Chapter One
Three years ago, a meteor was spotted when it passed the sun’s glare.
I was eighteen and about to start college. My entire future was ahead of me, bright as it could be, then it was darkened by something we won’t survive. None of us. Every single person on Earth is going to die in a matter of hours.
For a year, everything was tense. People went on with their everyday lives because there was nothing they could do about the meteor. That was up to the world governments. They all came together in a rare showing of unity to try to save us from extinction.
But our weapons aren’t strong enough. If we launched all our nukes, we could break the meteor apart, but it would still wipe us out. It’s bigger than the one that killed all the dinosaurs on Earth millions of years ago. At least they didn’t know what was coming. One day, a Tyrannosaurus Rex was happily gobbling up prey, and the next, there was no such thing as dinosaurs.
Two years ago, the most somber State of the Union address in history took place. It confirmed what everyone feared. The meteor can’t be stopped. We’re all going to be wiped out. Earth has an expiration date and it’s currently four hours away.
“I don’t know why I’m even bothering to go to class,” I sigh as I keep my head low, walking past the people who are drinking in the street. A guy says something vulgar enough to make me blush, but I ignore him and continue on. “But surely, I won’t be the only one there. I’ll at least get to say goodbye to Dr. Price.”
After everyone found out Doomsday was coming, there were uprisings across the globe. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe people were just expressing their emotions the only way they knew how. By toppling their governments and spreading chaos, because that’s what we do.
Public executions brought most of the rioting to a standstill here. It’s not that way across the globe, but life has found some semblance of order where I live. I found mine at school.
Most people blew off college. Either they didn’t bother going or dropped out. I don’t know why I bothered to go. Why, even now, with a countdown clock on television telling us the world will end in four hours, I’m still walking to Dr. Price’s lecture hall. Probably because I don’t have anything else. I was an orphan before the meteor was spotted. Now I barely even have any friends left.
“His door’s open. Then again, I’ve never seen it closed,” I say aimlessly as I walk down the hallway.
When I step into the lecture hall, I’m surprised to see that I’m the only one here. Well, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but five of us have made most of Dr. Price’s classes this semester. Five lost souls, filling our heads with knowledge we’ll never use, and a professor who still shows up to teach.
“None of the other students showed up,” I say, looking around. “I guess that confirms I’m the only one stupid enough to show up to class right before the apocalypse. I still thought Dr. Price would be here…”
Maybe he’s given up too. I probably should. Go back to my apartment. Pour a strong drink, even though I don’t like the taste of alcohol. There’s still plenty of time left to make bad decisions. Maybe it would be better to be passed out drunk when the meteor finally hits. The news said there won’t be much pain involved. We’ll be dead before we feel it. I hope they’re telling the truth.
“Forget it. What the hell am I doing? I should just go home,” I sigh, turning toward the door.
But before I can leave, Dr. Price walks in. He’s not wearing a suit like he usually is. Just a button-up shirt that’s unbuttoned around his neck, slacks, and black Oxfords that click against the floor. He finally stopped shaving a few months ago, and his beard has grown in. Instead of a satchel, like he usually carries, he’s holding a bottle of what appears to be whiskey with a pack of cigarettes dangling from his fingers.
He’s in his forties, but I never thought he looked his age. It shows a little more now. I guess the impending doom has aged all of us well past our years. I’ve always thought he was a rather attractive man. Somehow, he looks even more attractive, all rugged and disheveled.
“Milly? I’m surprised to see you here. I figured everyone would stay home since we’re counting down the hours,” he sighs, putting the whiskey and cigarettes on his desk before slumping into his seat. “No lecture today. I just don’t have it in me. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t think you would,” I admit. “I don’t really want to listen to one, either. I’m just going through the motions, like if I keep attending classes, it isn’t real. But it’s obviously real. I could see it in the sky on the way here.”
“Understandable. Denial is what has gotten me out of bed most mornings since they told us we weren’t going to survive the meteor.” Dr. Price opens a drawer and places two glasses on his desk, filling one with whiskey. “Want a drink? I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion. Guess there will never be another one.”
“I don’t really drink.” I wrinkle my nose.
