Mated To The Vikens. Grace Goodwin
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a detachment I could hardly fathom.
His legs became lax as the fight left him. Beneath me, his body softened as his muscles relaxed. His hold on my arm loosened and his hand slid to the ground. He looked at me with wide eyes, as if stunned. Pushing away from his chest, I grabbed the gun and scrambled backward on my hands and knees, away from him.
The light shining through the uppermost canopy of trees filtered down to dance on his chest, the blood coating the front of his shirt spread in a bright red bloom over the dark green fabric.
So, the Vikens bled red, just like humans.
I watched him fade, the taste of his blood in my mouth twisted my stomach and I rolled to my side as my body was racked with dry heaves. I hadn’t eaten in long hours, and for once, I was thankful for an empty stomach.
Chilled to the bone, I turned away from him and climbed to my feet. I stood on shaky legs and saw that his eyes had become glassy and blank. My heart thundered in my ears but the rest of me felt completely numb.
He was dead. I killed him.
I jerked my head around, left then right, looking for more enemies, more threats. We were in the center of a clearing with only the small building, squat and covered in what appeared to be moss. I turned, slowly, and felt like I’d stepped into a magical forest. Tall trees loomed like skyscrapers overhead, so thick and green I could barely see the color of the sky beyond. The ground was soft beneath my feet, springy with a mixture of moss and thick, lush grass.
I felt as if I'd walked into a Monet painting. I longed to have my paints so I could put the incredible beauty to canvas. It was… perfection. Everything was damp, as if it had just rained. Verdant and humid, sweat gathered on my brow as the sounds of animals I didn’t know chirped and squawked from their hidden roosts. Climbing vines wound their way from tree to tree, and every few inches along their length an exotic flower, larger than my open palm, decorated the forest with vibrant pink and purple, orange and gold petals. Viken was lovely. Colorful. Strangely beautiful and I wanted to paint it all.
Except for the dead man at my feet.
I looked down at the strange weapon in my hand, pointed it at the ground a few feet away and squeezed. Nothing happened. I tried again and again, but the weapon was useless.
Irritated, I tossed the gun aside and turned my back on the small building. I needed water, something to get the taste of death out of my mouth, but I couldn’t go back into the transport center. What if the man with the tattoo came back to finish what the ensign had started? What if someone else did?
I had to get away. I wasn’t safe here, even with this man now dead. Even with nature all around me. I had no idea where I was. There could be others about who would find me. How would I explain the dead body?
Walking into the woods, I didn’t look back. I was an alien here. They’d see the dead Viken and I’d be looking at a murder charge. Why would anyone listen to me? I was from Earth. I was on another planet. Were there any laws governing the right to kill in self-defense on Viken? God, I couldn’t go to prison. That was why I volunteered for the Brides Program in the first place.
First things first, I had to put as much distance as possible between myself and this fucking horror story.
The woods closed around me and I kept walking until the small building disappeared from my view. Looking around, I saw no obvious path and had no idea which way to go. The forest looked the same in every direction.
It didn’t matter which way I chose, as long as I ran far, far away.
I picked up the hem of my dress and dashed through leaves and vines, wound my way past trees and flowers, and kept moving until my legs ached and my lungs burned.
I’d survived on Earth with the Corellis. I would keep going until I found some people who looked friendly enough to ask for help. The language thing that giant needle had poked into my skull as part of my processing on Earth must have worked, because I’d understood the two men who’d wanted me dead all too well.
Yes, running was a risk. But staying, waiting for tattoo man to come back and finish the job, seemed worse.
I found a small stream and rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face and kept moving.
Yeah, I might die out here. But at this point, I had nothing left to lose.
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