Wyst

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  Staring at the GPS system, I wondered how much more it could do. So I grabbed my enhanced cellphone and texted Wyst’s warrior-brother, Brent. Sure it was more than a couple of hours past Cinderella, but I knew Wyst’s big alien friend had a soft spot for me and would respond. Even if he was sleeping.

  Brent and I were only halfway through my questions before Wyst suddenly yanked open the passenger door so fast I squealed in shock.

  Ignoring me, the shit-head thumped into the passenger seat, buckled himself in and after slamming his palm on the console, demanded we should, quote, get on the road RIGHT THE FRACK NOW, end quote.

  ‘Frack’, for the record, is the Picari word for something akin to ‘fuck’, ‘goddamn’ and ‘oh holy shit’ in English.

  I didn’t delay, disconnected my call and after dropping my phone to my lap, I hit the ignition switch while tapping at the SUV’s GPS screen. The large vehicle responded immediately to my finger activity and the tires made a squealing sound as we peeled out of the parking space, just missing Wyst’s Arleen by inches as she ran toward us.

  “What’s going on?” I shouted. I knew the vehicle drove itself, but some habits are hard to break. Like say, keeping your eyes on the road as you ride hell-bent for leather away from whatever it was my passenger wanted to avoid. And I needed a read on what was up Wyst’s ass.

  He was twisted around, eyeing the road behind us with a scary look on his face. One that yelled ‘danger’ to the point I pressed the accelerator all the way down to the floor in an automatic reaction.

  “Warning! You are exceeding posted speed limits and breaking Wyoming traffic laws,” the electronic voice of the navigational system drolly announced, only upping the tension within the car by its very lack of emotion. I used my forefinger to stab at the screen in order to stop the sound from overriding what Wyst was saying, but my movements had the map on display flashing again and again. Although I was happy to know what state we were traveling through, the different screens strobing across the console’s display scared me to freaking death. Especially since I didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on with either Wyst or the enhanced SUV.

  “New course detected,” the GPS system blared, completely overriding whatever Wyst was yelling. “

  Christ!

  I needed to hear what he had to say!

  “Warning! You are exceeding posted speed limits and breaking Wyoming road laws.”

  As if I had missed the system’s caution the first time! I will admit the second warning reminded me to take my foot off the gas. But I maintained my white-knuckled grip on the stupid steering wheel—even though I knew it functioned on its own. Just like the habit of watching the road, my mind demanded I keep my hands in the ten-and-two positions to try and control the damn thing as we raced away from the truck stop.

  But my efforts were for shit, the steering wheel, hell, the entire Escalade was completely out of my control.

  That freaking GPS system? It had become my own personal enemy.

  The warning was on a loop, repeating again and again. To the point I forced myself to release a hand in order to grab onto Wyst’s shirt sleeve and snag his attention. “Turn the fucking volume down, babe!”

  His gaze, aimed at our trajectory, came back to me as his mouth stopped moving. Glancing at the screen, he poked at it twice before the sound cut off. “Is that better?”

  “Yeah, much,” I blew out a steadying breath and willed my heart to beat less frantically. “So what was all the yelling about?”

  Adjusting himself back into the seat, Wyst faced forward again, his eyes carefully avoiding mine. “From me or the system?”

  Seriously? That’s the way he wanted to play it?

  He must’ve read my answer in my face because he quickly continued before I chose the right cuss words for my response. “I was just telling you to hurry. That we might be chased.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed deeply. “Although I might have been speaking Picari or Nutrolian through most of it.”

  His admission took the wind right out of my sails and I made a mental note of the fact when the big guy became agitated, he slipped into a different language.

  Good to know.

  I turned back to the windshield and finally noticed our surroundings. We were nowhere near the freeway. In fact, the twisting and turning route we traveled was little more than a skinny ribbon without the middle-of-the-road markings, its edges bracketed by a lot of trees.

  Hopefully, the car’s system had found a short-cut and we’d soon see a sign to get us back to the nearest multi-laned highway.

