MYRA
I walk down the slumps, studying chipped merchant tables for copper wire. It's hard to see anything. The streetlights won't turn on, since the town has met its daily quota of electricity.
"'Ey, Myra. I got paid today. Let me take you on a date."
I laugh at Sebastianâor as I call him, Sob-bastian. He's sixty-five to my twenty-five and determined to make me his sugar baby, although the only "sugar" he can offer is soured and expired.
"I'd rather take myself out," I reply.
"Where you gonna go?"
"I'll take myself out of this world before I go anywhere with you."
"Damn, girl, you're cold as hell."
I chuckle. I have no time to date, anyway. Humans have little time for fun. Our most popular hobby is survival.
I pick up a wrench from his crooked wooden table full of oily gears, wires, and other odd tools. "And yet you insist on flirting. Let's talk business. Did you get your hands on a condenser coil?"
For the past few months, I've been a mechanic. I enjoy experimenting with careers, although I don't master them all. I was a hairdresser for five minutes before learning that baldness is no longer in style.
It takes everything to survive this postapocalyptic world. Decades ago, dragons appeared and terrorized humanity into New York's subway system. Millions died, and the world became a wasteland of ash. I lived my childhood in tunnels, afraid of sunlight and the monsters that claimed the blue sky. They say the dragons that attacked weren't in their right mind, but that's not enough to forgive them after all the trauma.
"Nah, I don't have any new parts," Sebastian says, scratching his generous belly. "Things are tough, since that rotten loan shark is chasing me. Sorry, Myra."
I dip my chin. "It's okay. I'll see you next week." I turn and leave. Home is just down the block. I live in a building that's a gust of wind away from falling over. It's dangerous and grimy, but it's home, and I'm grateful to have a roof over my head.
I take the long way home because it's trash-burning day and everyone has a barrel of smoking trash in their backyard. Eager chatter makes me stray away from the sidewalk. There's a group of prostitutes gathered around an announcement board.
I approach them, curious. "Hey, ladies. What's with the commotion?"
They part, their short skirts swaying. I examine the handwritten poster that's nailed to the wood and scoff. I've seen this before; it's all over town. Over the past ten years, the dragons have tried to make amends for the death and destruction they caused. They bring resources to Earth, and their latest is the "matching program."
I scan the poster. Nearby, an older man reads the poster aloud for those that are illiterate.
"Human women are wanted for procreation! Le'vris warriors will provide their assigned females riches, protection, and sexual satisfaction for a lifetime. Our warriors range from twenty-one to thirty Earth years. These males have been tested in combat and possess Olympic endurance and optimal volumes of testosterone. Visit your local embassy to enlist! Applicants must be fertile, sane, and willing to move to planet Le'vris."
There's a drawing of a Le'vris male beside the words, but I don't need it. I once saw a dragon in his human form, so captivating that the memory remains fresh. He was tall and broad, his hands made to grip a woman's hips until there was fire between her thighs. His regal features were familiar but not quite human: crimson eyes, pitch-black hair, high cheekbones, sharp teeth, and translucent scales on his back that shone in the sunlight. It's easy to spot dragons. They're too muscular to be human, and their skin varies in bronze shades like their bodies are treasures. The most telling giveaway, though, is their deadly confidence.
There's an appeal to the matching program, but I can't apply after everything the dragons have done. Betray humanity by becoming a baby factory for comforts? Never. I'd rather keep staining my hands with oil and breaking my nails handling gears. Earth is polluted, crime-ridden, and diseased, but it's resilient. Nothing will make me abandon it. Not the starvation that sent me dumpster diving, not the infection that nearly took my leg, not the malnutrition that takes my menstrual cycles, not the rats that claim my apartment.
I bid the ladies goodbye, wish them luck on their applications, and go home.
"Winter, I'm here," I pant. Climbing the stairs to the fifth floor always leaves me winded. I find her in our bedroom, shoving wrinkled, unfolded clothes into a ripped suitcase.
"Winter?"
She looks over her shoulder, narrowing her brown eyes on me. "Did you read the poster? The one about marrying the dragons?"
"Of course I did. It's the talk of the town. Why?"
"I'm going. I'm sick of working in that damn tailor shop. Fuck this life."
