//------------------------------// // 11. A Bigger Paper Bag // Story: Double Double // by Background Bystander //------------------------------// The thick heels of the boots pounded against the white tiles as he ran through the store’s intersections and walkways. Everything else had muddied into a blur. He could be running through the dorms, the woods, the motel-wherever, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He only registered this long winding trail of tiles and the hopeful exit at the end that'll bring him back to reality. He cut right. He passed a few customers. None of them turned. Oblivious. He didn’t stop. Somewhere footsteps quickened to match his pace. He still didn’t stop. The damned boots adopted the same laissez-faire mindset that everyone else was serving him to break in faster. Not that he was able to do anything about it if he wanted to. And there was an awful lot he wanted to do; he wanted to shout, to call out to anyone in earshot to aid him against this pursuer rushing through the aisles. Chris didn’t panic, or at least he attempted not to, but the overwhelming feeling was definitely rising. C’mon now, anyone, can’t you see this? You got a real problem unfolding before you, and you have the nerve to sit there and remain ignorant? A single hand would suffice. A heavy pressure swept up against his front leg, right in the middle of the shinbone. The forward momentum launched him through the air in sudden weightlessness. He held there a few seconds, only for his face to reconnect on the smooth floor like a locked wheel. The friction burned on his cheek, searing the skin with a horrific squeak. A few seconds more passed until he got his hands underneath him and stopped the skid. He brought two fingers up to his face and dabbed the wound. Skin was missing, and the pain was sharp. He winced and looked back at the fresh skid marks on the floor. Next to it in parallel was a trail of tiny droplets leading back from where he’d felt a sting in his shoulder. It appeared they managed to get a hit on him during their thrashing, as a hole in the shirt was soaked damp with blood, now covering most of the sleeve. Dripping beads trickled down his chest and onto his stomach. “Damn.” He muttered between heavy breaths, “Lucky shot.” “Go ahead, keep running. It won’t save you.” He swiveled around. Not a single person moved, not from what he could see. No sign of her anywhere. “Eventually, a mistake will be made, one singular momentary lapse of reason.” Another voice, one of a man he didn’t recognize, but he assumed the pool could be whittled down to those trapped within these walls, if they were still around to confirm such suspicions. He scrambled to his feet and ducked into a nearby aisle in a low crouch. Assorted sneakers blocked his vision on both sides as the colorful boxes stacked high. “One little slip, one tiny trip…” A young child sang with a giggle dancing along the edge of the back of the store. This one made him feel particularly ill. Chris continued moving down the aisle, making sure each movement was quiet as possible. Like if he were back in the woods in the early hours, stalking through the trees with a bow. Yeah, a bow would be great right about now. Even better, get back out on the road and don’t stop till you reach the northern border, he thought. The boots might as well be lined with cinder blocks as each pronounced step followed close behind him. The light inside his chest kept glowing a bright pulsating green that flickered through thick pumping veins. He wondered how the campus was waking up to a defaced building, or how the motel staff reacted if they decided to peek inside the room. He thought about a lot of things. Why? Why must they be these kinds of aliens? Couldn’t they, just for once in a good long while, break the mold cast over a half-century ago and be humble travelers? Adventurous foreign species set out on extraterrestrial expeditions making a galactic pit stop like one would for a gas station. But no, course not, they hide among us in unsuspecting crowds plotting extinction, enslavement, or a combination of the two. What luck for us. Thought the goal was to break stereotypes, not solidify them. He was startled by a series of muffled thumps, immediately followed by a heavier collapse. He rested on his knee and peered through the spaces of the stacked boxes on the shelf. A woman’s legs were sticking out on the floor next to an upturned shoebox. Her body was shrouded in a faint pink mist. He dropped on his stomach and crawled forward on his hands and knees. His shoulder was throbbing hard. It wasn’t long until he heard another heavy thump hit the floor. Then another. And another. “Eventually,” Her true voice (if that) continued, “I will find you Chris~s.” Someone will. Those last words echoed within him like a wispy winter chill freezing him on the spot, much to the dismay of his twitching legs to keep going. But these touched deep, considering that she used his voice to declare such terminal punctuation. Taking up a tone he never believed he could. There was no fullness in it, no character, no humanity. Just an emotionless state of intent. The drips were now soaking into the waistband of his underwear. Keep moving. Don’t you just lay here, get up and keep moving. It was dead quiet. Even worse. Not even the idle humming from the speakers on the ceiling. He sat there breathing, thinking. A streak of sunlight came through the glass somewhere, casting warmth upon his back before fading again. This must be how bugs felt, witnessing giant beasts stomping around carrying weapons, wholly unaware of the destruction they brought just by their presence alone. He rose slowly, continuing to listen. He balanced on one foot and removed a boot, then the other, and placed them together on the floor. Creases and scuffs began to appear on the outer material, especially around the toecaps. The shine even dulled a hue. He felt a little guilty. Somewhere in the far opposite corner, he heard the distinct gallop of hooves moving at unnatural speed. It sounded like two horses overlapping each other. He stayed in his position and placed a hand on the floor to feel any vibrations. There was a taste of blood in his mouth. The