“Me either. Not anymore,” he grunts, downing some whiskey and lighting a cigarette. He coughs on the smoke but still takes another drag. “Quit these things when I was your age because my wife nagged me about it so damn much. Wish she was still around to nag me about it one last time before it’s all over.”
“Wish I had a few people to nag me, too.” I look down at the floor. “Maybe I will take that drink.”
I walk to the front of the lecture hall and sit down next to Dr. Price’s desk. He pours a generous serving of whiskey and pushes the glass toward me. I sip it tentatively, the harsh alcohol burning my throat when it goes down, quickly reminding me why I don’t drink.
We sit in silence and watch the countdown clock. Dr. Price smokes and drinks. I take small sips of my whiskey, my eyes watering from the cigarette smoke. I’ve never liked cigarettes. My grandfather used to smoke cigars, and I didn’t mind those, as long as they weren’t in my face.
But it’s the end of the world. Everyone should get a chance to enjoy whatever vices they have left. It’s a miracle some of us are still alive, considering how bad things got before the public executions began.
“The last paper you wrote was good, by the way,” Dr. Price says, reaching for another cigarette. “I know I stopped grading them a while ago, but I still try to read them.”
“Thank you.” I take another sip of my whiskey and grimace. “It’s hard writing papers without the internet, but I’ve learned how to use the library a lot better than I ever did in high school.”
“Back in my day, that’s all we had. I wrote all my papers from encyclopedias that were often out of date before they ever made it on the shelf,” he says aimlessly. “Content doesn’t always matter, just how you frame it. You’ve always done a good job with that. You’d probably graduate with honors, if we were still keeping track of that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, in like twenty years,” I say, a light laugh escaping my lips. I’m already feeling the whiskey. “Hard to graduate when you can’t even take all the classes you need. You’re one of the only professors left.”
“Most days I feel like a ghost that haunts these halls rather than a teacher,” he says, exhaling a stream of smoke. He gestures to the cigarettes, offering me one, but I quickly decline with a wave of my hand. “But I said I’d keep showing up, as long as I had at least one student. Guess that’s you.”
“Guess so,” I sigh, drinking more whiskey. It doesn’t burn as much now, but it’s still bitter and numbs my tongue. “Sorry, Dr. Price. You probably wanted to spend your last few hours alone. I can go…”
“Nah, it’s fine. If you’re here, you must not have anywhere better to be,” he says. “I sure as fuck don’t.”
“No. My grandparents are gone. Someone broke into their house during the riots. They were all I had,” I admit, looking down at my glass. “I mean, I’ve got a few friends left, but most of them are spending time with their families, or partying like… well, like it’s the end of the world.”
“You didn’t want to join them?” he asks curiously. “Nobody is going to blame you if you stop being a good girl right before the apocalypse.”
“I was tempted, but no, I don’t really feel like partying.” I shake my head. “Might as well die with my dignity and self-respect intact, since I don’t have anything else.”
Dr. Price stares at me for a moment, then nods. “Suit yourself,” he says, downing the rest of his whiskey and pouring another glass. He fills mine back up without me asking him to. “I’m going to drink until that clock hits five minutes, then go outside and watch the world burn until it’s my turn to die.”
I didn’t plan to sit in front of the clock until the end. Dr. Price usually only lectures for an hour. I figured I’d attend his class one last time, then watch the world end from my apartment. But I don’t guess it matters.
At least I won’t be lonely when the meteor hits. I’ve always had a crush on Dr. Price, but I’ve never admitted to it. Granted, that was when he was clean-shaven, sober, and less melancholic. I used to fantasize about him being my first… well, first everything. Now I think I’m fine if I never experience any of that before I go. Not like I’m going to die happier because I got my cherry popped before the end of the world.
“I was hoping they’d at least do a news broadcast and give a few updates,” Dr. Price sighs, exhaling smoke and downing more whiskey. “Guess that’s too much to hope for.”
“Instead, we get a clock,” I say.
We keep talking. Dr. Price rambles about some theories he never got a chance to write down. I let him talk, because listening to his voice is a lot more soothing than just staring at the clock, hearing the beep every time another minute disappears from our existence.
I talk about my family. My grandparents. The parents I never got a chance to know because they died in a car accident while I was still in diapers. It isn’t long until I’m rambling too, doing my best not to cry.