  The Escalade ate up a few more miles of asphalt and although I continuously watched for a road sign, I didn’t see any. All I saw was the road becoming narrower, bumpier to the point the heavy car swung this way and that, avoiding the more serious potholes. Some were unavoidable though and found the both of us grabbing at anything in order to steady ourselves.

  A dark, lonely road in the middle of nowhere, so small we couldn’t even flip a bitch to go back was not my idea of a good time.

  “Did you reprogram our route, my Pam?”

  Maybe it was because I was still riding my adrenaline high of a possible chase, but his words took me right the hell back to ‘thoroughly pissed off’.

  Numero Uno, I wasn’t his in any stretch of anyone’s imagination. And two, I hadn’t done shit except to use my forefinger on the freaking display of the GPS thingy in order to turn down the sound.

  Glancing at the speedometer I noticed we were going thirty on a road meant for fifteen miles per hour. The navigational whatchamacallit showed us on a line highlighted in green, yet Brent specifically told us to follow only the red lines of the online map system so we could get to South Dakota at the soonest.

  “I think we’re off course,” I yelped over an especially rough patch which found me clutching at anything remotely steady, though there wasn’t anything, except the shitty, useless steering wheel.

  “Oh dear Gyed,” he yelled, which I knew was a prayer to the goddess he and a couple of the warriors in his group worshiped. And as his voice echoed within the confines of the car, we hit another one of the deep potholes on whatever road we were on. One so deep, my butt left the seat, as Wyst’s head hit the roof of the cab.

  Maintaining my grip on the wheel, fighting the movements of the large vehicle, I screamed.

  Okay, I might have over-reacted to the situation at hand. Or just let-go with a simple human sound announcing my distress with what was happening.

  Either way, my scream didn’t help.

  At all.

  And it wasn’t until the Escalade, in all its weighty glory stopped in its tracks that I realized we weren’t gonna die.

  Clamping my traitorous lips together, I blinked at the dash lights after we came to a full and complete stop, my eyes sliding to the dark rectangle of the GPS screen before looking to my companion. Outside our windows was nothing but calm dark, yet on the inside?

  Yeah, no.

  Frustrated anger filled the air of the truck’s cabin.

  “What was that?” Sliding my gaze back to the yelling alien next to me, I took in his frustrated glare. “Did you deliberately re-program our route?”

  Was he for real?

  “No, I wouldn’t even in I knew how.” I breathed in sharply, hoping to quell my sharp flare of anger at his accusation. He couldn’t blame me for this! “You were the one who told me to get us out of there. And I damn-well did, asshole!”

  Casting my eyes to the dark windows, I shivered. “Do we know where we are?”

  “No thanks to you,” he chuffed running a finger over the GPS’s dark display, playing the blame game as if he didn’t have a hand in our predicament.

  “It wasn’t me creating a freaking ruckus after shagging a piece of skanky ass, shit for brains.”

  Wyst went still as stone, pausing in his ministrations before he turned his furious stare my way. “For once, I am very, very glad I do not understand all your English word
s.”

  At that moment and with that particular gleam in his eye, I had to agree.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Wyst continued to fiddle with the unresponsive navigational system until he had a handle on his temper. Although it was hard to do when his anger was a two-edged sword aimed at both himself and the pixie.

  While Pam only overreacted to the situation, he was the one who’d set everything into play by focusing on the promise of sex.

  Sex he craved but his body didn’t. At least not with the Arleen.

  Firmly pushing the memory away, Wyst tried to ascertain what exactly was wrong with their transport. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get it running again without help but he needed to have an inventory of what worked and what didn’t when he called Arbrynt for help. Unlike the other warrior, Wyst’s skills didn’t lie in the field of electronics or mechanics of any kind.

