Lex wedged himself deeper into the crevice, his broken ribs grinding against each other with every movement. Each breath sent shards of agony through his chest, and he had to bite down on his own tongue to keep from screaming. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he pressed himself against the fleshy walls of his hiding place.
"Why?" he whispered into the darkness, his voice barely audible even to himself. "Why did she rescue me just to break my ribs and throw me back into this hell?"
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dried digestive fluid that still clung to his skin. The stench of it made him gag, but he was too weak and too broken to care anymore. His whole body shook with silent sobs as the reality of his situation crashed over him like a tide of despair.
"What the fuck is wrong with this universe?" The words came out as a broken whisper, lost in the constant rumble of thunder from the purple sky above.
He tried to shift position, desperate to find some relief from the agony in his chest, but every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his broken ribs. The narrow crevice seemed to be getting tighter, the fleshy walls pressing in on him like a living tomb. Panic clawed at his throat as he imagined being crushed, slowly compressed until his bones snapped one by one.
But then, as he forced himself deeper into the crack, his hands found empty space. The crevice opened up beyond a narrow gap, widening into what felt like a small cave. Lex muffled a scream as he squeezed through the opening, his ribs grinding together like broken glass. The pain was so intense that white spots danced before his eyes, and for a moment he thought he might pass out.
When he finally dragged himself through into the wider space, he collapsed onto the ground, gasping and whimpering. The cave was small—maybe eight feet across—but it felt like a palace compared to the cramped crevice. Pale, bioluminescent tendrils hung from the ceiling like ghostly hair, casting an eerie glow that revealed the true nature of his refuge.
The walls were wrong. They weren't stone or metal or anything that should exist in nature. Instead, they seemed to be some abomination between rock and flesh, with a surface that was hard like stone but warm to the touch, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. Veins of darker material ran through the walls like blood vessels, and occasionally they would twitch or flex as if the entire cave were alive.
The mushroom-like tendrils swayed gently in some unfelt breeze, their tips glowing with a soft phosphorescence that made his skin look corpse-pale. Lex kept his distance from them, pressing himself against the far wall. In this dimension of horrors, anything that glowed probably wanted to kill him.
Exhaustion hit him like a physical blow. The adrenaline that had kept him moving was finally wearing off, and his body was shutting down. His eyelids felt like lead weights, and despite the pain in his ribs, despite the alien environment, despite the distant sounds of creatures hunting in the wasteland above, sleep took him.
He dreamed of home. Of Sarah's laugh and his mother's cooking and the simple pleasure of lying in his own bed on a Sunday morning. But even in his dreams, the purple lightning flickered at the edges of his vision, and he could hear the wet sounds of things feeding in the darkness.
When he woke, the pain hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. For a moment, he'd forgotten where he was, and the return to reality was devastating. The broken ribs had stiffened while he slept, and every breath felt like someone was driving a knife between his bones. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it, falling back with a strangled cry.
The luminescent tendrils continued their slow dance above him, casting shifting shadows on the flesh-stone walls. The heartbeat pulse of the cave seemed faster now, more agitated, as if it could sense his distress. Lex lay there for what felt like hours, occasionally shifting position to try to find some relief from the constant agony.
But worse than the pain was the thirst. His mouth felt like it was full of sand, his tongue swollen and sticky. When he tried to swallow, there was nothing there. The digestive fluid that had coated him was long since dried, leaving his skin feeling tight and cracked, but it had also dehydrated him severely.
"I need water," he croaked to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "I need to drink something or I'm going to die."
The thought of death should have terrified him, but instead, it brought an odd sense of relief. Maybe dying would be better than this. Maybe it would be mercy.
But some stubborn part of him—the part that had graduated college, that had dreamed of a future with Sarah, that had once believed the universe made sense—refused to give up. With agonizing slowness, he crawled back toward the crevice opening.
The sounds from above were different now. Instead of the chaotic feeding frenzy he'd escaped from, there were more organized noises—the crack of energy weapons, the sound of running feet, shouted orders in alien languages. Some of the survivors were still fighting.
He pressed his face to the opening and looked out at the hellscape beyond. The purple sky still split with constant lightning, but now he could see that it wasn't random. The bolts seemed to follow patterns, creating a web of electrical energy that connected the floating debris of destroyed worlds. And in that light, he could see rain falling.
Not normal rain—this water was slightly luminescent, glowing with the same pale light as the tendrils in his cave. But it was water, and he was dying of thirst.
Lex watched the glowing droplets fall, pooling in the uneven ground outside his hiding place. There was a small puddle maybe twenty feet away, formed where the rain had collected in what looked like the depression left by a massive footprint. The water glowed softly in the lightning-lit darkness, and to his parched throat, it looked like salvation.
He was gathering the courage to make a run for it when movement caught his eye. A figure came stumbling through the twisted landscape—one of the Daga crew members, his reptilian features twisted with terror. The alien's armor was cracked and scorched, and green blood seeped from wounds along his scaled hide.
Behind him, moving with the predatory grace of pack hunters, came things that might once have been dogs. But like everything else in this dimension, they were wrong. Their bodies were covered in mouths—dozens of them, each filled with needle-sharp teeth that gnashed hungrily as they ran. The mouths opened and closed in no rhythm, creating a sound like chattering bones mixed with wet, hungry breathing.
The Daga crew member turned and fired his energy weapon, the purple beam lancing out to strike one of the creatures. The thing exploded in a shower of black blood and writhing flesh, but the others didn't even slow down. They flowed around their fallen pack mate like water, their multiple mouths all turning toward the alien with single-minded hunger.
Lex watched in sick fascination as they brought down their prey. The crew member's screams echoed across the wasteland as the mouth-dogs swarmed over him, their countless teeth tearing into his flesh with wet, tearing sounds. The alien tried to fight them off, but there were too many, and within moments, his cries were cut short.
