Story Draft 01

“Mic, the bleebs have asked to send a representative to ‘negotiate’ with you.” Trevor raised his eyebrows as he said this. The last bleeb who had asked to “negotiate” tried to smack them all with a mind bomb.

Mic’s smile turned as sour as a lemon wedge, but he nodded. He also fingered his gun. “Let him talk. Buys more time for us. We’re still waiting on the demolition team anyway.”

“Buys more time for them too,” Trevor said.

“If they had a way out of that cave, they’d have taken it by now,” said Mic. “But don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

The wind caterwauled like a banshee as it darted around the towering rock formations of the Arizona desert. The bleebs were holed up in some caves in one of the cliffs. Mic’s band had chased them here across nearly twenty miles of scrubbrush and abandoned gas stations.

Mic and the other rangers held their positions while a single figure emerged from the cave and began the slow crawl down the backswitches to the arroyo floor. About half-way down, the figure resolved into a feminine silouette. Mic cursed under his breath. The female of the species is the more deadly of the two. Never was that more true than with bleebs, who were genetically designed.