hooves shifted to another part of the store, maintaining a normal steady gallop. They kept going for a while, then slowed down to a cantering gait. Trot. Nothing. She stood still for another few seconds of ambiance, then a strange distortion filled the air and normal footsteps carried out. It could be described as an electric sound, but that wouldn’t come close to audibly visualizing it. It was simply inorganic, inhuman. He pulled at the bloody shirt, tearing it off in ragged strips, wincing as the fabric peeled from where it’d dried. New splotches mixed together with those from last night, leaving a bizarre tie-dye pattern that reeked like death. The air conditioning was cold on his skin, sending goosebumps down his back. Traces of veins were prominent underneath in a green haze. He balled up all the fabric and tossed it to the side and made his way out of the aisle towards another. Everything was cold. The thick silence was interrupted by the offbeat slams of bodies hitting the ground. They were heavy slaps. No one screamed, no one spoke, there wasn’t even a gasp of shock. Only slaps. He came across a body sprawled out on its back and stopped. He balanced on his toes and examined them, only moving his eyes. A young man yet older than him, probably somewhere in his 20s, but the pale shriveled complexion made the exact age ambiguous. He just laid there, eyes upward and glassy, his mouth hung agape. Chris brought two fingers down to his neck cautiously. Still alive, he’s just unconscious, but there’s definitely something missing inside. Like he’s been drained. “Well, if you’re lucky, you might get up to see tomorrow. At least one of us will.” After a while, he found he had done a circle and had gone back into the men’s section, now recognizing the shirts and things hung on the racks. He cursed under his breath for not memorizing the layout, instead letting himself get wrapped up in annoyance and intrigue, which is what they were likely aiming for. And he, without fail, allowed himself to be lulled straight to the target. A rat in a maze, forced to carry out experiments for sadistic observers. He grabbed hold of a steel bar of a rack of jeans. This time, the halt in momentum was enough to drop him to his knees. His head bowed, streams of sweat rolling down his face. The skin on the bottom of his forearms was rubbed raw. The sides of his head were pounding. Everything sounded like mush. Goddamn you, you sonofabitch. Is that really all you can muster? You’ll let this bitch gut you groveling on your knees? What’s the point of running so long for that to be the outcome. Get your dumbass off the floor. Get. Up. Stubbornness. Going from the clock on the wall, it was nearly 24 hours since he ate anything, drinking especially. At this time of the year, if you didn't keep track of hydrating yourself, signs will appear to question how you’ve forgotten these basic necessities. Fatigue, general aches, inability to fully concentrate. They were all present at a time they absolutely shouldn’t have. Of course, the additional assaults amplified these affliction's rate of appearance, but they arrived, nonetheless. That’s alright, I can think of a quick way of handling it. And that’d be? Stand up and let her put one between your eyes. It’ll sure cure that headache. Yeah, right. He looked at the clock on the wall again. 11:37 What? No, relax, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m coming home because I feel like it. Definitely not because a dorm room that definitely wasn’t mine, definitely not exploding that I definitely wasn’t a part of. Definitely. Matter of fact, I feel so good, I’ll stop and get myself a new set of clothes while I’m at it. How about I fancy myself a pair of fucking boots well out of decency and price range as well? It’d taken another minute to calm himself, enough to clear his mind and assess his current situation. Soon, the waning courage he needed began pumping again, and his heart rate set at a steady yet alert pace. He lifted himself with a muffled grunt and stood at full height, which relieved his back but left him exposed, sticking above some of the shorter shelves. He waited. No bodies fell. Quiet. Something he’d now grown to dread when once upon a time, it was such a comforting nothingness. As a child, he spent hours in the dark outside, surrounding himself with the low chirping hum of the natural world. It had a habit of distracting when sat in a tree stand, wired in the brisk morning air. A test of one’s patience that was often rewarded substantially. Now the reward was before him, a flickering glimmer of hope. The man was in front of a tall rack of sunglasses, casually thumbing through the jutting frames despite the pair already on his face. The man seemed unaffected by the previous commotion, yet to budge from the testing mirror, but the sharpness in his features showed consciousness. “Hey man,” He wheezed and gave the man’s shirt a lazy pleading tug. “Hey, I need your help, like, right now. I got a serious problem. We got a serious problem.” The man surprised him with a genuine response. “Uh huh, I hear ya.” He refused to look away from the mirror as he spoke. “I got a serious problem of my own here. I think my head’s too big to fit any of these properly.” A hint of a slur in his voice, and a croaking rasp caught in his throat. He honed in on two specific frames near the middle of the rack and held them in each hand. Chris watched as the man glanced between his desired wares, and grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around. His thumbs dug into the prominent collarbones. “No, not that.” He said through gritted teeth. “One of the girls working here is crazy. She’s trying to kill me. You gotta help, call the police. I don’t care anymore, just help me, please.” He kicked himself for not remaining calm, as his ramblings were sure to solidify any concerns (rightfully) that he had about him. A half-naked man, sweaty, bloody, nervous? Chris would’ve done his best to avoid all contact entirely. The man did nothing of the sort, instead continuing to stare at him through the dark opaque sunglasses. The tips of his front teeth were visible in his open mouth. “Mmm, yeah…that’s rough, buddy.” He attempted to