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           Catalina

 

One arm shoots out; the side of her fist connects with his face as she yells, “Let go of me!” The gray monster is undeterred as she thrashes and twists violently, trying to get loose. She kicks hard, her foot connecting with his lower leg, but it has the opposite effect. Her foot aches as pain vibrates up to her calf. One bony hand circles her upper arm, dragging her from the cell. She stretches her neck, looking over her shoulder at a motionless Alan before staring straight ahead in fear.

Aliens. She swallows hard as she tries to wrap her mind around the thought that fucking aliens exist. Not only do they exist, she is on their ship.

Not caring what Catalina wants, the alien drags her down a corridor. A dark, empty corridor. If she screamed for help, would anyone hear? Would they help her even if they did? Probably not.

He pulls her into a sterile room—at least she prays it is sterile and not infested with some kind of foreign bacteria that’s lingered on their sharp instruments.

They pull her over to a metal table that has hard cuffs for her hands and feet. She twists violently, throwing a “Please don’t!” over her shoulder, hoping someone will take pity on her.

They don’t.

~~~

Her eyes crack open, but she can’t move. The bright light hurts, making her slam her eyelids shut.

She aches on the inside…a small groan escapes her lips as she lies on the hard table.

She slowly blinks her eyes open again, and they widen in fear as two of the gray-skinned aliens hover over her. Their large oval eyes blink slowly as she pulls on her arms, but the cuffs hold her hostage.

“Let me go,” she croaks out, all the fight in her gone as she pleads with them. Even though she knows they won’t.

There is a throbbing pain between her legs; her thighs quiver beneath the tight grip as they spread her wide, leaving her at their mercy. It feels like she is having an unwanted visit with the gynecologist.

Their garbled words don’t register. She doesn’t understand.

She shivers; the air is too cool. It brushes every inch of her body, making her want to cover up. That’s when it hits her… she is naked! Her heart leaps inside her chest, and she gulps in air as fear floods her consciousness. The position seems familiar. She’s been here before.

Why?

Think. She tries to push the fog from her clouded mind, but it is too thick, and she can’t focus.

Large, oval eyes hold her sleepy gaze, and she wants to ask him something. But what? His arm reaches over her face, and he’s holding something, a mask of some kind. She focuses on the mask as it comes closer to her face before it covers her mouth and nose. It smells funny, and soon her eyes close once again, too heavy to hold open.

Time passes. Catalina doesn’t know how long. Once again, she slowly blinks her eyes open. Turning her head to the right, she spots three of them standing with their fiery-colored heads close together, talking. One breaks away from the others. He releases her legs, letting her knees fall together. There’s a throbbing pain deep inside her. Her eyelids are too heavy to hold them open, and she is too tired to care right now. Her eyes close once again, and darkness caresses her.

She’s moving. Someone’s carrying her. To where? She tries to remember. The fuzziness is thick, a haze her mind can’t wade through, and she desperately tries to clear the fog. Catalina knows this has happened before; it feels too commonplace. A door screeches loudly. She grimaces and turns her head away from the offending noise.

Falling… she’s falling. No, someone’s laying her down. The bed is hard, not like the one she has at home. A warm touch on her forehead, fingers sweeping her hair away from her face.

“Catalina, are you okay?” A warm, caring, masculine voice asks as he places a scratchy blanket over her naked body and continues to stroke her hair. His touch is so gentle, so caring. Just the feel of his warm fingers against her forehead relaxes her.

“Catalina…” he starts again, but she concentrates more on the name as the fog starts to clear. Catalina…Catalina…that’s me. My name is Catalina Sanchez, I’m twenty-seven years old, and I live in Miami, Florida. Or at least I did.

 Concentrate.

What happened?

“Catalina, wake up, sweetheart…” Her eyes crack open and lock onto warm brown ones. The haze clears as she blinks rapidly. In a feeble attempt, she tries to sit up. “No, just lie there. I think they drugged you even more this time.”

Everything rushes forward when she sees the concern in his eyes. She knows him. She trusts him. He’s her lighthouse on a dark, raging ocean, and he’s a captive, just like her.

“Alan?” she whispers with a croaky voice, her mouth so dry it feels like cotton.

“I’m here, Catalina. Just rest until the drugs clear your system.”

Catalina watches with heavy eyes as he rubs his own forehead, clearly frustrated with the situation. She feels the same. They have been here for way too long, and eventually they will be discarded like yesterday’s trash if she doesn’t conceive.

