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flowerpot toilets, perfectly cylindrical wood that ignited without aid, and delicate yet indestructible shock collars.
    And most important, that enormous, gray, furry arm, which had only three fingers!
    She smacked her cheeks, hoping the sting would bring her out of this nonsensical thought. The guy was obviously a mental patient and she had been sucked into his delusion. How she wound up in the same room as him, she had no idea.
    There had to be a logical explanation. There’s no way she was on another planet. Sorry. Not considering that as a possibility. After all, she had to keep her sanity in order to figure out how to escape. But still, that one word haunted her.
    Why would he say Earthling ?
    Who the heck knew, but she wasn’t about to waste more time trying to figure it out. Eventually that thing would come back.
    No shadows moved outside the walls. Addy scooted across the sticky floor to where the alien had entered. A door was hidden here somewhere. She had to find it and get it open. Pressing her hands flat against the wall, she pushed upward hoping it would retract into the ceiling like a garage door. Her sweaty palms slid and the wall didn’t budge.
    She tried pushing it downward. Then to the left. To the right. Diagonally in four different directions, but not a damn thing worked.
    There had to be a way to open the door.
    She rubbed her hands over the fire. Heat seeped into them, evaporating the sweat so she could try again. Wait a minute. The wood.
    She grabbed the last remaining log and stuck one end in the fire. It ignited. Then, carrying it like the Olympic torch, she padded her way between sticky, gooey breakfast blotches stopping only to kneel and peer inside the water pitcher on the floor.
    Empty. Damn.
    She faced the concealed doorway again, took a deep breath. She’d either burn a hole through it and escape, or catch everything on fire and kill herself.
    Well, better a suicidal escape plan than homicide by a baby-selling cult.
    Heart racing, she inched toward the wall, praying that fire wouldn’t be her destiny of demise. She licked dry lips then touched the flame to the door. When it didn’t ignite, she exhaled and breathed normally...as normally as one could when worrying about the plastic-looking material emitting noxious fumes.
    Exactly how long she stood there torching the door, she couldn’t say, but it seemed enough time to warrant a peek at her handiwork. Lowering the torch, she squinted. Then blinked. Then wiped her eyes and looked again. Nothing had happened. There wasn’t even a brown burn mark.
    She touched the door with a finger. Three fingers. Her palm.
    Warm. And solid.
    What kind of material doesn’t burn? Or melt? Or get hot?
    She stared at the wall, bewildered, for a few more moments before tossing the log in the fireplace. Which, she realized, had also been made out of the same heat-resistant material as the walls, ceiling, and floor.
    At least she tried.
    Now what—sit here and wait for that thing to come back? Her stomach roiled at the thought. Max said there was no way out. She hated to admit it, but he was right.
    When the wall burst into fog again, Addy jumped up and sprinted to the back of the room, cursing herself for not keeping that last log for a weapon.
    The creature stuck its enormous head and shoulders into the room. She wouldn’t have been able to beat the monster had she tried. If only her firearm weren’t at the bottom of the Klamath River.
    The monster reached for her with both of its three-fingered hands. She jumped to the side, cornering herself. It caught her around the waist, pulled her out and cradled her like a small child in its furry arms.
    Her terrorized heart lodged in her throat, blocking her screams.
    The humanoid creature stood at least ten feet tall. Dense yet neatly groomed gray fur covered its entire body except for the black leathery pads of its hands, lips, and flat nose. Eyes like black beads shone colorfully iridescent, like an oil spill.