Dr. Price just listens, occasionally drinking whiskey or taking a drag from a cigarette. There’s a haze around us now, and I’ve gotten used to the smoke, so it isn’t bothering me as much as it was. That’s probably because of the whiskey. I’m not just a little drunk. I might have trouble walking straight if I stand up.
“Last hour,” Dr. Price announces, stabbing out his cigarette. “Sounds like things are getting crazy outside.”
“Yeah,” I say, cowering a little when I hear some sort of explosion, but after a few more I realize it’s fireworks. “Some people really are treating this like a party.”
“Any last regrets?” Dr. Price asks, looking over at me.
“Plenty,” I sigh, sure there are some, but unable to come up with one that matters. “You?”
“Yeah,” he says. “More than I can count. Mind if I play some music? I’d like to listen to our song one last time.” He gestures at the photo of his wife on his desk.
“No, go ahead.”
Dr. Price pulls his phone out of his pocket. I’ve still got mine in my purse, but I mostly use it as a clock since the internet went down. I streamed all my music, so I lost everything except a few playlists. Dr. Price seems to have a lot more music than I do based on how long he scrolls through his options before a song starts.
It’s a slower song. Country. I don’t know it. My grandparents used to listen to country music, but it was usually older than this.
“What’s this one called?” I ask curiously, listening to lyrics about dancing in the dark and holding hearts tight.
“‘It’s Your Love.’ Faith Hill and Tim McGraw,” he answers. “I never liked music like this, even when my wife chose this to be our song. But I’ve been listening to it a lot more since she’s been gone.”
“It’s a nice song,” I say, leaning back to listen.
Dr. Price tears up, then they stream down his face. He doesn’t even bother to wipe them away. He just lets them flow while he smokes, drinks, and nods his head along to the music. After the song ends, another one plays, and I recognize it immediately.
“Oh, this was one of my grandfather’s favorites,” I say, struggling not to tear up myself as ‘Yesterday’ by The Beatles plays. “Wow, it really fits now, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” he says. “Yesterday was the last yesterday we’ll ever have. There won’t be a tomorrow for any of us. Just rocks spinning around a star long after we’re gone.”
“One way to look at it, I guess.”
We continue drinking while the song plays. After it ends, ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon begins. My grandparents both loved this one. They used to sing it to each other randomly, when things were tense. It always seemed to make them forget their problems and fall in love all over again. Beautiful, really.
“Kind of scary to think about it,” I admit, looking down. “This is the end, right? Do you think there’s a heaven… or a hell?”
“People smarter than me have debated that endlessly and never found an answer,” he mutters, sipping his whiskey, lighting another cigarette, and exhaling smoke before he continues. “We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
“Yeah.” I glance at the countdown clock.
We keep listening to the music as the clock counts down our demise. I don’t recognize the next song that plays, but Dr. Price does, and I just listen to lyrics about love, loss, and finding it all over again. I’ve never been in love. Not really. I guess that means I have nothing to lose or find. Not that it matters. I’ll be stardust soon enough.
“Forty-five minutes,” Dr. Price comments, stabbing out his cigarette and tossing the butt on the floor next to the others.
“Want to go outside?” I ask.
“Nah, I’ll wait here a little longer and listen to the music,” he says, gulping more whiskey and refilling his glass.
Suddenly, there’s a flicker on the television screen. The countdown clock gets covered by a staticky flash that repeats until the countdown clock is gone and the screen is jumbled. It reminds me of how the screen would look when my grandparents would play their old VHS tapes.
“Fuck,” Dr. Price mutters. “Guess we’re on our own from here.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” I say. “It might be better if we don’t know the exact minute it’s going to happen.”
“I’d feel better watching it,” he sighs. “But whatever. Nothing has worked right since the meteor appeared. We’re lucky we even have power. I had to fill the school’s generators myself last week, and there’s no fuel left to do it again.”
It’s really over. My life will end with old music providing the soundtrack for my final minutes. I check the clock on my phone and estimate we’ve got about thirty minutes left. Dr. Price will probably go outside soon. Maybe I’ll join him, even if I stumble my way there after drinking so much whiskey.
But then the static on the television screen begins to crackle. A voice booms through the static, which makes both of us stare at the screen in confusion.
