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

CHAPTER ONE

Rebecca

I was hiding out in the hospital bathroom. I was in the middle of a brutally long shift, but then that’s how they always scheduled us. I was having a bit of an existential crisis. I was a naive teenager when I made up my mind to become a doctor. I’d watched my younger sister, Sadie, waste away. We didn't have insurance. So, one doctor after another refused to help us and turned my family away. Losing my sister had broken something inside of me. Sadie had only been twelve years old when she died.

After that, my dad ran off, and my mother started drinking heavily. Somehow, it made everything worse that I had over a decade of happy childhood memories preceding her illness. It would have been so much easier if I could have just blamed my parents. But I knew better. Sadie had died as a result of the broken medical system. She’d died because they turned away poor people without insurance.

Teenage me had decided that becoming a doctor was the best way for me to really make an impact on the world and help people, to guarantee that what happened to my family never happened to anyone else. Countless years of school later, I’d done it. I was a bona fide surgeon. I was still in my residency, but at least I had finally made it out of the classroom. I should have been happy. This was what I’d worked so hard for.

But I was far from happy. Instead, I was afraid I’d wasted my life and made a terrible mistake. Some days, I managed to convince myself that I was doing work that mattered and that I loved my job. However, the rest of the time I resided in a bit of a dark place. Why had I bothered to pursue the medical field if my superiors weren’t going to let me actually help people? Sadly, this happened to be one of those really, really bad days.

Sighing, I walked over to the bathroom sink to wash my hands. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My thick blond hair was up in a messy bun, and several strands had wiggled their way out. This made the bun look even messier. I’d have fixed it, but I didn’t really care how I looked at the moment so long as the hair stayed out of my face.

I was below average height. I wasn’t so short that I had to stand on a stool for surgery, just enough to make buying pants difficult. The unflattering scrubs did little to help my full figure. I was plus-sized, but in normal clothes, I had curves in all the right places. In normal clothes, I actually felt pretty in a kind of throwback Marylin Monroe way. If only I had a fraction of the epic film star’s confidence. I doubted she’d have let anyone talk down to her.

Of course, I’d learned that there was a distinct disadvantage to being pretty in my profession. Being pretty meant the predominantly male surgeons didn’t respect me. It made people think I was incompetent, or worse, destined to work in a specialty where looks mattered even more than skill . . . plastic surgery. I shuddered. I had not sacrificed everything I had so that I could give people Brazilian butt lifts. I’d gone into medicine to save lives, not for vanity.

My green eyes looked weary as I studied myself in the mirror. The dark circles beneath them were proof of just how tired I was. My exhaustion went beyond mere fatigue. The plain and simple truth was that I’d started to grow weary of my life in general. I was ready for some kind of change, but all the years I’d invested . . . not to mention my huge student debt . . . had essentially backed me into a corner. I wanted to quit my job, but how could I?

I turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on my face, hoping it would help perk me up a little. I’d barely turned off the tap when my pager beeped. As old as the outdated pager technology was, the powers that be refused to upgrade hospital personnel to cell phones. This was a shame because then I would have had one less bill to pay.

Hurrying, I unclipped the pager from the waistband of my scrubs so that I could read the little screen. It was a code blue in the ER. Someone needed help! And just like that, I was back in the game. My heart began to beat faster, and the familiar mix of excitement and adrenaline rushed through my veins. In moments like this, I was certain that I’d chosen the right career for myself. I scurried out of the bathroom, moving as fast as I could in my slip-resistant sneakers. 

As I put one foot in front of the other, it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming “Yes!” as I raced down the long hallway. I was finally going to get to help handle an emergency. This was what I’d trained for. Finally, I would get to prove my skills by doing something useful.

I got to the emergency room just in time to see a stretcher being rolled in. The ER had a smell all its own. Harsh disinfectants clashed with the metallic stench of blood. Sweat mixed with the overpowering odor of alcohol from a drunk driver. It all jumbled together into a unique potpourri, one that no one liked and only the determined medical staff and the desperate patients tolerated. 

The constant beeping of machines set everyone’s nerves on edge, like the incessant scanners at a grocery store. But these beeps weren’t about ringing up potato chips. Every ping and blip was crucial because people’s lives literally depended on these machines.

I whipped a couple of plastic gloves out of a dispenser and tugged them on with swift efficiency. The woman on the stretcher caught my attention and held it. Her dark brown hair was almost black and fell away from her face in thick curls. Her skin was ashen, and I could see the salty streak where her tears had dried on her cheeks.

The dried patch of blood by her mouth told me she’d been unconscious for a while. Adrenaline surged through my veins, pushing my fatigue into the farthest recesses of my being. I stepped closer and launched into life-saving mode. This was what I’d been made for.

“Car crash?” I asked, my eyes roaming over her frame, noting a myriad of details.

Small shards of glass were embedded in her skin and covered her clothing like sprinkles. Yet, I couldn’t see any signs of external trauma. It was internal bleeding I was worried about. 

It was time to check her vitals. I placed my gloved finger on her wrist. I was relieved when I found her pulse to be steady, if weak.

“She has a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. That’s a good sign,” I remarked.

There was a cluster of nurses and orderlies standing around, but none of them were doing anything to help. That’s when I heard my pager buzz again. I glanced down and saw the same message from earlier.

I’d followed every protocol, yet they were still paging for help. It didn’t make any sense. They’d wanted a doctor, and I’d come. Why were they still paging as though the cavalry hadn’t already arrived? This was the crap that made me want to quit. Was it just this hospital that discriminated against women?

“What are you all waiting for? Stop paging and help! I’m a doctor, and I’m here,” I barked out tersely. 