nod, but his neck kept rigid causing an odd wobble. “But hey, what do you think of these?” he flipped the frames around and held them parallel on both sides of his face. “Red or blue? I like the look of the red ones, but the blues are a little easier on the wallet, y’know what I’m saying?” Chris snorted furiously, intense heat on his face from more sweltering frustrations. Without thinking, he reached forward and slapped the models from his hands and pinched those on his nose, crushing them in the process. He soon stopped upon seeing what was waiting behind the black mirrors. The man’s eyes were wide, almost popping out of their sockets like the eyelids were yanked apart on wires. Brow affixed high on his forehead, almost up to his hairline, and the pupils were dilated to a pinpoint. “C’mon, what do you think?” The man tilted his head to the side, catching the reflection from the light strip above. Similar to the strange colors he found in the alien, it cast a green filter to shimmer over his eyes. Like the glasses were too far up his nose and a layer of the lens had peeled off and stuck upon removal. Yet the man didn’t seem to notice, nor really anything else for that matter. Just like the other customers. Suddenly, he stopped, stiff as a statue. His face turned to plaster, stuck in its unfocused dumbness. Outstretched arms grasping at nothing twitched from sporadic nerves. His skin, once glazed with an even tan, rapidly began to drain in definition, becoming pale and gaunt in seconds. A mist seeped out from every orifice in his face, even his ears and the tears running down his cheeks. A whispering terror danced in the air, the same tune he heard in Chrissy’s panicked breakdown. The man spoke again, but his voice didn’t follow. But another, warped and feminine. “Now that I think about it, yes…” A hand reached from behind and clamped down on the man’s scalp. “I think I’ve found exactly what I’m looking for.” Jane’s face appeared from behind the man, snickering with a devilish smile. The man’s body fell limp in her grasp, and she tossed him aside as if he were a ragdoll, who crashed into a shelf and landed in a twisted mess. She lurked towards him in a slow animalistic hunch, like a cartoon cat that finally cornered the clever household rodent that’s always one step ahead. He took a few steps back slowly, next to an opening between the aisles. Well buddy, what’s your plan to get out of this one? Cause I sure as hell don’t see an ACME section in this place. “I’ve finally found it, here, in this place. And believe me, I had to do quite a lot of scrounging to get it…” She gave a long hissing laugh, then sucked air in a quick gasp. “Scrounging, grueling…from the campus, down the highway, that dis~sgusting inn, and all the way here. Having to mi~ingle amongst these bleating things, I thought I’d go mad! But I can see that it was well worth the effort, for you appear right at my hooves.” “Well,” He said, “Here I am, congratulations. You want a medal or something?” “Oh no-no-no, nothing like that. I’m just looking for some answers, Chris. Answers to some rather simple questions on the whereabouts of one individual in particular. Certainly, you can understand such a concept and give me an answer easily, seeing as you’ve been spending some time in the Queen’s presence.” Their Queen? Wait, did she mean…Chrissy? That scrawny, wallowing sack of misery is what they determined leader material? From what he could tell, whatever this thing was had a better grasp of the values necessary to put one in control, regardless of rank or whatever. Unless they were planning a long con, recent events likely regressed any schemes back to square one. Or, at the very least, put them on hiatus. Yeah, I know your Queen. She attacked me, had a mental breakdown, tried to kill me again, and was gone come morning. She did leave me this weird log, though, you want it? Jane paused mid-step in her intimidating strut, having caught on to his changing expression with a cocked brow. “You know where she is, yes~s?” “I don’t know.” Her smile widened, finally reaching her cheeks. “You know where she is.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head lightly. “Well, I know you aren’t one of us~s, considering how poor you are trying to convince me of that. Unfortunately for you, that makes the real answer all the more…irres~sistible.” She tapped her chest lightly. His entire abdomen was splattered in a red mess, trailing streaks and dotted openings, ripe for the butcher’s rack. The original wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding and unnaturally closed up fast, leaving his arm a nasty discolored bruise. The plate had settled in more with his skin, no longer bulging out a couple inches more than his other pec to be indistinguishable at a glance. Where the few streaks of sunlight passed, the same pink mist from the others wafted from the dried lines. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling the rising heat now with her close to him. He let out a heavy sigh. “Figures you’d know something about this.” His eyes darted around again, finally latching onto something worthwhile. He spotted another man, because of course there was, off in the distance with his back turned to them. His weird rigid posture suggested unconsciousness like everyone else and dolled up as a Western-style mannequin. Hats, boots, and all; a modern man’s rendition of what constituted the makings of a lone ranger, all for the right price and lack of self-worth. None of this was too important to Chris, as he could excuse a numb palate, for the man wore a more practical statement. Nestled along the glossy white outline of shined black leather sitting small and low on the man’s right hip. Sharper lines ran jaggedly on the stamped grooves of the blackened steel. About the only thing to the man that possessed any aggressive nature, and judging from his current state, he deduced that it was yet to be proven in the field. Mid-size, full-size – didn’t matter, the grip would fit comfortably in the curve of his hand. A glow flickered off her eyes in a bright flash pulling her focus once more, like a moth to a flame. “Indeed, I do. I know very much about this~s.” her tongue lulled out of her