“Citizens of Planet Earth. I am Thek’lak, General First Class of the Intergalactic Alliance,” the voice says, and the static dissipates until there’s a face on the screen.
“What the hell…” Dr. Price trails off, his jaw dropping.
“Is that an alien?” I ask, my eyes widening.
Thek’lak has large oval eyes, and they’re glossy black, like the onyx necklace my grandmother used to wear. He has smooth, shiny purple skin that almost looks damp. His head protrudes outward, hard ridges spaced out evenly across his wide forehead. But that’s not the strangest part. The strangest part is that he has twitchy tentacles where his mouth should be. The tentacles curl back on themselves, and they’re lined with tiny, glistening, cup-shaped suckers that flex as he speaks.
“Well, he sure as hell isn’t human,” Dr. Price mutters, leaning closer to the screen.
“Your planet currently faces an extinction level event,” Thek’lak continues, his ringed suckers flexing with each word. “The Intergalactic Alliance cannot prevent it, but some of you will be relocated to other habitable planets. Please stand by for selection.”
The screen crackles again, and Thek’lak vanishes. The countdown clock returns, and we’re now less than twenty minutes from impact.
“Selection? That means some of us aren’t going to die,” I breathe out, putting my glass down. “Oh, gosh, do you think that’s for real?”
“If it isn’t real, it’s one hell of a cruel joke,” Dr. Price answers. “But I’ve lived my life. There are billions of people on Earth. I’m sure they’ll take the youngest ones first. Maybe they’ll make it to you before the meteor hits.”
Aliens. That means we’re not alone in the universe. One last cosmic mystery solved before Earth’s demise. But Dr. Price is right. There are so many people on Earth that the odds of being chosen are quite low, depending on how many people the aliens can rescue. I assume they can’t take everyone.
“Why did they wait so long to show up?” I wonder aimlessly. “If they had arrived a few days ago, they could have probably saved everyone.”
“Maybe they don’t want everyone.” Dr. Price shrugs.
It’s a scary thought. Have we already been judged? Some of us deemed worthy, while the others will be left to die. I accepted it. Learned to live with hopeless despair coiled inside me every waking minute. I’m scared to have hope now, especially with the countdown clock ticking away the final minutes.
“Milly!” Dr. Price gasps, scooting his chair back and standing up. “You’re glowing!”
“I am?” I ask, then I realize he’s right.
My skin is brighter than normal, and I’m surrounded by a blue light. It feels strangely calming. Have I been chosen? Am I going to survive? I look at Dr. Price and start to say something, but a buzzing in my head silences everything around me, including my own voice.
The next thing I know, I’m spinning above the university, and I’m completely naked. It should bother me, but I still feel calm, like nothing matters. I rise higher and higher until I can see the entire city I grew up in. I can even see the street I turn on to get to my grandparents’ house.
The city gets smaller and smaller until I can’t make out the details anymore. Just patches of green and blue as I move through the atmosphere.
A light flashes above me that’s so bright I have to cover my eyes. I look up and see what I assume is Thek’lak’s ship. It’s so big I can’t see anything else except the meteor in the distance, still hurling toward Earth, its tail leaving a streak across the sky.
I look around and see hundreds of blue beams blinking out from the ship. There are other people in the ones near me. They’re naked, like I am. Calm, with no signs of distress. We’ve all been saved. Spared from extinction. Chosen. But why?
As the blue beam pulls me closer to the ship, the buzzing gets louder. My vision blurs and I struggle to breathe.
I see something opening above me.
Then I lose consciousness.
[divider]Chapter Two
Milly
I come to with a throbbing headache, and a white light above my head that is so bright I can’t stand to open my eyes.
“Where am I?” I groan, my eyelids fluttering as I try to force them open. My mouth is dry but still tastes like whiskey, and cigarette smoke clings to my skin. “Dr. Price?”
I’m not sitting in the lecture hall. I’m not floating above the university. I’m lying on a cold, hard surface that feels like metal. I’m still naked, judging by the way the metal feels against my skin.
My legs are elevated, spread wide, and not touching the table, but there’s cold metal on the soles of my feet. I try to move them, but something is around my ankles, pinning them in place. My wrists are the same way. They’re above my head, and they won’t move.