There were so many things they should have been doing! It was almost as if they’d rather watch the patient die than help me. It was completely unprofessional, and I was outraged. I reached for the chart. Kent, a surly male nurse, jerked it out of my reach. He’d asked me out on dates repeatedly, and I’d turned him down every time. So, we weren’t exactly friends.

“I think they were hoping a real doctor would come,” Kent replied rudely.

I could cry about his hurtful words later. I didn’t have time because I was fighting for a woman’s life. How messed up was this sexist world that I was constantly being stripped of the power and authority I had worked so hard to attain? I highly doubted the patient on the stretcher cared if I was a man, a woman, or a robot so long as she got to live. It was her I had to fight for.

“As you well know, I am a surgeon. A woman’s life is at stake here, and nobody is listening to me because you’re hoping for a real doctor? What does that even mean?” I burst out angrily, fighting to keep my voice from going up a couple of octaves the way it often did when I was upset.

Someone snorted. My mouth opened, but before I could say anything else, I saw a handsome young man wearing a white coat approaching. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and his white sneakers moved noiselessly as he strode towards the stretcher. I could see a change in the staff as they instantly stood at attention and waited for him to start doling out orders.

Was it because I was a woman that I couldn’t get any respect? Or was there something wrong with me personally? I sighed and took a step back as Dr. Good Looking took the woman’s wrist to check for a pulse.

“She’s fading fast. What are you all standing around for? Move it!”

They responded instantly, following his orders without hesitation. And that’s when my pager beeped again. I pulled it out of my pocket, but deep down, I knew what I’d see even before I read the little screen. I was being ordered to the plastic surgery department.

I clenched my teeth to keep myself from screaming. As a resident, I was supposed to be allowed to choose my own specialty, but it was like the entire hospital was conspiring against me in this matter. When I began my residency, the only department that had an opening was plastics. I had reluctantly agreed to join their department with the promise that they would transfer me elsewhere as soon as there was an opening.

However, months passed, and other residents who came in after me were assigned to those positions while I languished in plastics. It was the ultimate bait and switch. But I didn’t really have any leverage. My only other option was to quit my job and be stuck paying off my ridiculous school debt while flipping burgers or working in retail.

Or worse, I could accept a marriage proposal to someone I didn’t love and spend all day getting my nails painted instead of performing life-saving surgeries. I liked painted nails, don’t get me wrong, but I felt as though my hands had been designed to cut people open and save lives. I’d also seen firsthand the damage that happened to a family when the primary breadwinner left, so I doubted I’d ever feel safe without a career of my own.

The male nurse gave me a knowing smirk from across the room. My palms curled into fists, and I had to count backward from ten in order to restrain myself because I longed to punch the smug grin off his face. It’s not like I would have actually succeeded in hurting him anyway. I was so petite that both of my fists would probably fit into one of his palms. I was pretty certain he could have picked me up and tossed me over his broad shoulders without batting an eyelid. What’s more, I would never risk damaging my most valuable surgical tool . . . my hands.

Where I’d happily raced to respond to the page to the emergency room, my feet dragged as though they were encased in lead as I made my way to the other side of the hospital. For the most part, the plastics department catered to elective surgeries, not emergencies. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life giving people smaller noses and bigger boobs.

I wanted to save lives. That’s why I’d spent most of my life in school. Sometimes I wondered if I was being singled out because of my looks. Being pretty was a handicap because no one took me seriously. There was so much more to me than what was visible on the outside. So, why wouldn’t anyone let me prove myself?

The hospital was filled with the constant buzz of people talking and going about their work. But one voice rose above the others and caught my attention. I paused around the corner just out of sight and watched the scene play out before me.

A hysterical Hispanic woman with long black hair and light brown skin stood in front of a large, curved desk. She was pleading with the receptionist, who wasn’t even giving her the courtesy of her full attention as she continued to rifle through a pile of papers on her desk. The woman’s face was stained with tears, and I could tell she was struggling with a language barrier as she clutched a crumpled stack of papers in shaking hands.

"Por favor, I need help!" she begged, her voice trembling.

"I'm sorry, but I’ve already explained that won’t be possible. Without insurance, we can't proceed with the operation. The hospital's regulations—” the secretary answered in a bored tone.

The woman’s voice cracked with emotion as she interrupted, “But without this operation, mi hijo . . . my son could die."

I was so sick of bureaucratic garbage punishing poor people. Everyone deserved life-saving operations no matter the color of their skin, their gender, or the balance in their bank accounts. When the woman left the desk, walking away with her head down in defeat, I approached her. I made sure we were safe from the watchful eyes of the receptionist. I could get in big trouble for what I was about to do, and I didn’t care.

“Hi. I think I can help,” I told her.

The woman looked at me and I could swear I detected a faint glimmer of hope in her tear-filled eyes. I took a pen from my pocket, and I wrote a web address on the back of one of the papers she was holding. I added a few basic instructions as well to help her.

“This is an organization that I think can help you. It’s run by a group of doctors that volunteer their time to help children in situations like your son’s.”

“Even if I don’t have insurance?”

I nodded yes. “If you qualify, the surgery will be free.

I wasn’t prepared when the woman pulled me in for a fierce hug. I smiled, feeling the best I had in days. All I wanted to do was help people. As soon as I finished my residency, I planned on volunteering my own time. It was clear to me that our medical system was broken. No child should be left to die simply because their parents lacked the funds to pay. Thinking of my sister stirred emotions up inside me, but I stoically pushed my grief back down. I could cry later when there was time.

