The Sapphiri

by R Gene Curtis

  23 Appearance

  Karl

  I shiver as I approach the door to Lydia’s place, the light from my candle reflecting off the dark walls of snow. My feet crunch and echo through the corridors, and then I arrive at the door. I stop and knock.

  And then I feel silly.

  Do I need to knock on the door? Or, am I allowed to walk in on my wife without knocking?

  My wife! Wow. I’m married. That’s weird. This is my place now, too.

  I don’t hear anything from inside, so I swallow and push the unexpected nerves away. Why am I nervous to see Lydia? Are things different now that we’re married? Was she happy with her wedding day? Is she happy she’s married to me?

  I push the door open into the little house, cradling the warm breakfast Quint made for us in my left arm. Lydia sits on the bed across the room, running a brush through her curly hair.

  She looks away as I enter the room.

  I swallow, trying to decide what one is supposed to say to his bride the morning after the wedding. “Hi,” is what finally comes out.

  Apparently, that isn’t the right thing to say. Lydia doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t look at me. I take a few hesitant steps towards her. My steps slow, and I stop uncertainly when she still doesn’t turn around. “I got you some breakfast,” I say.

  She shakes her head.

  I stand awkwardly, holding the breakfast, with no clue of what is going on. “Is something wrong?” I finally ask.

  Lydia finally moves so I can see her face, and she has tear stains running down her cheeks. Oh. What does one do when their bride is crying the day after her wedding? I open my mouth to say something but close it when nothing comes out. Instead, I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding a tray of food that’s gradually getting cold.

  Lydia sniffles, and she clears her throat. Then a sob escapes and she turns away again. “I’m not sure it’s right for a bride to wake up the morning after her wedding to an empty bed,” she finally says.

  Oh. I hadn’t thought that leaving to find breakfast would be an issue. Lydia must be tired or emotional or something.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Not good enough, Karl.” She has her back to me still.

  This is my chance to prove myself as a husband. Shoot, I really should have taken better notes from Dad when I was at home and had the chance.

  I take a step closer. Maybe she’ll smell the food and realize she’s hungry. “I’m really sorry, Lydia. I went to go get you breakfast and didn’t even think about what it would be like for you to wake up alone, with no idea where I was. I should have let you know where I was going or left a note or something…since we have so much paper here. I uh…” I’m not very good at this.

  A small grin gives me some relief, but Lydia corrects it before I’m sure I really saw it. “Getting better,” she says, and she starts brushing her hair again. I’m not sure she’s really going to be able to tame it without getting it wet. It’s sticking out everywhere this morning.

  Tentatively, I extend my hand—the one without the food—and gently place it on her shoulder. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even change expression. I try to feel really sorry, so she can feel how sorry I really am. Then, slowly, I bend over until my face is even with hers. Her breath is soft against my lips, I can see the glow of my eyes in hers. I kiss her long and slow, and she lets me. “I love you, Lydia Miller. Marrying you was the greatest thing I’ve done in my life!”

  I pull back and she raises her eyebrows.

  “Better than getting into graduate school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Better than escaping from Wynn with Somrusee?”

  Why is Somrusee part of that question? “Yes.”

  “Better than kissing me?”

  “Uh…”

  She laughs and then pulls me in for another kiss. She wets her lips this time, so I can feel my own passion heighten instantly. My insecurities, which seemed so monumental moments before, are washed away in my love and appreciation for this woman.

  Lydia’s hands hold my head, keeping me in place for a while. Then, she lets me go, but I don’t move until she pushes me away.

  “Okay. I forgive you,” she says, and she smiles. Wow. It’s good to see her smile.

  I sit down next to her on the bed and extend some food to her. “That’s good, because I would have eaten your breakfast otherwise.”

  “I can’t tell you how excited I’m to eat these root vegetables!” She laughs and reaches out to take the food.

  But, her hand never makes it. Halfway there it stops, shakes, and then wavers slowly back towards her until she rests it on her abdomen.

