Xilon flew into the rumbling gas clouds to conceal himself from the Tryns. Irritation snapped along his veins. He hated hiding, but he'd rather hunt for Ash's remains without Tryns poking at him.

Smoke curled from the forest below while embers glowed in the wreckage.

Now that nearly all the trees had been demolished, Xilon could land without ripping down the forest.

“Jemna kerzob yomon, Ash,” he said aloud. I’m so sorry, Ash.

The scent of wood smoke and charred animals choked the air. He'd never be able to pick up her smell like this. Still, he dragged his talons through the smoldering rubble. He moved a few feet deeper into the woods, stirring up debris and hoping against hope to find her alive.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He could take Taurian's blood and ride a lightning bolt to see if it changed him as it had his brother. His people needed this. If it worked, others could teleport to Earth and seek shelter there away from the Tryns. Find mates and continue their race.

Perhaps the rain would wash away most of this wood and he'd be able to find Ash’s body faster. With a heart heavy, he swung toward home.

* * *

The bolt jarred along his flesh, biting like a creton with razor pinchers into his flesh. His body convulsed and he roared as his skull felt like it was crushed underneath a great weight. His muscles cramped painfully, locking up. Air stuck in his lungs, burning for release. He scratched his throat to no avail.

His bones snapped. Agony raced through him and he couldn't even scream.

And the lightning zigzagged him across the sky before dumping him in the middle of a field.

He gasped. The air scorched his throat and lungs, but he inhaled again anyway. Darkness covered the land. Where am I? He squinted.

Wait. He glanced down at his…hands. Human hands. He forced them. Then he touched his face. Skin, not scales. He shivered as the rain pelted down on him. His feet sinking into the mud.

Naked. He laughed. At least his sex was still evident and proportioned larger than the few other human males he'd seen without clothes in the past.

Now to get back home so everyone would know the blood and lightning worked.

He ran, as he'd seen humans do, and stumbled several steps. Thunder boomed in the distance, but the lightning faded.

No, no, no. He needed to get back to Renjer now. He couldn’t wait here on Earth and without clothes. They didn't have as many storms as his home planet. Without wings, he'd never catch one either.

He got the feel of his new legs and headed after the storm. City lights flared in the distance in the direction he ran. He'd seek clothes there and a horse to ride to the closets storm.

Near to the town, the smell of meat cooking made his mouth water. But there were dozens of other odors that he didn't recognize. A mustiness and an almost smoky-stench.

Overhead, a huge silver bird whizzed through the clouds. He squinted, examining the beast. It was larger than a dragon and never once flapped its wings as it soared through the sky. If he could ride on that bird’s back, he'd reach the storm in seconds. What other marvels did humans have now?

He strode up into a cluster of buildings. Women gawked at him and the men glowered. They wore clothing similar to Ash’s. Her face with her crooked smile popped into his mind and longing to know her better sliced through him. It was too late for that. He'd failed her and would forever live with his mistake. One of many since the bastards took over his planet. Greif clawed at his insides of all the deaths he’d witnessed. The lives he couldn’t save. The loved ones and friends he’d lost. His heart clenched so hard he thought it would never release the pain.

“Hey buddy, might want to put some clothes on,” a man in a yellow box said. “This ain't no nudist colony.”

“Greetings.” Xilon waved as humans in the past had done. “Can you take me to Grams?”

“Got a full name or an address?”

“No.” He'd been in such a hurry to take Taurian's blood, find Ash's body, and return here that he'd forgotten to bring any gold. “I have neither.”

The man flicked his middle finger at Xilon, then his metal box on wheels he sat inside rumbled down the road, a cloud of smoke in his trail.

“Thanks!” Xilon called out and gave the middle finger sign back. That must be how they said goodbye now. All he needed was a bit of time to acclimate to the new Earth's customs, then he could pass along the information to everyone on Renjer.

“All right buddy,” a man in a blue shirt and pants said. “We don't allow any nudity here. Is there someone we can call to bring your clothes and pick you up?”

“Yes, Ash's Grams.” Xilon smiled, but maybe he’d shown too many teeth or because the man drew a weapon.

“I fear I must say goodbye.” Xilon lifted his middle finger as he'd seen the first man do.

“Easy there.” The man pointed a small metal pipe at Xilon. “Let's get you to the station.”