“Hello?” I mutter, trying to get some saliva in my mouth.
My eyelids finally crack, but not enough to see anything. The light is so strong it blinds me and makes my throbbing head hurt even worse. I blink until there are tears blurring my vision, and they dampen enough of the light for me to open my eyes.
I look away from the harsh overhead light and realize I can’t move my wrists because there are metal bands across them. The metal bands don’t have a hinge or a lock than I can see. It’s like they’re fused into the table.
If that isn’t enough to concern me, when I look down past the curve of my breasts, I see that my feet are in stirrups and metal bands are around my ankles, keeping me from escaping the awkward, spread-eagle position I’m in. I shudder from the cold and how exposed I am. I don’t like this at all.
“Is anyone there? Help!” I call out, unsure who I expect to save me. I was taken by aliens. It was supposed to be salvation from the meteor that was about to destroy Earth. “Can someone let me off this table? Please? I’m awake now…”
I look around the room the best I can with the bright light focused on my naked body. The walls are sterile, clinical white with no decorations at all. The floor is tiled, same color as the walls. There’s no door. No windows. I’m all alone.
I test the restraints, but that doesn’t do anything but make my wrists and ankles hurt. I feel a surge of concern. Serious concern. How long have I been unconscious? Have the aliens already done something to me? Did they… probe me? I shudder at the thought, but I don’t feel like I’ve been violated. Outside of the headache, I feel relatively okay, and I’m not in pain as long as I don’t stare at the light or pull at my restraints.
I waited for the apocalypse. Watched a meteor appear on the news, then in the sky above planet Earth. I’m not on Earth anymore. Definitely not in Kansas, as Dorothy used to say in my grandmother’s favorite movie. Now I’m waiting on some sort of table. But why? I’m more scared now than I was when the countdown clock first appeared.
Then a soft, electronic chime pierces the silence. It’s followed by a hiss, like gas escaping from a soda bottle when you twist off the cap. A seamless door seems to magically appear on the wall to my right. It slides open slowly, and as it does, I see a horned, monstrous figure on the other side of the door.
He steps into the room, and I see that he has red skin. The part that’s not covered by his white uniform, at least. The horns that protrude from his skull are smooth, black, and metallic. His eyes are blood-red, and he peers at me for a moment before he says something I can’t understand and turns to the wall next to the door.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a demon, but that can’t be right. I was saved from the apocalypse by aliens, not hell spawn. My grandmother used to say that if I didn’t behave, I’d go to hell, like the preacher talked about on Sunday at church. I’m not perfect, but I didn’t think I’d go to hell, if there really was an eternity of fire and brimstone awaiting sinners.
The red-skinned, black-horned alien taps the wall several times, and a screen appears, just like the door did. It resembles an iPad or tablet from Earth, but I don’t recognize any of the apps that pop up on the screen.
“Can you understand me now?” he asks, clicking and clacking noises echoing along with his words that sound like metal grinding against metal. “The Intergalactic Translator is functioning correctly. Earth’s languages should be fully implemented now.”
“I can understand you,” I whimper, some uncertainty in my voice. “Can you take these restraints off? Please? I’m scared.”
“No, I can’t remove your restraints until your examination is over,” he replies, turning to me with a smile on his face. It looks kind of creepy because his teeth are as black as his horns and appear to be made out of the same metallic material. “My name is Dr. Grix. I’ve learned that I look like a demon to people from Earth, so I guess I should apologize for my appearance, even though everyone looks like this where I’m from.”
“My name is Milly. You’re an alien?” I ask, swallowing hard, finally able to get some saliva in my mouth.
“Not where I’m from, but yes, I meet Earth’s definition of an alien. You’re human. I’m Gali’gorath’krian. Don’t worry about trying to repeat that. Your fleshy tongue just can’t say it right,” he says, his tongue rubbing against his teeth as he walks closer to the table. “You would be the alien if you visited my world… not that you can. It’s gone, just like yours is.”
“Okay,” I say, still nervous and apprehensive. I glance down at my naked body, my feet trembling in the stirrups. “You said you’re going to examine me?”
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I wish it was under different circumstances. I learn a little more about humans every time I examine one, so hopefully this won’t be too uncomfortable for you now that I have a better understanding of your kind. After your examination, we’ll find a new home for you on a planet that won’t be too alien for you. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes,” I mumble, still feeling extremely exposed.