  “Lydia?”

  She groans and her face contorts in pain.

  “Lydia?” My voice rises unnaturally. I lean forward and put my hand on her face. It’s covered in sweat, but the skin is cool. Her eyes close and her lips open slowly. A moan, barely audible, comes out.

  “Lydia!” I say again, louder. I look around the room frantically, trying to think of what to do. And then my eyes settle on her hands. A blue light is emitting from her abdomen and flowing through her fingers. It reminds me of the blue light that brought us through the arch portal, back when Lydia was on crutches. That day, the light exploded, and we found ourselves in a new place. Here.

  That day, the light wasn’t coming from her.

  “I’m okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound okay. Her breath is coming out in raspy puffs. She opens her eyes, blinks a few times, and stands up carefully. She stumbles across the room, bending over awkwardly.

  “I’m okay,” she says again, softer this time. She puts her hand on the wall across the room to steady herself. Curiosity and terror fight for control of her face as she considers her glowing abdomen. I stand up to walk over to her.

  And then the light explodes.

  The light hits me hard and throws me off my feet. Completely off balance, I wave my arms stupidly as I fall backward onto the bed. My flailing arms pull blankets over my face.

  Lydia screams. I swear.

  I shove the blankets off my face and sit up. But I can no longer see Lydia. The blue light is gone, and the room is full of people. I’m staring at the backs of two people who are right next to the edge of my bed.

  I yell and jump to my feet. And then I realize that these people, who just randomly appeared by my bedside, don’t look very happy. Two of them have guns, cocked and pointed at another four people who are huddled across the room where Lydia was standing when the light exploded. I look past the backs of the gun-holders at the four people crouched into the corner.

  How did guns make it to this world? I thought anything non-organic was stuck back on Earth.

  A man with long blond hair stands in front. I gasp.

  Bob. There’s no mistaking him. He’s the guy who trailed me on the bus, the guy who pulled a gun on me, and the guy who was there after Tara fabricated the data.

  He’s here.

  And his eyes are glowing blue. Where is Lydia?

  The people with the guns. There are two of them—a man and a woman—and the guns are trained at Bob.

  I stop yelling.

  The woman, who is holding two guns, is the first to break the silence. She looks back at me and lets out a string of profanity. She has glowing blue eyes also. Sapphiri. Me, Bob, and this woman.

  The gunman turns, and I realize that he has glowing eyes as well.

  There are a lot of Sapphiri here.

  “Now what?” the woman demands. “Where are we?”

  My thoughts exactly. How did these people end up in my bedroom the morning after my wedding?

  She swings one of her guns to point at me. I stand, frozen, unsure what to do now. There’s nowhere to go. Slowly I lift my hands. I’d take a step backward, but I’d trip over the bed if I did.

  The woman’s eyes glow brighter and widen. “Karl Stapp,” she says. I don’t know how she knows my name; I’m positive I’ve never seen this woman
before. She stares at me, and I stare at her. She has short, blonde curly hair, and a scowl that could kill a porcupine.

  She laughs. “Karl. Wow. Get over there by your sister before I shoot you.”

  I nod, but before I have a chance to move, the woman’s arm breaks and the first gun falls out of her hand. She sinks to the floor, screaming. Her fingers on her other hand break, and she drops the second gun.

  The other man with a gun raises his arms and lets his gun fall to the floor. “I’m not going to shoot anyone,” he says.

  Lydia pushes her way around the four people standing in the back and towers over the screaming woman.

  “Don’t touch my husband,” she says. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

  The woman keeps wailing. Lydia towers over her, and her focus doesn’t shift from the woman who has sunk to her knees. The rest of us stand in silence, watching. Lydia’s unruly hair sticks out in all directions, not yet tamed despite her brushing. Her sleeping outfit is rumpled, and her eyes are angry.

  She is stunning. Powerful. Scary. I’m in love.

  “I said, who are you?”