mouth, dripping nasty green bile she slurped feverishly. “Why don’t you let me take a closer look?” She snarled and lunged towards him. “I think you’ve gotten close enough.” He grabbed a heavy rack to his left and threw it on her. It smashed down in a mix of crashing metal and insect screeching. Shirts scattered across the ground in clumps as their loose hangers bounced on the tiles with a high clang. He jumped back and ran out from the racks into the hallway. The mound had just settled before the middle shifted and ruptured outward with a birthing writhing thing. What emerged from the pile had a familiar shape of the ‘Queen’ but was far smaller, even to the girl they were fronting as. The physical structure of a small pony, coated in the shiny black shell of an insect. It didn’t have slimy hair atop its head, nor any pupils in its eyes, but it had the same additional appendages and held the same amount of anger, perhaps even more. Aside from the pony-like silhouette, there wasn’t anything else to be interpreted as a species, even less from the larger bitching bug. Chris came up on the man fast, almost too fast. In the span of second, his hand swooped down upon the pistol, clamped around the textured rubber, and spun on a heel backward to a shooting position. The force of his movements was so great, it ripped the holster from the leather belt, its loose stitches unwound and flew from the pistol and thumped on a wall. The man was shoved off balance in a half twirl and fell over another rack throwing more clothing on the floor. The hat he wore fluttered in the air down to rest on his twisted back. Her furious charge was brought to a screeching halt. Stubby gnarled hooves skittered on the tiles to a desperate stop. She steadied and stilled herself remaining in a low hunch to pounce again, but she didn’t dare take a step forward. Chris used this hesitation to straighten and readjust his grip on the weapon, each action labored by haggard breaths. He couldn’t get a read on her expression from her animalistic frown. Was she studying him? Confusion? Or was it simply an apathetic dullness witnessing this small display of rebellion? He spoke in a tired drawl. “There, now that you’ve found your manners, why don’t you do me a favor and point me towards the exit? Customer service around here leaves a lot to be desired.” She didn’t respond immediately, only continuing to stare at him. A clear film ran over her eyes and retracted, similar to an alligator, yet they kept their thick opaque color. Ragged ears twitched and swiveled in the silence once more. The sun was getting higher, hotter, gazing upon the two with intense uninterrupted attention. No cloud passed between the parties, and no creature stirred in the shortening shadows. Only prior could the events be argued as little more than delusional suspicions, but now there was true confirmation of confrontation between man and alien. And yet, the world stood quiet with their backs turned or slumped on the ground. Those with an active role in this history remained focused on one another weapons at the ready. Actions like these were nothing new to this land, or the whole world, merely dormant between instances of hostile discovery. Such methods could be traced to long ago, back to the men who’re now reserved to printed text in books, shoved away in schools, and forgotten generations ago. Her head tilted and an ear swiveled again. “Kinetic energy? You believe that will prove any worth to you?” “I guess. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have stopped.” Her brow furrowed, the muzzle bent into that same crooked smile. She took a small step forward. He took one back. A slight shudder in the pistol. Her body heaved and sprinted towards him in full gallop, leaving cracked hoofprints deep in the tiles as she passed. He leveled the pistol and fired three rounds in rapid succession. It kicked with the familiar jerk in his arm, and the pops of 9mm rounds echoed off the walls. His ears rang slightly, but he kept focused, never breaking sight of his target. The bullets met the alien immediately, two rounds at her neck and one at her head. However, they never made contact, something he probably should’ve seen coming. A hazy glow had surrounded the front of her body stemming from the curved horn on her forehead. Each round that'd passed through the barrier ricocheted off in random directions. Glass shattered on his right, wood splintering somewhere. He stepped back again and fired two more. Same result, more glass breaking. He began to think about his next move as she closed the distance. He stopped and glanced up at the ceiling, then back to her. He repeated this once more and made his decision. She was about 15 feet away when he pointed the pistol upwards and fired four rounds. They traveled straight as a razor, hitting the desired target with great success. There was a heavy metallic groan until he heard a loud snap, soon followed by the drone of rushing glass. She looked up, her eyes widening just before the large chandelier came crashing down on her. It exploded with deafening sound, as cascading waves of shattered glass flooded the floor. Chunks of many sizes reflected the sunlight on all inside, submerging the store in flashing, sparkling lights. Dots and beams danced and flickered on the walls and floors high and low, big and small. A sea of eyes blinking, observing everything around them…observing him. He felt exposed. He turned and ran. Eventually, he found the doors to the outside untouched and waiting. He could even see the corner of his car’s rear bumper at the edge of the parking lot. It should easily hop over the lip of the concrete sidewalk and peel out back on the highway. It was all there, shimmering in its splotchy Clorox sheen. The chime of the digital bell bellowing grandiose, echoing like Gabriel’s trumpets. All in reach. He didn’t even see her pop into existence, only catching the tail end of her calculated surprise in a blink. His legs betrayed him as they stayed the course, thrusting him towards her cocked and loaded hindquarters. It’s not like she needed to try, but she didn’t seem the kind to give partial effort. Hooves released, rocketing forward and plunging deep in his chest. His