“Good, then we should be able to get started,” he says. “Unless you’d like to see what happened after you were rescued from Earth. It’s not pretty, but some of my patients feel better watching the big boom. Gives them closure.”
“No, that’s okay.” I shake my head. “I’d rather not see that.”
“That’s fine, too. I should let you know that it’s been several years since Earth was destroyed. You were kept in cryostasis, so you’re exactly the same as you were the day we rescued you. I just had to let all the alcohol leave your system before I could start your examination after you were thawed.”
“Years? Really? It feels like… minutes ago,” I say, looking at him with concern.
“Yes, that’s because of the cryostasis. Nothing to worry about. We could have left you frozen for centuries and it would still only feel like a few minutes to you,” he says, walking back to the screen on the wall.
Dr. Grix accesses a few things on the screen, the wall around it hisses, and the screen detaches. Dr. Grix moves it, then lets it hover in the air to his immediate right. He walks back to the table, closer than before, and I suck in a breath. I can no longer see the screen, because it is translucent, but I can see every detail on his demonic-looking face.
“I’ll have to do a thorough examination, but that’s a lot less invasive here than it is on Earth,” he explains, smiling enough to show his teeth. “But before we get started, I will need your consent before I can touch you. We try to honor the customs of the refugee home worlds, even if they’re foreign to us.”
“Yeah, I already said it was okay,” I mutter, noticing that his fingernails are sharp black talons, same material as his horns and teeth.
“No, I need you to expressly give consent,” he says, then he gestures to the screen. “This is being recorded, and I don’t want to have a malpractice complaint. I’d like to get a better position than this one day, and that will be difficult if I don’t have a spotless record.”
“Okay… I… I consent to the examination,” I say apprehensively. “But what happens if people don’t consent? Do you just not examine them?”
“Everyone asks that,” he says, his voice echoing what I assume is laughter based on his expression. “It’s not pleasant. If you don’t consent to the examination, then I can’t do it, which means I have to lower you into the incinerator. It’s the only option since we have to honor Earth’s customs.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound pleasant at all!” I cry, my eyes widening like saucers. “You really save people, then incinerate them if they don’t let you examine them?”
“So far, I haven’t had to incinerate anyone, except those were too defective to qualify for a new home,” he says. “But don’t worry. You’re not defective enough for that. I can tell just by looking at you now that I know more about human anatomy and your different scents. Your diseases have an unusual odor. You just smell like whiskey and cigarette smoke.”
“I don’t smoke. I was drinking with my professor and he was smoking,” I say, just in case a bad habit could make me defective. “And I rarely drink. It was just… the end of the world.”
“Nothing to worry about, Milly. If the examination becomes too much, and you wish to withdraw your consent, just let me know. I’ll move on to my next patient.”
“After you incinerate me?” I ask, trembling a little.
“Yes,” he confirms, leaning forward. “Open your mouth so I can count your teeth. Need to make sure all thirty-two are accounted for.”
“They should be all there.” I open my mouth.
I am stiff when I see Dr. Grix’s talon moving toward my mouth. He taps the two teeth in the top of my mouth, and I feel a tingling vibration. He uses another talon to pull my mouth to the right side, his talon clacking against each tooth until he moves to the bottom. Once he’s finished, my mouth is zinging and there’s a metallic tang that lingers on my tastebuds when I close my mouth.
“All thirty-two. Great,” he says. “My first patient was missing her wisdom teeth because they grew in sideways. Doesn’t seem like they’re very wise if that defect can occur.”
“I don’t know why they’re called that,” I admit.
“Anatomy is different for all races,” he says. “We’re born with all our teeth and we grow into them. Our horns are like human teeth though, in a way. We aren’t born with them, we get baby horns until we molt, and then the permanent ones grow in. Mine are defective, unfortunately.”
“They are?” I ask, glancing at his horns, not seeing anything that makes them look defective.
“One horn is shorter than the other one,” he says. “I’d show you, but your vision isn’t acute enough to see it. I guess that means I wouldn’t have been defective on Earth. Maybe I could have even gotten accepted into a better medical school. One that would have gotten a residency on one of the Intergalactic Alliance home worlds instead of out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s where we are? The middle of nowhere?” I ask, unsure how that applies to the vastness of space.
