The seam of skin bulged like the neck of an orange. I dragged my eyes back to ‘Sharon’s’ face.
“I, uh, need to see your manager,” I said.
“Is there a problem?” she said, her smile not faltering for a moment.
“No. It’s nothing like that. I just… really need to speak with him.”
“One moment please,” Sharon said.
She delivered the drinks to the customers, who whooped excitedly. They clinked their glasses and downed a large mouthful.
Sharon was one of them. A Changeling. My brain was too fuzzy, too exhausted to process what that might mean. Just how many of these creatures were there in this town?
Sharon emerged from a back room. “He’s checking supplies. You can either come back later or talk to him while he’s doing it.”
“I’ll talk to him now,” I said.
Sharon motioned for me to head on back.
I shut the door behind me. It cut off the majority of the bar’s noise. It must be soundproofed, I thought. I proceeded down the hallway and heard something being rolled to one side in the room at the end.
A man was busy moving barrels from one side of the room to the other. He hissed at a puddle on the floor and leaned the barrels over to see which one had the leak in its base.
“I’m looking for the manager,” I said.
“You found him,” the man said. “What’s up?”
“I need to report something,” I said. “Something that I think you should be concerned with.”
“If it’s about the food or drink, please speak to one of the waitresses,” he said, not looking up and running a finger under each barrel.
“It’s not about the food or drink,” I said. “It happened a few days ago. I was driving my minivan and—”
Hold on a minute.
The man was wearing gloves. How did I know he wasn’t one of them too? I ran my eyes over him. He moved much more naturally than the other Changelings. He spoke more naturally too. But he might just be a better performer.
“When they copy someone, they copy them in parts,” Nighteko had said. “Hands, arms, head, chest, legs, and feet. Most of the time, clothes cover their bodies making the ridges invisible.”
And that’s when I noticed his sweat gathering on his chest. Not across the top of the belly or under the arms, but around a ridge that wrapped around his shoulders and across his back.
He was one of them too.
He wiped the sweat off his face with his forearm. “So, what appears to be the problem?”
“Um, nothing,” I said. “I just… the food was cold.”
The manager nodded. “Speak with Sharon and she’ll get it fixed.”
He bent over the barrel and got back to work. I turned away, at a loss for what I was meant to do next.
The entire town was fake. It was nothing more than a trap to lure women.
“Once I have enough credits to set up my own colony.”
Who said that? Was it one of the crew? Yes. Which one? It didn’t take me long to recall. Stryder. He said it when he betrayed Nighteko. He teamed up with the Changelings as a Plan B. He was going to set up a colony.
But what did that mean? Was that what this entire town was? A way to lure young women? To let them party, to have fun and, as they headed home, abduct some of them and sell them to customers around the galaxy?
The thought alone brought me out in hives.
What would they do with me if they thought I knew the truth? Did they even believe my story earlier? Would they have records? Would they know I should be under some alien master’s thumb somewhere?
I couldn’t take that risk. I couldn’t wait for them to do whatever they wanted with me.
Especially since nobody knew I was here.
What if I called the feds? Would they listen to me? Would they send officers? And how long would it take for them to arrive? And what if they were Changelings too?
No. That was too much of a conspiracy theory.
I noticed movement out the corner of my eye. Two figures—two cops—marched through the revelers, peering around for someone.
Me.
I turned my back on them.
They were looking for me. And they were going to find me.
I needed backup. I needed help.
I turned to the nearest table of partiers. There were five of them. All girls—of course. I fell into an empty seat and waited for the cops to pass.
“Can we help you?” a raven-haired beauty said. She slurred her words.
I watched the cops’ fleeing backs. I’d avoided them.
This time.
“No,” I said. “No, you can’t help me. I… sat at the wrong table.”
The girls burst into laughter as I hustled away. Then I paused. The only people in this whole stinking place that were human were the people who came here to party.
Those were the people that needed to help me.
I turned back to the table and sat down again.
“You again?” the raven-haired beauty said.
She might be already half-gone but two of her friends weren’t. One wore a cheap red wig and drank fruit juice. The designated driver? I wondered. The other girl was mousey and had a geeky look about her.
“You asked if you could help me,” I said. “You can. Three days ago, I was driving a minivan with my friends back home. We were partying—just like you, and had a really good time.”
The raven-haired beauty raised her glass. “Amen to that! Woo woo!” And downed her glass.
“On the way back, we were… attacked,” I said. “Some guys kidnapped us.”
The sober pair snapped to attention.
“They put me in their trunk,” I said. “They must have taken my friends somewhere else. I managed to escape and get back here. Now I’m looking for help.”
The mousey girl leaned forward. “Have you gone to the cops?”
I nodded. “They’re in on it too.”
The raven-haired beauty waved a dismissive hand. “Not all of them can be part of it.”
“All of them,” I said meaningfully, pleased I was making headway with at least a