My pager beeped again. I apologized and excused myself quickly. They were getting impatient. I forced myself to move faster. I sighed, and the stark white walls seemed to be closing in on me. I swiped my access card across the pad by the door and wearily stepped inside.

“What took you so long?” Dr. Simmons asked impatiently.

Dr. Simmons was a middle-aged man with brown hair, a thick gray mustache, and dark-rimmed glasses. He was attractive, looking much younger than his actual years, thanks to his colleague’s skill with a scalpel. But currently, he wasn’t all that pleasing to look at because he was frowning at me.

I wanted to tell him that I’d been attempting to practice “real” medicine, but he was head of the plastics department, so that wouldn’t have gone over well. Instead, I gritted my teeth and fought for control over the crippling surge of despair I felt over my life circumstances.

“There was an emergency, and I ran over to see if I could—”

“You don’t have any business being down there, Becca. You have a lot of potential in cosmetic surgery. This is where you’re needed,” Dr. Simmons replied before I could finish my sentence.

My despair disappeared, only to be replaced by white-hot rage.

“I’ve asked you repeatedly not to call me that. My name is Rebecca, and I would very much appreciate it if you called me Dr. Murphy.”

“Well, Dr. Murphy, if you’re done whining, perhaps you could stop wasting my precious time and scrub in for surgery?” Dr. Simmons asked sarcastically.

I ignored his question and asked my own instead. “What are we doing this time? An emergency facelift? Liposuction?” I asked, sarcasm dripping heavily off of my every word.

“Nope. It’s a boob job!” he laughed. The worst part was how I could see that Simmons was actually excited. How could he possibly enjoy any of this?

“Oh, yay,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

A boob job. I’d worked my butt off to become a surgeon and to practice real medicine. But instead of saving lives, I was doomed to perform breast enhancement surgeries and nose jobs. My anger deflated, and defeat won in the end. I snapped my mouth shut before I said something that would cost me my job. I turned on the water and scrubbed methodically with the strong disinfecting soap at the sink. This was supposed to be my dream life, and I hated it.

 

*  *  *

 

The breast augmentation surgery should only have taken a couple of hours, but I was stuck in the operating room for a total of seven hours. The patient had wanted to get the most out of her anesthesia and had elected for liposuction on her thighs and stomach as well. I’d read her chart, and this wasn’t her first time under the knife. Was it really worth all this drama to try to look like a Barbie Doll? Personally, I didn’t get it, but she must have thought so. If that’s what it took to be model-thin, I would happily keep the extra pounds on my body.

Once the last suture was completed, I sighed. Dr. Simmons was a lazy surgeon, and I’d completed the entire surgery even though, technically, I was only supposed to be assisting. It was actually the thing I liked best about being in his service. I got way more opportunities to practice my skills than the average surgical resident.

I removed my gloves and mask, tossing them into the waste bin in the scrub room. I waited until I’d thoroughly washed my hands before rubbing the kink out of the back of my neck. Then, I headed straight for the locker room, where my personal belongings were.

I’d already stripped out of my scrubs and pulled on my jeans when the door to one of the stalls opened, and Karen, one of my fellow residents, stepped out. She was all dressed up. She flashed me a smile. Then her eyes filled with pity as she saw my weary expression.

“Long day?” Karen asked politely.

“You have no idea.”

“Is that what you’re wearing to the party?” she asked dubiously.

“Party?”

Oh no! The party. I’d completely forgotten about it, but I couldn’t exactly back out now. The event was being hosted by the hospital’s benefactors and everybody who wasn’t on duty was expected to attend. Not even the thought of a free meal lifted my spirits.

I hadn’t slept in two days. My eyes felt like they were weighed down by an enormous sack of potatoes. My feet deserved a massage, but apparently, I’d have to stuff them into heels instead. All I wanted to do was shower and fall into bed, but sadly, I knew that was no longer possible.

“Are you coming, Rebecca?” Karen repeated, giving me a strange look. I’d forgotten she was standing there.

“Sorry, yeah, I’ll be there. I just need to change and do something about my hair.”

“See you there,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked away, leaving me staring at my disheveled reflection in the mirror.

Quickly, I devised a plan. I’d come to work in a T-shirt and jeans, but that certainly wasn’t party-worthy. I’d have to stop by my house and grab a dress, which would make me even later.

I drove as fast as I could without breaking the speed limit. I cursed when I saw that the road I normally took home was closed off. I took the detour and followed the arrows as I was rerouted elsewhere. I didn’t recognize the area at all, but what else could I do? Trying to get back some of the lost time, I reached into my purse and started applying my makeup. On the plus side, the backwoods road didn’t seem to have any other cars on it. On the downside, it consisted of one steep hill after another. I wasn’t sure if my little red car could handle all the twists and turns.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I struggled to apply lipstick, hoping to add some color to my face. I had already succeeded in covering the dark circles under my eyes with a little bit of concealer. Too bad I didn’t have time for makeup every day. I always enjoyed the results.

I glanced away from my reflection just in time to see an animal dash in front of the car. Dropping the lipstick, I jerked the wheel hard to the left in a desperate attempt to avoid a collision. The car skidded, and the muscles in my arms shook as I fought for control of the wheel. The car veered wildly, and all my attempts to regain control failed.

The car hit the side of the embankment hard and flipped. Time seemed to slow down abruptly, and then it appeared to stop moving altogether. My world froze in that one terrifying moment. It was as though I was a spectator, floating outside of my body, watching my own demise. I was incapable of affecting the outcome of my own fate. It seemed tragically unfair to me that I was going to die without having ever done what I’d been called to do. I’d never gotten to help save anyone.

