by Darby Cupid
“Absolutely not.” I stand, a sudden urgency pulsing through me. “Jordan, call an ambulance. Now.”
Linda starts to protest, but Jordan already has the phone to his ear. Eddie holds his hands up in mock surrender as Linda growls and stomps away. Sera rushes to comfort her, but she turns her back in a sulk. I shake my head and turn my attention back to the girl lying at my feet while Jordan explains our location to the emergency services.
Kneeling back down in the grass beside her, I try to push the seeds of doubt Linda has cast aside. We’re definitely doing the right thing. As my annoyance begins to dissipate, however, I have to admit I can understand what Linda was getting at. I really do want to know who she is and how she ended up here.
Even though she’s bruised and blood-splattered, she looks almost peaceful lying amongst the tall grass. I watch her eyes flicker slightly behind her eyelids and find myself wondering what colour they are under those dark lashes. Her skin is a gorgeous light brown colour that almost seems to glow in the sunlight and her lips are a plump, soft pink-beige.
I realise with a jolt that I don’t think I can handle not knowing who she is. My fingers reach out to touch her cheek, but Jordan’s voice breaks into my consciousness, causing my hand to jerk back into my lap, my cheeks burning.
“They’ll be here any minute. They said to stay with her.”
“That’s good,” I say, hoping he didn’t notice. What am I doing? What’s wrong with me? Deciding it must be exhaustion from my late night and early morning at the bakery, I stand and brush the grass from my jeans. Sera and Linda are standing talking, their heads together.
“Linda?” I call out.
“What?” she snaps without turning around.
“You do have a bit of a point,” I concede. “I agree, we all want to know who she is and how she got here. So, I was thinking. Could your mum perhaps find out which hospital she gets taken to? That way we can go and visit her tomorrow.”
Linda’s face lights up as she turns around. “Yes!” She grins. “Let’s do that!”
We hear the sirens long before we see the ambulance. It parks near a gate a little further down from where we climbed over the fence. Eddie waves his arms above his head as two female paramedics emerge from the fluorescent vehicle and begin wading through the long grass, medical kits in hand.
I shift from foot to foot, trying to not to bite at the skin around my nails, as they set about checking the girl’s vitals, measuring her pulse and shining lights in her eyes.
Eventually, the short, blonde-haired paramedic stands and surveys us for the first time. “So, you just found her here, in the field? No idea where she’s from? Don’t recognise her from school?”
“No,” Linda shakes her head. “We’ve never seen her before.”
The red-haired paramedic squints up at us from where she’s applying dressings to the head wound. “Did you move her?”
“I rolled her on to her back,” I confess, “but I supported her neck. I wanted to check if she was breathing and stop the bleeding.”
She nods at the blonde paramedic, who turns and jogs back down towards the ambulance. “Don’t worry, kids. You did good. We’ll take her in and file a report with the police. She seems okay, but she’ll need a few more tests just to make sure.”
We watch helplessly as the red-haired paramedic returns with a stretcher.
“Well,” Linda sighs dramatically as they carry the mysterious girl down towards the ambulance. “That was exciting, I guess.”
I give a half smile. I hate to admit it, but a small piece of me regrets calling the ambulance. Would it have been the worst thing in the world if we’d taken her to Linda and Eddie’s house? You can practically see it from the sloped field we’re standing on.
“You okay?”
I blink to find Eddie staring at me, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, why?”
“You look all spaced out.”
“Just tired,” I reply in an attempt to shrug off his concern. To be honest, I’m always tired, so no surprise there. Waking up at the crack of dawn six days a week to bake bread will do that to you. I read somewhere that teenagers need nine hours of sleep a night. I’m lucky if I get six. None of us are in the mood for going for food anymore, so we say our goodbyes and head our separate ways.
The house is quiet when I get there, but I know Katie’s up in her bedroom because her shoes are strewn by the door. I pick them up and throw them in the shoe box on my way past, before climbing the stairs. Pausing outside her door, I listen for signs of life. Hearing nothing, I knock.
