~Lucy~

~Lucy~

Pulling up in a cloud of dust, the Hummer stopped in front of double doors made of heavy timbers, the entrance to the outer building of Lucy’s temple. In human form Portis exited the vehicle wearing a green military T-shirt and Army issued camouflage shorts. He scrutinized the impassable mesa that anchored the roughly forty-foot high continuous barrier that surrounded the rest of Lucy’s temple complex. The three sides that were walls were sheer and smooth as glass. “Driver,” Portis commanded.

           “Yes sir, Mr. Portis.”

           Portis pointed back to the opening they had come through over a thousand yards away. “Is that the only way in or out of this place?”

           “Yes it is, sir.”

           “This is great. Come on, Woman,” Portis said to a road weary Grace. Her feet were bare and dirty. Still shaken at having been kidnapped at the port of entry into Mexico and then seeing the massacre of so many border agents, she’d accidentally lost her black pumps in the melee. Her beehive hairdo was all but undone, hanging around her head in a disheveled mess. The tight pencil skirt was wrinkled and the white blouse was stained from sweating heavily in the unseasonably hot desert weather. She exited the Hummer and followed him, wondering where in Mexico they were.

           “You look rough, Woman.”

           “I’m so thirsty… Sir.”

           “Call me Your Highness and well you should be. Let’s get you some water and maybe some food. Don’t speak to anyone inside. I found you, I own you. Understand? Now come on.” Portis sounded in high spirits. Grace figured he was happy to back in his element. Since he took her that morning, he had talked almost non-stop; about this place, about his life and about his plans to destroy mankind. Most of what he said of was either scary or confusing. But all of it was crazy as hell. They entered the outer temple building and were in a spacious front room crowded with Drachonian Lizardmen of all colors and sizes, Black Ops soldiers wearing varying degrees of uniforms and a smattering of other creatures she was unfamiliar with. They were all milling about, talking or eating from a buffet of meats and cheeses. Grace’s stomach growled in protest. Many watched Grace and Portis with curiosity. There were three other exits from the room, but Portis took Grace’s hand and pulled her straight ahead. A small group of jarheads in full gear blocked their approach. Annoyed that he even had to talk to subordinates, he said, “MOVE! NOW!” All moved but one. The man pointed and said, “I think I’ve seen you before.”

           Portis grabbed him by his flak jacket and threw him a good ten feet through the air. The soldier landed on the buffet table. It broke in half, demolishing the array of foods. Grace snatched up a sausage that rolled her way and ate it greedily right off the floor. The soldier’s friends reacted aggressively. Portis teased them with, “You want some? Come on.” The soldiers, experienced mercenaries who were used to being around Hybrids and aliens, surrounded the two strangers. Portis allowed only the true visage of his head, sporting a ragged scar from his eye to his chin, to appear. The wide, jaw-laden, stone-like face stopped them cold. As they wisely decided to go check on their injured friend instead, Grace almost swooned. He was really an alien, his insane ramblings must be true.

           Portis spotted the door to the inner temple and pulled Grace toward it. The door was the same as the outer entrance except it was smaller and much more ornate. Carvings of ferocious beasts and demon faced creatures adorned it. Portis recognized the Reptilian sentry. His name was Tobal and he was the leader of a blue blooded Reptilian clan that hundreds of years ago was Portis’ Royal Guard. Portis took offence that he now stood guard at the door to Lucy’s sanctuary. “Is he in there, Tobal?”

           “Yes, My Lord.” Tobal handed him a bulky but neatly folded purple robe with a matching yellow sash and undergarment on top. Portis held it against his face. “Ahh.” He showed it to Grace. “These are the ceremonial vestments that we Anunnaki wore when we ruled the Middle East. Men called us God.” He paused. Grace realized he was waiting for her to say something.

           “And rightly so, uh, Your Majesty.” In her heart she was deflated. Why had she taken that stupid programming job with ICE? This whole debacle had gone off the rails. What mattered now was survival.

           He assumed his true gargantuan form. Portis shed his human countenance and displayed his actual appearance. Covered by bluish, rock-like scales, just his breadth and height, let alone his protruding stony face, were enough to scare the bejeezus out of a normal person. His clothes shredded and fell to the ground revealing not only his rocky body, but also his massive penis and scrotum. The only part of his anatomy covered with leathery skin instead of his natural armor. Grace couldn’t help but stare. Portis was used to her reaction. “Forget it, Grace. You wouldn’t survive.”