I sigh and rub my forehead. I just worked nine hours to earn the slices of bread I had for lunch. Calories are the currency of life, and I hate burning through them with senseless arguments. "I can help you find a new job. I can teach you a few things. Leaving Earth and playing house with dragons isn't an overnight decision. You may..." I exhale. "You may never see me again."
Winter has always been impulsive, often getting into costly and dangerous trouble. But she has also protected me, so cutting her off was never an option. She's family.
She turns, and her brown ponytail whips the air. There's a look in her eye I know well. Unlike what her name might suggest, Winter has a fiery temper. Cruelty is never far behind. It's the smoke of her anger.
"Only a fool would give up this opportunity to escape this hell. There's nothing wrong with marrying and being a housewife."
"I know, butâ"
"You're the last person who should give me advice. Even after you were with your boyfriend for an entire year, working your ass off at his shitty diner, he left. All because you were too prudish to sleep with him. So what do you know about relationships?"
The hurtful words don't sting. Not anymore. I've heard them so often that they have become more familiar than my estranged sister.
I keep my shoulders squared. "I learned I don't owe an abusive man anything."
She sighs. "I'm sorry, Myra. But this is for the best." Then she walks out the door.
I yell my frustration and throw myself on our thin, stained mattress. This is our cycle: peace, anger, distance, and a chase. I'm usually the one chasing her because I fear being alone. I cling to my warm memories with people, even if they fade with every argument and insult. I prefer a bitter sister over a lonely apartment that only gets visited by vermin.
I close my eyes and relax my breathing. I think of the wonderful moments in our childhood. We lost our parents at a young age and have been close since, even if we lived under a dozen bridges and abandoned cars.
What went wrong?
When I awake later, I realize hours have passed, and Winter is still not home.
She's gone.
I grab my ID card, coins, and keys. Then I lock the apartment and run for the embassy. Winter has to be there. She couldn't have left the planet already.
My breathing quickly becomes labored. There's a pinched pain under my ribs, but I keep running. I will get past any pain, any dragon, to see her.
PART 2
MYRA
I shouldn't be outside, because once the sun dips, the streets become dark, literally and figuratively.
The embassy is miles away. It will take ages to arrive, especially since Winter got a head start.
I reach the small bridge that connects this part of town to the embassy. Four gangsters block it off. They're charging for passage across. This is illegal, but the city can't afford to distribute police to keep these guys in check.
I pat my back pocket. It's practically empty, just like my lungs. I pull my sweater tighter to my chest and get in line. Coins clank, and sighs weave from the chests of unwilling customers. When it's my turn, I purse my lips and stare at the gangster before me. He's young. There's smudged blood and dirt on his jaw, and his cheeks are healthy from all the food he can afford.
"Thirty cents." He extends his hand. It smells like metalâlike greed.
"I don't have anything. Would you take my shoes?"
He looks at my sandals, which sport a few holes. "Listen, bitch. The only payment we'd take from you is pussy or thirty cents. Which will it be?"
I lower my face.
"Get off the line." He takes my bicep, and I latch onto his wrist.
"Morphine," I whisper.
He stills.
As I hopped from jobs and mingled in the city's heart, I learned that morphine is the best currency. It's the only investment that I saved for a rainy day. I need it now, since today became a storm.
"I'll drop some morphine here tomorrow afternoon. Let me through, and I'll return with the payment." I dig into my pocket and pull out my identification card. "If I don't deliver, you can find me at my apartment."
He squints. "If you're lying..."
"I'm not." I'm not stupid. I would never cheat gangsters known for maiming pockets and bodies.
"Go." He nods toward the bridge, and I rush away, adding a new hole to my sandals.
The embassy is easy to spot. It was formerly a factory but has been repurposed as the portal between Earth and Le'vris. It's vast and pristine, but most humans glare at it, hoping it will collapse on itself.
When I reach the factory, I'm met by a group of city workers. The tall metal doors of the factory are closed behind them.
"Mornin', girl," a bored, clean-shaven older man greets. He has a strong New York accent, proof that the apocalypse can't take everything from our city. "We're not accepting applications. Return in the morning."
"I'm not here to apply for the program. I need to speak with my sister. Can I see her, please?"
"In the morning," he repeats.