Feeling overwhelmed, I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. Maybe it was all a bad dream, and I’d fallen asleep in the on-call room? I opened my eyes again, only to see that nothing had changed and that the car was still frozen in mid-motion. Did that mean I was dead?

I kept waiting for time to return to normal and for the car to hit the ground, but it didn't. I closed my eyes again, but when I opened them, nothing made any sense. I watched incredulously as the road began to disintegrate into pieces until it vanished altogether. It was like it had never even been there because not a single trace of it remained.

The headlights flickered and cut off. I was trapped in a dark, swirling vortex. My panic mode was in full effect, and I felt claustrophobic. Then I felt a dropping sensation in my stomach like I got when I was riding a roller coaster. My eyes darted frantically in every direction, but I couldn’t see anything in the pitch black that seemed to envelop my little red car.

Then, without warning, everything sped up. Suddenly, I was no longer trapped in the cold, dark vacuum of space. I was falling, falling so fast that I was sure I would splatter like a bug on a windshield when I reached the bottom. Blood roared in my ears, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it would explode in my chest. My hands trembled, and the shaking spread throughout my body. My teeth chattered, and I felt my temperature plummet.

Gradually, light began to filter back in through my car windows, and I could see the ground rising up to meet me. But this wasn’t the stripey black road I’d left behind. Wherever I was headed, I didn’t recognize it. I must have been suffering some sort of hallucination because I saw what appeared to be the ruins of a futuristic city mapped out on the ground beneath me.

Majestically tall towers made all the other skyscrapers I’d seen before look like children’s toys in comparison. The massive structures curved at impossible angles, making me wonder what feat of engineering ensured that they stayed upright instead of toppling over. The city was an architectural marvel, like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

My bird’s eye view allowed me the perfect vantage to see everything at once. I almost forgot my vehicle was in a death plummet. With every second that passed, the landscape before me grew larger and more detailed. All of a sudden, I could see fires raging in different parts of the city, which set alarm bells ringing in my head. Briefly, I wondered if I’d actually get to do something useful with my skills in plastics, like helping burn victims.

That was when I remembered that I was about to become roadkill. I wasn’t going to be able to help anyone, least of all myself. It was all so surreal. My fingers tightened on the wheel, and I managed a crazed smile when the irony of my situation hit me. How funny was it that I was still gripping the steering wheel when I had zero control over the car?

Had I known when I’d gotten ready for work that morning that I was going to die, I would have worn better clothes. Better still, I wouldn’t have gone to work in the first place. Sadly, it was too late to change anything because there was no avoiding fate.

My car hit the ground, and the airbag exploded instantly, slapping me forcefully in the face. Everything hurt, and I couldn’t breathe. My world faded to black right after I realized that I wouldn’t have to worry about wearing heels or attending the dumb party anymore. Look at me being all glass-half-full on the brink of my own demise.

CHAPTER TWO

Rebecca

I’d thought I was dead, that the sudden impact of the car crash had finished me off. When I came to, I sort of wished that I was dead. There was so much pain. Every inch of my body felt stiff and achy, like I was one big bruise. I supposed that made sense as I’d just been in an accident, the really bad kind that typically proved fatal.

My car had flipped over and landed on its roof, so I was hanging upside down. All of the blood in my body felt like it was pooled in the wrong places. I was a doctor, so I knew that remaining upside down for an extended period wasn’t smart. I felt a heavy pressing sensation on my chest, and it was difficult to breathe. I also had a killer headache. How much of my pain was from the crash? How much was from the airbag? And how much was from my unwanted inversion therapy? It was impossible to say.

First things first, I needed to get out of my car and right side up before my blood vessels started rupturing, and I wound up with a brain hemorrhage. Rays of sunlight were pouring in through the windows. Had I really been lying there in a flipped-over car all night? Why had no one called for help? I’d fully expected that if I woke up at all, it would be in a hospital bed. 

For the first time in my life, I was actually thankful I wasn’t taller because then I would likely have broken my neck on impact. I heard an ear-piercing scream, and it took me a full minute to realize the caterwauling was coming from me. I bit down on my lip and made a concentrated effort to stop crying. It wasn’t easy.

The sudden silence made for a jarring contrast. All the blood rushing to my head was not doing good things for my body, and I had no idea if help was coming, so I needed to move. With shaking fingers, I undid the seatbelt and winced when gravity took me the rest of the way down, and I collapsed awkwardly on the roof.

“I really should be stabilized on a board with a neck brace,” I said aloud. For whatever reason, talking through medical steps, even though I couldn’t actually act on any of them, helped calm me.

Next, I clumsily pushed the airbag out of my face so I could see the door handle. It wasn’t easy, but I got the door open and managed to stumble out of the car. Now that I was right-side up, it was easier to breathe because all my organs weren’t crushing my lungs. I pressed a hand to my head, which was still throbbing but no longer felt like it was going to explode.

My legs were shaking, and I didn’t make it far before I sat down wearily. I tried to remember that I was a doctor as I ran my hands over my body, searching for injuries. It wasn’t easy being both doctor and patient, but I needed to ascertain if any one part of me hurt more than the general ache covering my entire body. I still had all my limbs, which was a definite plus.

Miraculously, I seemed to have survived the incident unscathed. I’d need a head CT and some X-rays to make sure, but I’d been very, very fortunate. My lips pulled into a grimace as I observed the mangled wreck that was my car.

My insurance premiums were about to take a nasty hit because the vehicle was totaled. It figured because I’d almost finished paying the stupid thing off. I reached into the car for my phone. I couldn’t expect help to magically arrive, not out here in the middle of nowhere. This was definitely a 911-level situation.

