The Runaway Alien (The Lost Planet Series Book 9) by Nicole Blanchard & K Webster

Author:Nicole Blanchard & K Webster [Blanchard, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-12T16:00:00+00:00

9

STELLA

My head hurts.

I can’t see.

That’s all I know.

Surely the sensation of pain means I’m not dead. I test out the theory and attempt to move, but I’m pinned. Paralyzed? Too disoriented to feel panic, I set that aside.

Where are we?

Thinking hurts, so I drift back into unconsciousness for a while, letting the ebb and flow of darkness and weariness cradle me. Gradually, or maybe only seconds have passed, I’m not sure, I become aware of a sense of urgency pounding through my blood.

Did I forget something? I can’t be certain. My thoughts feel like raindrops on searing asphalt. Gone too quick to make any lasting impact.

The last thing I remember, Galen was flying the ship out to…what? It’s blank after Henry and I buckled in. I attempt to call out to either of them, but my throat is too dry, and my tongue feels like a lead weight in my mouth. Great. Can’t see, move, or talk, but at least I’m alive.

I think.

Moments pass and I begin to discern a sound in all the blackness. One that sends alarm shooting through me, causing me to jerk and writhe against whatever is pinning me down. The sound grows louder over the buzzing in my ears.

It’s crying.

Henry.

The panic inside me grows, fed by the sound of my son’s distress. It galvanizes me enough that I can crack open one eyelid. Which is useless because I’m surrounded by more darkness. For a moment, I’m not even certain I opened my eyes at all, and then I notice dim blinking lights on the control panel.

The ship.

The attack.

Galen.

I force myself to focus, fueled purely by fear for Henry. I’m pinned beneath the control panel, which has crumpled inward to an alarming degree, trapping my legs between it and my seat. Where is Henry? He’s still crying—which is a good sign. It means he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

Working saliva into my parched throat, I gather my energy and try to concentrate through the painful throbbing in my head. It’s getting easier to move. My eyelids work enough for me to adjust to the all-consuming darkness. The flashing lights from the control panel help cut through the shadows.

The garish light illuminates Galen to my side. He’s not moving, which sends a spear of anguish through me.

No.

We didn’t come this far to lose this blooming flower of hope and love and a future, crushed in an instant. I refuse to believe that. For once in my life, I’m not trying to run. I’m fighting to stay.

He won’t die.

I won’t let him.

Which is why I can’t let myself panic. They need me. My boys. I have to be strong for them. I need to focus. I need to get us out of here.

My hands are free and I have enough energy to unbuckle myself from the chair. It takes monumental effort, but I scrape and yank my legs free of the control panel, divesting myself of a layer of skin in the process. I barely even feel the pain through the adrenaline.

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