“I want to leave.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, a plea this time as she fights back the tears. How many times will she have to endure their intrusive tests and experiments? They have stripped away all her pride and bathed her in humiliation for as long she’s been held captive…

“I know,” Alan says, clearly frustrated that he can’t save the two of them. It’s not his fault, though. They are both captives in a foreign land, or a space ship, where they are being held against their will. Where they don’t understand the rules, can’t understand the language, so they scrape by, doing the best they can to stay alive.

When she sees the sadness wash over his face, she steels her resolve and offers a weak smile. No way she will add to his guilt. The one thing that both worries and gives her solace is that she can’t conceive, which marks them with an expiration date. How long will the aliens keep them around if they do not get the desired outcome?

These red-headed monsters are trying to impregnate Catalina with Alan’s seed. But she has a Nexplanon implant inserted in her upper left arm, so it’s nearly impossible for her to get pregnant. Instead of informing them of their ignorance of female anatomy and that her progesterone levels are too high for conception, she will endure their endless torture. Right now, they need her alive and well, and she will not tell them any different. They probably wouldn’t understand her anyway.

Sluggishly, she sits up and reaches for a cup that Alan holds out for her, folding her hands around the sides. Her mouth is dry, so it is a liquid balm coating her raspy throat. “Thanks, Alan,” she says after taking a sip.

He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. In an aggravated voice, he grinds out, “I want to kill every last one of them.”

One side of her mouth curls upward, but it’s half-hearted. “Ditto.”

Catalina’s not the only one who suffers at their hands. They also take Alan on occasion, but she doesn’t ask because she doesn’t want to know. Just like he doesn’t ask what they do to her. Their imagination is enough.

“How are you feeling?” He wraps his arm behind her back and helps her to a better sitting position. Nothing is comfortable on this hard metal table that doubles as a bed.

Catalina feels the cold wetness between her legs, feels it trickle down her thighs, and a horrid thought coils deep inside. A lab rat, nothing more. Both of them. The aliens don’t consider Catalina and Alan people; they are specimens that can make the gray aliens money. With that thought, Catalina realizes she would rather die than deliver a child for them. One they will take from her. Hell, the red-haired monsters will probably cut the baby from her womb given the chance.

“Alan?” Her voice comes out squeaky, but she holds his steady gaze, meaning every word that spills from her cracked lips. The cup in her hands shakes a little as she says, “Promise me that if their experiment works, and I get pregnant, you will kill me before I can deliver the baby.”

She doesn’t think it is possible, not with the implant, but there is that one percent chance. Unless—she tries to count the months up in her head, but with no clocks, no way of knowing if days, weeks, or months have passed—she sighs heavily and bites her lower lip.

Alan shakes his head. She knows he’ll deny her unless she can make him see reason, make him understand that the guilt of having and losing a child will destroy her. If not now, then one day.

“Catalina…”

“Listen, Alan.” She reaches out and tenderly places her hand on his forearm, imploring him with her amber-colored eyes. “I can’t let a child, our child, fall into their hands. Who knows the torment they would inflict on a precious baby? Please, if we can’t escape, and I’m pregnant…”

“Okay.” He gulps loudly and turns his head briefly before meeting her eyes once again. The resolve on his face tells her he’ll keep his word even though it pains him to agree. She hears the firmness in his voice. “I don’t like it,” he shakes his head in disgust, “but I can see your point. I wouldn’t want my child to suffer and…”

“Thank you.” She nods as a calmness descends over her. She can take anything, but knowing that they have a plan if anything happens, she feels more relieved than anything right now.

“But, not until…” Tears fill his brown eyes, but he quickly tamps them down. The entire time they’ve been here together, Alan has never cried.

“Hey,” she cups his cheek in the palm of her hand, “it’s okay.” He tilts his head, staring at the floor. “Alan, look at me.” When he lifts his sad eyes, she smiles, trying to make him feel better. “I doubt it will ever happen.” He glances away, but she presses his cheek with her hand, making him look at her. “Really, I’m protected.”

He scoffs and jerks his head away from her hand even though she visibly notes his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“All I’m saying is that we will not let them have what they want. No matter what.”

