Chapter 1
“Thicken Nugget, you evil bitch, stop murdering half the desert,” I muttered from behind my camera. As expected, Thicken Nugget ignored my request.
Instead, the fierce meerkat matriarch of the Venus tribe charged into enemy territory. The Venus tribe was thirty cats strong, and judging by her protruding belly, Nugget planned on growing those numbers soon. Which might explain why she’d been on such a murderous rampage.
For the past few days, Nugget had been on a warpath clearing out the neighborhood. This time, her sights were set on her grown daughter. Tulip, aka Train Wreck, had recently come into power in the Pluto tribe after murdering their last matriarch. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.
Success was still not without its pitfalls. Nugget was a supremely successful dominant female and had been leading this group for the past six years. Nearly unheard of in the meerkat world. She was so successful that I and the rest of the research team were growing concerned that we might need to take her out, as she was narrowing down the gene pool. But hey, that’s how you know she’s made it. Girl’s got an entire research team plotting her assassination.
I shifted from my spot in the brush and crept closer, readying my camera to record the incoming carnage. This kind of development would give my research team the season finale we needed to get funded for another season. More importantly, I’d be the one to capture it. Not that blowhard John. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on his 1970s pornstache-lookin’-ass face when he sees this.”
Rhythmic chanting about an evil overlord hit my ear, and I fumbled around my camera to answer my phone, lest the noise interrupt the oncoming battle. “Mom,” I whispered. “What did I tell you about calling me while I’m in the field?”
“Don’t use that tone with me. I’m still your mother,” she chided. The sound of plates clattering and muffled conversations rose from the other end of the phone. “Anyway, I’m having lunch with Cassandra. You remember Cassandra from church.”
“Mom, I’m kinda—”
“A lady never interrupts, Dorothy. Where was I? Right, Cassandra was just telling me that her son finally graduated from Harvard!” she gushed.
My stomach twisted. I was already well aware of where this was going. Having a daughter more interested in animals and bugs than in etiquette classes and social status has always been a sore spot for her. My older sisters were more than happy to brave the cruel and unforgiving world of pageant society, but apparently two out of three perfect mini Amelia Valentines weren’t enough.
I’d bet my next paycheck that the site of my solar-powered heavy-duty phone case would have her fainting faster than her pastor after his wife and girlfriend showed up to Sunday sermon. Which, to this day, is the most fun I’ve ever had in church. However, unlike Pastor Dan, she’d jump right back up only to lament how my unsightly cargo pants were made by the devil himself. If so, dear devil, I thank you for these marvelously deep pockets.
“Top of his class, mind you!” Cassandra piped up.
“Yes! Top of his class. You know I always said that boy was smart.”
False, you always said he thought he was more important than the turkey at Thanksgiving.“You know, he’s coming back home to visit his mama next week. Why don’t you fly in too? I know you’re a
career lady, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she said, in a tone that implied that there was obviously something very wrong with that. “But I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
And you’d love to play matchmaker so you can brag about your daughter snagging a Harvard grad. “Oh, of course. How does he feel about meerkat slaughter? If he’s pro, I’m about to have a great story to tell him.”
An aggravated sigh. “Dorothy Ann Valentine, don’t be crass.”
“Mom, I can’t just fly home at the last minute. I’m needed here.”
Also, flight prices are insane this time of year.“I won’t hear it, missy. You are coming home to visit and you’ll wear something nice. No, your hiking boots do not count as nice,” she said in warning.
“I sprang for the red Timberlands; you said those were stylish,” I shot back.
“And I’m sure all of your animal-nerd friends were very impressed.”
“Wow.”
“Listen, your father and I paid for you to go to that fancy animal school in full, and you still didn’t come back with a man on your arm. Who’s going to take care of you when you’re done with your little research project?”
“Aside from the literal PhD I’m about to get?”
An even deeper sigh. “Dory, at some point you’ll need to settle—”
“Oh shoot, Mom, you’re breaking up!” I said, mimicking the sound of static. “This damn desert has the worst signal. Well, just in case, I love you.”