“I’m doing my homework!”
I open the door a crack to find Katie sat on her bed, headphones on as she paints her nails; clearly not doing homework.
“Hey!” she shouts. “Get out!”
I cock my head, frowning at her nail polish. “Which class is this homework for?”
Katie picks up something from her bedside table and throws it at me. I quickly pull the door closed and the mystery projectile bounces off with a thud.
Daring to open the door once more, I try again. “Any messages from Mum?”
“She asked if you could go help her in the shop when you get in.”
My heart sinks. Of course she did. I close the door and head to my room, collapsing on the bed. I just need a few minutes to myself, then I’ll go down to the shop.
Guilt drapes over me like a lead blanket at the thought of it. I hate the bakery. It’s been in our family for generations. I say our family. Dad’s family. Dad left. Six months ago, he packed his bags and disappeared, leaving nothing but wreckage behind. Mum clings to the bakery as though it will bring Dad back. We don’t talk about it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I swipe at the screen to see a text from Eddie.
Mum gonna find out info 4 us
visit 2moro?
As I type my reply, my mood begins to lift.
time?
I wonder if she’ll be awake when we visit. Maybe Linda was right, and she’ll be in our school after the summer. She did look around our age, but when you’re almost eighteen, a couple of years makes the difference between university and too young.
10?
I respond with a thumbs up and swing my legs off the bed, preparing to make my way down the shop with a final stretch. As I trudge down the stairs, my mind swims with a thousand questions. What if she has brain damage? What if she was abducted or she’s an attempted murder victim?
Above everything though, I just really hope she’s okay.
CHAPTER THREE
Jake
A door slams and I flinch, gripping the soapy sponge as if it’s the only thing preventing me from slipping away between the tiles, along with the dirty water. Bubbles of bleach start to seep into the cuts on my knuckles, so I throw the sponge into the bucket and wipe my hands on my jeans. The house is quiet again. Uncle Cas must have left. Or it might have been someone else. There are always people coming and going from this place.
Grabbing the sponge from the bowl of lukewarm water, I return to my punishment. The floor is only the beginning. Uncle Cas gave me strict orders to clean the kitchen from ‘top to bottom’. If I miss the smallest speck of dirt – well – there’ll be no dirt.
I stretch my hands above my head and my spine cracks, my knees aching. My ribs throb from my recent ‘discussion’ with Uncle Cas and the bruising purpling across my torso tightens my skin. I hold my hands above my head for too long and curse as water drips on my head. Anger sparks in my gut and I scrub the floor with renewed vigour, pouring my frustration out onto the grimy tiles.
Thoughts of running away attempt to creep in at the edges of my thoughts, but I push them away in disgust. What would be the point? Cas has ears and eyes everywhere. I could run, but I’d be found and dragged back within hours. Besides, where would I go? I have no friends. No family. Uncle Cas is all I know. All I remember.
I try, for the millionth time, to remember life before Cas. It’s fuzzy. Like a thick yellow smog I c
an’t fight through. Years ago, I mustered the courage to ask him about my family. I shudder at the memory.
Reaching the edge of the floor, I stand. Pins and needles prick my legs as I pour the dirty water down the sink and refill the bucket in preparation for the cupboards. It occurs to me that I should have done the cupboards first, but it’s too late now. He won’t care, right?
Ignoring the aches and pains eating at my body, I clamber up on to the worktop so I can start with the tops of the cupboards. He didn’t tell me exactly what to clean, but he said, ‘top to bottom’ and I’m not going to risk not taking it literally. Uncle Cas doesn’t mince his words.
Shuffling along the counter as I drag the sponge along the cupboards, I soon realise that these have possibly never been cleaned before. Each cupboard requires a rinse of the fluff covered sponge every couple of centimetres. I wrinkle my nose as the wet fragments of grey stick to my fingers. Then, my hand knocks against something hard.
