Nano Bytes

«Get that light out of eye,” said Grock, waving his hands blindly above his head. The single eye at the centre of his forehead blinked manically as he tried in vain to accustom it to the light.

«Shit!» The voice was unfamiliar but that was hardly surprising. It was widely known that aliens had landed, though Grock hadn't expected the bipeds to make it to his neck of the woods as quickly as they had. «The ugly bastard's awake!»

«Didn't our lab techs say these bastards were heavy sleepers?» Another unfamiliar voice, but this one sounded female and Grock felt something stirring. It'd been a while with nothing but cattle, after all.

«Yeah.» Grock didn't like the sound of the third voice. He detected hatred with a hint of cruelty in the mix. «Still, don't gonna' matter soon enough.»

* * *

«Gah, my head!» Grock had no idea what he'd been hit with, but whatever they'd used the bipeds definitely knew how to do damage to a Lymphant. It'd taken only a single blow to render him unconscious – he'd have known had there been more contact and so would they, too, for it's quite likely they'd be dead already. The only reason they weren't, was because they'd had the element of surprise on their side.

He was in restraints attached to the wall and no matter how much he struggled – and he was struggling a lot – he just couldn't break the bonds that held him.

The room was white and from what he could tell completely clean. Grock wasn't really one for cleanliness. As a rancher on the Sodor Plain it wasn't really anything he thought about.

A door at the far end of the room slid open and a biped entered, striding across the room towards him. It was followed shortly by another two. Grock had no idea whether they were male or female. The race was completely unfamiliar to him and all three might as well have been the exact same person. It wasn't until they spoke that Grock could ascertain their sex.

«He really is an ugly mother.» Male, a different one to those who'd been present at his capture. «At least the whores on this rock make a damn effort.»

He didn't understand the words, but the distaste was evident in the man's voice.

«Remember you two are only here to make sure he doesn't attack me.» A new female. Judging by the tones of her voice, one Grock could grow to like, maybe even trust. «And once I'm done testing and we've got the results it'll be me that kills him - humanely, right?»

«Whatever.» A different male again. He carried a weapon as the other did. «Just get the results quick, Doc. That eye shits me right up.»

The female turned to face him for the first time, and smiled.

«It's OK. I'll make this as quick and painless as possible, I promise.»

First contact is one of a myriad of short science fiction stories written by AngusEcrivain who is probably one of the most prolific writers of science fiction on Wattpad. An advocate of all things SciFi, Dan also helps run the magnificent ForbiddenPlanet profile here on Wattpad where you can find enough SciFi to keep even the most ardent of fans happy.

BecLehman The Lesser of Two

It had been ten years since that first tweet.

Shit. Guy eating some other guy’s face at McDonalds! #zombieapocalypse

I had laughed along with the others at the time, despite the gruesome nature of the joke. I’d discussed my zombie survival plan with my friends, debating weapons (guns vs. machetes) and hideouts (abandoned high–rise vs. abandoned farm). Everyone knew there would be a perfectly good explanation, be it mind–altering drugs or just an altered mind and so laughing at the horribleness of it all had felt okay.

I wiped the sweat from his eyes and looked around the dim cavern. Was it safe? I didn’t care. I stopped pushing the trolley, weighed down with ten hours’ worth of digging, and bent over the handle, resting my forehead on my arms and closing my eyes. A brief, sweet moment of reprieve.

The second time it happened, a week later in the same city, everyone assumed the same thing; it was either drugs or general craziness. The guy was chewing on a piece of some woman’s thigh when he was shot dead. When the photos started spreading though, people began to notice things. Someone pointed out that the «zombie» was wearing four hundred dollar shoes. The tie was Armani, the watch Tag Heuer. Not exactly the type of person to be doing bad drugs on a Tuesday afternoon. Someone more likely to deal with a mental break down by running away with his assistant than chewing on a mother of four in a parking lot.