The Varkari

Copyright © 2021 Iola Jones. All rights reserved. This is an original work that is not to be copied or altered and redistributed in any form. Any character(s) or reference to original character(s) may not be reproduced, claimed, or used in any other works without permission and are the sole property of I. Jones. That being said... THIS BOOK IS NOT FOR EVERYONE. It was written to test reader cultural relativity and empathy. No, you will not always understand why a character does what they do. The purpose is to introduce you to a culture or way that is not your own. If you feel that this pushes your capability of broader thinking, then don't even try. This is not a quick, chick flick read. This is dirty, gritty, and has character development over many heavily considered chapters. There is no instant gratification. If you don't get it, fine. If you don't like it, fine. At the end of the day, it is to ask yourself..."Can I imagine that I was raised in a different world? A different scenario? A different culture?" Mature themes including s*x, manipulation, traumatic events, and murder. I had a terrible feeling in my gut. It weighed my bones down and made my hands tremble as I searched through dusty cupboards, my heart leaping when my feet scuffed or scraped the once-clean floors of this house. The broken windows allowed nature in and even me, but I doubted I would find any nourishment here. Closing the last cupboard as quietly as I could, I decided to get out. It had been three years of this. Three years of scrounging around in the wreckage of a world that had been so easy to live in. Now, every day was a struggle. The Varkari had descended upon the planet about four years ago, and initially they had been peaceful. People took their arrival much better than anticipated, but we had been prepped with movies and Area 51 for years, right? World governments eagerly met with them to discuss the condition of the planet and to barter knowledge and technology for something precious to the aliens. Women. When word got out that they wanted women, human women, we were shocked. Some were terrified and some were angry that those in power even considered such a trade. Protests with posters and picket signs turned into mobs attempting to storm the areas where they landed to meet and collect any women who wanted to volunteer. But that was just it, women who wanted a new chance at life or something exotic signed up and that had to be respected, too. It seemed like once they got a taste for our own, they became voracious and the news channels played videos of more ships landing every day until they had created a base of sorts. They assembled a small city, right on the outskirts of Chicago, a hub of human activity and heavily populated. The UN met frequently to discuss developments, planning to assimilate them into our economies if they desired, hoping to set up trade. America, with its oversized military, was threatened, and repeatedly voted to end their permission to stay if they did not fully share their weaponry. As expected, politicians inflamed conservatives, bugling that they were a threat to the country and constitution and would soon take every firearm away to disable them. Of course, the Varkari had never suggested such things, but what better to instigate a battle than a bunch of riled-up, armed protestors? And that's exactly what they did. A huge group of men, decked in militia gear with hand-painted signs, brought their AR-15s, Berettas, shotguns, and pistols ready to use. If the Varkari didn't leave right then, they would kill every last alien piece of filth. So when a squad of four Varkari soldiers exited their compound to discuss terms with the men, what did they do? Immediately open fired. The bullets did no damage and the Varkari returned inside, and that was too scary for the American government. It didn't matter that not one human died that night, the fan was covered in s**t. They made us look bad. On the anniversary of their first contact, the US military attempted to overwhelm them, afraid of what could happen and greedy to take control of the most advanced tech on the planet. The Varkari had footage of the entire thing, US soldiers parachuting in, tanks trying to blast holes in their walls, and the aliens eliminated every last one. That sure was threatening, wasn't it? Russia and China both sent in their own teams which was trespassing and that stirred the world pot. Tensions continued to rise and before we knew it, someone had hit a red button. Smaller bombs richocheted off the alien shields, scattering into the Chicago suburbs. Evacuations turned to highway wrecks and riots. The situation just snowballed from there. It started a bloody war that put the first two World Wars to shame. Missiles screamed through the air and the ground constantly tremored with miniature earthquakes from the explosions. The Varkari retaliated when provoked, but were so much more effective. Anything heavy shot at them had been redirected back down onto our own cities. There was no negotiation. I still remembered the chilling broadcast a few days before the internet went down, a voice that gave me goosebumps all over. "...shown us that humans require direction and cannot be trusted to peacefully negotiate...Submit. Or die." Something like that anyway. Then they redeployed their ships and began to take control of major cities. And why not? When you were almost seven feet tall super soldiers, you could damn well do whatever you wanted. Some women, fearing for their lives, had traveled to their city to "submit", and every last one was taken in. Sheesh, with that voice, I wanted to submit, too, just to avoid getting turned to ash inside my home. It would have been better for me that way. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide really, because even cockroaches got caught scuttling into corners when the lights were turned on. There were only brief hiding places. Like shelters and churches that had opened their doors to survivors. Too bad those had all been traps. I would know, because I fell for it, too. * We sat among the pews, grateful for the cups of hot soup and donated clothes that had been handed out. There were a dozen of us at most, hiding from the chaos outside, the aliens and their blinding weapons. This rare moment of quiet was one where I was afraid to relax and let my mind wander back to the images that plagued my dreams. It was not the monsters that had killed my parents and sisters, but humans blinded by violence and fear, their agenda to bring us all to "salvation" by mowing us down because death was better than being taken. I touched my side lightly, feeling the panty liner that had been taped to my skin with half a tube of neosporin ointment. While my family was "saved" I had escaped with a deep graze to my side that still wanted to bleed if I stretched too much. Somebody was reading the Bible quietly to a cluster of haggard-looking people, but I wish they would just be quiet. Maybe it brought them comfort, but God was not coming to save them. If they wanted to be saved, they were going to have to walk outside and find another group of zealots to get them there. We should be listening in silence, straining our ears for any tiny sound that might indicate that a ship was flying overhead or for the thuds of heavy boots coming to storm the church. I set my empty cup down and curled up on the thin bench padding. With any luck, I might be able to sleep through the night without someone sounding an alarm to flee. My ear was pressed to the seat of the pew and I could feel the vibrations of far-off war still in full force. BOOM! The wooden entry doors exploded inward and I tumbled to the floor with a grunt of pain as I landed on my bad side. There was another blast from the opposite end of the church and then screams, all-too familiar, as the people realized that they had been surrounded. I rolled under a pew and made no noise as the boots that I dreaded appeared. They moved fairly quietly for how large they were, heel-toe, heel-toe like special ops forces. Except, these soldiers were not here to save us. "Eat s**t, alien!" Some man made his last stand before I heard a gun go off. A tick-tock sound was the only indication that one of the invaders had fired back at him. The tick was their weapon going off, and the tock was the laser or bolt of energy hitting the foolish man. I closed my eyes and swallowed down the soup that wanted to come back up. I wanted to shrink into a tiny ball and fold in until there was nothing left of me. People were being herded into a cluster and then, like border collies around sheep, they pressed them toward the exit. Two remained and I stared at their boots with dread as they slowly pivoted in my direction. I held my breath. I heard them sniffing, scenting the air for me. They could smell blood, I had heard, and so I pressed my fist into my side to staunch the flow. It was too late. Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe. I tried to bolt, but a gloved hand grabbed my shirt, yanking me backwards. I felt the too-big hands grab my sides to hoist me up, but I screamed when the pressure crushed my damaged skin and I was dropped like I had burned the soldier. Instantly, the grip was back on my arm and the opposite hip, and the body behind me loomed down before I could fully turn around. I strained to look at him, it must be a male by the massive size because my head barely reached their chests, but my eyes locked on the other behind him who had taken a defensive stance. Yellow eyes stared at me behind the visor of a black helmet, gun held across the waist in a similar fashion to modern-day soldiers, except the streamlined overlapping panels of the suit were beyond our military capacity. The one sniffed my side, finding the blood there and turned to his comrade, ignoring my futile attempts to push him away no matter how I squirmed or pried at his hands. Low murmuring voices in a different language sent my racing heart into overdrive. My body surged forward, taking the soldier by surprise enough that I slipped away. I sprinted for the altar, knowing there was a door to the left of the stage that would take me to the back room where the kitchens were. I was already cursing myself for not keeping a knife on me at all times and now that I had seen the aliens for myself, I had no doubts that it would be nearly useless against their armor and size. Fingers clipped my shirt, losing