skeleton gave in without resistance, just an illusion of a sound structure, as bone shattered to pieces. The skin ruptured around her hooves, making the same hollow snaps heard when he skewered her on the hook. He didn’t flail, sailing limply and letting the force of the impact lay him out on the tiles. The pistol spun out of his hands, perhaps to wherever the bullets previously flew. “I think you’re beginning to understand.” Her figure stood over him in shadow, only coloring the teal glint of her eyes. “When one is marked for consumption, their life is already forfeit. Especially if they are marked by the Queen herself. That’s all there is for them. Nothing more.” She licked her lips eagerly but quickly composed. “But, there are more aggressive means of extracting information besides a verbal confession. All you’ve done here is cause yourself much unnecessary pain. So, I suggest you stop. Now.” No response. She smiled, and the glow around her horn brightened. “I’ve never had the chance to cocoon a human before. Maybe this will prove to be an informative experience in more ways than one.” She tilted her head, and a clutching force dragged him back by the shoulders. He could barely breathe, let alone focus. Things shifted inside of him that probably shouldn’t move. He couldn’t get his legs under him to stop the pulling. Her face wasn’t contorted in anger, no teeth bared or spit drooling. Now, it was an empty gaze. His back pressed against a rack’s cold metal. The lopsided position made him tilt over from dead weight. There wasn't any energy left to give, nor the passion to wield in keeping up the chase. He focused on breathing as steadily as possible, save the faint gurgle sloshing down in his throat. Sounds crept towards him, the tapping of a fuzzy echo in his mind. Why was he here again? What was the purpose? Another store would’ve sufficed his needs, and most definitely half the price. Hooves stomped onto both of his legs. His eyes opened from the pain, now seeing them face-to-muzzle before him. “We’ve followed a series of distress signals from the Queen’s mana signature across this continent, in your world’s perception of time, for five months at least. Comparing coordinates, studying the patterns and strength of each. Finally, we narrowed it down to one particular region; the maps label it as San Antonio, located in the state of Texas. More specifically, a center of higher education in preparation for the nation state’s larger workforce.” Is that what they’re calling it these days? The lingering thought stuck inside while his head dipped lazily. Their muzzle remained firm for a while, then they continued to speak. “Upon a personal venture to investigate, I discovered that the Queen was indeed present, disguised amongst the human students. I even managed to achieve contact through the Collective, like so…” A green light flickered in her throat, “Yet she remained ignorant of my gesture, nor my presence entirely.” Their muzzle scrunched with a dismayed hiss. “It’s common for one to have no physical reaction when in disguise, especially if they’re inquired by those of lower standing, but her complete lack of acknowledgment, dare I say obliviousness, rubbed me wrong.” They leaned towards him, putting more pressure on his legs. They stared into his eyes intensely, searching inside for some low tucked-away confession…these things better not be able to read souls. That would just be the icing to this shit sundae of a morning. After a few silent minutes of glaring, they leaned back, muttering a hmph. “I admit, I should have been more pronounced in my efforts of contacting her, but it was clear from the outset they would be met all the same. The Queen was far more interested in the human masses surrounding us, casting each passing being in a hostile glare. However, there was one individual that left her…wholly transfixed through the entire ordeal.” Upon this confession, he slumped further under her cold gaze, feeling himself get smaller, now a crawling insect exposed in the light. The groan did enough to express his state of being, and the alien’s lips curved upward. “It appears we’ve hit a stroke of familiarity.” “Yeah…” Chris said as he swallowed a thick lump. “…Take it you was there in the dining hall yesterday?” “That I was, Chris, that I was. Watching her, watching you, watching her.” “That ain’t a crime, last I checked.” “No, it is not. Explosions, on the other hand, are an entirely different affair.” “Bet it is.” He slurred, with just the hinted spice of sarcasm dashed in for good measure while drifting off. The two of them went quiet again, the alien remaining planted on their newfound pedestal, listening to him breathe. His eyes dimmed, watching as the squared patterns of the tiles faded into a singular dull white. They reared high in the air as their front hooves took on a green glow and crushed with the focused strength of a hydraulic press. Chris screamed in pain, barely overshadowing an audible crunch rippling below the flesh and fabric. They got straight in his face, so close their muzzle touched the tip of his nose. Ice cold. “The dorm building erupts in flames, and suddenly, you’re leaving for the highway, her signature in tow. Eventually, you come to a rundown inn just outside the limits of any population center. At two-thirty-six, fifty-three minutes after you passed the front desk, the Queen’s signature vanishes.” Every vindictive accusation shook her body with intense rage, further compounding the injury. “Come daybreak, you’re the only one remaining, and she’s completely gone, not a single trac~ce. So, I’m only asking you this once, what have you done with Queen Chrysalis, human?” To both their confusion, he let out an unfocused, almost accepting chuckle. “Well…I…uh, I’d hate to tell you this, but you’re Queen? It looked to me like she was having an identity crisis.” Before they could respond, his jaw kept moving. “We’d gotten to the room while the sun was still out. Ended up having to sneak her in through a window. She was too wound up to keep anything down pat for long. Needless to say, she was having a fit, ranting this, whining that. I don’t think she was fully aware of what was coming out, but sure as hell did. Spewing