  Swallowing back both his anger and his pride, Wyst glanced over at his traveling companion who studiously turned away from him, arms crossed over her chest. “Let’s try to start the ignition,” he offered, keeping his tone neutral. Being angry at one another didn’t help and it would be up to him to keep a cool head. To focus their efforts on getting back on the road.

  As Pam tried to restart the engine, he comprised a mental list to relay to Arbrynt. The GPS was inoperable but all the lights remained on, both interior and exterior. As she pressed the starter button, he thought he heard a small clicking sound although it could’ve been her fingernails drumming against the steering wheel.

  “I got nothing,” she said after more than a few tries.

  Opening his door, he stepped out into the dark, his feet thudding softly on the measure of leaf-covered dirt, inches away from the asphalt of the small road.

  “Where are you going, mister?” Her voice was a complaint edged in fear.

  Glancing into the interior, he tried to affect a calmness he didn’t feel. “I just want to determine if the vehicle sustained any other damage. I will be back shortly.”

  His response must have been the right one because she gave a shaky nod. “Then close the door, okay? You’re letting in the cold.”

  She had a point. Compared to the weather in Phoenix, the area where the Escalade resided was a lot chillier. And she was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans although she filled both of them out spectacularly.

  They should have stopped to purchase what she needed before driving so far.

  “You are welcome to my jacket, pixie. It is in the back seat.”

  Softly closing the door, Wyst took a deep breath delighting at the scent of pine permeating the air. It was an aroma reminiscent of his youth, of a simpler time in his life on Nutrol. The smell calmed him further and helped him focus on the task at hand.

  Using his tresl, he clicked on the flashlight running it over the tires and metal portions of the SUV as he meticulously circled every inch, flicking at fir branches when they got in his way. After completing his visual assessment, he re-entered the car with a sigh.

  “Well?” she asked, from the bowels of his black leather jacket pulled up to her chin. Hot air blew from every vent making him wonder why the heating system and lights worked when the engine and GPS didn’t.

  He shook his head and reached behind him to the bag he’d packed. Snagging a heavier, long-sleeved shirt, he pulled it on before answering. “I did not find any external damage.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No, pixie.”

  She huffed and snuggled deeper into the folds of his jacket she’d spread over her like a blanket. “So. Are you going to call Brent or should I?”

  Why did her question irritate him so much? It was a valid one but held a hint of challenge, as if asking who really held the reins of the command on their current mission. Bronsyn’s directive had been firmly delivered, indicating Wyst was to lead them to Rykhan and Leah.

  The pixie was just a passenger, albeit an alluring one, until their goal was reached.

  Without answering he placed the call to his warrior-brother, hating that only within a few short hours of leaving he already needed help.

  *.*.*.*.*

  He was being a dick but that was nothing new for Wyst. He hadn’t changed from the first time I met him at the speed-dating thingy I’d accompanied Leah to, and remained true to form even up through the crisis of the car going screwy. It was just when I first met him, his particular brand of snark had been humorous and hot. But in an emergency? Not so much.

  Ignoring my request to put Brent on speaker, Wyst slowly went through our list of issues while I added my two-cents loud enough to be heard on his tresl. Each time I did so, I received a glare telling me to shut my pie-hole.

  As if.

  And was my impetus in placing my own call to Gere (or Gyard as the others knew him) as soon as Wyst stepped outside again to do whatever Brent asked him to do. Gere was a big brute of a man…erm, alien, and the largest of the Picari warriors but, like Brent, held a soft-spot for me.

  “What?” he boomed into my ear when he answered, instead of greeting me with a more civilized and simple, ‘hello’.

  Holding the cellphone tightly to my ear, I began to whisper into it in a rush, recapping all the shit leading up to our current issue of being out in the wilderness in a stationary, not able to move, car. During my sad tale of woe, Gere made lots of sounds although his noises weren’t really words. Just little grunts and sighs to let me know he was listening.

  And I heard rustles from his end, as if he was getting dressed or something as I explained the sitch Wyst put us in. A situation absolutely not my fault, despite whatever it was Wyst relayed to Brent.