“Yes, this is a refugee center. An old one that’s primarily only used for training purposes,” he explains. “Humans are perfect for training, because you’re similar to a lot of different species across the universe. A few differences, of course. Some of it can only be seen by looking at your genetic markers.”
He leans closer to me, the tip of his talon pressing down near my right eye. I hold still, even though the pressure doesn’t feel great, staring into his blood-red gaze.
“Your vision is slightly defective. Did you have anything to correct it on your world?” he asks dryly. “The color is a little different in each eye, too. One is slightly greener than the other one.”
“No, I was supposed to get glasses but never did. I was actually leaving an eye exam when we found out about the meteor,” I say. “My vision never got bad enough to bother, and there was a lot more to worry about than my eyes.”
“Understandable,” he says, glancing at his screen before he drags his talon from the edge of my eye to my ear. It rubs against my skin, but doesn’t hurt, which is a surprise considering how sharp it is.
“Turn your head for me, Milly.”
I do as he asks and the talon goes into my ear canal. It itches and I grimace, but I don’t react to it. Once he’s done with my right ear, he gestures for me to turn my head the other direction, and I follow his instruction. After he’s examined both of my ears, he taps something on his screen.
“Hearing is actually better than what is considered perfect on your world. Best I’ve seen for a human. Won’t help with your placement, but I made a note.”
“Maybe that’s why my grandmother used to always accuse me of eavesdropping when I wasn’t trying to,” I say, swallowing some saliva that’s pooled in my throat.
“Have you ever broken any of your bones?” he asks. “To your knowledge. I can do a full scan if you’re not sure.”
“I broke my arm when I was in second grade,” I admit. “I feel off the monkey bars during recess.”
“Which arm?” he asks, a talon hovering over my head where my arms are restrained.
“Left one.”
He drags his talon along my left arm, and I get the feeling he’s got some sort of sensor in his talon, since he was able to check my eyesight and hearing with it.
“Yes, there is a defect. Nothing to be alarmed by, but I’ll have to make a note,” he says.
“Not defective enough for the incinerator, right?” I ask, feeling a twinge of concern.
“No, far from it,” he reassures. “Next, I’ll need to take a blood sample. I will try to be gentle. Humans don’t have a high pain tolerance.”
He presses his talon into my arm and I wince, but it doesn’t hurt much. Similar to getting a shot at the doctor office. I look up and see blood running from the hole he poked into my skin. Blood hits the table and then it vanishes without a trace, like the table is absorbing it.
“That should be enough for a full sample. That wasn’t bad, right?” he asks, gesturing to the hole in my arm.
“I felt it, but it’s fine,” I reply.
“Good, still working on my bedside manners with humans, but I’m learning,” he says, chuckling under his breath. “I don’t see any defects present in your blood. You’ve got good blood, according to what I’ve learned about Earth. O positive.”
“Yeah, means I’m a universal donor,” I say. “My blood is compatible with other people. I used to donate blood when I was in high school. Some of mine probably blew up with the planet, if it hadn’t been used yet.”
“I’ll have to examine your breasts next,” he says flatly. “I’m telling you so you don’t freak out when I do.”
I suck in a breath before he moves his hand to my right breast and squeezes it. He glances at the screen, but he pays closer attention to what he’s doing, caressing the skin until my nipple hardens and I let out a gasp. He then moves to my left breast, tracing the nipple until I writhe on the table and whimper.
“No lumps,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m beginning to believe those are a myth, because I haven’t found one yet in any of the patients I’ve examined.”
“They’re real. My grandmother had breast cancer. Had to have both of hers removed,” I mutter, still tingling from having my breasts fondled.
“Well, you didn’t inherit those from her,” he says, moving his hand to my stomach and pressing down. “Are you pregnant?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve never… done anything that would get me pregnant.”
“Very good. I won’t tell you what we have to do when a refugee is pregnant. I’ve learned Earth women react pretty violently to that. Much more so than other species, even if it upsets them.”
I don’t ask, but I’m sure it has something to do with the incinerator.