out thoughts like a damn hose.” He drew a long breath, twisting as sharp pain signaled capacity. “Eventually, she calms down, and I head outside, as you know, I guess….” He waved a limp dismissive hand. The alien’s brow lowered. “So, I’m out there, doing what I need to, when suddenly the room lights up. I return to a mess, the whole place torn apart like a bomb went off. Sounds familiar, huh? Heh, strange, considering she was still asleep.” That word flipped a switch in them. “Asleep? She was asleep?” They asked, leaning forward again. “Ack! Yes, think she was having a dream." "A dream?" "Ye-Yeah! Sounded more like a nightmare, though, kept worrying about someone following her-“ “WHO, HUMAN?” “She! She-She-She! She kept calling them she! Sweet Jesus, my fucking legs!” The alien froze, every part of their body seizing as the information crept through the ears and squirmed in the brain. A wriggling worm of worry, their attempt to resist proved futile, with hard features softening out. The pain under heavy hooves receded, and the grizzled snarl was wrangled into a murmuring whimper. Twisted into form, fury morphing to fear. “No…no, no, no, I can’t be too late. I can’t be! Not when we were so close, just when we were ready to start again. Everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve sacrificed, and you. You’ve laid her down under the enemy’s blade without a fight. How could you! Your cowardice makes me sick!” They grabbed him by the shoulders and hurled him up into the air. He bounced off a loose roof tile and came back down on a taller shelf before landing in a pile of glass shards. He realized they had a penchant for throwing their prey around like a ragdoll since he was three-for-three on this experience and a hundred on the pain. He also found they weren’t keen on being looked in the eye, especially when talking back. Strange for an alien creature to have such Earthly traits. His hands grasped forward to pull him onward, constantly sliding in the slick blood. The path before him stretched on forever, sounds muffled and distant. His legs were nonexistent. “A messenger of the government, operating using Equestrian intel. Yet, nothing about you shows their technical prowess, but I do sense something…magical within your person.” Their horn lit up again, sparking an intense tingle all over him. “What have they given you? Just how could you have won her over?” A dull singing all the way to burning, he collapsed face down as his chest was smothered. His ribs. His lungs. His heart. The sensation stopped. “Impossible…” Echoed in his mind while he was rolled over. Their eyes darted across him nervously, ears laying flat. The tingles went back into his heart, the crackling light as bright as a fire on pitch-black nights. Their horn fizzled out. “No, it couldn’t be. How could I have deceived myself the first time if it was?” They approached now in a cautious, fragile nature. They walked beside him and put their face against his chest, left ear firmly pointed outward. They finally closed their eyes, used their horn, and pressed it against the hard plate. He tensed, forcing him to close his own eyes. There, in the tiny capsule of the dark, a flickering vision in his mind appeared. A darkened spire, twisted and gnarled in a point stabbed the hazed yellow sky, ready to tear a giant gash. Spikes, bores, and hostile nature grew around the hulking structure. Stripped trees and dust, marked of nonstop sun and lack of proper environmental cycles. Like death ruptured out from the ground and grew, feasting on the blight and misery of everything around it. What the hell is that thing? He thought, mentally squinting, It looks like…some sort of Hive. A shocked screech broke his concentration, and the vision disappeared. When he came to, the alien was in a panic, frantically jumping around him, scanning over injuries, measuring longer cuts between their hooves among several surface area wounds. Their expression showed concern, but it had now been taken over by a laser focus. He continued to lay completely still, even if he could move his own weight. After their deep examination, they nodded to themselves and took a stance atop him, each side’s hooves enclosing him in a pincher. “Listen to me.” Any aggression was replaced by a stern tone. “Hey, look at me.” He did. “I’m going to do something your body has never experienced before. It won’t be as overwhelming due to your circumstance, but it could still have a negative reaction. You mustn’t move, you mustn’t yell, you mustn’t combat it. It will only be a few seconds, but you must endure. Do you understand?” His face was blank. “Do you understand?” They repeated. At this point, why not? Why wouldn’t he understand? Indeed he was bound to understand at least something by now. He lifted a weak hand, thumb jabbed high. They stared at it with a cocked brow, then rolled their eyes and refocused. “Good.” They positioned themselves in a ready stance surrounded by a pulsing aura. “Don’t scream.” They lowered their horn carefully like one would the barrel of an old rifle, immediately followed by a flash of powerful blinding light. A thin and moist substance was thrust into his mouth, like a dew, that rushed down his throat and dispersed. He couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t suffocating either. When it reached the rest of him, he was given another heavy kick in the chest, a scorching blast of energy that set every sense ablaze. Like his soul was forcefully shoved back into its meaty capsule. His vision returned, and he sat upright in the pink fog, coughing violently. “Easy, don’t move too fast.” They said, “Your body still needs time to process that large of an intake. Let me help you.” He felt a hand grab his forearm and another caress his back as he was carefully brought to his feet. He felt like some heavy thing that had to be stood by a set of pulleys. No real control. The room was still spinning, still bent over, hacking up what was left of his lungs. Everything throbbed with constant shooting pain, leaving him wincing with each move. After a few more minutes of these miserable actions, he could compose himself enough to stand alone. Instead of the alien, Jane reappeared beside him, uniform