OUTLAW MC OF MARS
A Christmas Story
Outlaw MC, 9
James Cox
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
My
name is Liam. Lover to those at my MC club. Although nowadays I have a hard
time remembering what they called me. Memory was failing me, pain filling up
the gaps and voids in my head. The heat was like a knife. It slashed at my skin
without mercy. Each breath I took filled my lungs with that burning breeze. It
made my movements slower, harder to control. My feet slapped against the smooth rock as I ran. My pounding heartbeat was
the only sound I heard.
It
was coming.
My
lips trembled as the intense heat raced up my spine. I missed Outlaw. My lover.
President of my club. The longing for him was so strong. Just picturing his
face pulled me out of my misery. It gave me the strength when I hung on by the
thinnest of threads.
It
was here.
The
roar was unbelievably loud, echoing down the tunnel to the arena where I was to
fight. But the beast after me broke out sooner than they expected. The guards
in this prison didn’t show much concern for the prisoners. Here, on Earth, it
was survival of the fittest. And I refused to give my life for their
entertainment. I ran through the large, round opening that led to the “arena.”
It was a high-walled , circular room where
guards and other prisoners could watch from a safe distance. Bastards. Another
deep roar bellowed and I spun around to face the enemy. With nothing but the
flimsiest of knives, I watched the beast
enter.
My
name is Liam.
I
love Outlaw.
And I
will not break.
The
octopus was gigantic, mutated, and vicious. It squeezed through the opening in
a roll of tentacles and slime. My bottom lip quivered. It was the only
noticeable nerve that I couldn’t control. Even as the hot air filtered through
the thin pants I wore, it felt like a damn sauna. The beast used its numerous
limbs to advance. It wasn’t a walk but a coordinated roll forward. Large eyes
watched me. Slimy skin slid along the ground. I tightened my grip on the weapon
in my hand.
My
name is Liam.
I
love Outlaw.
And
I will not die in this prison.
The
beast attacked. One large tentacle swung toward me. I ducked as another slammed
against my bent legs. There was a cheer from the guards. Those fuckers would
not get the satisfaction of watching me take my last breath. I slammed my six-inch
knife into the creature’s limb. Blood spurted. It jerked the injured tentacle
back but a scratch would not stop this killing machine. I rolled backward and landed on my knees. It lunged
toward me. That fetid smell caused my face to scrunch up in disgust. The
tentacle wrapped around my waist. I jabbed it as hard as I could, forcing the
blade to go deep. It dropped me, hard. Thankfully, not from a high distance. I
landed, rolled, stood, and faced it.
The
beast had a track record in this prison. It helped curb overpopulation. I would
not be on its lists of meals. I was breathing heavily as it struck again. This
time two tentacles. One at my head. I ducked. One at my legs. I jumped. It
roared. The crowd cheered. I blocked them out and focused on survival. Fuck
them. Fuck this creature. Fuck the government that sent me here. I was going to
survive this shit and reunite with Outlaw. I ran toward it, hopped onto a large
boulder that fell long ago from the wall. Propelled upward, I jammed my knife
into its widening eye. The beast cried out, the sound high-pitched and fucking terrifying.
It
flung a tentacle at me. The force of it knocked the air from my lungs. I fell
back, twisting so I fell on my side. A broken back would be the end. A broken
anything would mean death. Blood and other liquids gushed from the ruined eye
and splattered on the floor. The creature stopped thrashing and stared at me
with its one good eye. Well, fuck. It lashed out, catching me in the shin. That
damn limb wrapped around my calf and tugged me toward that giant mouth filled with
sharp teeth.
“I
will not die!” I
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