Dr. Grix pulls his hand away and walks the length of the table, then steps around the stirrups. I blush a little when he looks down. I’ve been examined by a gynecologist before, but that was a woman. A human woman. I do my best to remain still, but I can still feel an involuntary clenching and unclenching below the waist.
“Our research showed that humans don’t like being touched here,” he says, leaning down and poking at my folds with his talon. “However, after examining a number of humans, I’ve found the exact opposite is sometimes true. Sometimes, they ask me to touch them even more than I have to. Remember, you can ask me to stop at any time.”
I whimper when he spreads my folds with his talons. He traces my clit, then lightly grazes my skin as he moves his talon to my entrance and prods it. I whimper a few times, squirming on the table. Involuntary arousal makes me tingle. I want to tell him to stop, but I don’t want to get incinerated, so I let him keep touching me, even when I feel myself getting wetter from the unwanted stimulation.
“Yep, you’re a virgin like you said,” he affirms, pulling his hand away. “There’s always an odor when a woman has been inseminated, and your scent is pure. That will overcome most defects when we search for a suitable home. Most are happy to take virgin women.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” I whimper, still tingling from his touch.
“Always a good thing, but it wouldn’t be a major issue if you weren’t. Plenty of other planets who will take refugees,” he says. “Now, before I finish your examination, would you like for me to give you an orgasm with my fingers or my tongue?”
My eyes widen and I shake my head. “What? No!”
“Okay, just checking,” he chuckles. “I can’t inseminate you since you’re a virgin, but I can do anything else. Like I said, some human patients ask for it, so I’ve started asking just to be safe.”
“I don’t want anything like that,” I shudder.
“Fair enough,” he says, moving away from the table, the screen remaining to his immediate right until he gets to the wall.
Dr. Grix taps the screen, then the wall hisses and absorbs the device. Dr. Grix turns to face me, a smile on his face.
“You should find your placement most suitable, Milly,” he says. “It was a pleasure to meet you, and I hope I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable today.”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” I mumble, glad the examination is over. “Can you… remove the restraints, please? If my examination is over.”
“After I’m gone, you will be released,” he says. “You’ll hear from your social worker soon.”
The door hisses open and Dr. Grix steps out of the room. I can see another door across from mine, but nothing else except that it looks like a hallway. As soon as the door closes, I feel the table shifting underneath me and the metal around my wrists and ankles disappears, getting absorbed into the table and stirrups like my blood.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I say, rubbing my wrists and removing my feet from the stirrups.
The table shifts again and then it begins to morph. The metal surface gets softer and I sink into it as it lowers to the floor. After it stops morphing, I’m sitting in what resembles a green beanbag chair, except it almost feels like I’m on the old waterbed at my grandparents’ cabin. Floaty, but there’s nothing jiggling underneath me.
The walls are the next thing to change. The white, sterile tile sinks into the floor and gets replaced by speckled stone and concrete. A table rises in front of me, then several chairs appear all around me. The walls expand considerably, taking shape until I recognize everything around me.
“I’m in… Dr. Price’s lecture hall?” I ask, confusion swirling inside of me.
A table rises next to me that definitely wasn’t in the lecture hall. It has a smooth top, and a similar shade of green that matches the beanbag chair. Then all of Dr. Price’s posters and pictures appear on the wall, the room filling out until it looks identical. The door Dr. Grix left through now looks like the heavy wooden door I walked through every day, except it’s closed. Dr. Price never closed his door, even when he was done for the day.
I look around in confusion as the transformation continues, except what rises near Dr. Price’s television wasn’t in his lecture hall, either. It’s my bed. Literally the one I slept in last night… well, what feels like last night. According to the demon doctor who offered me a free orgasm after my examination, it’s been years since then.
After the room is done, threads shoot up from the beanbag chair. For a moment, I’m alarmed, but as they’re woven together, I realize it’s creating clothes for me. Clothes I recognize, because it’s the exact same thing I was wearing on my last day of class. The yellow sundress my grandmother gave me. The last thing she gave me. It felt like the right thing to wear for the end of the world. Being dressed in it again feels comforting, but part of that is because I’m no longer naked.
“Well, okay…” I say, looking around. “I guess this is better than being spread-eagle on a table.”
I’m not sure what to make of it all, but at least the worst part is over.
I hope.
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