and all, not a single hair out of place. As if she was merely helping just another customer get acquainted with their soon-to-be commodities. She sighed in relief, blowing an O-ring of pink before continuing to circle him. They mostly glanced at his upper features, eyes occasionally twitching back to his chest once or twice before moving elsewhere. It was his legs that drew most of their attention. For some reason, the length of the thigh-to-knee-to-calf ratio and how far they were spaced apart were most important. “You’re going to be sore for a long time, more so a normal changeling due to the extent of your injuries. But everything should be properly healed and fully functional.” They looked down at their hand, palm reddened and slick, and wiped it on a coat hanging on a nearby rack. “I-I think so?” He said in a shaky voice, opening and closing his fingers. “Don’t worry, you’re still conscious, even if your mind protests otherwise.” They returned their demeanor to the detached positivity she presented initially, but her muscles were defined in a heightened preparedness. “Which means we need to keep moving. We only have around an hour before the spell on the others wears off and the police are dispatched. I will grab whatever supplies you need before we depart.” The two stood there, staring at each other silently for a moment. “So, shirt and shoes, was it?” They stayed in the store for another half hour. Chris gazed out the rows of glass windows in front of the store and the sliding doors. Most of them were intact, some obscured by the large advertising posters taped onto them for passersby. Others had turned to spider webs, embedded in them black and red specs. The sun caught them occasionally and would fill the store with a cracked cascading light, covering parts of him in a warm glow. He turned back from his spot on the floor to the rest of the store. Quiet, not even a breath, save for the abrupt shuffling of products on unstable shelving. The customers, unscathed from the crossfire, hadn’t moved, undeterred in their focus to decide what cheap piece of clothing really defined them as individuals. Willing to stand the fire and blood for their consumer convictions. Some reached out with a limp hand for where the products would be located, blissfully unaware they were laying wrinkled around their feet. He envisioned himself in the same position and wondered if he looked just as mindless to any other small creatures buzzing around these stores. Staring forward, reaching for things they'll forget in weeks time, then putting it back in place for another item of equal expiration. Those unfortunate to find themselves on the floor, half way or completely on their back, limbs flailed about their person, weren’t moving, but the shallow rise and fall of breathing was seen. Good, still alive. Though they were definitely gonna be in for a rude awakening when they came too. That, and a hefty medical bill. He put a hand to his own chest and exhaled, letting the warm tingles run through his body. The black denim hid most of the veins, as did the light wash off the jeans. The boots, well, they were still the fancier commodity. In the sun, it shone a wine red surrounded by fat white lights on the polished scales. Even with the shine, it’s all it could do to keep up the presentation. The texture was gnarled and bumpy, like a monster breaking the surface to come to gnaw at his toes. By now, “Jane” had given her complexion a touch up-to put it in normal terms-and regained that strange allure, though it’d lost most of its glamor after he stuck it on a hook. She'd swapped her uniform for another set of clothing, this time a shirt and shorts of an athletic fashion, all baring the colors and logos of his school. She kept her stride in close with each other, like she measured the steps individually to extend and retract the same distance apart. If you were to look at her now, you would’ve never guessed she had tore him apart to the brink of death. “There, this should last for the time being. You really did a number on me with that hook, you know that? I had my shell cracked in ways I hadn’t accounted for previously. I thank you for this…eye-opening experience, and I’ll adjust my defensive strategies here on out. However, I still have a few wounds that need to close fully.” She walked up to him, carrying a stack of both of their clothes. “Ready to leave when you are.” He continued to look at the substantial black splotches sprayed over a display of jeans. “Would you like one?” She asked. “No,” He responded, running a finger down a black trail. It was lukewarm and runny upon contact. He brought it to his face and rubbed it between his fingers slowly. “I’m just trying to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.” “About the blood?” “About the blood.” He’d done his best to clean up some of the mess, but he couldn’t manage this. The liquid was strewn throughout the floors, walls, and people caught in the splash zone. She tilted her head with a confused brow, then seemed to remember something and said “There’s no need to worry about that. Changeling blood doesn’t fare well when exposed to this world’s elements for a long period. Stewing in this climate, it’ll dry up and dissolve without a trace. In ten minutes, it will be like we were never here.” A broken shelf shifted behind them. “From a forensic standpoint.” “And what about them?” Chris thrust his arms towards the people sprawled out across the floor. “What’s gonna happen to them? Is someone gonna find them bloated after a couple minutes? From a forensic standpoint?” “They’re not dead.” “Not dead?” “No, of course they’re not dead. Why would I kill them? If I did that, it would only prove counterproductive in the long run.” “Then what did you do?