Savaged: A SciFi Romance

Chapter 1

Kat

Fort Peck Lake shimmers in the bright Montana sunlight as I hike along the rugged trail, my pack bouncing jauntily on my shoulders. I wish I felt jaunty. That would be swell. Instead, all I can think of is that I really need to break up with my boyfriend.

When I first met Todd, he seemed alright. I mean, he wasn’t a travel agent for Venereal disease, or hooked on hard drugs. He even had a reasonably fit physique for a scientist. We met at the undergrad program but didn’t start dating until our graduate work began.

The guy is one of those people who just HAS to be constantly reassured what a great guy he is. I can remember several occasions where I was sitting down and trying to type a research paper on my laptop while he was doing the same. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with getting advice on your paper from someone in the same field. I’m not objecting to that at all.

What I do object to is him writing like a paragraph and then expecting me to stop MY work so I can review his. And you can’t just tell Todd ‘it’s good,’ either. You have to GUSH. You have to make sure he knows what a genius he is. That got old after like immediately.

That and…well, quite frankly, he’s not that good in bed. 

I know what you’re thinking. A nerdy geologist shouldn’t be concerned with such things. A man’s mind should be the most important aspect of him. Well, when that mind happens to be attached to a whiny, needy mouth—and refuses to offer the same support it demands—it’s not so appealing.

I make it to the top of the trail, sweating a little bit. The sun bakes the lake, creating an aura of humidity in the air that makes it hard to breathe. Some days there’s a nice breeze coming off the lake which helps mitigate it. This is not one of those days.

I set my pack down and get to work. Using a tiny hammer and chisel, I go to take mineral samples from the low, rocky ridge overlooking Fort Peck Lake.  The fort which gives the lake its name is a muddy brown smudge when viewed through the moisture laden air. I’ve never been there, because the rocks I’m interested haven’t been shaped into building blocks.

I’ve spent half the summer at this dig, ostensibly to further my studies as a grad student. In reality, we’re being sponsored by a mining company who seems to think there could be gold in these hills. I find that staggeringly unlikely, but they are funding us, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.

I place the chisel against the bulbous, rough surface of a boulder and start tapping away. A large chip falls away, revealing a sudden sparkle. I don’t get too excited, because I know it’s only quartz, and not some exotic gemstone that’s going to make me rich beyond my wildest dreams.

I idly pick up the chip of rock and turn it over in front of my eyes, squinting as I view the sun’s rays filtered through its milky mass. My lips form an upside-down U.

“This can’t be right,” I mutter. I check the rest of the quartz sample, still stuck to the boulder. It turns out to be the same. Judging by the light refraction, this is Stressed quartz. Not all that exotic or valuable, but very curious to find in this area of Montana.

Much as I hate to admit it, this is Todd’s purview. He’s the one who’s studying to be a Volcanologist. Sighing, I pocket the sample and leave my pack right where it is. After all, I don’t want to lug it back down the tril, and it’s not like there’s anyone around to steal it. Our entire team consists of six people: Our supervising professor, a liaison from the mining company, three grad students, including myself and Todd, and one undergrad who’s here mainly because her father is an executive in the mining company. Penny. She’s not a bad sort, but seems more interested in taking shots for her Instagram account than actually doing any real work.

I hit the trail and take it down to the main encampment. Professor Berkowitz is shouting to be heard above the din of a backhoe as it scrapes away layers of soil in a small, dried out pond. I think he’s begging the operator not to dig too deep, too fast. It would be easy to lose valuable samples to the massive scoop.

I come upon the white canvas tent that Todd and I have been staying in and pull the flap open. “Todd, you won’t believe what I found up on the ridge—”

My voice dies in my throat. Todd looks over at me, his eyes wide with fear. A head full of brown curly hair bobs up and down in his lap. He taps Penny on the head, not gently. 

“What the fuck?” She pulls her mouth off of him and turns to see me standing in the doorway. “Oh shit.”

I roll my eyes to the sky. “Really, Todd? I’ve been gone for all of ten minutes and she’s already sucking you off?”

“I can explain,” Todd says, hastily zipping up his fly. Penny looks mortified, shrinking back as if she’s worried I’ll get violent.

“Don’t bother. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to break up with you anyway.”

“You…you have?”

“Yup. Thanks for making it so much easier.” I go into the tent and picked up a pile of his clothes, and unceremoniously dump them out the open flap.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Kicking  you out of my tent. I bought it, remember?”

“But where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I don't know, why don’t you ask the girl who was guzzling your cum?”

“Ew! No way would I do that,” Penny says. “I’m only blowing him so he’ll write me a letter of recommendation to grad school.”

“THAT’S why you’re blowing him?” I sigh. “Penny, my dear, you can do so much better.”

Todd has had enough time at this  point to stop being afraid and start being indignant. “I can’t believe  you’re breaking up with me over this.”

“Not just this,” I say, tossing a bundle of his research papers outside. They flutter to the ground like dead leaves. “You’re whiny, needy, disloyal, and…to be quite frank, your washboard abs don’t make up for the cashew that you’re packing.”

Penny giggles, and Todd’s face turns red. 

I hear a lot of shouting outside. My first thought is that Professor Berkowitz got too close to the backhoe and was crushed by it. I dash out into the sun running hard for the dig site.

“Professor, is everything okay…”

The words die in my throat. There, covered with a layer of dirt and dust in the old lakebed, lays a large metallic object whose symmetry proves it’s nothing natural.

“What is that?” I breathe.

“I don’t know,” Professor Berkowitz replies “but it’s clearly man-made.”

I look at the strange, Cyrillic symbols carved on the device, and shake my head.

“I’m not so sure that human hands crafted this, Professor.”

“Then who did?”

Silence is the only answer I can give.