Human Omega: Trapped in the Alien Jungle (Pykh Book 2) by Eileen Glass

Author:Eileen Glass [Glass, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Glass Fiction
Published: 2018-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Carter

So, I’m a pet. The human alien goldfish or something. Horse might be a better comparison. ‘Buddy’, the alien I woke up with, holds a plate of fruit and he is constantly beckoning, speaking with a soothing but urgent tone, his tail tuft sometimes landing on my arm to get my attention.

I’m very close to punching him. There’s no armor on his face.

There’s so many of them, I can’t possibly come up with all the necessary nicknames to describe their little differences. They’re all dressed sort of like Pitcher and Nibbler were at the cave long ago, but with leather armor covering up the exposed areas.

It’s all so intricate, I feel stupid for ever thinking that Nibbler might only understand one syllable names. It’s clear that a smart and complex people designed clothing like this. Human clothing by comparison, with one zipper and maybe a couple buttons, looks downright primitive. And while the fabric is usually leather and simple, there are designs and embellishments everywhere. Some outfits are just better than others, which I assume means they are wealthier or better ranked.

All the armor makes me think this is a military establishment. And there’s no women anywhere. So I’m pretty sure I’m right.

Alien Dude Number Six — he’s the only guy wearing yellow so I guess I’ll call him ‘Goldie’ from now on — he’s the most annoying. I can assume he is the top dog around here, because he’s decorated in shiny gold, all the way down to his claw tips, and his clothing is more embellished than any of the others.

He looks good, in fact. His hair is long in front and cropped shorter in the back. He’s fully groomed, as in shiny hair that looks soft to touch. None of these guys have the back hair stripe growing with their quills, which makes me think my guys must be especially rough in appearance.

They look nice. Their hair doesn’t form oily tresses. The strands are fine and always smooth, like those shampoo commercials brag. These aliens look a lot more sophisticated than I’m used to.

So bad on me for starting to treat Nibbler and Pitcher like pets sometimes, controlling them by pulling their hair or swatting them on the nose. But bad on these aliens for thinking I am simple and trying to lure me back into the house with food.

No doubt, these little misunderstandings are expected and should be forgiven. But my guys should be around here someplace. If these ones didn’t kill them. I don’t know why they would, but I don’t know anything about these people. I knew Nibbler and Pitcher.

Maybe not exactly, I don’t even know their names, but I trust them. I like them. And I want to see them, to make sure they’re okay.

That is the communication I’m trying to get across, and the big guy in yellow — I’m sorry, Goldie — is getting it with about the same efficiency that Nibbler was learning my name. Except unlike Nibbler, I don’t like this guy and I do not have the patience for him.

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