DIONNE

My back straightens as soon as I walk past the glass doors of the NASA headquarters. My feet protest. The "click-clack" of my heels sounds more like cackling.

I'm a woman of science, and I should've know my feet aren't compatible with these shoes. They've spent most of their lives kicked up on the coffee table.

Right as I enter my lab, I hear, "Hey, Dionne, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure your spine isn't supposed to be bent like that."

I agree, but at least I'll close my exercise ring once I tumble down the stairs.

I close the door and lean slouch against it as I face my coworker, Cherry, who sits on my office chair.

"Help me," I rasp.

"Why are you wearing those ridiculous things?"

I bite my lip and sink into a stool across my desk.

"Oohhh... you're trying to doll up for lover boy?"

"Shh!" I wave my hands, hoping the blasphemous words don't reach Treyton, the six-foot, blue-eyed reason why I'm weak at the knees and ankles.

We've been working together for a year. He laughs at my jokes and compliments my work. I've never had the backbone to ask him out—not that I'll have a spine to speak of by the time I take these heels off.

"What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"I'm waiting for Kira. She said she wanted to show me the progress she made on her teleportation work." Her eyes drop to the panel on the glass wall, alerting that Kira has entered the premises. "Looks like Kira's here. See you later. Clank your heels twice if you need me."

She winks at me as she stands.

"Har-har."

"By the way, here. You can get these devices over to the waste department." She pushes a tray of electronics across the table.

I grin from ear to ear. The waste department is past Treyton's office. He might get a glimpse of me in my heels.

"You know I'm always down to help a friend in need!"

"Take those things off or you're going to be down, period."

I groan, and she laughs. "Go get your prince in shining armor. Come see Kira and I later."

I snort. Trey wouldn't wear armor. He looks too good in his tailored suits. I pick up the tray and follow Cherry out. I walk slowly, adding a prep to my hips before realizing I must look injured.

I spot Kira as she turns the corner and wave at her. She waves back, saying, "I won't blame you if you take those off by lunch time."

"I'll admit defeat the day aliens show up."

She chuckles and goes about her day.

My heart jolts when I pass by Trey's office. The parted door reveals his neat desk and his handsome eyes staring right at me. I panic and look away, continuing my trek to the waste room. I curse myself as I set the tray down beside a cubed pile of recycled metal.

I should have planned better.

"Hey."

I straighten, recognizing that deep voice and faint cologne. I turn around and there he is, eyes as blue as my heels. Wearing a suit and not armor.

"Hey, Trey." I set a hand on the table, accidentally knocking something off the table. With a curse, I bend over to pick it up.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, thanks." I clear my throat and clench the device. "What's up?"

"Well, I actually wanted to ask you something." He smiles.

Goddamn it. I'm about to faint again and there are no elevators in sight.

Is it getting hot in here, or am I just just losing blood flow in my legs?

Trey steps closer and sets a hand on the table."I was thinking that after work..."

Oh, fuck. Is this really happening? I owe Cherry big time.

My smile drops when I feel a tremble run across the floor, and then life tilts. At first I think my heels gave out, but Trey stands before me with the same confused expression. My eyes jolt to my hand, which is connected to the metal desk. Instinct makes me pull away—like I know I'm about to get electrocuted.

But I'm too late.

There's a jolt, and darkness like I've never seen before consumes my world.

The even floor under me becomes bumpy, and I lose footing. Trey collapses beside me, his dark suit powdered by red soil.

I struggle to stand, my pencil skirt restricting my movements. My head swivels as I take in my surroundings. The NASA headquarters is gone. The polished metal and the cold, mute colors of the walls have become a wilderness.

"What the fuck?" Trey rasps.

This is the first time I've heard him curse, but the same question itches the tip of my tongue.

What. The. Fuck?

"Oh, Kira. You've really done it this time," I whisper as I look at the distance and see a waterfall pouring out of a single cloud.

I squeeze a fist and remember I'm holding onto a gadget. The small, circular tool I picked up right before the freak accident.

"Where are we?" Trey asks, his hands gripping the opening flaps of his suit.

"I don't know."

There's no civilization here. This is a canyon with red soil and strange markers. The boulders are crimson with twinkling minerals and wavy patterns.

