The bodybuilder, Bert, cuts a piece of roasted human thigh meat off the bone and puts it in his mouth. His face contorts into something like expected disgust that soon fades into a practiced neutral expression as he chews. It’s obvious he’s done this before.

The leg used to belong to Fang Tooth—Ronald, it turns out. After I accidentally cut the man in half, his legs had fallen onto the fire. And for a man like Bert, it simply wouldn’t do to let a perfectly good pair of thighs go to waste.

The smell of seared flesh lingering in the air is enough to make me gag for the umpteenth time. Angelica, the woman, chews on a heavily burnt big toe.

Disgusting, I know.

Both of them stare at me intently.

“So, where did he take you?” she says, chomping down.

I wince. The pain in my side is getting worse. A massive bruise had spread to encompass my left side. Definitely broken ribs. Probably some deep internal bleeding too.

“A little place called Dugway Proving Grounds in a pretty remote part of Utah,” I say. “About eighty-five miles southwest of Salt Lake. Well, underneath it, to be exact. On the surface it’s a quaint little army town where they do testing for defense systems. Chemical, biological, radiological experiments, stuff like that. But underground, it’s something entirely different.”

A dramatic change in both my cannibalistic companion’s demeanors had occurred since I began my tale. They’d gone from greedy, violent animals to a pair of intrigued audience members. It almost feels like I’m back doing another live broadcast in my studio.

Almost.

Amazing what some food and a good story will do for your mood. Food, in this case, being a relative term.

“Where’s Utah again?” says Bert.

“Have you not been paying attention this whole time?” says Angelica, bopping him on the head with a gnawed heel bone. “It’s where he’s from, on the other side of the country.” She looks at me. “Back when there was a country, right?”

“I know what the USA was,” says Bert defensively. “Just can’t remember which part of it is Utah, is all.” He looks at me. “Which makes me wonder, Jack. If you’re from way over there, what are you doing way over here?”

“I’m, uh, trying to find someone.”

Angelica bites down on something with an audible crunch “Who?”

“An old friend,” I say, looking away, holding back another gag.

“Not many people left here,” says Bert.

Angelica turns and smiles at her partner. It’s an ugly, gummy smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah, cause we’ve eaten most of them.”

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The two share a quick mirthy snort, then look back at me. I take that as my cue to continue. Keeping these two entertained, I realize, is probably paramount to my continued survival.

I clear my throat.

“My friend, he’s out here somewhere building a … oh, right.” I say, as an uncomfortable feeling wells up inside of me. Usually, when I receive food from the other world, there’s a manageable build up, like a countdown or indicator to let me know something tasty is on its way from the other world. Something to sustain me. But when something comes back after it’s rejected, it comes at me with feeling and with little warning. Kind of like a two-way digestive system. That’s not exactly the best metaphor, but you get the idea.

I try to stand up, but my body hurts too much to make the attempt. I hold my hands out in front of me and turn my head, squint my eyes, and brace for …

Fang Tooth’s naked upper body—sorry, Ron’s upper body—appears in the space in front of me. The half-corpse flops to the ground in a heap.

Angelica screams and throws her half-eaten foot into the air. Bert throws his hands up and lets out a string of vulgarities so tightly knitted together it sounds like one long, made up profane word.

“What is that?” says Angelica, getting to her feet.

“Sorry,” I say, shoving an elbow off my ankle. “It’s been such a long time since I messed up a transfer, I forgot to warn you.”

“That’s Ron,” says Bert, also on his feet.

“Yeah,” I say, glancing away from his lifeless eyes. Everything about him had been perfectly preserved during the process, save for his life. I scoot his open stomach region away from me with my boot, encouraging the blood and entrails to pool in the opposite direction. “That’s Ron all right.”

There’s an awkward moment between us.

“Where did he come from? I mean, sure, I know he came from you, I guess. I just … but—”

“Good question,” I say. “I know what you mean. And I’ve actually already answered that question, if you were paying attention.”

They both stare at me, shrug their shoulders in turn.

“From another world,” I say. “A beautiful world, a tropical paradise. Or, so I’m told. I’ve never actually been there. I can’t … go there. Ever. This ability, this curse I have with my hands, it doesn't work on myself. Or trust me, I would have sent myself a long time ago.”

“Another … world,” says Angelica, as if testing the flavors of the words on her tongue. “Like, out there among the stars?”

“Yes,” I say.

“How does it work?” says Bert, eyeing Ron’s upper half presumably for any appetizing aspects.

I point at him. “No clue. It’s alien tech. Even after meeting one, I still have no idea how any of it works.”

“You met one?” says Angelica. “You … met an alien? Like, an actual alien?”

“I didn’t just meet one,” I say with a grin. “I lived with one. Well, to be precise, he—or it, really—lived with me.”

“Not following,” says Bert.

I adjust myself to lessen the pain in my side. The wall behind me is becoming uncomfortable. I eye my backpack across the room. It lies torn open with empty cellophane wrappers scattered around it. What I wouldn’t give for a good chunk of beef jerky right about now.

“Could someone help me to the couch,” I say. “I’m just … yeah, thanks. Oh, oh, careful. I think my ribs are broken. Yeah, yeah, just there. That’s—oh, that’s worlds better. Thank you. Appreciate it.”

Bert retakes his seat as I settle into the soft leather. Angelica offers me some half eaten calf muscle, but I politely decline with a, “No thanks. I’m nowhere near that hungry yet.”

I suck in a breath and let it out slowly, carefully, wincing as I do.

“Right,” I say. “Where was I?”

“The alien,” Bert and Angelica say at the exact same time.

“Ah, that’s right. Let me tell you how I met the annoying little parasite I lovingly named … Xeno.”