Essence: Book 1 - Septima

by Nick Braker

  Cienna paused, her eyes staring straight into his.

  I’m about to die!

  ____

  Earth - Present Day - 07:12pm

  “Oh, my god,” Cienna whispered.

  Cienna still hadn’t moved since sticking the needle in his neck. Troy was sure the needle had pierced him because of the position of her arm, yet he was still alive.

  Why did she stop? Why is she looking at me like that?

  She leaned closer, staring straight at him. Her eyes went wide. Cienna moved her head around him, examining his profile. Her eyes blinked several times.

  “Septima, I think you need to see this,” Cienna yelled, removing the needle.

  Relief flooded through him, but Troy knew this wasn’t over. He had to find a way to move. He wanted to run earlier, but now he wanted revenge.

  Okay, I’ve got more time. Think, man. Think.

  “Almost done. Be right there,” another female voice yelled back.

  This voice came from farther away in the car in front of this one. The same one that talked about getting the couple first.

  “Honey, I would hurry,” Cienna yelled. “Now.”

  The other woman approached, her footsteps coming faster than the others had before. She stopped inside his peripheral view. This woman was brunette, too. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at Cienna. Septima wore the same type jumpsuit and had the same equipment as the others but on her chest was a symbol. It sat above her heart and reminded Troy of an eagle.

  “What is it, Cienna? We have some time but you know Brice wants this done ASAP,” Septima said. “He’s been grouchy lately so I really don’t want to piss him off.”

  “Look at him,” Cienna said, pointing to Troy.

  Septima finally looked at Troy, her eyes meeting his. Her breath caught and Septima stared at him as if she were looking at a ghost, holding her hand lightly to her throat. Septima’s face was smooth with milky white skin. Her chocolate colored eyes were steady and didn’t waver.

  “Hell, yeah, look at that. He’s a dead ringer for him,” Cienna said. “Can you believe it?”

  What? They think I’m someone else?

  “You want me to extract him?” Cienna asked.

  “No,” Septima said quickly, her voice constricting.

  Septima stepped forward, leaning in closer to examine Troy.

  My god, she’s beautiful. What? Why am I thinking about that? Shit, I must be out of my mind.

  “We can’t bring him with us,” Cienna said. “The extra body will be detected.”

  A man approached from the car following this one but Septima’s body blocked Troy from seeing him completely. Troy caught glimpses of the man as Septima shifted left and right still examining him. He had dark black hair with a matching goatee, wearing the same gray, full-body jumpsuit. The man was young like the two women, perhaps early twenties.

  “What the hell’s going on?” the man said. “Get this wrapped up. We don’t have no time. Damn it, girls.”

  Septima jerked upright and quickly turned to face the approaching male.

  “You done up there?” she asked but it sounded more like an order to Troy. “There should be eight more in those cars.”

  “We got nine somehow,” the man said. “We got an extra female for some reason. What’s taking you two so long?”

  Septima loaded another syringe, shifting her hips slightly as if trying to block the man’s view from Troy. The man’s eyes narrowed at Septima.

  “What are you trying to hide?” he asked.

  The male easily stepped around Septima. The male froze, staring as his jaw dropped open. He closed it quickly.

  “You want me to bag this one? It’s jus’ another human, Sep. Nothing more. Don’t be getting no silly idea in that pretty little head o’ yours.”

  The man reached into his satchel, pulling out another of the electronic syringes. He pushed Septima away, bending over and placing the needle to Troy’s neck. The man’s nose was crooked. It leaned to the right, probably broken sometime in his life. Septima grabbed his sleeve and roughly pulled him down the aisle, away from both Troy and Cienna.

  “Get a grip, Sep,” the man exclaimed. “This ain’t him. He’s dead. Understand? Dead.”

  Septima moved between Troy and the male, planting one fist on her hip and sticking the forefinger of her other hand into his chest.

  “Move up to the other car, Yenthar, or I will take you down,” Septima told him. “That is an order. Do you understand?”

  Septima leaned toward him, putting more pressure on his chest. Her tone was icy as if she might physically assault Yenthar if he disobeyed.

  “A’ight. I’m gonna get Brice and see what he thinks,” Yenthar said, starting to walk away.