Behind us is an enormous skeleton— a ribcage of a whale perhaps. I squint and notice runes chiseled onto the bone.

"Kira was working on teleportation. I guess a congratulations is in order." I force myself to smile, because the only other option is a mental breakdown.

"What?"

"It's okay, I'm sure she'll reverse whatever she did any second now."

We hold our ground for five minutes, and then thirty, and then I get so desperate that I tap my heels twice in hopes that Cherry comes to get me—she never does.

An hour later of sitting in silence, we accept that something has gone terribly wrong. I dreamt of spending time alone with Trey, but never under these circumstances—lost, afraid, and sweaty. This is the worst date ever.

"Come on. We need to find shelter before the night falls." Trey stands and offers me a hand, helpful as usual. I look at him with pursed lips and hope he doesn't see my vulnerability. The charade of confidence I've been playing in hopes that he'll notice me. What I truly am is a simple woman with more books on my shelves than dresses in my closet.

I accept his hand, and walk beside him down the dirt path. My bare feet become red instantly, and with every step I take, I spot more alarming details about this place. Trees I've never seen before, small animals that scurry too quickly for my eyes to focus, foreign runes.

It's like we were teleported to Area 51.

Trey and I don't speak a word, although our fear is palpable. My mouth dries with thirst, and my feet ache.

"There!" Trey points to the distance, to a shed overtaken by vines.

We rush to it. The door is barely attached, and a small bird whooshes over our heads as we enter. There's nothing here but an empty crate and a wobbly table. After further inspection, we find a knife with a blade made of a black, smooth rock. Obsidian. The craftsmanship is incredible.

"Alright," Trey says, clutching the knife. "We'll secure food, water, and the door. We'll be alright. I promise."

My heart races as I fall deeper for him. He's taking the lead, and saying all these brave things. Maybe he is a prince in shining armor, after all.

"Okay," comes my soft voice. I set my heels and the gadget on the table. "I'll figure out what this gadget is."

"Great. I would help with that, but..."

I smile at him. Microchips aren't his area of expertise. He's a software developer, dealing with code and programs, while my department built parts.

"It's alright, you're already doing enough."

His eyes flicker to my curved lips, but then he clears his throat and shrugs his jacket off, setting it on the table. "Let's begin, but take it easy and call me if you need help."

– • –

Three days later, I've accepted that we're no longer on Earth. Trey and I don't speak on it, though, because then it would become reality. We found a small stream of water, and I've studied the gadget and concluded it's one of our language transmission prototypes.

We've been eating herbs blindly, but after a bellyache, we decided to play it safe and hunt. Trey put up animal traps near trees, and we've been catching strange critters that confirm our fears. We're no longer on Earth.

"Trey, could you help me?"

"Next time?" He says from inside the hut. "I'm still tired from carrying the water."

Every day, my prince's armor rusts. Trey is great at bringing a bucket of water daily, but that's all he does. I have to capture the animals, skin and gut them, cook them, and clean the mess afterward. I do the laundry when our clothes get too sweaty. I fixed the wobbly table and crafted a mattress for us using leaves and vines.

After my first time gutting an animal, the gore followed me into my sleep, and I had a nightmare. Instead of comforting me, Trey complained about my noises.

I'm trying to be compassionate because I know he's going through a lot just like I am. We're marooned in this strange place, disconnected from Earth and rapidly deteriorating in health. But my attraction for him is withering. It feels like I'm carrying the burdens while he latches onto the one task he does.

Well, what other option do I have? It's not like I can leave him. He's all I have in this world.

"I'm going to check the traps," I say, dropping the unruly rope I had been trying to braid.

He stays quiet, slumped against the wall with his eyes closed.

I go outside and walk a bit further in the opposite direction of the traps to catch a glimpse of the farm I discovered. It's a long brick house, better kept than the shed. I haven't seen any movement from inside, and my curiosity is consuming me. There are probably a few tools in there I could use.

I turn around and head for the traps, but I see a figure in the distance that's staring right at me. It's not Trey.

This man is broader, redder.

I freeze in my tracks, my blade slipping from my grip.

The man advances towards me, his bulk becoming more apparent.

He's a local. An alien local. And he looks pissed that I'm on his property.