Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
She crept to the metal door and carefully unlatched it. The hinges groaned softly as the door swung open.
A rush of freezing air hit her square in the chest. She gasped as goosebumps exploded across her arms and her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
It’s so cold, she thought. I should close it. I should walk away.
But something worse than cold was rising inside her—dread.
She stepped forward and her bare feet slapped against the icy metal floor as she entered the walk-in freezer. She wrapped her arms around herself, careful not to touch bare skin, her breath forming little white clouds in front of her face.
Rows of heavy plastic bins lined the walls, labeled in alien runes she didn’t recognize and the translation bacteria couldn’t translate. But Noelle barely glanced at them.
Because right in the center—hanging from hooks in the ceiling—were shapes.
No…not shapes. Bodies.
Her brain refused to process what she was seeing at first…it made no sense.
Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the meat locker and she saw—really saw.
Two bodies—upside down. They were hanging like butchered pigs, their ankles pierced by curved metal hooks suspended from the ceiling’s meat rails. Thick gleaming metal bit into their gray-green skin and the torsos swung gently in the cold air, bumping against one another with hard, frozen sounds.
The male—at least she thought it was male—had a limp, greenish penis hanging between his legs. The female had breasts.
And both of them were headless.
Puddles of congealed brown blood pooled beneath their necks, staining the floor in dark, sticky swirls.
Noelle stared, her eyes getting wider and wider. She couldn’t move…couldn’t breathe.
Dios… Madre de Dios…no, oh no…
She looked down at her dress.
The white collar was stained with a muddy brown splotch she’d mistaken for chocolate.
But it wasn’t chocolate—of course it wasn’t. There was no chocolate here, light years from Earth.
It’s blood, she thought numbly. Blood from whoever wore this before me. Probably her. And her eyes were drawn again to the headless female body, hanging by its ankles from the ceiling.
Her knees buckled and she barely managed to catch herself on the doorframe.
“He kills them,” she whispered, and hearing the voice coming from her own throat was like listening to a stranger. “Kills them and eats them when he’s done with them…”
A horrible wave of nausea rolled over her and she had to swallow it down fast.
That’s what happened to the last girl. That’s what’s going to happen to us if we don’t get out of here!
“Blessed Virgin,” she breathed. “Help me…please, help me…”
Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of whistling, off-key and grating.
Cookie.
She lunged out of the freezer, heart hammering, and slammed the door shut. Her fingers fumbled with the latch, barely managing to make it click into place.
She tried to look normal—tried to make her face pleasant and innocent, as she stepped into the kitchen.
Cookie stood in front of the prep table, a massive cleaver in one of his four hands. The blade was stained with something dark.
He squinted at her suspiciously.
“Now then,” he said. “What were you doing back there?”
Noelle forced a smile onto her face and gripped the bone tighter in her hand.
“Just putting some bones in the bone barrel,” she said innocently.
The alien chef gave her a long, hard stare.
“See that you stay out of the freezer,” he said at last. “It’s not for little piggy-wigs like you. Not yet, anyway.” And he stifled a laugh.
“No problem,” Noelle said quickly. “I was just—uh—on my way out.”
“Good.” Cookie raised the cleaver and brought it down with a sickening thunk, slicing through something soft and wet on the table. “Get out of my kitchen.”
Noelle didn’t need to be told twice.
She bolted through the door and down the hallway, only slowing when she was out of sight.
Her hands were shaking, her stomach was churning and her mind was racing.
If we don’t escape, she thought, we’re going to be next. As soon as he gets tired of making porn with us, he’s going to kill us and hang us on those hooks. Cookie will stew us in a pot and serve us to his three heads on a silver platter!
She reached into her pocket and touched the pills.
No matter what it takes, she thought grimly. We’re getting out of here. And we’re never coming back.
65
BURN
Burn strode into the enormous hallway, still brushing dirt from his hands. Yardwork. That’s what the big threeheaded bastard had assigned him today. Except Burn hadn’t been doing the damn yardwork—at least not most of it. He’d been searching the entire perimeter of the monstrous house, combing every inch of dirt and gravel for anything—anything—that looked like a spare biometric key.
He’d found nothing but a shovel with a broken handle, a cracked watering bulb, and a bunch of weeds that fought harder than some of the pirates he’d killed.