“Dory, you don’t fool me! Don’t you dare hang up—”
My thumb slipped of its own accord and ended the call. Terrible accident, really; could have been anyone. Funny how life works.
Anyway, I tucked my phone away and readied my camera. For some reason a death match between a mother and daughter felt even more interesting than it had been a few minutes ago.
The relentless Kalahari sun had my shirt stuck to my back. Sand packed itself into literally everyplace you didn’t want sand to go. But such is life. No one said your dream job would be no guts, all glory. Careful so as not to interrupt the battle, I plucked a twig out of my way and settled in.
Nugget raised her tail high and began her war dance, an adorable little hopping fiasco to anyone unaware of the bloodlust meerkats were known for. But after studying these little guys for the past year, I knew this would end in one of two ways. Tulip could either surrender and flee or gather her forces for battle.
I turned the camera to Tulip, waiting for her decision. She scanned the war band before her. Her mate, Celestial Beast, came to her side. His reassurance seemed to help her decide. Tulip broke into a dance of her own, riling up the Pluto clan into a rage before charging at her mother.
Oh shit, she’s really going for it. It was a basely move to be sure. Her clan may have rivaled her mother’s in terms of numbers, but Nugget was a vicious fighter.
I shifted the camera back to Nugget, just in time to see her stumble back, no doubt just as surprised as I at her daughter’s defiance. With a clan as numerous as hers, most other meerkats avoided confrontation, a strategy she was no doubt counting on.
The old gal recovered quickly. With a war cry, Nugget launched herself at Tulip. Dust kicked up around them as the two clans clashed. A flurry of tiny paws and fangs tumbled. Neither side was willing to yield.
I heard a piercing shriek and shifted just in time to capture Celestial Beast bite down on the back of Satan, Nugget’s eldest son. Tulip joined him in the assault, no doubt looking to remove her mother’s greatest fighter.
A sudden knowing fear sliced through me like ice, sinking into every bone until I shivered from the cold. The world grew still. Sounds rumbled to a low pitch . . .
Death was to my left.
Time snapped together at once. I rolled to my side, peering through the camera to see a lion heading straight for me.
Chapter 2
“Fuck, I’m dead?” I snarled, gazing down at the desert. A bright light was pulling me farther into the sky. Which was probably good, right? I’m not the religious type, but I think the general consensus is that up is good.
“All right, not all bad, I guess?” I turned to have a look around, taking in the sights before— “THE FUCKING LION!” I screamed, trying to kick away my murderer. The sandy-brown fur of its mouth was stained a telltale red. I put a hand to my throat, flinching when pain erupted. My hand came back covered in blood. “All right, so you definitely didn’t miss. What is going on?”
The lion ignored me; instead his eyes remained transfixed by what he saw above us. I stilled and looked up to see the clouds shimmering. A darker spot opened up in the sky. A greenish light sparkled out of it until the force pulling me sped up to a breakneck pace. The light became blinding, and I . . . I must have fainted.
The next thing I knew, I was in a tank. My body felt too heavy to move. There was a tickling sensation on my neck. Reaching out, I tried to touch the glass front of the tank but couldn’t reach it. When I cried out, bubbles floated uselessly out of my mouth. I wasn’t sure how long I was floating as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
Muffled chirping met my ears. I struggled to open my eyes, but the room was so damn bright.
Why . . . why do I smell cotton candy? Am I having a stroke? I thought that was burnt toast. Dammit. I knew I should have taken that CPR class. What smell meant you were having a stroke?A sharp zap to my neck shocked me awake. Birds were chirping all around me. I struggled to get up. Something dug into my arms, so I thrashed. Strings lined with suction cups snapped off my arm with little pops. The birds’ chirping grew angrier as I pulled my other arm free. I blinked and looked around to see what looked like . . . owls?