I want to scream and stomp, but those are luxuries for children and the rich. I'm neither, so I have to think calmly. There's no turning back now. I can't cross the bridge without Winter, so I'll go through the cursed screening process to get inside.
I sit on the sidewalk. Fatigue waltzes with me, making my head bob. Giggles wake me up. Within the next fifteen minutes, a wave of women appears. Some are young, some old, but all are hopeful. They wear their finest while I'm covered in filth, but I have bigger things to worry about.
When the factory doors open, over fifty women pile inside. Long tables with finger snacks line the walls of the massive hall. The women swarm the tables, their airs of sophistication dispersing and their true natures of desperation coming to light. I don't judge them. Hell, I join them because I'm just as hungry. I devour a sandwich and pocket two for Winter.
"Ladies, please enjoy breakfast. I'm sure your trips were long. My name is Madam Cuero, and I will lead your screening."
The buzz in the room calms as the women face the older, elegant madam at the front stage. Her full figure is covered by a black bodycon dress, and her hair is pinned back to reveal cold eyes.
"Three women were chosen yesterday, and two will be picked today. There will be three exams and a lottery to decide the winners. The tests are interview questions, a psychological test, and a physical exam. I wish you the best of luck."
Madam Cuero must know if Winter was sent home, but I'm not too worried. Chances are she wasn't selected and went home.
"All right. You will now be split into teams."
I weave through the women, my sandwiches pressing against my thighs in my pockets. "Excuse me," I call out, hoping to be heard over the other women. "Madam, I need to check if my sister won!"
She exhales and flips through a notebook. "What is her date of birth?"
"May third."
"Hmm...yes, she won."
My heart sinks to my stomach. Is this a joke?
"What's her name?" I ask, but the chatter of the other women drowns me.
I need to find Winter, even if I must win the lottery.
The interview questions are easy: Do you have children? When was your last menstrual period? Any criminal record? Many are disqualified from this round, including those that are pregnant. The psychological test is much more complicated. During the physical exam, I lie on a table. A masked doctor runs a cold machine over my belly and takes a blood sample.
Many fail due to malnutrition and age. In the end, twelve girls remain. The room becomes dull with gloom.
"All right, ladies. It has been a long day." Cuero reaches into a manila envelope and pulls out a slip of paper. "Applicant numbers RNX009 and CVD326 have won the lottery. Congratulations."
I made it?
I take a shaky step forward, ignoring the groans behind me. Once I meet Winter, I'll give up my ticket. Soon all this will be over.
"When do we meet the other winners?" I ask.
"On Le'vris. They have already been teleported, and you will go tonight. Because of fears of terrorism, we cannot keep you girls lingering in the city."
No! Winter can't possibly be across the damn universe. What am I supposed to do now?
There has to be a mistake. Winter had to be disqualified and sent home. This nightmare has to end.
"Are you sure a contestant born May third was accepted?"
Cuero waves her hand. "Yes, yes."
My skin pricks with panic, and an infernal summer blooms within me.
"Her name is Winter?"
"Yes. Now come."
She turns, and I'm left with the choice of following or letting Winter go.
Well, I made it this far. I might as well finish what I started.
I'm escorted through several halls. The deeper I walk into the factory, the dirtier I feel. This place is pristine, like humanity's last temple. There's no rust on the tall metal walls, no shattered windows, and the lights haven't flickered once. The engineers I pass are all dressed in neat white robes, and their glances make me want to walk on my tippy-toes to avoid dirtying the floor.
I arrive at a "decontamination" room and can't figure out the shower knobs. I've been bathing with water buckets for as long as I can remember. Once red water falls from the spray, I struggle with my brown hair for fifteen minutes. It's as knotty as this whole situation. I keep it short to save money on shampoo, but detangling it still makes my arms burn with effort.
There's a knock at the door. "Hurry. Your dragon is waiting for you."
I wipe the steam from the mirror, and it doesn't cut my fingers like the one at home sometimes does. I'm unimpressed by what I findâtired brown eyes lined with dark bags, honey-colored skin, a hollow face with a bulbous nose, and wide lips that are finally healing a cut. The sex workers tell me my thick lashes and full breasts could get me good business, but I don't have their bravery.
My match will surely be disappointed to be paired with me.
