Qorth

It is the year 3017 A. F., and Cameron is a neo-cowgirl living contently on her farm beside the sea in the dangerous, post-apocalyptic deserts of Arizona, a world where Earth has for the most part been swallowed by the rising sea levels after what became known as The Great Flood. Cameron survives harsh life in the Outer Zone by casually shooting those scavengers who threaten and bully her. With biker gangs roaming the desert sands, the world has made her rough and ruthless, and it is her rough nature that nearly kills the gentle and compassionate alien who washes up near her farm. Through Qorth's love, Cameron learns to soften her frayed edges. But will Qorth learn to engage in the casual cruelty that is his only key to surviving her world? Can beautiful things survive a cruel world?

Quotes:

I made a noise of disgust, and I think I would have stormed out if I knew how to open the door.

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"My people have known of your people for thousands of years," went on the alien, looking at me with those black eyes that glittered like the night sky. "We have watched you and studied you and never did we attempt contact. Why? Because we would be treated with the same hatred and violence you have shown your own people – that is, until we had properly assimilated into the sprawling patchwork quilt of your culture. To your people, 'same' has always meant good and 'different' has always meant evil. . . . can you really blame my people for maintaining a safe distance?"

"But thousands – millions drowned!" I insisted.

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"I was so frightened you wouldn't return," he said to me, his voice coming muffled through the mask. "I buried Max for you. I'm . . . so sorry." He offered the gross flower, which made a strange purring squeal and farted out a green cloud. 

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Dinner with Qorth was something I never, ever looked forward to. I usually ate breakfast alone in my room, and he never seemed to need lunch, but we always had supper together. Instead of eating his food in a normal, non-noisy way, Qorth had a compartment in the chest piece that extended down from his helmet. He would put food in the compartment, which would then process the food into slush and send it speeding up the tubes and into his mouth. It was all really gross slurping and loud churning, but Qorth always seemed pleasantly content to be fed by his helmet like a mother bird regurgitating into her chick's eager mouth.

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I laughed flatly. "Assuming you didn't put grapes in the noodles," I said, closing my book. I paused and was surprised to see how happy and content he looked. If I had to admit it, I'd been feeling happy and content as well. The last few days with him had been like some weird alternate universe, in which the two of us were married and locked in a domestic bliss not unlike Bewitched. Only the roles were gender flipped: I was Darrin, annoyed by Qorth's weird powers, and Qorth was Samantha, innocently and clumsily just trying to please.