“What the fuck?” I asked. Mutant-looking owls with large fluffy ears fluttered around me, chirping and fussing. Their feathers ranged in color from simple blacks and grays to the colorful blue and orange plumage you would normally find on a tropical bird. Which, frankly, is a wild range of colors for one species to have. I wonder if it’s gender-based.
Focus.
Macaw-like beaks took up a third of their face. Their flapping wings ended in tiny three-fingered hands. One of them was dressed in a white robe and it was trying to probe me with some horseshoe-looking gun thing.
I smacked it away from me and got to my feet. “One of you better start chirping in English,” I warned. Fear and rage caused the threat to come out in a stuttered shout.
The birds were unaffected.
Unfortunate.
I touched my neck, unsure if I’d truly died and gone to some bird hell. But all I felt was smooth skin. When I inspected my hand, not a drop of blood was found. I checked the other side; still nothing. “If I’m not dead, how am I healed?”
The room was lined with rows of cylindrical tanks filled with green liquid. I peered closer at their contents to see the face of a sleeping woman floating in the tank. Her round face looked serene. Long braids fanned out around her face. A few tapped their beaded ends against the glass. The hair rose on the back of my neck as I took in each tank, noting that every one of them held a person. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up from the nightmare. Yet when I looked around again, the pods and their occupants remained. Worse still, I noticed that all of them were women.
Reality sank to the pit of my stomach. I was on an alien spaceship. Those aliens only felt the need to capture women, and I’d just woken up on an operating table. If this wasn’t hell, it was about to be.
Screaming, I stumbled away from the nearest alien, then snatched a tray off the counter next to the table where I’d woken up. Glass vials and unsettling-looking tools crashed to the floor when I flung it at the nearest alien. Two slightly bigger Owlish came at me with what looked like cattle prods. I grabbed hold of one and kicked off its owner, then swung wildly at its partner. The bird’s squawk was cut short when my stick hit the side of its head, sending the creature flying back. Not knowing what else to do, I just swung at any of the little aliens that came within striking distance.
Farther into the room was a dome-like door leading to a hallway. I leapt over two of the Owlish, caught my foot on one, then tripped and fell on my ass. The fall knocked the stick out of my hand; it ricocheted off the ceiling and slammed into a glass case lining the wall. Blue goop spilled out all over my hair. It weighed down my wild red curls until they felt like rivers of slime. “No! No strange alien goop in my hair, dammit!” I wailed, scrambling back on my feet. “Fuck, my ass is gonna die. I’m so gonna die.”
One of the Owlish squawked like a penguin and stomped closer to me. I jumped up, shoving it aside before I sped down the hallway. My vision blurred, causing me to stumble against the wall. The slime dripping down my head grew hot, and the skin where it touched tingled. “Oh, gross. This better not be poison,” I said, wiping it away quickly.
I burst into the first room I encountered to see that it was full of bigger penguin-looking bird aliens and slammed the door shut. “Nope.”
I swore all the way down to the next room and locked myself behind the door. Then I looked around to see that I had made a poor, poor decision, as this room was full of so many more Owlish, some with the cattle prods, and, of course, the motherfucking lion.
My murderer was floating in a ray of light on a table, completely unaware of its surroundings. Flapping noises beat on the door at my back and the Owlish in the room began chattering angrily. Those with cattle prods advanced.
. . .
Fuck this.
“You know what? If I have to die”—I raised a finger to all the bird fuckers in the room—“we’re all gonna die.” I grabbed the nearest Owlish and threw it at the others charging forward. The creature squawked as it hit its comrades.
I darted around them and advanced to the table that held the floating lion. My boots skittered to a halt next to the control panel. Wasting no time, I pressed literally every button I could get my hands on. Red, green, blue, yellow, didn’t matter, I pressed the shit out of it.
Light flashed all over the room. The green ray of light holding the lion swayed, the enormous head of the beast bobbing along before the light faded. As soon as it died out, the lion dropped to the ground with a thud, startling him awake. The Owlish flew into a frenzy and began flapping around and pointing their cattle prods at the lion.
Copyright © 2025 by Kimberly Lemming. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
