'Numb' by Maria Sanger

SHE FLOATED IN PLASTIC. A CAPSULE AMONG THOUSANDS.

She tried to speak, but words wouldn't come out. The cotton had been so tightly woven

around her body. Only her head stuck out of the pupal stage.

All her hopes to get to the inter-terrestrial station had been scuppered. Not only was she

unaware of what had happened, but she no longer knew what she had become.

A paralysing sticky substance dropped onto her tongue. Images of green bodies, black eyes

and red antennae merged like kaleidoscope patterns. Incessant rubbing of gossamer wings over her face kept her awake.

The voice was monotone. ‘Humanoid, you will not feel a thing.’

In her third eye a light flickered. ‘Don't lose it,’ said her inner voice.

She floated up, determined to follow the light. Shadows. Wings whirring. Rasping.

Attached to a central pod were plastic tubes emanating from other capsules. Bubbles of scarlet 

rose up to a solitary creature. Humanoids in other capsules seemed to have liquified, their

capsule lights fading once the deed was done.

A silence.

Surely they weren't all dead. But was she dead too?

* * *

Bright lights flashed. An insectoid entered her capsule and untied the cotton binding. And then she saw it clearly. Above, a giant red weta insectoid gnashed its teeth and struck the walls of the pod. 

Replenished with blood from the human species it was ready to mate.