“Is Grams at the station?”

“We'll let you call her there, okay? But we can have you on the street like this.” The man waved silver bracelets at him. “Don't give us any trouble and give us your hands.”

Xilon held out his hands and the man locked the silver bands on his wrist.

“You've the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do…” the man's voice droned on as though he'd said this a thousand times. He led Xilon to a black and white metal box.

After he climbed into the back, the man pulled a stick and the car lurched forward.

The buildings flashed pass as if he were running. This contraption was faster than a carriage.

“You have an amazing carriage.” Xilon leaned forward against the metal mesh separating him and the man. “Where may I procure one?”

The man didn’t look at him, but clicked a black box in front of him. “Dispatch, we got a 1096 that I'm bringing in and he needs a set of clothes to borrow.”

“Copy that,” a woman’s voice echoed back.

“What was that?” Xilon asked, pointing with his chin. “Is dispatch in there?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you help, buddy. Okay?” The man turned the wheel and pulled up to a large building.

Then he helped take Xilon out and walked him inside. Whistles sounded from both men and women dressed in colorful clothes as Xilon strode down the open chamber. A woman with a crooked nose handed him bright orange clothes.

“Here.” The man that brought him here unlocked the bands on Xilon’s wrists. “Change.”

After he was dressed, two men led Xilon to a tiny room with a table and three chairs. His silver bracelets were back. One of the men pushed down on his shoulder, but couldn’t make Xilon move.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

“I’d rather stand.” Xilon smiled and the man put a hand on his weapon and backed up several steps. “Now, thank you for the clothes and strange jewelry, but I need to get to Grams.”

“I’m Officer Simpson. Got a last name for this Grams?” The officer across the table from him asked. “Want anything to drink? We got coffee or water.”

“Coffee...is that from Kaldi the goat herder’s drink?”

Both officers looked at each other and Simpson shrugged. “Why don’t we get you some and you can try it out.”

Simpson motioned to the other officer who disappeared out the door. “Now, can you tell us where you’re from and your name?”

“I’m Xilon…” he paused. Ash had said his name was a mouthful. Did humans only go by short names? As far as where he was from, the human wouldn’t believe him. And he didn’t have time to prove the truth to these people. “I’m from out of town.”

“Where, exactly?” Simpson took out a pen and paper from his pocket and scribbled something down.

“Far away.” Xilon scratched his chin.

“Look, I want to help you find your family, but I can’t if you’re not honest with me.” Simpson set the pen down and leaned back in the chair.

The door opened and the other officer entered with a white cup. He set the steaming liquid in front of Xilon.

He sniffed, detecting a sharp, acrid smell. Slightly different than Kaldi’s drink. He took a sip and then gulped down the liquid. Both men stared at him open-mouthed.

“Thank you. The coffee was bitter, but nice.”

The officer stammered, “Didn’t you burn your mouth?”

“No.” Xilon frowned. “Now, if you’ll remove your silver bracelets, I’d like to find Grams now.” None of the other men he’d seen in the matching blue shirts and pants as these two had bracelets. Xilon’s skin was irritatingly itchy underneath the bands.

Simpson placed a hand on the other officer’s arm and the man sat down on the edge of his chair. “Sorry, but we can’t let you go out on the streets. Not until someone comes to pick you up. Do you have anything else we can go on that would help us locate this Grams for you?”

“Ash. She’s Ash’s Grams.”

“Again, do you have a last name? Or address or phone number?” Simpson asked.

“Ash short for Ashley. That’s what she told me.” He rubbed his wrists, the metal cutting into his skin. “Take these off, I’m not fond of them.”

“This isn’t helping.” The officer beside Simpson shook his head. “Let’s call the asylum and see if they’ve lost a patient recently. Or we can have one of their doctors come and talk with him.”

Doctor. Tuarian’s woman was a doctor. “Find Doctor Dena. She can help me.”

Simpson leaned forward and wrote on the notepad. “You don’t happen to have a last name or anything else that can help us track her down?”

“Yes. Tell her Taurian’s brother is here. She’ll know who I am and how to help me.” Xilon sat down in the chair. How long before she got here?

“Fine.” Simpson clicked his tongue. “Is she a psychiatrist?”

“No, she’s an animal doctor.” He snapped his arms apart, breaking the silver chain linking his hands together.

Both men drew their weapons.