The pack fed for several minutes before moving on, their mouths now dripping with green blood. They melted back into the shadows between the twisted ruins, leaving behind only scattered pieces of armor and the lingering stench of death.
But one of them didn't follow the pack. The creature Lex had seen exploded by the energy blast lay in a crumpled heap not far from the water puddle. It wasn't moving, but in this place, that didn't necessarily mean it was dead.
Lex waited for what felt like hours, watching the rain continue to fall and listening to the distant sounds of violence. His thirst had become unbearable—his lips were cracked and bleeding, and his throat felt like raw leather. Finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, he crawled out of his hiding place.
Every movement was agony. His broken ribs ground against each other with each breath, sending waves of nausea through his system. He had to stop every few feet to rest, gasping and whimpering as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. But the sight of that glowing water kept him moving.
When he finally reached the puddle, he didn't care about the luminescence or the alien nature of the rain. He plunged his face into the water and drank greedily, the liquid soothing his parched throat like a blessing. It tasted strange—metallic and slightly sweet, with an aftertaste that reminded him of copper pennies—but it was water, and it kept him alive.
He drank until his stomach cramped, then collapsed beside the puddle, gasping. The effort had exhausted him completely, and for a moment, he just lay there in the rain, letting the glowing droplets wash some of the filth from his skin.
It was then that he noticed the mouth-dog carcass lying just a few yards away. Up close, it was even more revolting than he'd thought. The creature was roughly the size of a German Shepherd, but its body was covered in mouths of various sizes. Some were tiny, no bigger than a coin, while others gaped wide enough to fit a human head. They were all slightly open, revealing rows of serrated teeth that gleamed wetly in the lightning.
Lex stared at the thing with a mixture of revulsion and growing desperation. He crawled back to his cave and tried to sleep again, but hunger gnawed at him like a living thing. His stomach cramped and twisted, producing sounds that echoed off the flesh-stone walls. He hadn't eaten since before the selection ceremony—was that three days ago? Four? Time had no meaning in this place.
By what he guessed was the next day, the hunger had become unbearable. He'd finished the last of the water from his small collection efforts, and his body was starting to consume itself. He could feel his strength ebbing away, his thoughts becoming sluggish and confused.
The mouth-dog carcass was still there when he looked out from his hiding place. The rain had washed away most of the green blood from the Daga's death, but the creature itself remained untouched. In this dimension of horrors, even the scavengers seemed to avoid it.
Maybe that should have warned him away. Maybe the fact that nothing else would eat it should have told him something important about the wisdom of consuming alien flesh. But hunger was a more immediate concern than long-term consequences, and Lex was rapidly running out of options.
It took him the better part of an hour to work up the courage to retrieve the carcass. Each time he started to crawl out of his cave, his nerve would fail him, and he'd retreat back into the safety of the shadows. But eventually, desperation won out over fear.
The thing was heavier than he'd expected, and dragging it back to his cave while nursing broken ribs was a nightmare of pain and exhaustion. The multiple mouths flopped open and closed as he pulled it across the uneven ground, and more than once he had to stop and vomit from the sight of those gnashing teeth.
When he finally got it back to his refuge, he collapsed against the wall, gasping and shaking. The carcass lay in the center of the small space, illuminated by the pale glow of the tendrils above. In that light, it looked even more alien and wrong than before.
The mouths were the worst part. They covered every inch of the creature's body, each one slightly different from the others. Some had human-like teeth, others were filled with needles or razors or things that defied description. And they all seemed to be watching him, even though the creature was dead.
Lex sat there for a long time, staring at his potential meal. His rational mind screamed warnings at him—this was alien flesh, possibly toxic, definitely diseased. But his body was eating itself, and rational thought was becoming a luxury he couldn't afford.
Finally, with trembling hands, he reached out and tore off a small piece of flesh from what he hoped was a relatively mouth-free area. The meat was tough and stringy, with a texture that reminded him of rubber. It took considerable effort to tear off even a small chunk, and his broken ribs protested every movement.
He held the piece of flesh up to his face, studying it in the pale light. It was dark purple, almost black, and it seemed to pulse with its own internal rhythm. The smell was indescribable—part rotting meat, part something sweet and cloying, part something that reminded him of ozone and electricity.
His stomach cramped again, reminding him of his desperate need for sustenance. With a prayer to any god that might be listening in this godless dimension, Lex put the flesh in his mouth and began to chew.
The taste hit him immediately—a mixture of copper, decay, and something acidic that burned his tongue. The texture was even worse than he'd expected, rubbery and resistant, requiring considerable effort to break down. But he forced himself to chew, tears streaming down his face as his body rebelled against what he was doing to it.
He managed exactly three chews before his stomach violently rejected the alien meat. He doubled over, retching violently, but his empty stomach produced nothing but bile and the small amount of glowing rainwater he'd consumed. The taste lingered in his mouth like a curse, and he spent several minutes spitting and gagging, trying to rid himself of the flavor.
Lex collapsed back against the wall, his body shaking with exhaustion and revulsion. The piece of mouth-dog flesh lay on the ground where he'd dropped it, looking accusingly at him in the pale light. His hunger remained, gnawing at him like a living parasite, but his body's rejection of the alien meat had been absolute.
He was trapped—starving in a dimension of horrors, unable to eat the only food available, slowly dying in a cave made of living stone while monsters hunted in the wasteland above. And somewhere in another dimension, a princess with the power to save him had dismissed him like garbage, leaving him to rot in this hell.
Lex curled up on the floor of his alien cave, his broken ribs grinding together with each shallow breath, and wept for everything he had lost and everything he would never have again.