  When my story finally wound down, there were a few beats of silence only broken by the creak of what sounded like a door on his end.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  “He left you alone in order to share sex with another female?” Gere’s volume in the best of circumstances was loud, but at that moment it was an unrestrained roar. So loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. And of such thunder, Brent must’ve heard it too because Wyst’s eyes shot to mine around the opened hood of the engine, spearing me with such hateful recrimination, I shrank away from it.

  Even through the closed windows, I heard Wyst’s bellow of “What the frack are you saying?” which almost, but not quite, overrode Gere’s blast of what I assume were stronger alien profanities.

  “Our Pam?” Bronsyn must have grabbed Gere’s tresl or, more likely, the giant passed his phone to his commander in order to pace and rage. Because the commander’s peaceful voice was the next voice I heard. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, only feeling the tiniest twinge of guilt in throwing my traveling companion under the bus with his buddies and his boss. “I’m okay but we’re, like, stuck in the middle of nowhere and I’m freaking freezing and I have to go to the bathroom but the shitty car won’t start. I can’t just pee in the bushes!”

  I sucked in a breath in order to stop the escalation of my voice and my litany of complaints, but it was hard. “Other than that, I’m just freaking fine.”

  “Oh, our beautiful one,” Bronsyn murmured, his deep voice a syrup of comfort and peace covering me from head to toe. “Please do not be upset. Find your calm, jain tisha, jain leca purvya.”

  Swiping at the wet on my cheeks, I heard Bronsyn repeat the last of what he said and took another breath in, forcing it out while only idly noticing the hitch it contained as I sought to understand what he said. “What was that stuff you said? The Picari words.”

  As ever, Bronsyn clued into what I was asking even though English was never his strong suit.

  “Jain tisha means simply ‘our own’.” His voice was almost an audible hug through our connection. “And you must know you are that to each of us. You are. As much of a warrior of any of the males I’ve commanded in my career.”

  Running the back of my hand under my nose, I sniffed. “Really? But what was that last part? The Jane-leakka-perv
thing?”

  “Jain leca purvya means ‘our little flower’. But the Nutrolian purvya is no ordinary bloom, not like what you have on Earth. It is thorny and sturdy, growing even the bleakest of environs, in the very worst conditions and it only flourishes, thrives and opens its beautiful petals at the perfect moment.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Bronsyn described. Was that really how he and his men saw me? As some kind of wildflower they considered beautiful, strong and able to survive in any kind of adversity?

  Re-opening my eyes, I spied Wyst who kept shifting his gaze between me and his tresl.

  “He blames me, you know,” I whispered, my heart again falling to my knees while telling myself I didn’t give one good goddamn what Wyst thought. “He thinks this is all my fault.”

  “That is something the two of you will have to address another time,” Bronsyn advised softly. “In the meantime, take care of your immediate needs, knowing we will do all we can to get you back on course as soon as possible.”

  I glanced into the blackness realizing I’d soon be peeing in all of nature’s finest. Well, there was a first time for everything.

  “Thanks, Bron,” I whispered with as much emotion as I dared. Just enough to show my gratitude, but not enough to get my waterworks going again. I’d already cried too much in the last twenty-four hours for my taste.

  “Go with Tsiran protection, our Pam. Until we speak again, I wish you Gyed’s peace and Tsiran’s strength.”

  As good-byes went, his was pretty cool.

  Now if I could only figure out how to empty my bladder without wetting my jeans and boots.

  Chapter Six

  Wyst twisted yet again, trying to find a more comfortable position in the fully reclined passenger seat in order to sleep, though he knew it was futile. Used to be, he could fall into slumber any and everywhere, but there in the Escalade in one of Earth’s more remote locales, he couldn’t find his rest.

  Perhaps it was because of the tiny beauty curled up into a fetal position in the seat next to him; her sweet, feminine smell filling the space of the cab. Or because his arousal still rode him with claws so deep and needful, it robbed him of peace.