumbling forward. It was dark, so I strapped on my pink climbing helmet and switched on the light so I could see. 

I wasn’t ready to die. There was so much I’d yet to experience. Eventually, I was too delirious to take another step. I’d been kidding myself, thinking I might make it out alive. The last thing I remember was slumping to my knees before I sprawled face down, unconscious on the sand.

***

I woke to the ecstasy of water dripping into my mouth. I was being rescued! I gasped and swallowed, stretching my mouth open wider for more. I guzzled as quickly as I could, but then the trickle stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I opened my eyes to a sight so strange I could only stare in shock, confirming my belief that I had lost my mind.

What I could only describe as an alien leaned over me. His skin was a rich green color, but that wasn’t even the weirdest part because he was covered in scales like some kind of crocodile or reptile. His lean, muscular physique was undeniably attractive, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many hours he spent in a gym to maintain that incredible body. His long brown hair hung in thick strands that were a captivating cross between dreadlocks and leather cord. And his face, well, it was gorgeous and sculpted.

There was no way any of this was real. I closed my eyes again and slowly counted to five in my head. I expected the strange mirage to have disappeared, but when I opened my eyes, he was still there. He peered down at me, his eyes studying the top of my head, still encased in the pink climbing helmet, before moving back to my eyes.

Well, at least my hallucination is attractive. I don’t know why I’m imagining aliens, but at least he’s hot, I mused inwardly.

 Dazed and lethargic, I lay on my back and continued to study my strange imaginings. It wasn’t like I had the energy to move, and where would I have gone? I must have really hit my head hard when I fell to be conjuring up green aliens. Frowning, he touched the light on my helmet, then the grooved vented surface. Finally, his fingers ran across my cheek, and he stopped, almost reverently gazing into my eyes.

There was just so much detail I couldn’t take it all in. It appeared touching was okay, so I tentatively reached my hand between us and was surprised when I discovered how soft his scaly-looking green skin was. I could feel his pulse beating strongly against my fingers. 

“Who are you?” I asked in astonishment.

He jumped back, leaping away from me like he was afraid. Had my words startled him?

I stood too, wanting to get a better view of this magnificent man. Once he was standing, I could see that he wore long khaki pants that looked like they belonged in a Crocodile Dundee movie. I could see more green skin on his fingers and poking out from the bottom of his pants. Did it really cover his full body?

“Are you dressed up for cosplay?”

He didn’t answer, so I kept talking. I couldn’t imagine wearing a full-body costume in this terrible heat.

“Are you an actor? Are we on some kind of massive film set?”

That would explain how I’d fallen off a mountain in Canada and wound up in the desert. They were probably using heat lamps too. All of this seemed more plausible to me than the possibility that he was actually an alien and that I’d been transported to another planet with a strange red sun and desert plants the likes of which I’d never seen. I’d been watching a lot of Marvel movies lately, and suddenly, I couldn’t help but speculate the possibility that I'd somehow been zapped into an alternate dimension.

“Yeah, right,” I muttered to myself, instantly dismissing my wild theory.

Nothing I was seeing was possible, yet there it was. The distance I’d walked and the strange landscape seemed to be well beyond anything that could have been staged for a Hollywood production. Somehow, impossibly, I was leaning toward the theory that this was real.

I noticed how the green alien’s eyes raked over my body, scantily clad in my sports bra and shorts. I was suddenly thankful that he could appreciate the endless hours I spent in the gym. Like him, I also had muscles. What was wrong with me? I’d been about to die from heat exposure, and I had much bigger concerns than flirtation. Why on earth was I wasting time daydreaming about the hot alien and concerned about whether or not he thought I was cute? I was so dumb. Then again, judging by the way he looked at me, I was pretty sure the attraction was mutual.

“Wanna take me somewhere nice with running water?” I asked, somehow resisting the urge to bat my eyelashes at him.

He grunted but gave no other response.

“Is it too much to hope that you speak English?” I asked wearily. 

He was so tall that I had to tip my head back to bring his gaze to mine. I met his eyes, and it was like I was caught up in a magnetic pull. I’d waited my whole life to experience chemistry like this; too bad I was probably hallucinating.

“Thank you,” I said. “I know you can’t understand, but thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you hadn’t come when you did, I’d know I’d be dead.”

He remained silent but removed the water skin that was attached to his waist and stepped toward me, offering me another drink. He held the bag as I drank the tepid water. When I placed my hand over his, I felt the charge of electricity between us. There was physical attraction, yes, and it was almost primal. But somehow, inexplicably there was something deeper. Maybe it was the fact that I owed him my life. But it seemed like something else. Was this what people meant when they talked about love at first sight? I felt stupid even thinking that, and I was momentarily relieved that he couldn’t understand me.

He took the water away before I could drink my fill.

“I understand,” I said, staring at it wistfully. “You have to ration it.” It took all of my restraint not to beg for more.

It seemed odd to me that he didn't even try to communicate. He took the strong silent type to a whole new level.

“I don’t know how I got here,” I said, gesturing around the area. “I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”

He stood there looking at me, silently watching. It was a tad unnerving. My head was hot, and sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I realized it was the heat of the day and I still had on my helmet. I had put it on last night because of its light when I was walking in the darkness. I must have passed out with it on. I released the chin strap, and my long, dark hair tumbled down my back as I pulled the helmet off.  