I realized immediately that I wouldn’t be calling for help because my phone was toast. There was a giant crack running smack through the center of the screen, and nothing happened when I pressed my finger on the little thumbprint recognition pad. There was the level of frustration I experienced when I wanted to play Candy Crush and my battery was dead, and then there was this. This was a whole new level of upset.

I was having a legitimate emergency, so I couldn’t help feeling like my phone had failed in the line of duty. Apparently, I wouldn’t be calling for help after all. So where did that leave me? I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, and then I tried to put on my professional doctor persona, the one that I’d worked so hard to cultivate.

Step one: assess the damage. The car was a goner, but even though I was banged up, I was going to make it. Step two: figure out where the heck I was. For the first time, I glanced around and took in my surroundings.

That’s when I really started to freak out. Because I wasn’t on a country road in the middle of nowhere anymore. I wasn’t anywhere I recognized. I was smack dab in the middle of a high-tech futuristic city. Nothing made sense. I saw buildings that barely seemed to touch the ground at all, and everywhere I looked were edifices constructed in the most awkward and impractical shapes ever. Even the materials seemed whimsical.

There was a structure off to my right that looked sort of like a twisted strand of DNA made out of licorice ropes. The dorky medical geek inside of me kind of liked that one. No one could afford to design a city like this, let alone build it. This was the type of stuff that Hollywood would use CGI and special effects to wow audiences with. There was nowhere on Earth that actually looked like this, especially not within driving distance of my house!

I struggled to process everything I was seeing. The entire blueprint of the city was insane! The buildings looked like a cross between a Salvador Dalí painting and a futuristic sci-fi movie. In addition to the gravity-defying architecture, it looked like something very, very bad had transpired in the vicinity. I’m talking post-apocalyptic-war-damage bad. Everything was torn up and overgrown, and I could see fire in a distant part of the city that I really hoped wasn’t going to spread over to where I was.

Entire buildings had been toppled over on their sides like Godzilla had had an especially grumpy rampage. I’d thought the car crash was bad, but winding up in some kind of dystopian thriller was starting to make me question if I wasn’t suffering from internal bleeding or a massive head injury after all. Was any of this real, or was I imagining it?

Right about then, I noticed the giant hovercraft floating drunkenly in front of my crumpled car. It looked run down, and the side was smashed. Was that what my car had crashed into? Where was the other driver? We probably needed to exchange insurance information.

“Where on Earth am I?” I muttered, feeling gingerly around my sore head and searching for any traces of blood. There weren’t any except for a small gash on my forehead. I was seriously at a loss for what to do. Blood or no, I had a killer headache. “Great, I probably have internal bleeding.”

I started to zone out a little as I picked at some small pieces of glass on my arms. I needed tweezers. My knees were scraped, and when I tried to stand, my ankle felt tender. All things considered, I’d escaped relatively unscathed from my bizarre encounter. That being said, a CAT scan probably wouldn’t have gone amiss. But that would have required some kind of medical facility, and I wasn’t exactly eager to start poking my head inside any of the derelict buildings to see if I got lucky.

My heart thudded in my chest as I surveyed the ruins that surrounded me. Some of the buildings appeared to be made from rubber. Surely those twisty things couldn’t have been composed from anything solid like metal. I shook my head to clear it, an action which I instantly regretted when the pain shot up several more degrees. I needed to find help.

“Hello?” I called out, tentatively at first. It took a minute, but I thought I heard a response. I was so relieved to discover that I wasn’t alone in the abandoned city after all. “Hello? Can anybody hear me?” I called out louder.

That was when I saw something crazy, scary, and weird all wrapped up into one. It was at least eight feet tall and looked like it was covered in sleek black metal. Its arms and legs were unnaturally long, ending in sharp claws. Its eyes shone an eerie shade of red, and there was a glowing symbol on its chest. Whatever the thing was, it had me swallowing nervously as it approached me. There was a strange device strung across its shoulders. I couldn’t decide if it was some kind of breathing apparatus or a backpack.

Was the creature wearing metal armor or was it actually a robot? One thing was for certain . . . whatever this creature was, it did not seem pleased to see me. Nor, for that matter, did it appear to be ready to help me out of my predicament. In calling for help, had I just made my situation worse?

Adrenaline began to course through my system. On the plus side, that helped downplay some of the pain in my aching body. If it hadn’t been for my lack of confidence in my tweaked ankle, I would have already been running. How had I gotten myself into this situation? It was unreal.

“Hey there, my name’s Rebecca,” I stammered, holding my hand out in a last-ditch attempt at peaceful diplomacy. “Can you please tell me where the nearest hospital is?”

It didn’t answer me, and I say “it” because I honestly couldn’t tell you if there was anything even remotely gender specific underneath all of that androgynous metal. I took a nervous breath and prepared to speak again. Before I could, though, I saw it raising its hand to strike me.

Survival instincts kicked in, and I managed to roll out of the way in the nick of time. Its heavy metal arm struck the pavement where I had been scant seconds before. I gasped when I saw the concrete crumple into a pile of rubble. How strong was this thing, and why did it want to hurt me? I hadn’t done anything wrong . . . at least not that I was aware of.

“I’m sorry about your car . . . or hovercraft thingy! I have insurance,” I blurted out stupidly.

I realized two things simultaneously. Number one: I was no longer on planet Earth, and I had no idea how I’d come to be in this strange, otherworldly place. Number two: if I wanted to stay alive, I was going to have to bury my first revelation in a box and focus on staying alive.