  Septima ignored his comment and returned to stand in front of Troy. She moved Troy’s head left and right, examining him again. Troy’s fear started to fade.

  This one saved my life. Hell, yeah, I’m going to live! Why is she staring at me like that?

  Yenthar spun on his heels, charging Cienna from behind. Troy tried to warn them, but he was still paralyzed. Yenthar elbowed her square in the back of the head. She collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Yenthar dove at Septima who had turned to face him. He tackled Septima, slamming her into Troy and Erina’s laps. Troy knew he should feel something from the impact, but there was no pain, no sensation, simply nothing at all.

  Septima swung at Yenthar. Her punch glanced across his chin. Yenthar shook it off, hitting her several times as she struggled to block his punches. Several solid blows to Septima’s face ended her fight. Her arms dropped, leaving her vulnerable.

  “That was the one,” Yenthar said, laughing.

  Troy was furious inside. He imagined pounding his fists over and over again into Yenthar’s face.

  This guy is crazy. Why is he attacking his own?

  Yenthar straddled her, pinning her upper arms with his knees. Septima lay on her back, stunned. She was helpless against Yenthar’s weight.

  “If only ya coulda let this go,” Yenthar said, taking Septima’s gun from her holster.

  Sweat dripped from his brows and his eyes were wild. Yenthar glanced back at Troy, an evil grin on his face. He returned his maniacal gaze to Septima.

  He’s fucking crazy.

  “Ya coulda had it all, but instead, I’m gonna have to watch your eyes go dim. Now, stay calm. Make this real easy like. Ya don’t wanna keep carrying this pain. Jus’ relax and let me ease it.”

  He tossed her weapon over several rows of seats. It landed out of sight.

  Come on, Septima. Come on.

  Her eyes started to focus again. Septima was his only chance. If she didn’t stop him, this insane nut-job would kill them all. Yenthar put his hands around her neck and squeezed. The man’s hands and arms flexed, tensing with the effort. Septima shifted her weight left and right, fervently trying to buck him off of her. Even though her lower arms were free, she couldn’t leverage them against him. Troy watched helplessly as Yenthar choked one of his own people. Yenthar shifted his weight forward, pressing down harder. Septima’s face turned red and her chest heaved up and down, fighting to breathe. She struck Yenthar in the sides with useless hits. Septima’s arms lost their strength and she began to move slower. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she struggled to remain conscious.

  Damn it, Septima, don’t give up. Fight.

  Septima locked eyes with Troy. She wanted to tell him something, but what good would it do? He couldn’t move. Troy felt useless.

  Wait. What is she doing?

  Septima used her fingers to work a syringe out of the lower pocket in her jumpsuit. She stuck it hard into Troy’s leg, injecting a blue liquid. The numbness in his leg faded. He tried to move but still his body refused.

  She’s going to be dead before this takes effect. I’ve got to move now... try to stop him.

  Septima dropped the syringe and her hand reached out to clutch Troy’s wrist. She pleaded silently for help as her lif
e leaked away.

  “He can’t help ya, Sep,” the man said, leaning in to whisper. “I’m your world now. Look at me and die with desire for him an’ hatred for me. I wanna see it in your eyes. I’m gonna destroy his soul after I extract it. His an’ your little friend, Cienna. I wanna make sure ya know that before you die.”

  The strength of her grasp on Troy’s wrist weakened. Was Septima’s goal to save herself or was there something more? After all, she did tell Cienna not to kill him. The injection spread through his leg as he felt the weight of Septima’s body.

  Come on. Come on. Move.

  Septima’s eyes rolled back in her head. Her body heaved and she began to spasm. Yenthar laughed.

  I’ve got to save her.

  Chapter 3

  SEEING RED

  Earth - Present Time

  Troy raged inside. He had no way to vent his fury. Troy’s right hand twitched. He could move it again, but the rest of him was still paralyzed.

  Yenthar let go of Septima. Her limp, dead body rolled off onto the floor in front of Troy. Yenthar slammed his right fist into Troy’s head. Troy still couldn’t move let alone dodge it. Searing pain lanced through him, stunning him. How he wished the numbness hadn’t faded from his face.