 I clipped it to my belt, then bent over to hang my head upside down. I unwound the elastic hair tie and used my fingers to comb my tangled tresses. It was still a mess, but I gave up and put it in a high pony with the hair tie. When I was finished, I flipped my head back up and looked at him. 

It was odd, but he almost looked as if he were in pain as he watched me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He spun around abruptly and started walking away.

“Wait! Where are you going?” I cried out desperately. “You can’t leave me here!” 

When I saw that he wasn’t stopping, I bent to get my white shirt from the pack. I wanted to put it on my head, but he was moving fast, and I was afraid I’d lose him. I stuffed my jacket in the backpack, then flung the shirt over my shoulders as I tried my best to catch up.

I wanted to run, but my muscles were just too weak and depleted.  He wasn’t slowing at all, and the gap between us was widening. I began to fear he would disappear and I’d be alone again.

“Please!” I begged. “I’ll die without your help.”

I knew he couldn’t understand me, and he didn’t turn around or stop.

“It figures you’re a jerk since I’m attracted to you,” I muttered. But I didn’t care if he was nice. It didn’t matter if he turned out to be a Godzilla or the Loch Ness monster, I wasn’t about to let him leave me behind.

Something in my tone must have affected him because he slowed down. He was still quite a ways in front of me, but I was convinced that if I kept my pace as quick as I could, I would slowly close the gap. He could have easily lost me if he truly wanted to, but for whatever reason, he was allowing me to catch up.

Part of me was annoyed with him for not waiting, but I was more disappointed in my own body for failing to perform when I needed it most. I was used to boundless energy, but my energy stores had been depleted.

I had always hated having to rely on anyone else. My parents always joked that my first full sentence was, “Let me do it myself.” This made the knowledge that I couldn't possibly survive without him especially frustrating. On the plus side, there were certainly worse views than the sight of his sculpted backside.

“I bet he does a lot of lunges,” I sighed appreciatively.

KENTREK

What was wrong with me? Had I completely lost my mind? I couldn’t believe I'd just saved a human. A human! They were my sworn enemy. How could I possibly have been so stupid?

Her race had enslaved and persecuted mine. I’d known better than to intervene. Sure, she’d appeared helpless, but I knew full well that looks could be deceiving. I should have left her behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Why wasn’t I capable of leaving her to die? Her people had done much worse to those I loved. I increased my pace, needing to put some distance between us.

“You know you’re going too fast!” she whined from behind me.

I did not turn to see where she was. I could tell by her voice that she was falling behind, so I relented, slowing my steps. I was ashamed of myself for helping her, but I was even more ashamed of the fact that I was attracted to her . . . the loud human with her long, bare legs and her strong, beautiful body. I silently berated myself, knowing full well that she’d probably breed a dozen more humans who would all grow up to torture my people.

I knew I should leave her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Perhaps it was because I couldn’t sense any evil about her . . . except for the fact that she never stopped talking. Didn’t she know that I needed to hear in order to avoid dangerous, wild creatures?

I almost stumbled as I relived the moment when she’d reached out and touched my hand. I might as well have placed my hand in a fire because I’d been burned. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but there was no denying my attraction to her. Of course, I would never act on it. My people deserved better from me.

I tried to ignore her, but given her constant prattling, it was impossible. Her latest topic was complaining about her unbearable thirst. She knew nothing of true thirst.

“Can I have another drink?” she called out. “I’m so hungry. Do you have any food?”

Why would I give her more water when she had already drunk what should be a full day’s ration? How had she reached adulthood and not learned that you must drink sparingly when crossing The Great Annarr? Even young children understood this.

Yes, there was no denying her beauty, but her voice was like an Oujjr fly, buzzing around and pestering me so that I could not think. I did not know what to do.

“Do you know where we are? Which way is Vancouver?”

I did not know this Vancouver she spoke of, nor could I fathom how she came to be here. She obviously did not belong here. Her clothing was strange, and her skin was burned to a dangerous degree, proving that she was not accustomed to the Dajr sun. Was the terrain that much gentler where she came from?

She was foolish and weak. And still, I found I was drawn to her in a way I could not begin to understand. The feminine curves of her body, her lustrous hair. Even her voice appealed to me . . . if only she would use it more sparingly.

I realized I had not heard her complain for a while, so I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at her. She had tied some light fabric over her head with tails trailing over her shoulders. What was this affinity of hers for covering her beautiful hair?

I shook my head. I had been out here alone for too long. That must be why I felt this unnatural attraction. Curious, I wondered what she could have gone through to arrive here. Inwardly cursing myself, I paused for her to catch up to me. When she realized I was waiting for her, she flashed me the most radiant smile I had ever seen. My breath caught in my chest at the beauty of that smile.

It was far too early to eat, but I knew she was hungry because she never ceased complaining about it. I felt quite magnanimous as I opened the pouch at my waist and took out a particularly large and delicious kretch. I had roasted a number of them over a small flame the night before. They were a delicacy that my people enjoyed while traveling in The Great Annarr. I handed it to her, expecting praise and gratitude.

Instead, her scream filled my ears.

“Cockroach!” she screamed, tossing it onto the ground and stomping on it violently.