  The woman stops screaming and glares at Lydia. “You!” she shouts. “Lydia Miller! You are the Azurean. And now you’ve brought us here to kill us with your sorcery.”

  “No one is going to die,” Lydia says. “There’s been enough killing lately to last a lifetime. What I want to know is why you’re here and what you have against my husband.” She picks up the gun and unloads it. “These bullets are made of copper,” she says, looking over at me. “You better hold them in case I accidentally spit on them.” She picks up the other two guns and unloads them.

  I take a step forward to get the bullets from her, but that’s when I notice the woman standing behind Bob. She steps around him, and the candlelight from the bedside lights her face. It’s a face I know, a face I thought I would never see again.

  Lydia drops the bullets into my hand, but they roll off and fall onto the floor unnoticed.

  Pearl.

  The rest of the world disappears. It can’t be, but it’s her. Her straight black hair hangs lightly across her shoulders. Her blue eyes glow just a little in the dim light of the room. Not as bright as mine, but her eyes are glowing more than eyes glow on Earth.

  Pearl takes another step forward, tentative, careful. Lydia walks over to me and bends over to pick up the bullets.

  “Karl?” Lydia asks.

  But Pearl closes the rest of the distance between us. My cheeks are wet. I feel her arm come around me. I pull her close to me. She’s real. I can feel her. I can see her.

  Pearl.

  She’s here.

  And then I smell her, and I pull back. She’s covered in blood. I turn so that the light hits her face again.

  She’s pale.

  She whimpers, grimaces, and smiles.

  “Pearl!” I whisper. “Pearl! Pearl! You’re here. You’re here.”

  But she’s crying too much to talk, and I am, too. I hold her again, tight. The crazy woman starts yelling again. She gets to her feet and then staggers out the door, cursing as she slams it behind her. I barely notice her leaving. The other man looks like he’s considering following her, but Bob runs forward and tackles him. He stays put.

  Lydia stares at me over Pearl’s shoulder. “Who?” she mouths.

  I manage to find my voice. “Lydia,” I croak. I clear my throat and try again, speaking in English because I don’t know if Pearl can understand the language here. “Lydia, I’d like to introduce you to my sister. This is Pearl. Pearl, this is my wife. Lydia.”

  Pearl lets go of me and wipes at the tears in her eyes. With her left hand—her right hand is hanging limply by her side. We have to figure out what’s going on there, but I’m too caught up in the moment to figure it out now.

  “Hi,” Pearl says. And then my words sink in and her eyes get big. “You’re married?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t believe it. Karl! I can’t believe it!” And then she laughs, and the laugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard all day. It’s Pearl’s laugh. It’s Mom’s laugh.

  She’s really here!

  “Pearl,” I drop to my knees. “I’m so sorry.” I pause and catch my breath as emotion overwhelms me again. Images flash through my mind—being stuck in the cart on the way to Wynn’s castle. The night Somrusee and I ran away. Falling headfirst off a cliff. I didn’t think I would have this moment, this chance. I’m not going to miss it now.

  “Pearl, I’m sorry. I was a terrible brother, and I’ve regretted it so many days that I can’t count them all. Since we got here, I’ve wished I could call you and talk to you. I wished that somehow, someday I would be able to tell you just how much I miss you. I missed you Pearl. Every day. I wish I had been the brother you needed when I still had the chance.”

  I look at her, and she looks at me. And I know things are finally right between us.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Karl.” Pearl’s voice is soft. She laughs again. “And now you’re married. And now we’re together again.”

  She lets my hand go and embraces Lydia. Pearl laughs. “You’re that girl on the crutches we saw at Arches!”

  Lydia laughs, too, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah, that was me.”

  “My turn?” a small voice says. A shorter girl with long, black hair and a blush brighter than a sunburn steps out from behind Bob.

  “Brit!” Lydia cries.

  And then I realize Ler is here, too.

  “Ler!”

  He smiles and hits my back hard as we embrace.