Dropping the sponge into the bucket, I reach up with both hands and ease the object towards me with my fingertips. It’s a small cardboard box. I sit down on the counter and turn it carefully in my hands. It has a logo for some company I don’t recognise on it and I really shouldn’t open it. I know I shouldn’t.
Who am I kidding? I’m going to open it.
My heart is in my mouth as I gently lift the lid. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find inside, but a necklace with a large green stone was not at the top of the list.
Frowning, I lift the necklace from the box to inspect it. Intricate, delicate twists of shiny copper encase the bright green stone with loops like petals. The stone seems to glow as the light from the kitchen window hits it. I watch as it spins on its chain. I don’t know whether it’s because I’m delirious from inhaling bleach for the past hour or so, but something about this necklace makes me calm inside. A little less…broken.
I reach for the box to replace the necklace, but something stops me. I can’t do it. I don’t want to put it back in the box. Even though I know the beating of my life awaits me if Cas finds out I’ve taken it, I slip the necklace into my pocket and stand up to replace the box.
“Are you sure?”
The sound of Uncle Cas’ voice just outside the door almost makes me fall backwards off the counter. I shove the box back in place, jump down to the floor and begin scrubbing at the kitchen counter.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“We’re not sure. Possibly last night.”
“Last night? Why am I only finding out now?”
“Shall we send a team?”
“Yes! Anything you find, bring it to me straight away. No pictures, no souvenirs. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Boss.”
I force myself to continue scrubbing through the conversation. I don’t recognise the voice of the person Uncle Cas is talking to. One of his many cronies. The kitchen door flies open and I hate myself for flinching as Cas strides in.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he spits.
Unsure whether to stop scrubbing, I slow the circular motions of the sponge as I reply. “You asked me to clean the kitchen from top to bottom.”
He grunts in annoyance, waving one of his shovel-sized hands in my direction. “You can finish later. Get out of my sight.”
Gathering up the bucket and sponge, I waste no time in getting out of there. I glance at his broad, towering figure as I move towards the door. He’s seething. His neatly bearded jaw is clenched as tightly as his fists, and his unusual amber eyes are practically flaming with anger. He doesn’t look at me as I slip past him into the hallway, closing the door carefully behind me.
Halfway to the bathroom to empty the bucket, I hear a roar followed by the sound of shattering glass. Great. I know I’ll be called to clean up the aftermath of his rage, but at least I’m not at the receiving end of whatever he’s thrown.
As I pour the grey, fluff-filled water down the bathroom sink, I replay the conversation in my head. What happened last night? What is the team looking for? I have no idea.
I finish rinsing out the bucket and sponge and return them to the cupboard under the stairs. In my pocket, the green necklace is practically burning against my thigh. I take the stairs two at a time to my bedroom, desperate to get a proper look at it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Crystal
Darkness surrounds me again. Unlike last time, the throbbing pain is fuzzy and distant. Remembering the last time I opened my eyes, I cautiously prise one lid open a fraction. Both eyes fly open in shock. Gone is the expanse of unfamiliar green grass and bright blue sky. Instead, I appear to be in some sort of metallic bed, in a small white and grey room filled with awful yellow lights and beeping machines. I try and fail to remember the last time I woke up to a noise other than beeping.
Sitting up, I look down at the flimsy patterned tunic I’m wearing as the throbbing in my head intensifies. Where am I? What is going on? My heart pounds in time with my head.
A movement to my left catches my attention and a tall, dark-haired woman enters the room. Her face wears a friendly smile, but her dark brown eyes show she’s wary. I look her up and down, noting her strange clothes. Somewhere in the corner of my eye, the shadow begins to loom once more.
“Where am I?” I demand.
Her smile falters and disappears. She responds, but I don’t understand what she’s saying. It’s a language I’ve never heard before; all round, sloping sounds. The shadow in the corner of my mind grows darker.
“Who are you?” I try again and my voice wobbles. “What language are you speaking?”