Scrambling out of the way, I searched wildly for something to defend myself with. I really regretted that I hadn’t made time for a self-defense course or two back in college. Whatever, it was too late for any of that. I’d have to use whatever abilities came to me naturally. Too bad it wasn’t human. That meant I couldn’t use my knowledge of anatomy to go stabbing organs or slicing juicy jugulars.

That still would have left me with speed and agility, but my sore ankle had really screwed me in that department. I shuffled back to the wreckage that used to be my car. I focused very hard on not hyperventilating. I’d become a doctor to save lives; I’d never considered taking one before. I’d always been anti-gun, but if I’d had access to one in that moment, I would have happily fired off a few rounds.

My not-so-stellar plan was to hide behind my car. I’m not saying it was a good plan . . . mainly because I’m not stupid. It was, however, the only plan I had to work with. My hope was that maybe if I stood very still and was quiet, the robot alien would forget about me and move on. When did I become so pathetic? Could it actually see me, or could it only track by sound or smell?

I was clutching the door, trying not to make a peep, when the robot-monster strode over, picked up the entire vehicle, and tossed it to the side. Eeek! Maybe it could sense my body heat? So much for my hiding spot. Strangely enough, when the scary alien threw my car, the mangled door broke off and I managed to keep hold of it.

After a couple of seconds, it finally dawned on me that the car door could act as a kind of shield. Maybe I could use it to deflect blows from the angry metal guy. I positioned my car door in front of me like a knight facing down a dragon. I only hoped that my assailant didn’t also happen to breathe fire like the mythical creatures of old. A heavy blow struck the door, shattering what was left of the window.

Glass pieces rained down on me. Great, like I needed more glass to pick out of my skin. Then again, it wasn’t looking like I’d be around long enough for that to be a problem. I really, really wanted to live. Was that pathetic of me, or brave?

Hiding wasn’t working, and my shield was pretty much toast. I needed an alternative strategy, and I needed it STAT. I gripped the door tightly. During surgery, I was used to making split-second decisions, but this wasn’t like finding the source of a bleed or deciding which drug to administer. This was guerrilla warfare, and that wasn’t something I knew anything about.

I had the thought that perhaps I could swing the door at my alien enemy like a weapon. With any luck, I’d bash in my assailant’s head or at least knock it out for a second or two. After a fraction of a second, I abandoned that idea; the door weighed more than me and wasn’t going to budge. I looked up and saw the futuristic robot pulling his arm back to strike at me. I seized the opportunity and dropped the door, wildly flinging myself under the nearby hovercraft.

I’d been right to hustle. The metal-clad monster punched the door before it toppled over, and it went sailing through the air several yards away. I was immensely relieved that I’d abandoned the door-shield idea because I had no doubt that it would have been a lights-out forever situation for yours truly.

I glanced up when I heard the alien making a strange series of clicks and beeps that sounded an awful lot like an old computer modem booting up. I returned to my earlier theory that the monster was actually a robot. Did it have an off switch? I definitely didn’t see any power cords to unplug.

When the robot creature began making its way over to me again, I fought to stave off the tears. I was huddled in a pathetic heap under the hovercraft, but I held no illusions about its intentions. It knew exactly where I was. It was hard to explain, but the robotic alien looked even angrier than before, not that it had much of a face to go off of. Was it too much to hope that I was projecting my fears into the situation? What if he just wanted to give me a hug and a first-aid kit? Was I misconstruing his overzealous welcome for an attack?

I was all out of ideas. My upside-down “nap” hadn't done anything to alleviate the deficit wrought by multiple days without sleep. Thanks to my sore ankle, I didn’t think I’d be able to make it to the closest building if the robot took out my current hiding spot. If only I had an ankle brace to help support it. Sadly, finding a medical supply store or a hospital didn’t seem remotely feasible in this dangerous and strange city I’d crashed into.

Time slowed down impossibly, and I closed my eyes, waiting, thinking, fearing the worst. If I’d been religious, I would have prayed, but I doubted God would appreciate my last-ditch efforts to join his club. The science of medicine had always been my religion, but given my dire circumstances, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d bet on the wrong horse.

New sounds drifted into my ears. Was I imagining what I wanted to hear, or were those gunshots? I opened my eyes. I could see four legs now. Two belonged to the metallic menace, but the other two could only be described as “other.”

Hoping I wasn’t making a deadly mistake, I slowly emerged from my hiding place. My eyes scanned cautiously upward from the ground. The first thing I spied were some serious-looking combat boots. That’s when things started to get weird.

Where the boots ended, futuristic leather took over. Was I in a Matrix movie? No, because that movie had humans, and the guy before me had to be an alien. My eyes continued their ascent, and I wanted to believe that he was wearing a weird Halloween costume, but something told me that was not the case at all.

Most of his chest was exposed, and my eyes widened appreciatively as I took in his rich copper skin. It had gold stripes running through it, and I didn’t know if they were veins or tattoos, but it was definitely attractive. Unlike the scary, androgynous robot, this alien was definitely male. He was dripping with muscles. I blinked and checked out his six-pack again, but the image before me hadn’t changed. The alien had two belly buttons. The doctor in me was fascinated by the concept of two umbilical cords. So interesting.

Surprisingly, the extra belly button in no way detracted from his perfect body-builder physique. In addition to his open shirt, he had on a long black trench coat and a bunch of items that I seriously hoped were weapons strapped to his back.

His long brown hair hung past his shoulders and his ears reminded me of the elves from the Lord of the Rings movies, except they were higher up on his head. His nose looked more like it belonged on a lion than a human. We locked gazes and I felt such an intense connection I was stunned, unable to look away. I’d never felt anything like it before. It was more than just physical attraction, it was like we were connected somehow on a deeper level.

