Two years after the aliens known as the Tarri'um Empire conquered Earth, Mirielle's human camp is discovered, exploited and destroyed by Tarri'um soldiers. After being captured and used in their Human Biology Studies, and a rebel attack later, she i...
This book contains violence, blood/gore, swearing, as well as, sexual references, humour, scenes etc. As a precaution, Caution is advised, and this is not appropriate for peoples under eighteen years of age.
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Adrenaline pumped wildly, pushing her faster and faster. Her skin scrapped and muddy, hair pulled in odd places and riddled with leaves from low lying branches. The dry burning of her lungs and throat contrasted with the cold autumn night. The low buzzing in the air vibrated between her ears and made her heart feel heavy. They were close.
Looking over her shoulder Mirielle could see the dark navy midnight sky, which looked more like late dusk. An ashy orange plagued the bottom horizon sky and cast subtle light on the silhouettes of high standing trees. Somewhat obstructed by smoke some trees left crackling in fire, Mirielle saw lights of foreign hover ships shine into the forest, which approached rapidly from the source. The vibrating more intense with each passing second.
Mirielle plummeted to the ground; her foot ached from bending unnaturally. Fortunately, her forearms and knees took most of the fall for the rest of her body. Wasting no time she untangled her booted toes from roots, by now the ground was also vibrating. Crawling low on her hands and knees, Mirielle carried herself to a fallen log. She hoped it could provide cover from the lights infiltrating through to the forest floor from the canopy above. She could feel a soft tickle rung down from her forearms and knees.
The cranking and vibrating of a hover craft caused the girl to whine softly into her hand, a feeling of impending doom cause her to shiver in her useless hiding spot. Her gut became nauseous and her heart heavy in dread. Dirt stuck to her palms more as nervous sweat built up from her pores. It was directly above her, or near to it, either way it was too close for her comfort.
Curled closer to the log and further into its shadow, Mirielle's hair mattered with moss. The skin on her back imprinting the texture of the rotting wood, even through her layers of clothes, all from how hard she pressed herself against the log in dwindling hope. The hanger door of the aircraft loudly creaked and groaned. Two large figures jumped down effortlessly to the ground.
They stalked closer, their shadows came into view. They were much larger than any human, taller and wider. Their skin tough and inhuman colours, limbs sturdier than a human's. Mirielle reached slowly behind her back, praying that she doesn't make a sound in the leaves. She wrapped her fingers around a worn hilt of a hunting knife, she pulled it closer to her side, pulling her arms up to her chest. She got in position to run as best she could, still crouched behind the log. In her other hand she grabbed a fairly weighty rock, enough to throw with little effort.
Waiting for the spotting light to shine away from the log, she readied her hand to throw the rock in the opposite direction. A desperate, cliché, attempt of a distraction. Finally, she saw a window of opportunity and threw the rock as far as she could. Peaking to see the two aliens had actually fallen for it, she saw their backs facing her.
Mirielle ran from the false safety of the log, she darted in the direction she was fleeing before. With no particular destination other than safety, and granted, as much distance as possible from the once homey base. Which had turned from a small retreat, in a post-apocalyptic world, to a potential raging forest fire. The aftermath of an ambush.
Driving herself forward, Mirielle hurried knowing the space between her and the aliens is slim. The heavy thumping of their feet raddled her slightly. Feeling the air shift on the nape of her neck, she swung around and slashed her knife. Clanged against hard heavy armour, she jumped back, before she could even turn around to run again. They had pulled out a gun.
Dark tired eyes widen looking at the weapon aimed at her, fearing the worst. Not death. Something much worse.
The click of the gun indicated it had been fired. Out shot a net of sorts, made of sleek metal rather than rope. Mirielle thrashed her knife around, trying to cut it. It was no use, as the net took her to the ground. Sprawled out were weighted balls, keeping Mirielle secure to between the net and ground. Her hands were secure to the ground, restricting her movement. Tears welded to the brims of her eyes, the light of the hover crafty blinding her vision in white. Causing her to squint and attempt to cover her eyes with her shoulder.
One of the aliens reached down and grabbed the balls, in a way that still held the vulnerable girl somehow in it. Like a fish or wild animal caught in a hunter's trap. Thrashing around would do no good, it would have only caused more discomfort in the net. Her arms and legs felt like they could slip out, but she doubted she'd get that lucky to kick or punch them.
"Let me go you fuckers!" Yelled Mirielle while she fought against the other alien who was trying to take her knife.
Her motions were limited by the net, which allowed the alien to simply grab her wrist. Wincing at the strong hold, she dropped the knife to the ground, today she'd rather save her hand than keep a knife. No hand. No knife.
The large alien held the net in one hand and with the other it released a gas from a cylinder. Blueish-green gas filled the air, Mirielle's eyes became heavy, and a dull headache formed in the centre of her head. Her head began to lull backwards straining her neck. Quickly she had lost consciousness, but the gas left the aliens unaffected. Swinging the net over its shoulder, like nothing more than dirty laundry, the alien turned to the other and they made their way back to the direction the girl had fled from. Back towards the fire. Towards more hover crafts and aliens.