traction as I zipped around the doorway and I heard a distinct curse. It did not matter what language it was in, a curse was a curse. The bootfalls were much quieter than I expected, but incredibly fast. Sliding into the kitchen and nearly falling, I dove for the counter. I did not even have a chance to get the drawer open, my nails scraping on the wood. "Let me go!" I screamed. My feet left the ground as I was swung up and around into the alien's arms like a child. Before I could blink again, the other one had clasped two metal bracelets around my wrists and a blue band zapped them within six inches of each other. Then we were moving again without so much as a word between them and I was carried outside kicking and screaming despite the steel arms pinning my torso to his. "Help! Help!" Even though calling for help never worked in the movies, I was going to try anything, especially when I caught sight of the ship. It was not a big, off-world vessel like the ones that shot up into the sky, but an egg-shaped cargo-type machine with circular wings that hummed with blue light. There were windows on the sides of the vessel and I could see the other humans sitting inside with the guards standing and waiting for us. I used every ounce of energy I had straining to break free to the point where I was seeing stars and gasping for air, my wound now hot and sticky with an open flow. Every breath made it sting and burn like the worst stitch in my side I had ever experienced, but I felt like if I stopped fighting them, it would be like an antelope giving up to a lion. They pried my hand off the entryway and put me into one of the seats made of some iridescent purple material and strapped me in further. Defeated, I sucked in air and attempted to collect myself now that the engines were clearly thrumming to life and we were slowly lifting into the air. The others that had been captured were restrained similarly and all seemed as sweaty and terrified as I was, their sallow skin and panicked expressions matched their tattered and dirty clothes, all a stark contrast to the sleek, clean apparel the aliens wore. The soldiers were talking to each other in their deep baritones that sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. They sounded so nonchalant and their body language was at ease like they may have just been waiting around for movie theater doors to open up for the next showing. This was not their first round up. "Where are they taking us? Do you know?" I panted. The other people whispered to each other and glanced from the soldiers to me and back. When they saw that they were effectively being ignored, answers started rolling out. "I heard they eat people." "I heard they are taking us all to a building to kill us. Mass genocide." "-cannibals." "They want our planet, so they are clearly here to kill us." "-ship us off to their planet." "They are studying us." A young black male licked his lips nervously, dark eyes wide with fright. He shifted uncomfortably and I gave him a questioning look since he had yet to say anything. "When I was in the city, I saw them take a group of teenagers into a building. I hid and watched through a window." The others quieted down as he spoke and his eyes darted to the aliens, still immersed in their own conversation as the ship dipped and turned to the left in a wide arc. "They separated everyone into two groups, boys and girls. They took the girls out to a shuttle like this one." "And the boys?" A bead of sweat tricked slowly down his temple, his lips trembling. "There were two aliens there. They...they shot everyone except for two." "And?" "They ate them." At that, everyone started freaking out, screaming, and thrashing. I pressed myself back in my seat and trembled, unable to react. If that was what they were doing to men, what was happening to the women? Visions of rape and cannibalism were flashing across my eyes as the soldiers angrily started pointing weapons at different people, barking orders that we couldn't understand. I might vomit. In a daze, I looked down at my shirt, red was spreading downwards onto my pant leg and across my abdomen. Each throbbing beat of my heart made it pulse a little further outward. My face felt numb and my vision started to turn black at the edges. The cargo ship jolted slightly as we touched down somewhere, but I could not focus on anything except a point on the semi-sparkly purplish floor. My head was drooping until my chin touched my sternum and I decided that I was so tired. Someone tapped on my shoulder repeatedly. They might have been saying something, but all I could hear was a high pitched ringing. The lights were bright when a hand pulled my face up and I fell forward as I was released from my straps. Yellow eyes in multiple pairs were peering down at me. I was moving again, floating with arms squeezing me too tightly. My side burned like a hot poker was being twisted inside it. Sitting in a chair, the roar of voices, hissing, roaring filled my ears. White lights blinded me. Chaos. Confusion. A crowd of hundreds moved in a black mass before me. I was being carried. Garbled voices were talking to me and I blinked hard, trying to see through the blotches of darkness. Then there was nothing.