Catalina hears his heavy sigh as he slides in behind her; she leans her back against his chest. His warm arms wrap loosely around her middle. Without him, she would be a giant bubbling mess of tears and despair. Bonded by their circumstance, he is a true friend, a brother she never had. There is no shame between them. Not anymore. Only comfort after what they have had to endure at the enemy’s torturous hands.

“Tell me about your sister,” she prompts him, needing to hear his voice and wanting to escape into his memories. He is so confident when he speaks, and it gives her hope that one day they might escape.

A light chuckle. “I’ve told you a hundred times already.”

“I know. But tell me again.”

“I lived and worked in Nashville as a police officer. But you know that already.”

“You took down the bad guys.” She imagines him storming a building, a gun clutched in his right hand, but he doesn’t have to use it. Her mind conjures the image of hand-to-hand combat where he always prevails without a scratch on him, standing over his adversary like a knight in shining armor.

“I did. I worked on the drug task force. Sometimes I had to go undercover, act like a junkie looking for a score.”

“Did you have that rough and tough “don’t mess with me” look?” she says in a low, manly voice while imagining him with a stern expression that promises retribution.

He scoffs before smiling, his arms squeezing a little tighter around her middle before quickly releasing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She turns her head and smiles up at him. “And I’m sure the women just hung off your arms.”

His deep rumble vibrates against her back. His breath brushes the top of her head. “I wish. I guess I worked too much to have time for women to hang from my arms.”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head in light humor. With a flick of her wrist, she says, “Continue.”

“As you wish.”

Alan’s deep voice is the only sound in the silent cell as he tells her about his life again, his sister, and how he feels he’s let her down. At least Catalina doesn’t have that guilt to contend with. The lull of his voice has her drifting back to another lifetime ago.

Orphaned at eight years old, she got shipped around to a different foster home every year or two. She didn’t have anywhere to really call home until she made her own in Miami, Florida. There were no brothers or sisters to worry about, only the memory of a life she’d once had with her parents. Her life was empty and solitary, even amongst other families; she’d shut herself off from everyone. She was afraid that if she let herself care, she would lose them too. When she turned eighteen, she left her current home and never looked back.

 While working at a department store in Miami, she took night classes at the local community college. Her two-year associate degree took almost four years to obtain, but the day she walked across the stage to receive her diploma was one of the best days of her life.

At the city hospital, she worked as a nurse on the surgical unit, taking care of patients who had general surgery, procedures such as appendectomies and cholecystectomies, among various other common surgeries. In her spare time, she volunteered for the local EMS. It always made her feel great to help others, like her life finally held meaning and had purpose. And if she could save one person from experiencing the pain she had gone through, then it was worth it.

Life was good until one day… everything turned to shit. The red-haired aliens invaded Earth and sent everyone into hiding. Buildings were destroyed, people died, but the aliens didn’t slow their assault.

Her mind wanders back to Alan and his stories. What would it be like to have someone searching for her? Catalina can’t even fathom the idea.

“Did you ever want to get married?” she asks, the back of her head resting against his chest.

“I don’t know. Maybe one day. You know, if the right person comes along. How about you?”

One side of her mouth tips upward. “I have attachment issues and ruin every relationship I’m in.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know.” She traces circles on his forearm with her fingertip. “I guess I’m afraid of caring for someone deeply and then losing them. And then I worry about them leaving me.”

“What about me?”

“You’re different.” Her voice drips with sadness as she stares at the floor. “You are like a brother to me. If I find someone and fell deeply in love, I don’t know if my heart can handle the rejection.”

She’d love to have someone to care about her. Love her completely in that all-consuming, can’t live without you kind of way. But a long time ago, she’d given up the hope of ever finding someone.

Hugging her close to his chest is Alan’s only response. They sit in silence, him holding her, resting his chin on top of her head. One might think it a romantic setting except for the bucket that sits in the corner, the one they use to defecate in. The scent of urine and feces is strong, but soon it will be emptied, as the aliens do every so often.