The woman glances between me and the door, talking with the same slow, round sounds as before. She makes some sort of gesture, her palms pushing toward me, fingers to the ceiling, then leaves the room.
Fear creeps its way up from my toes as my heart pounds painfully. The shadow is closing in on both sides now. I try desperately not to look at it. I don’t want to look at it. I just want my mother…
All the air is sucked from my lungs as the shadow engulfs me. My mother. My father. Everyone. They’re all gone. Roaring heat from the orange and white fireball that destroyed our ship tears through my memory, as it all comes screaming back to me. I cover my eyes to try and block out the image of people clawing at the door to the escape hatch as my pod ejects into safety. To forget the fear and panic in their wild and desperate eyes.
Leaping from the bed, I lunge toward a stand holding a bright yellow bag with a lid, open it and vomit. My shoulders heave with the effort and sobs fill the gaps between my retching.
Where in the stars am I? Which planet? Which solar system? I’m definitely not on Starlatten. How in Jetzia’s name am I going to get home? I wipe my mouth with the thin sleeve of the gown and pause. Something’s wrong. My skin flushes cold as I lift my hand to my chest, patting the cool, bare skin. My amulet is missing.
A wave of panic rolls over me as I look frantically around the room. A transparent package lies on a tall table beside the bed. With trembling fingers, I tear the bag open, digging through my bloodstained robes until my fingers feel – thank the stars – my amulet.
I drape the chain over my head and lean against the bed with a sigh. It’s the first time I can ever remember not wearing it and I don’t care for it one bit. My parents would be appalled!
My parents. Grief smashes into me anew at the realisation that I’ll never hear Father’s deep, hearty laugh or be swept up in Mother’s sweet-smelling embrace. Clawing at the covers, I climb back up onto the bed, curl into a ball and sob until the darkness returns.
There are two people in the room when I wake. My eyes are puffy and sore from crying and my mouth tastes like a greyare’s breath. For a split second, I think I might be home. Then the cold reality creeps in, sitting heavy on my chest. This is really happening. It’s not just a terrible nightmare.
“Hello again,” the tall dark-haired woman from before says. “This is Nurse Kayle. She speaks several language
s, so hopefully we can find a way to communicate.”
Nurse Kayle gives me a big smile and says something in a language I don’t recognise. It’s different from before though. I stare at them in confusion. Why can I understand the tall woman now?
“Where am I?” I ask.
From the look of shock on their faces, it’s clear they understand me now too. Nurse Kayle looks a little disappointed. She touches the other woman on the arm and smiles at me before leaving the room.
“So, you do speak English!” the woman says, tilting her head as if appraising me. “I’m Dr. Saltzer. You’re in a hospital. You hurt your head quite badly.”
I nod my head in response. I’m unfamiliar with the term ‘doctor’ and ‘hospital’, but this feels similar to our healing centres back home, albeit more primitive and noisier. I try to follow what she’s saying about being found in a field, but I’m also trying to figure out why I can understand her. Warmth against my chest causes my eyes to widen. My amulet! Of course. Professor Ghudwyn often spoke of a vast range of skills and abilities but translating alien languages hadn’t been one we’d discussed in lessons. I’m quietly impressed.
“Try not to worry. Your tests came back fine,” Dr. Saltzer continues, unaware I have no idea what she’s just said. “Do you know your name?”
What a ridiculous question. “My name is Crystal Akinara,” I respond carefully. “Could you please tell me which planet I’m on?”
I’m unprepared for the look of shock on Dr. Saltzer’s pale face. Once she gathers herself enough to close her mouth, she begins furiously scribbling on some sort of scroll she’s clutching. Dread swirls in my stomach. I could tell this was a primitive planet, but if the idea of interstellar travel is as shocking a concept as this woman is making it out to be, I’m going to have to be extremely careful. I look toward the door. How do I get out of this place?
“Crystal?” Dr. Saltzer steps closer, her writing implement poised above her scroll. “Can you tell me who we can call to come and get you?”