Oh merciful God, now that thing was looking at him with its horrible demon eyes. Both of them watched him, and it seemed to him that what he was looking at was one unit. The alien with its head down, cocked slightly, as if devising the most tantalizing way to be rid of the interloper, and the blue-haired girl who apparently had no compunction about yelling at the creature like it was her boyfriend.

“I think I would prefer you didn’t do that no matter who it was,” she said. Another moment of silence, the two staring at him. Then she said, “Okay.”

She turned to look at the alien, and Kaveh thought he saw a flash of worry, maybe even fear pass over her features. “How would you kill him?”

!!!!!!!!!

He nearly pissed his pants then and there. A part of him figured, why not? At least one’s bladder can know peace before one dies.

That look of worry on her face heightened. “That’s humane to you?”

The alien looked at Kaveh with those glowing hellhound eyes, redder now in the sunlight. It lingered on him for a few seconds, then the carapace on the creature’s back cracked open, and what looked like liquid metal sheets spilled out of each side like satin, sliding like a living, viscous fluid down its legs and arms and neck, enveloping the thing in metal as it crouched down onto the floor, compressing itself almost like a giant bullet. Then, the metal-encased creature disappeared from sight.

Kaveh let out a shaking breath, then another, and watched as Ortega approached him, her expression completely blank. She pulled out the pocketknife, and he sat up straight.

I could take her, he thought. The alien is gone, and she’s not that big. Even tied up, he stood a good chance of wresting the knife away, cutting himself loose, getting the fuck out of there. His breath hitched as she kneeled in front of him. She held up the knife and stared at him, her expression still blank, dazed. Then, she took a long, slow breath. Her guard was down. He could do it—he could take her.

She lowered the knife and cut the twine around his feet. Then she paused, looking at him. She then cut the twine around his wrists, all the while maintaining that melancholy, blank expression. Finally, she folded the pocketknife and handed it back to him.

He didn’t move for a few seconds before lifting up his hand to accept the pocketknife, backing even farther into the wall. He very slowly, very carefully, lifted his right hand to peel the duct tape from his mouth. He waited for her to say something, give him permission to speak, but she didn’t say anything, just bowed her head a touch as if to say, You win.

“I . . .,” Kaveh started, pausing to see if he still wasn’t allowed to speak. “I really have to pee.”