FIRE ESCAPE First Draft Update for 5/15/18: The Aftermath…

Get the most recent draft here:

Read the latest words below this line:

I felt nauseous… I felt horrified… I felt ashamed…
I crossed my arms as though I were cold and I could feel the rich lady fur coat matted down with what must have been alien blood.  I slid the coat off and looked at my arms.  My skin looked different somehow.  There was a dull sheen to it.  And I noticed the color was darker, grayer, than normal.  I looked at my hands and saw welts on the palms.  Then I had the instinct that these weren’t even my hands.  They looked different somehow.  My arms seemed longer… my eyes focused on the floor which seemed further away.  For a moment I thought I was wearing shorts, but then I realized it was my legs that were long.  I started to feel that same anxiety grabbing me again.  I looked around the hold for some sort of reflective surface.  I quickly ran around, looking around cargo containers, leaping on top of them and, from there, looking around the entire hold, trying to find anything I could see myself in.  Then, I could see, on the floor below, a shadow move with me.  It was huge—or should I say, elongated—and it moved with me.  It was myshadow… I touched my face, I could feel my eyes were huge and further apart than they should have been.  I had somehow become a Double-O.  I had become Conva.
I doubled over at the realization and vomited onto the floor, still from atop a cargo container.  Then I felt light headed.  Then I saw the floor and my own vomit rushing toward me as I fell from the container.  Luckily, I was fully unconscious before I hit the ground.
There is nothing quite as gross as waking up in your own vomit.  Especially since the first thing you sense is the smell.  Then you think about how awful you feel in general, and hope you don’t make it worse by putting your hand in it when you try to sit up.  And if you’re me, you stop caring about any of that when you remember you just committed an atrocity. 
I’m not sure what happened next was terrible or just a coping mechanism, but as I climbed to my feet, shaking off as much of the vomit from my right hand as I could, I saw the bodies I’d taken apart and muttered to myself: “this is what you get when you kidnap me against my will.”
Ah, yes, that’s a fair assumption—that they would know that if you mess with some random Earther he might morph into a super-killer and tear you limb from limb.  Then there was the fact that I have no idea that killing them all was even necessary.  I mean—I don’t remember them being physically threatening—just that I was terrified and felt completely out of control of my own life.  And now I was a Conva.  Or was I?  I looked at my hands and arms and saw that they looked like my hands and arms again.  Well, aside from being caked with alien blood and my own vomit. 

Sorry, I don’t mean to be glib about the deaths of several “sovereign beings,” but I guess it’s both a defense mechanism and terrible.

I felt my face and could tell my eyes were closer together.  Yep, I had somehow morphed from Conva super-killer back to scrawny human insurance company office assistant.

I looked around and saw a door at the far end of the hold, opposite the ramp.  I walked up to it and, since I couldn’t see an “open” button or even a buzzer or some kind of intercom panel, I just started pounding.  Then I started calling out.  “HEY!  IS ANYBODY THERE?!?  PLEASE!!  I PROMISE I WON’T KILL ANYONE!”

Why would they trust me, I thought.  I shrugged, still feeling exhausted, and without much thought, approached the nearest wall.  I looked down the length of it, down a slender open space between the wall of the hold and the cargo containers, and spotted a window.  I walked over to it and looked out.  All I could see were stars.  Unmoving stars.  No moon, no Earth, no asteroid or asteroids.  Nothing. 

“Shit… did I kill everyone aboard?  Are we, or rather, am I just trapped here, in this ship, floating in space?” I said to no one.  It looked like I had and I was.