The Space Spoon novel Chapter 64

Shayla cursed internally at this entire situation. If the plan of burning the ugly piece of shit wouldn’t work, then she wasted this fine cigarette for nothing. It was the last thing her mother gave her before she died.

She humphed and took a last lungful of smoke. She could bet anyone would laugh at the thought that a queen could gift her daughter a cigarette as the last token of love. The crackling sound of the dry weeds burning up brought her mind back to the present.

New, not yet fully formed limbs broke out of Fresh Flesh's body, charging forward past the rocks and over the liquid. A grunt came out through his upside-down lips as its meat ran between the falling match and the thin stream of fluid. The stamped-out match flew upward and landed between two rocks. A dark coating appeared on the limb as it stretched further toward Shayla.

She jumped off the rock and snuffed off her cigarette on the creature’s pink skin. The echo of its screech bounced over the cave’s walls over and over again.

Shayla scoffed. “That was a waste of a pretty darn good cigarette. One I was saving for ages.”

The stench of burnt flesh etched itself inside her nostrils, making her want to scratch her nose. A pang of pain punched her in the gut the instant the monster hit her. The light from the coils flashed in all directions as she was sent flying across the room. Her lungs released all the air when she slammed onto the rocky wall with enough force to dislocate her left shoulder.

Shayla screamed, her vision blurring and her fingers grabbing her painful shoulder. She halted at the sound, realizing it wasn't a warrior's cry. She slammed her shoulder into the wall again, this time with a tremendous snarl, to reposition it. The whirling surge of pain that engulfed her almost knocked her unconscious. However, fainting now would be her undoing. She needed Tejeda now. What the bloody hell was he doing?

No weapon worked on this monster, and she was out of ideas. Burning it to a crisp was her last resort. Her vision cleared and she saw the black spots on Fresh Flesh’s limb, one caused by the match and another smudged one from the cigarette.

The box of matches lay there near the rock she had previously stood on. It must have fallen out of her pocket while she pirouetted like a ballerina into the air. Yeah, ten points for the execution, but a negative ten for the landing. Damn it!

She had to make a run for the matches. They were her only hope left. Shayla darted toward her target. The dark-dotted limb hurled toward her. Using her momentum, she leaned on her back and slid over the rocks, which tore through her uniform and scratched her back.

Hope ignited as one of her feet touched the box of matches. With a swish of her boot, she held out her hand. Just one more inch. The creature sprouted another makeshift limb and flung it toward her head. No time to back out now.