He was the first one to break eye contact, and I gasped as I tried to regain my wits. Something was definitely wrong with me because I was so intrigued by the new copper-skinned alien that I’d almost forgotten about the metal alien that wanted me dead. I was beginning to realize that my survival instincts sucked.

Refocusing on how much I wanted to live, I studied the weapons strapped to the hot alien’s back. Was he capable of fighting off the big bad metal monster? Seriously, were these guys actually aliens? Had the government somehow covered up the fact that aliens had landed on Earth, or was I really on another planet like I’d initially thought? I realized these were not time-sensitive questions, and I buried them deep in the box with my other concerns. Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive. I could have a nervous breakdown later, but only if I survived this encounter.

Strangely enough, at the time, I was too dazed to consider the possibility that the bronze-skinned alien might want me dead too. I guess that made me dumb, or naive at best. What could I say? I needed help.

I'd cast the cute alien in the role of my protector, and I wanted so desperately to be rescued. . . or better yet, to wake up in my nice comfy hospital bed. It was all I could do to keep myself from screaming when the robot creature attacked the hot alien. The gold veins in the bronze-skinned alien’s muscles visibly rippled as he deflected a blow from the attacker using some sort of weaponized staff. I so wanted one of those, and I didn’t care what it cost.

Quickly, so quickly I barely had time to appreciate the move, the hot alien pulled out an enormous futuristic-looking gun from the pack on his back. He aimed and issued some sort of voice command. My mouth dropped open incredulously as intense flames erupted from the barrel and ripped the metal creature smoothly into two halves. Forget the staff thingy . . . I wanted . . . no, I needed that gun.

My hero heaved the smoking gun over his shoulder, and a tiny smirk curved his mouth. His alien features somehow made this gesture even more attractive. While studying him from this angle, with that smiling mouth and all those muscles rippling beneath his skin, it was impossible not to acknowledge how hot he looked. I was certain I had a concussion. It was the only possible way to explain my insta-crush.

I squinted my forehead in an attempt to dispel the irrational thoughts. How could I possibly find this guy attractive? He wasn’t even human! And this definitely wasn’t an appropriate moment to ask for his number! Besides, I made it a point to base all of my relationships on acute intelligence and shared interests. What could I possibly have in common with an alien, especially one with an extra belly button?

I felt absolutely pathetic. Was my love life so tragic that I was now imagining life-or-death situations where only an alien could save me? It was definitely time to revisit the possibility that I might have a concussion. Too bad I didn’t have a flashlight and a mirror. I had no way of checking my pupil response. Part of me hoped that I did have a brain injury because then I could explain away all of this madness. I added “alien crush” to the box of problems that I’d buried. I’d analyze that later when my life wasn’t at stake.

“Exactly how hard did I hit my head?”

 

San L’Or

 

My weapon had functioned perfectly. I couldn’t suppress the satisfied grin that curved my lips as I regarded the corpse of my enemy, the Dahkby soldier, who lay split in two before me. I was very fortunate that he’d been alone, or it would have been much harder to defeat him. My elation faded quickly. What was he doing out during the day?

His kind were night walkers. And this wasn’t just any Dahkby. It was a soldier. I studied the symbol tattooed on its chest grimly. This was bad. If the Dahkby soldiers were going to start moving about in broad daylight like this, my people would be in serious trouble.

Before, our enemies had always kept to the dark like the vile predators they were. It suited them, and best of all, it allowed us to move about freely during the day. I had to do something, and fast. Tucking my gun away, I looked around. Everything was a mess.

Nearby buildings had been reduced to burning piles, and I could still smell the smoke and the acrid stench of burning flesh. There must have been refugees hiding in the area. Anger at the senseless loss of life flowed through me, red hot as it seared my bones. Why hadn’t they come to our base where they would have been safe? I turned my head to the side, listening closely for the sound of any survivors. I didn’t hear anything except the frantic pulse of the unusual female I’d just rescued. Where had she come from? Had she been traveling with the group of refugees?

My precious trachev hovered precariously beside me. As I noted its damaged state, my anger doubled, threatening to blind me. The Dahkby soldier must have wrecked it. There was an unfamiliar red residue coating the side. I noted the detail, but I didn’t have time to analyze what that meant. I had more pressing issues.

“Farkinz Dahkby!” I swore violently.

I grimaced, remembering suddenly that I wasn’t alone. My use of obscene words must have offended the strange, weak creature because, at that point, she burst into tears and began blubbering. But all of her speech was complete gibberish to me.

“I SAH WEE! DONOW WAH TO DO! ITA TACK MEE. INEEHD HELLLP!”

I scratched my head, trying my best to make sense of what she was saying, but for the life of me, I could not interpret her strange jargon. “YOO AV FOAN? INEEHD FOAN!” she kept saying, holding up a little electronic device I didn’t recognize with a huge crack in the screen.

What was that thing? It looked archaic, like something developed centuries ago. Why did she possess such ancient technology? What was she talking about? And, more importantly, where had she come from?

The female creature was tiny, and beneath all of the blood and grime she was covered in I could tell that her skin was even paler than the hair on her head. Everything about her was unusual, and yet I felt drawn to her all the same. I shoved away my strange fascination in an instant. I would not allow myself to be distracted. Too many lives depended on me, and I would not fail them.

I resolutely jerked my gaze away from her oddly attractive face. That’s when I noticed her strange red trachev, or at least that’s what I supposed the crumpled heap of metal was. Given the fact that it was resting on the ground instead of hovering above it, I began to reconsider my idea of what the red vehicle was.

