“Do. Not. Move,” she seethes, words hissed out between clenched teeth. “I will tear out your throat,” she warns.
Foolishly, he twitches. Immediately, he jerks back and freezes.
She narrows her eyes at him, suspicious, but after a few beats more of motionless, she turns away.
The boarded up cave mouth has three peepholes and the aliens are coming. She watches and waits.
Her first instinct upon being faced with alien invaders was to cover herself in blood and hide in the massive freezer in the back.
Not really the best move considering her cute and summery outfit, but she only barely got hypothermia, so she’s fine.
Now she wears borrowed trousers and a stolen bomber jacket, pockets filled with extra ammo, a grenade, and the bits and pieces of alien technology she’s scavenged off the few invaders they’ve managed to kill.
Phone lines have been down for days.
She hasn’t heard from her family in longer than that.
The mini cooper convertible is tiny and bright red, completely impractical and absolutely silly. It has an unnecessary racing stripe and a stuffed panda toy hanging from the rearview mirror.
It’s such a spot of ludicrous normality, so out of place at the end of the world, that she can’t help but laugh. Loud and bright and full of unsaid worries.
The tank is full, the keys are in the ignition, and it reminds her of being a teenager and pulling reckless tricks in the school parking lot that she does a donut for the hell of it.
When a scouting party lands, they run over three aliens together before speeding headlong into the bay.
She keeps the panda toy for months after.
Becoming a captain of The Resistance was mostly accidental.