  “I never thought I’d see you here again,” I say.

  He shrugs. “I was just getting to like your world.” He laughs. “Though, I’m not sure it was less dangerous than this one!”

  “And Wynn?”

  “Dead,” he confirms. “He died on arrival.”

  I step back. I can barely comprehend what is happening.

  Ler’s here.

  Pearl’s here.

  Bob’s here.

  “I thought you were dead,” the girl with black hair says to Lydia. She steps out of their embrace with a terrible limp.

  “Looks like you have had a rough go of it,” I say. I look at Pearl. “All of you. What happened?”

  The girl with the black hair shrugs. “We’re just glad you got us here when you did. We were seconds away from being shot. I’m feeling pretty lucky not to be dead right now.”

  “You got that right,” Bob says, keeping his grip strong on the other blond-haired man. Somehow, I get the impression he was one of the ones about to be shot, not the one doing the shooting. That doesn’t make sense, but I’m not sure anything does right now.

  “It looks like Pearl was already shot,” I say. She’s looking paler by the minute. I step over to her and try to examine her shoulder, but she pushes me away.

  “Don’t Karl. I’m in a lot of pain.”

  “What happened?” Lydia asks.

  “Pearl was shot, like Karl said, and Brit got hit by a car,” Bob answers. “We were all about to die, and then there was suddenly a blue light, and we all ended up here. Something must have happened to create a portal.”

  Lydia blushes for some reason I can’t quite figure out.

  “Hopefully we can rest for a few days until we feel better?” Pearl asks. “Do you have anything I can use to stop the bleeding? And I need some ice. It looks like you have a lot of that!”

  “No need to wait a few days.” I look at Lydia hopefully.

  Lydia smiles. “Let me help you first, and then we’ll talk. We have a lot to tell you, and I have even more I want to hear from you.”

  Lydia bends to the floor, rubs her fingers in the dirt, and then she touches Pearl briefly and closes her eyes.

  I look at Pearl’s confused expression and smile. I’m pretty sure my smile will be stuck on forever. I can’t think of a better way to spend today than to spend it with Pearl. The pain on Pearl’s face starts to fade.

  S
he’s here, and she’s going to be okay.

  24 Affect

  Lydia

  Whack!

  The ball, if you can call it that, skirts down the corridor, making the candles flicker as it flies over the frozen snow past them.

  Brit captures the pass and kicks it back to me.

  “You know, this bundle of old clothes and snow actually works as a ball.”

  Brit laughs and fields my next pass. “I guess so. At least it hasn’t fallen apart yet.”

  She sends the ball back to me. It’s been a long time since I kicked a ball around. It’s surreal, having Brit here. She’s dressed in mountain garb, but she speaks English and talks about home and wants to play soccer.

  It’s crazy to think of how long it’s been since I played soccer. And, it’s even crazier to think of how much more complicated my world is now than it was when I lived to be on the soccer field.

  “I think you’re way better than me now,” I call down to Brit. “It’s been forever since I’ve played.”

  “Only because of you!” Brit stops my pass and juggles the ball a minute before sending it back. “I can’t believe you were able to heal me like that. After getting hit by that car, I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to feel normal again. Running was definitely months out. And then you touched me and worked for a few minutes and suddenly my body is back to normal.”

  “It’s pretty amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brit’s kick goes a little wide and hits one of the candles off the wall and into the snow. I stop the ball and jog over to the candle to relight it and stick it into the wall.

  “I guess you probably want to stay here forever, then?” Brit says.

  I laugh. “Why would I want that?”

  Brit pauses; she’s surprised by my answer. That’s understandable—she hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. She’s only seen the beauty of hemazury. She hasn’t seen the hatred in the faces of the people who want to kill me. She hasn’t felt the fear as person after person rushed towards me, intending to tear me apart. She hasn’t seen her friends die like I have. I thought I might find my place here, but I’m not sure I belong here any more than I did back with my dad in Washington.