  “One dead, two to go,” Yenthar taunted. “I’m gonna beat ya senseless and then just up and kill ya outright. Your girlfriend there is dead. How’s it feel to have seen it happen right in front of ya knowing ya were helpless to stop it?”

  Keep talking, asshole. I just need time. The numbness is gone and soon I’m going to be able to move.

  Troy wouldn’t run now. He didn’t want to. He wanted to hurt Yenthar, make him pay for killing Septima. His face displayed no emotion, it couldn’t, but inside, Troy burned with anger. He’d never felt this way before and everything, at this moment, centered on Yenthar. Troy had one choice... Yenthar had to die. He had to do it quickly and with surprise.

  Yenthar punched Troy several more times to the face. His mouth and nose dripped blood, most of it staining Troy’s shirt. Yenthar stepped back, rubbing his knuckles, grimacing.

  “Damn, this feels good,” Yenthar said. “I never liked ya anyway. The great warrior and his sweet little Septima. You’re supposed to be dead, ya know? So I’m gonna fix that right now.”

  Warrior? What is he talking about and where are my fears? How is this possible?

  Troy felt his left leg twitch.

  I can move my left leg. Hell, yeah. The rest of me is almost there, fucker.

  Yenthar, grinning, stepped in and reared back to punch Troy again. Troy kicked out, putting his left foot into Yenthar’s midsection. Yenthar’s breath left him in a rush. He fell back into the seat, landing in Lakin’s lap. Troy had knocked the wind out of him.

  “How the hell can you move--,” he managed to say before Troy’s fists hit him across the face in rapid succession. The paralysis was gone.

  Yenthar recovered and grabbed Troy, taking him to the ground. They grappled on top of Septima’s body. Troy shifted his weight, rolling over on top of Yenthar. Troy pounded Yenthar several times, hitting him square in the face. Yenthar kicked Troy off, launching him across the aisle. Troy fell backward into the opposite aisle chair. Yenthar reached for his weapon as Troy dove back at him. The weapon cleared his holster, rising to fire at Troy. Troy grabbed it, pointing it away. They both had their hands locked around the gun, fighting for control. The barrel moved back and forth between the two as each fought to point it at the other. Troy glared into Yenthar’s eyes, his brows furrowed and his teeth ground together. Troy’s adrenaline had flowed through him for the last several minutes completely unused. It fueled his muscles and determination. He pushed harder against the gun. Sweat dripped from Yenthar.

  “Die. You. Piece. Of. Shit,” Troy said through gritted teeth.

  Troy pushed harder. Yenthar’s arms began to shake. The gun shifted. Troy took a deep breath and pushed again. He watched as Yenthar’s eyes grew wide in fear. Yenthar knew. The gun fired at point blank range. Yenthar’s head blew apart in a spray of blood, flesh and bone. Tiny lights danced around the edges of Troy’s vision. Darkness formed there and it began to close inward.

  Oh no, I’m going...

  Septima coughed as Troy’s world grew dark.

  Chapter 4

  SEPTIMA

  Unknown Location - Unknown Hours Later

  Troy opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize the room. In fact, it didn’t look like any room he’d seen before. He lay lengthwise on a dark gray couch which butted up against a metal wall on his left. At his head, next to the couch, was a silver-metal lamp atop an end table.

  What a dream. Paralyzed, nearly died, beat the shit out of an asshat, saved a beautiful... wait a minute.

  He had dreamed the entire thing, right? Was he still dreaming? His body tensed and an eerie sense of dread fell over him. Had he drank too much the night before? No, he didn’t remember drinking at all.

  Where were his fears? In any past situation like this, he’d be unable to think or act as they took control of him. He had lived his whole life under their malaise, but at the moment there was nothing. The fear of germs, especially in a new place, would have sent him reeling. Now? His fears were simply memories.

  Okay, take stock of the situation. I’m still dreaming or I’d be curled up in a ball right now, fetal position engaged.

  Troy still hadn’t moved. A soft, blue blanket covered him which seemed normal enough, but the gray-blue metallic walls, bulkhead doorways, and embedded lighting convinced him further that he was still asleep.