           Grace and Tobal stepped back in awe. Putting on the robe and tying the sash made him feel noble and powerful. He turned around twice, arms out slightly, showing it off. The bottom of the robe flowed in his wake. “What do think, Woman?”

           She forced her face to produce a mock smile. “It’s quite elegant, Your Highness.” She was getting fed up with this bullshit.

           Portis caught Tobal eyeing Grace with his yellow slits. He hadn’t seen a female of any species for a very long time. “Forget it, Tobal. She’s mine. Now get out of my way.” With his substantial rock foot, he kicked Tobal in the ass.

Portis stood contemplating the door. Time spent with Lucy was always infuriating. True, his latest plan had worked well so far. But he still had to see how it would play out. It had only been one hundred and forty years after all. Lucy was always so pushy and condescending. Some might say that same description fit Portis. But that was different. He was royalty and Lucy was just a clever bloodsucking asshole. “Let’s get this over with, Woman. His name is Lucifer. I call him Lucy. He’s odd, so don’t speak.” He opened the door.

           Inside, Lucy was directly across the room on the other side of the temple studying the shelf he had built to hold the thirteen Blue Crystal Skulls. According to Portis, alien super computers. It was almost full but still lacked the last one. The Skulls existed just as he claimed. “Welcome to my home,” Lucy said without turning. The inner temple was just a square structure made of the same stone walls as the outer building except for the roof. Instead of a flat ceiling, the roof was a pyramid of clear quartz crystal panes. It reduced the harsh direct sunlight of the Mexican desert while still allowing it to flow in. It also kept the room bright inside without the heat or glare. On the left wall was a statue of a nasty looking creature with a round head. To the right of the Skull shelves, a six-foot-long organic radiator type object pulsated on top of a running generator that made no noise. Portis recognized it. Lucy had one very similar in his first temple in Atlantis thousands of years ago. It was a living security system. Along with being in the remote desert, it was the reason no one could ever invade or even find his compound. On the right wall was a replica of Jesus Christ being crucified on the cross at Galilee. It was complete with bloody hands and feet, a crown of thorns, the spear through his side and was covered with graffiti. Grace was shocked to see words and phrases painted all over it in red and yellow. She read a few: Fuck you, shithead, asshole, until it became too disturbing. Having been raised a Catholic, she found the display blasphemous and extremely offensive. Lucy seemed uninterested in their presence as he stroked the jawline of the eleventh Skull almost erotically. At that moment he turned, saying, “Ah. A Christian. How quaint.” Grace looked at the floor. She knew better than to comment. “Welcome!” he said, sounding sincere. Then he turned back and continued to caress his treasures. With his back to Portis, he said, “Scar, tell me the plan.”

           “You know I don’t like that name.”

           “Yes, I do know. And I don’t like you. Yet here we are. Now tell me the plan.”

           “We’ve been over the plan so many times. Only a fool wouldn’t know it by now.”

           “Exactly. Tell me the plan.”

           Portis ignored the insults and recited the plan’s basics. “If they survive the first wave, we pin them in the rocks. We send in the humans to exhaust their ammo. Then we attack full force with Reptilians, Ebones, and Moles.”

           “What’s with the Reps, Scar? Call them Drachonians.”

           Portis ground his teeth in aggravation. “Look Lucy, why do we have to go through all of this? I’ll take ten of my best Drachonian soldiers and hit them at the entrance.” Despite having had this discussion previously on several occasions, Portis expected it to be considered.

           Lucy picked up the ninth Blue Crystal Skull and held it like a child in his arms for a moment before gently placing it back on the shelf. Then he turned with his answer to Portis’ master plan. “Unsuccessfully, you’ve been after this group for six months with unlimited resources and still you underestimate them. Tell me the plan.”

           “I just did.”

           “TELL ME THE PLAN!” Lucy said in a loud voice. Portis again repeated the plan.

           Grace studied Lucy carefully. She didn’t get it. He seemed so average except for an eerie resemblance to George Clooney. After Portis repeated the plan twice, Lucy gestured toward the entire group of Skulls. “My babies are luring the Archers and the last Crystal Skull straight to us. When I have all the Skulls together, I’ll be able to hack them.”

           “I doubt it,” said Grace. It just slipped out and she immediately regretted her words.

           Lucy looked at her in anger. “You dare to speak to me that way? Why would you even speak to me at all?” He started toward her.

           “She’s right,” said Portis. Anticipating trouble, he backhanded her across the face, knocking her to the floor. “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to,” he said. Grace kept nodding, too frightened to say anything else. She wished with all her heart that she had never applied for that job.

