Friday 13 December 2013

She's an Alien Spy, I Swear

Sitting two computers down from me at the library. Blonde hair, running leggings, trainers decorated with a flash of orange. Foreign trainers, not English. perhaps not even of this Earth.

She is booking flights with her brood mother, maybe to Riga. Her mother gave birth to her and 600 others like her in a larval chamber on their homeworld. They were despatched out through the galactic neighbourhood, to observe, report, and monitor. She is a spy breeder, specifically chosen by the hive elders.

She looked at me just then, clutching the printout of her Ryanair details. Ha, the perfect cover story, why fly Ryanair when she could easily get a ride in one of their space runabouts? She probably works at one of the local warehouses or cake factories, and I know for a fact young genuine Eastern European women disappear from these places, never to be seen again.

Abducted for breeding purposes. Most of them don't survive the experiments and are used to feed new larvae. Those are the lucky ones, the survivors are trafficked back to the homeworld and used as hybrid mating stock for the industrial drone classes.

She's gone now. I'm sure she's reporting to her controllers that I spotted her. I ought to be in fear for my life, they will come through the walls as I sleep tonight.

And if they do, well, let them make it quick...

Copyright Bloody Mulberry 13.12.13

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