I slip into a clean cotton sweatshirt and pants that feel itchy. My skin isn't used to being in new clothing.
I retrieve the sandwich from my pocket and walk out.
Cuero's eyes fall on my hands. "Throw that out."
Throw food out? That's a crime against humanity. Instead of listening, I give the sandwich to a startled guard. Cuero takes us to a truck. It feels awkward to sit in a moving metal box. I've only been in a vehicle a handful of times.
The new facility we're transported to is guarded more heavily than what remains of the White House. There are drones and patrolling men posted everywhere.
"We will go through the portal now," Cuero says while leading the way.
"Portal?" the other participant asks.
"Yes. It's not like we can drive to Le'vris, can we?"
We enter the facility. Many turns, twists, and access codes later, I stand in front of a portal the size of a house. I can see through it. Its circular frame is thick and packed with slabs of metal, wires, bolts, and tablets. Sebastian would have a blast scraping it apart.
There are foreign characters engraved on top.
"Madam, do the dragons speak English?" I ask.
"Of course. They can absorb a language in a month."
And absorb an entire planet in a year.
"Turn it on," Cuero instructs the engineers that sit behind a panel of switches and buttons.
I don't like their whispers or glances. What are they thinking? That I'm the latest sacrificial lamb?
They mess with their computers until the lights dim, and the portal comes to life. Red light crackles in the middle of the machine like it's the portal to hell.
"All right. Go on. Walk through and wait for me on the other side."
CVD326 takes a shy step. This is it for her. She's giving up her people, her planet, in exchange for the unknown. She's braver than me because I fully intend to crawl back home.
When she crosses, Cuero calmly says, "Go," like I'm in line for a carnival ride instead of a mystical machine that connects two universes, collapsing millions of light-years and disrespecting all known physics.
I take a deep breath in. Instead of inching closer, I rip the bandage off and run for it. There's ringing in my ears, pins and needles stabbing my skin, and an endless, hopeless red in my vision. I wobble away from the portal and clench my body to check if any parts were left behind on Earth. The surreal experience has me rattled. I bend over to grip my quivering knees and shakily pull unfamiliar air into my lungs.
Cuero materializes beside me, and the portal powers off. She stands tall, unfazed by the bubble of time and space that we just burst. "Ah, here we are."
This is it. I'm in the domain of the dragons.
We're in a small room with walls of neatly stacked bricks and a smaller, duller portal.
"And the other girls?" I ask, my vision still disoriented. "Can we see them now?"
"Yes. Let me get them."
What will I tell Winter? I didn't plan this far.
The door opens, and I force a smile onto my face. Three women walk inâall diverse and pretty, but none of them is Winter. My stomach shrinks, strangling the sandwich I ate.
"Madam, is one girl missing? My sister isn't here. She was born on May third."
I don't panic yet. Cuero assured me that she won the lottery. Winter has to be here, somewhere.
When a concerned brunette steps forward, I stop breathing. My eyes lock on her lips as she says, "Uh, that's my birthday." I heard the words and saw them form on her lips. There's no denying that I made a grave mistake. Winter is on Earth, and I'm across the universe.
I inhale deeply, air whistling as I force myself to breathe. I've been in worse situations before, and the portal is behind me. It's still possible to turn back and fix this.
"Madam, I'd like to forfeit my ticket, please. I need to return to Earth." I sound strangled. Desperate.
Cuero is amused. "That portal won't open for another six months, child. Didn't you read the contract you signed?"
Crossing the portal didn't knock me off my feet, but her words nearly put me down. I can't possibly be this unlucky. I have no interest in this program, yet I'm expected to spend six months with a dragon determined to sink his clawsâand other extremitiesâinto me?
End of sample. This story is Free on Kindle Unlimited:
https://www.amazon.com/author/elainewaters
link is also in my bio
***
ALSO IN THE SERIES: Jasmin/The Alien's Liarâ
Jasmin was a part of a Dragon Match program that hoped to offer opportunities to a post-apocalyptic Earth. She was teleported to planet Le'vris and was paired with a dragon, but he was cold toward her. Feeling unwanted, she gave up on the program and returned to Earth. This story is about how she's dragged back to Le'vris and meets another dragon that clearly wants her.
Book 3 is available on www.patreon.com/ancientt