Chapter 2: Caught.

Chapter 2: Caught.

The muffled conversation brought him out of his sleep. Murry rubbed his eyes and sat up while lifting his head. His eyes scanned the strange room, but he was met with metal bars directly in front of him.

Murry was in a cage. That wasn't good.

"I got one. Our leader said it was difficult, but he's getting old."

Murry's eyes shot to the voice. A hair-covered creature was speaking to three others. Frozen with fear, the only thing Murry could do was let his eyes take in his surroundings. He wasn't in the house anymore. That was for sure.

The cage Murry had been placed in was against one metal wall. The long room around him had rows of metal crates down both sides with an aisle in the center. The room smelled of metal and a stench he didn't recognize. He sniffed. Blood? But maybe the blood was dried and old. His eyes flipped to the floor. Near many of the pens, he noted colored patches of different dried liquid.

Gulping down his panic, he scanned his enclosure and then himself. He was still dressed in his jeans and shirt. A funny-shaped band had been secured around his left forearm. On the plastic cuff, a tiny light with a purple hue blinked at him. As much as Murry's curiosity had him wondering what that armband did, Murry pushed the question as far away from him as he could get it. No more curiosity about anything. All he wanted was to be out of here. Fast.

He studied his cage, looking for an escape. Damn. No door or a lock. The other mini prisons were empty. His eyes shot to the front of the room. Three monsters chatted like men taking a break next to a water cooler in an office.

At the far end of the long room was a door next to a large glass table. When the metal door opened, the creatures turned to look at the new arrival. Murry didn't think the new guy was going to help him.

A taller fatter angular-faced monster entered. His big hands closed the door with a wide swing. He marched toward the others.

"Well done." The fat monster and Murry made eye contact. "On the ship with no problems?"

"Are we taking him to our home planet?" one of the monsters asked.

"Humans don't last that long."

There was laughter and then more chatter, but Murry didn't hear what was said. The words home planet had his stomach clenching painfully. These were alien monsters and not nice ones. Were there even nice ones? Up to this point, Murry didn't think aliens existed, and he'd been happy with his ignorance. Gripping the cage bars frantically, he searched for a way out of his prison. He shook the bars as tears sprung to his eyes. He had to get off the ship before he left Earth. What if he'd left Earth already? Vomit rose to his mouth at that horrible thought.

What had been a simple not wanting to go to the group home for a few hours had turned into a Science Fiction horror story.

When Murry lifted his eyes, the fat one stared at him. The eyes were cold and calculating. He scanned Murry like a meal, and Murry's blood turned to ice.

Scrambling to his feet, Murry rose. His flight instinct took over, and he had the urge to run. The problem was, there was nowhere to go in the tiny cage. He ran backward, and his shoulders struck the metal bars hard enough to bruise. Abruptly, the cage lifted upward like an invisible hand picked up the entire box. Murry tried to run again, but he only made it halfway down the aisle.

Large hairy hands with stabbing nails grabbed around his ankles. The claw nails shredded his jeans. Murry fought and kicked, but soon other hands came at him from all sides. His shirt, what was left of it, tore from his body. Twisting, he tried to get out of the hold. The creatures didn't seem to be phased by his movements. Murry knew he didn't have the power behind his strikes to make a difference. He didn't eat enough to bulk up, and he had never exercised or cared about his health. Murry simply lived every day the same. Now he wished he'd done some damn pushups or sit-ups in his life. His muscles became fatigued the more he tried to struggle. One of the creatures got his pants off his legs as they reached the table.

Thick leather-type straps wrapped around his body at different points. Wrists and ankles were secured on the glass table. They placed him on the center of the icy surface and laughed. Murry was gulping for air after the confrontation, but the monsters didn't appear ruffled by the skirmish. A part of him hoped he would panic, hyperventilate and then pass out.

Not being able to talk his whole life had always been his cross to carry, but now he wished he could say something… anything. To beg.

Screaming, he struggled against the straps, but nothing he did helped.

"It's loud," one of the creatures muttered.

The fat one, as Murry was now calling him. walked over to a wall of strange-looking items. Although a deep part of Murry knew those things were probably there to torture him, he tried not to think about it. The fat one produced what appeared to be a rubber pole. Two hands held his head as the item was forced past his lips. Murry clenched his teeth until one big hairy hand covered his noise. He gulped for breath. A sizeable hard rod was shoved almost to the back of his throat. Murry gagged, but none of the creatures noticed his problem.

"Better." The fat one walked around the glass table. All the time the monster stared at where the ties dug deeply into Murry's skin. The pole in his mouth wasn't going anywhere though Murry shook his head back and forth. He tried as hard as he could to dislodge the obstruction. Nothing happened.

When Murry was secured, and the item in his mouth wasn't leaving, the creatures headed to the door. As they chatted by the exit, a thousand thoughts whizzed through his head. How come they sometimes spoke in English and then switched to what was just sounds? What were they going to do to him, and why him?

And the last question, how would he get out of here?