“ “I drained their love.” An eye twitched. “What?” “I. Drained. Their. Love.” “You did…you did….” His eyes widened in shock, and he darted off to the closer bodies on the ground. He examined them, looking for anything misshapen or boney. Any tears or splotches of red soaking into the fabrics. He even pulled up the shirts on some men and ran his hand over their skin, tracing his fingers over the vital organs. Jane’s head went back and forth as she studied him. “May I ask what you’re doing?” “Don’t fuck with me on this.” He snapped, pointing back at her. “Do not fuck with me on this. What’ve you done to these people? Have you eaten their hearts?” “No?” “Then what did you do?” “I already told you, I drained their love-“ “What does that mean?” He shouted, getting up in her face. A fierce green glow flickered in his irises. “It means exactly as it entails.” “No, it doesn’t! That’s just a fucking metaphor. You can’t actually drain someone of love or any emotion for that matter.” His eyes burned right through her as if his anger could possibly melt away this waxy human figure before him and unmask that skittering monster lying just behind her confusion. His neck pulsed with a nasty bulge. “So again, I ask you, what does that mean?” Her brow dropped to a deadpan glare. She spoke with a dull regard, like an A.I. reading off a Wikipedia article. “I inserted microscopic tendrils through their skin and facial orifices to wrap around the brain and pierce their hypothalamus. Then I harvested the serotonin and dopamine chemicals, along with the moisture in the air and a conversion spell, to turn it into a fine consumable mist.” She rolled out her tongue, extending it until it hung long over her chin in sharp forks. A series of small dangling lines only visible by reflecting the store's lights, thin and taut as piano wire. The organ twitched, and the wires quickly retracted down her throat. He brought his fingers up to his nose, feeling sudden burning irritations fade away. Then they disappeared from his ears. His mouth. Underneath his fingernails. Eyes. “I take it back. Draining love was…descriptive enough.” She returned to her previous calm smile and nodded to him. She readjusted her grip on the clothing and stepped past him. “If you have anything else in mind, I suggest you grab it now.” Chris sighed, readjusted his shirt, and started to follow her out of the store. “No, I don’t need anything else….” The sliding doors opened for him with a delightful chime, wishing him luck after such a satisfying shopping experience. He was about to step through until a thought stopped him. “Wait, we can’t just walk out of here with that.” “Why?” She asked over her shoulder. “Well, we have to pay for that first.” “Pay?” She turned to him, standing in the middle of the parking lot. “Why would you pay for this?” His face went slightly red from hearing his own comment. Did he think applying some form of common sense to this situation wouldn’t sound stupid? “It’s not what I want to do, but you can’t just walk out of here with a bunch of clothes. I'm sure they'll run inventory when the dust clears. Just because something’s broken, that doesn’t mean it ain’t accounted for.” “No, I mean, why would you pay for it?” She turned her back to him and concentrated on the other customers, clearly counting them out from the darting quickness of her eyes. Settling on a number, her shoulders shifted, and she balanced the stack along one of her arms, using her chin as a makeshift clamp, freeing her other to cast a flourishing hand with extended glowing fingertips. All five went off like party poppers, and she closed her eyes with a significant mental effort. A tumbling wisp of air wiggled and circled its way throughout the store, sparkles twinkling with a sound on the edge of hearing. As it passed by the people, objects from their clothing or accessories would wrench free and glide softly. Their faces twitched a second, the body subconsciously reacting to the sound. It did the lap around and back again, letting him see what was carried. Dollars, change, and cards of various payments hovered by in a single file line heading for the register on the front counter. In seconds, cards were swiped, buttons dialed, dollars allocated, and change jangled in the tip jar. All while a long stream of receipt paper spat up like a geyser and unraveled on the floor. Finally, this massive sheet was lifted and sectioned, wrapping themselves around the plastic payments or flapping bare. They were shot back across the store, nestling themselves with each respective owner. Once finished, the wisp contracted and spun into a fast dissipating spiral, leaving not a trace. Jane sighed to themselves, satisfied, then turned back to Chris. “There, all covered. I believe your kind refers to that as Southern Hospitality?” He held up his hands in a nonchalant act as he followed her out. "He~ell, that's good enough for me. You can call it whatever you like." He said, more impressed than anything else. She placed everything she carried in the backseat and closed the door, spinning a ball cap on her finger as she moved to the passenger side. "Well, this has certainly been an interesting revelation, but it's something we can work with. We still have plenty of time to get you situated." "Hang on, slow the roll a minute," He stepped in front of her, holding up a finger of self-importance, "Before you're doing anything, we're gonna go where I want to go first and foremost. Hell it's my car, I'm driving, so you're just gonna have to deal with it. Got it?" She smiled and nodded. "Of course, whatever you require to keep in good health will be done at once. As the Queen wishes." She looked down at the waist of his jeans and pursed her lips in thought. "Though, I believe that's a customer's personal item, not a product of the store." He paused and pulled the pistol, holding it sideways in his hand. “Yeah…” He examined the weapon, then glanced back at the store. "This one's on the house." He finished and placed it back. "I'm not sure what I can do about it at the moment." "I can think of a few things," He went to the numbers on the slide. "How sharp's that horn of yours?" "Excuse me?" He smirked to himself. "Nevermind. We'll figure that out later." He got the keys from his pocket and walked to the car. They both stepped inside and he started it, quickly whipping the car in a J-turn out of the parking lot. They made their way through the rest of the small town and went speeding onto the highway. Upon the completion of the hour, the town was filled with horrified screams and pained moans both young and old. Not long after, the sounds of sirens surrounded them, as they did all across the state.