I didn’t have time for her nonsense, that much was clear. I didn’t know how long she had been there, but her vehicle had apparently crashed into my trachev during the hours that I had been away scavenging. That was the only explanation for the red paint on my vehicle. I was most definitely not pleased about her careless driving. Trachevs were hard to find, and my current ride had actually worked most of the time. As it was, we barely had any mechanics left, and there were never enough parts to fully repair anything.

I felt the all-too-familiar punch of anger in my gut again. This pale creature. It was all her fault! My countenance fell into hard lines as I mulled over the implications. I would not be able to take back the majority of items I’d gathered for my people.

By then, her sobs were starting to grate on my nerves. She was crying like a weak little child. On the plus side, she was growing less desirable to me with every little sound she made. I hardly even noticed the way her clothing perfectly hugged her soft curves, curves that seemed to have been designed to fill a male’s hands.

“Stop blubbering, creature! You’ll attract the attention of other Dahkby soldiers!” I hissed, irritation lacing my every word. I’d had enough of her noise. I needed to think, to cool my head so that I could carefully map out my next move. I certainly couldn’t continue to remain out in the open like this.

“WHUT?” she replied, her green eyes growing as wide as gerplats in her pale face. “AH SEHD INEEHD FOAN. HAHS PEETAHL! NOH EENGLISH?” She gestured wildly as the gibberish spilled out of her like a sieve.

Did she actually expect me to respond? What a curious little thing. I looked her over, once again wondering where she was from because she definitely didn’t belong here. I had never seen anything quite like her before, and since I spent most of my time scavenging for my people, that was saying a lot.

She was pale, a little too pale when contrasted with the rich copper of my skin. Was she ill? Had something caused all of the pigment to leach out of her, or was this her natural coloring? Strangely enough, the color suited her. On closer inspection, I found that her skin reminded me of sun-kissed clouds on a warm day. Her bright green eyes stood out vibrantly beneath an errant swatch of that light gold hair. She wore misshapen clothing that clung tightly to her legs all the way down to the tops of her unusual foot coverings. My mouth felt dry as I admired the way the material clung to her lush curves.

She was short and had the tiniest hands I had ever seen. I might have mistaken her for a child if it weren’t for those generous curves. How had this strange being come to be in the city? Were there more creatures like her nearby? She was an enigma.

Focus, I ordered myself. You don’t have time for distractions.

It was imperative that I return to my people, to warn them that I had seen a Dahkby soldier attack in broad daylight. We needed to prepare for the worst. This was an unprecedented danger, and every minute I wasted could equal lives lost, lives I could have saved if I had thought with my mind and not my stirzah. I had no time for a dalliance. I could not afford to let irrational feelings compromise my judgment.

I redirected my wayward thoughts to the fact that now, even the day would be fraught with peril. This was a cruel blow, but our enemy had never fought fair. Somehow, we’d find a way to fight back, the way we always had. We’d find a way to rally, and we’d be ready for whatever happened next. I sighed wearily. Some days I grew tired of the endless war. I’d never known peace, and I yearned for it. I yearned for a female of my own and a safe place to call our own. But these were pathetic, weak dreams that I had no hope of achieving. I would not bring a child into such a dangerous world. No, I would never allow myself a family unless I was certain I could protect them and keep them safe, and there were no such certainties to be had in the harsh reality that was my life.

My people had lost too much already. I would not fail them when they needed me most. I would focus on the tasks that needed doing. I would shoulder this new burden as I had all of the others before it.

I was angry that my trachev had been destroyed because that meant most of the supplies I had worked so hard to gather would have to be left behind. Scavenging was becoming increasingly more difficult than it used to be. Everything had been so picked over that each time, I found myself venturing farther and farther out from our base.

I looked around me once more; I didn’t know exactly what I hoped to see. Perhaps I was willing a new vehicle to materialize in its place. Mine were the thoughts of a desperate being and well I knew it. I sighed and scrubbed a hand across my forehead.

Our once grand cities had been reduced to rubble, and there was no point crying about the fact that my trachev was useless now. There was nothing else for me to do but grab what I could and leave. It was imperative that I return to my tribe in time to warn them about this new danger. I resented that I would have to journey on foot, and I was convinced that the fault lay at the feet of the pale female.

Briefly, I considered leaving her behind. Deep down, I knew that she wouldn’t survive long on her own. Indeed, I knew that if I hadn’t shown up when I had, she’d already be dead. But it was not the way of our people to ignore the plight of the innocent, and more importantly, it was not my way. My honor was the only thing I had left that couldn’t be taken from me, and I would not surrender it lightly.

The poor creature was obviously lost. As much as I hated the thought of her slowing me down, I simply could not abandon her to certain death at the hands of my enemy.

“Come with me. Let’s go,” I bit out angrily, waving my hand in the general direction I planned to travel.

I saw her face scrunch up like she was preparing to cry again, and it was all I could do to resist punching something. Did the infuriating female understand nothing? All her noise was beginning to make my head throb. I could feel the pressure building as I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose.

“DOAN LEEVE!” she shouted. Her high-pitched tone was piercing and hurt my ears.

How was I supposed to communicate with this creature if she didn’t understand my orders? I sighed, and for a second, I toyed with the notion of tossing her over my shoulder and walking away. But I couldn’t do that because I had supplies to carry.

There was no reasoning with her, thanks to the fact that we didn’t share a common tongue. So, I did what anybody in my position would do. I turned around, loaded up as many supplies as I could carry, and strode off without her. By that point, I honestly didn’t care if she chose to follow me or not. If she didn’t want to come with me, that was her problem. Even now, other scouts would be out, and they were woefully unprepared for this new danger. Our enemy had changed the rules. They had come out during the day.