Page 3 of Alien Beast

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The way she says those words breaks my heart. These people are the only ones who can understand my family. My father and the motherless childhood I faced. She left me with him.

I was the stone that sunk him down into the bottomless abyss that was his life. Me, not his wife. He never blamed himself because I was the only one around, and I didn’t know any better than t

o take his words as truth.

When he drank, he let me hear it. “Honesty is the best policy,” he said. But I think honesty was often a weapon to him. I could never dodge the bullet.

He never left me, so I never thought I could complain. He did the honorable thing by raising a child he never really wanted.

I can’t speak about this with Elon’s man hovering around the room.

As I walk past the cart, I keep my eyes directed at the shag carpet of the old Bible study room. When I hit the metal beam to open the door, I feel a rush of warmth wrap me in its bliss.

I’m free. I’m out of there. I can be whoever I want to be.

I feel for everyone in that room, but I’m not like them. I can move forward from this. I’m strong.

It just takes time.

I hit the lock-button on my car keys. My heels click against the pavement, but it’s accompanied by another’s footsteps.

“Ms. Lancaster,” the man in black says. Good ol’ cue-ball.

Hands tight around my purse, I keep walking, hoping one of my heels won’t twist out from under me. “Could you have picked a worse time?”

“I just want to talk,” he says.

“Then talk. You have about thirty-seconds.”

He struggles to keep up, and I reach my car before he can stop me from getting inside.

“It won’t take long.”

“Look, I’m not running away. I’m late for a meeting,” I lie.

These meetings are the only ones I go to. Other than them, I rarely leave the apartment. I live inside a small place, squashed in the middle of a tall high-rise.

When I do leave, it’s only for necessities.

If I need money, I sign into an app on my hologram tablet, and I sign up for a few software jobs. It’s not a great living, but it’s not too difficult to beef up another person’s code.

“Elon knows you don’t have a job anymore. He heard they laid you off a few years back. He has talked about your well-being quite frequently, believe it or not,” he says. “You’re on government subsidies, right?”

I try to pull the door shut, but he slips his hand around the frame and applies pressure. “If someone sees you, they’ll call the cops. Is that what you want?” I ask.

It’s not a powerful threat. Elon probably owns the cops nowadays.

“You’re family to him. Don’t worry. He’s just looking out for you,” he says.

I let go, exhausted. Today was supposed to be a pleasant day. The air is clean, the sun is shining, and the wind is deliciously refreshing. This turd is the only thing standing in my way.

“You can tell Elon I don’t need his charity,” I say.

He reveals a business card with an address printed on the front side. Two fingers extend it outward.

“No charity. Just an offer.”

An address is printed on the front:


Tags: Penelope Woods Science Fiction