  Could I be hallucinating?

  Someone cleared their throat behind him. His head snapped around to check. Troy regretted the movement. His entire body hurt and he nearly screamed from the pain. A young, brunette woman sat in a matching loveseat near him.

  Holy hell, she’s the woman from the train.

  She wore a khaki colored uniform in lieu of the jumpsuit. It hugged her athletic form. Her hair was combed and it lay neatly over her shoulders. A ragged, angry red ring surrounded her neck, at least as far as Troy could see it. Her flawless skin, short slender nose, and pink lips reminded Troy of models he’d seen in magazines. Her beauty was surreal.

  It’s her, Septima. The one that saved me and the one I saved from that piece of shit who tried to kill her... and why am I thinking about her beauty? What’s wrong with me?

  Septima smiled weakly at him. He pinched himself, wincing from it and from moving his arm.

  Okay, that means I’m awake which means this is very real.

  “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” she asked, leaning forward and reaching her arm out to him.

  Troy instinctively pulled away. She seemed genuinely concerned. Was it an act? Weren’t she and her colleagues trying to kill him? Her voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

  “I’m fine, I think,” he said, “though my head hurts bad, as well as other parts of me.”

  Troy rubbed his head and the motion caused a renewal of pain throughout his body. He winced.

  “Where the hell am I?” he continued.

  Troy wasn’t sure how he felt about the situation. His emotions twisted inside him. She had saved him and he had saved her but she was not someone he could trust. Yet, he felt comfortable near her. Why?

  “I’ll answer that, but please keep an open mind,” she said, struggling to speak. “You’re not anywhere near where you think.” She coughed, clearing her throat. “You’re on a planet light years from Earth.”

  “Huh?”

  “This planet is called Pira,” she continued.

  Troy spun around, sitting up. He put his feet on the floor. His body rebelled against the movement. He grimaced and his eyelids went wide in surprise as he hugged himself. It felt like the time he accidentally stuck a dart, full force, into the bone of his left index finger. Except this time, the pain radiated throughout his entire body. Nearly every part of him screamed in agony at every movement. Troy’s eyes filled with tears from
the pain. He blinked several times, sending the droplets of salty water down his cheeks. He pushed the blanket to the side, letting it fall away. The effort left him visibly sweating. It was cold here.

  Sit still. Breathe deep. Relax.

  Troy tried not to move. His clothes were gone and he wore one of their full-body jumpsuits. It did little to prevent the cold of the room from leeching the heat out of him. He pulled his sleeves down closer to his hands, every movement creating waves of pain. Troy wanted to ask about her crazy other planet comment or the pain he was in but something else bothered him more.

  “You undressed me?” Troy asked.

  “There is much to explain--” she said, getting interrupted by the sound of chimes within the room.

  “Wait,” Troy said, ignoring them. “If you’re really from another planet, why do you speak English?”

  Someone knocked at a door to his left.

  “Enter,” Septima said. “We had to learn your language to fit in.”

  The other brunette woman from the train walked through the door.

  Cienna.

  “Murderer,” he yelled, pointing at her.

  He tried to stand. Troy wanted to reach her, kill her. Cienna looked back down the corridor, quickly shutting the metal door and locking it.

  “She’s the one that killed Lakin,” he yelled, still trying to stand but his legs were too weak.

  “Troy,” Septima said. “Trust me. It’s not like that. She didn’t kill anyone.”

  Cienna walked catlike, unconcerned, across the room. She steered clear of Troy and sat on the armrest of Septima’s chair.

  “You killed my friends and all those other people,” he said, his voice raising.

  His head exploded in pain and the room started to spin.

  “You killed them...,” Troy yelled, putting his hand to his temple, trying to hold back the dizziness.

  Why was he so weak? Troy wanted to hurt Cienna, but he could barely move.

  “There is much to explain,” Septima repeated, moving to stand next to him. “You are on a planet many light years from Earth. No one but Alta, Cienna and I know you are here. You haven’t met Alta yet, but you will. She’s working on cleaning up the logs and fixing things so there is no trace of you being brought here. Cienna and I didn’t kill anyone, exactly. Your friends are safe. Please trust me.”