           Lucy laughed out loud. “This isn’t a job. It’s an adventure.”

           She hadn’t realized until then that he could read her thoughts.

           “Yes, I know what you’re thinking, Grace.” He spat out her name. “George Clooney? Come on. You humans are so weak and pathetic.” He said to Portis, “How do you keep them around without hurting them?”

           “She’s just a stray I picked up. Humans are good listeners. When I tire of them I eat them.”

           Lucy wasn’t listening. His steely gaze was on Grace lying on the floor. It was all too much for her. Curled up in a ball, she squeezed her eyes shut. Portis’ blow had split her lip and blood oozed from it. Lucy looked at Grace’s bleeding face and a short penetrating scream escaped from him.

           He dropped his human disguise and revealed his true self. Grace opened her eyes and what she saw was something out of a nightmare. Lucy’s actual head was oversized and perfectly round except at the very top, where a conical portion of bare boned skull protruded through a split in his very porous fibery skin. His eyes were black and vacant with white dots for pupils. The mouth too was round and wide open, crowded with different sized spiked and jagged teeth. There were no other features on his face. The nostrils and ears were merely holes in his head. Everything else about his body was long and lanky. His gaunt torso was humped over, making it difficult to judge his true height. From his shoulders to his hands was at least three feet. Black talons tore through the ends of his spindly fingers. Blood oozed from around the talons as they extended and retracted randomly. He was gently swaying from side to side. His emaciated legs crouched on slender feet with jerky tentacle-like toes. His hideous form somehow reminded Grace of a demented jack-in-the-box bouncing about on an extended spring that could barely support its weight. Without warning he leapt upon Grace and began slurping the blood from her lip. She screamed. Wanting more blood, he bit a chunk of meat out of her cheek. He seemed to have no genitalia until a black veined erection looking at first like a lump tore through the skin of his pelvis. A swipe of his talon fingers ripped off her skirt and panties, leaving four deep gashes in her now exposed hip.

           Portis didn’t know if the sudden frenzy was hunger or arousal. The feral onslaught stunned him at first, but then he became enraged. “No, she’s mine!” He howled and dove for the deranged creature. Lucy eluded his grip and they faced each other in the center of the room. In a hunched crouch, Lucy began to circle to Portis’ left on his gnarly toes. “I’ve had enough of you,” said Portis through a clenched jaw.

           Lucy was still circling warily. “So, you think to kill me?”

           “Your puny claws can’t hurt me and I have many times your strength.” This had been too long coming. Excluding the powerful Sasquatch, Anunnaki considered themselves unmatched in combat by anyone or anything on Earth.

           “Yes,” said Lucy, “but your size and strength is also your weakness.”

           Portis attacked, reaching for Lucy’s throat. With blinding speed, Lucy grabbed the extended arm and swung himself up on Portis’ enormous shoulders, squatting like a vulture cherishing his carrion. Lucy reached around Portis’ face and dug two talons into his eye socket. Then he was back on the floor facing Portis and holding out his right hand. The pain set in and Portis screamed in surprise and agony. In Lucy’s outstretched hand he held a bloody, partially perforated eyeball. Portis went to his knees, covering the empty eye socket with both hands. “I’ll kill you,” snarled Portis. Summoning all his will, he pushed the pain away and rose to his full height.

           “Will you?” countered Lucy. He sounded amused. “I can’t penetrate your skin, but I can take your other eye, then your dick and your balls. I’ll pull out pieces of your brain through the empty eyeholes. Then I’ll pull out your guts through the hole in your crotch and I’ll leave you outside in the desert so the ants and scorpions can enjoy your innards. You might survive for months while you endure that hellish nightmare. Or maybe,” Lucy said calmly, holding up his thin textured hand, “you stuff this eye back in and we forget this ever happened. I think it would heal over time.”

           Portis felt fear, something new to him. Lucy may be right, he thought. Eventually, the eye would probably reconnect. And though it would never be like it was, surely he could learn to see with it again.

           Lucy waited with his hand outstretched. Portis reluctantly reached for his eye. He groaned through squishy noises as he worked it back into the socket. Now with one functioning eye, he looked over at Grace. She was conscious but hurting, disoriented, and probably in shock.

           As if nothing had happened, the George Clooney face appeared and Lucy said calmly, “Why don’t you go check up on the boys? Grace and I need some alone time. You know, before she gets cold.” And he smiled.

           Portis hung his head and turned to leave. As Grace watched her last hope for salvation walk out, Portis was already planning his revenge.