Hourglass

by Pauline C. Harris

  “It’s what Prince does to people he doesn’t...agree with,” he spits.

  I look up. “What?”

  He gestures his hands towards his face, his fingers trailing the lines that mask it. “This.”

  So many questions dance through my mind, but I assume that why wouldn’t be valid enough, like asking why this planet has no moon, so I settle for “How?”

  “He gets angry with you and...well, you would know.” He gestures to my hand and although I clench it against my chest, I’m still not crystal clear on what he’s talking about. Prince took my hand, but that’s all I remember. Then again, maybe that’s enough. “He gets back at you anyway he can.” I can only guess there are many ways for him to do this and I cringe. “By letting you grow up.”

  I stare at Andrew for a long, long time. I can tell he’s uncomfortable under my gaze, but I can’t bring myself to look away. I’m scrutinizing the way he looks...his face, his eyes, his hair. Letting you grow up. And then, with a jolt, I realize why he looks so familiar. The boy from my dreams, stargazing in the meadow, lying on the grass, the little girl joining us. Only now do I realize that Andrew, the child, was my age. That when I looked at the little girl, the little boy, they weren’t little. They were my friends. Because I was a child, too.

  “Andrew,” I say slowly, the word sounding more familiar with each syllable.

  His head snaps up and I know he’s been waiting for me to come to the conclusion on my own. “When you left, we were still stuck here,” he says, although I’m surprised that anything hostile or accusatory is absent from his tone. He looks at me for a moment and then looks down. “The older you get, the more you...change.”

  He stares at the lines on his hands and I’m beginning to realize what they mean, what they are. “Only children can survive on this planet. Only children can really live.”

  My heart plummets as I realize, although the memories are foggy, what I left him here to suffer through. “And growing up is the worst possible punishment.”

  I’m silent, I barely breathe. The room is so quiet, I can hear my heartbeat. I wonder if he hears it, too. I’m beginning to see it in his face—the little boy. His hard jawline, his brown hair, although his eyes are different—blacker. I’m shocked once I realize this. I’m shocked at how old he’s gotten. I know that aging is normal, but something inside of me has shifted since arriving on this planet. No one grows old here. No one should have to. Seeing Andrew older, practically an adult, weighed down by things that children don’t understand yet, is almost sickening, perverted.

  “What you said back in the woods, about Gregory...not being Gregory,” I say.

  “It was Prince,” Andrew tells me again.

  “But how is that possible? What do you mean, it was him?”

  Andrew gives me another one of those looks—like he’s incredulous I don’t know something so basic. I hate how he acts like this is my home, my real home. “He can take the form of almost anything.”

  “Almost anything?”

  “Anything he’s touched,” Andrew clarifies. “Which means it’s safe to say he’s got your friends.”

  “But, how can I tell the difference between him and anyone else? How am I supposed to find my crew, when he can masquerade as any of them?” My voice sounds desperate and I hate it. I hate the way it lilts upwards, high pitched, worried.

  “He doesn’t have a shadow. Not in his natural form, and not in any other—that’s how you tell. Why do you think he likes the dark so much?”

  My lip curls at his question. Maybe that’s the real reason I’ve hated it all my life. Maybe it wasn’t just from a frightened little girl who never grew out of her fear. Maybe it came from here. This planet and the monsters that own it.

  We’re both silent for a long time and I busy myself with inspecting the room around us. I keep noticing more and more as I look. It’s strange how a house in the earth, surrounded by dirt, can be so homey.

  “The little girl,” I say suddenly, because I still can’t place her. I still don’t know who she is or why she haunts every facet of my mind like a ghost. I see her everywhere and I don’t know why. “Who is she?” Andrew’s eyebrows furrow together, so I elaborate. “Pink dress. Blonde hair.”

  I’m used to the pauses in our conversation, but this one speaks louder than the others, almost shouting. His eyes widen and then narrow, like he’s uncertain about something. “You don’t remember?” I shake my head. “She’s still a girl, you know,” he tells me. “He let her stay...” He trails off like he’s forgotten what he was about to say, but then his eyes lock with mine. “She’s your sister.”

  I’m shocked to silence for a few heartbeats. “Sister?” I echo.

  Andrew nods.

  So many questions crowd my brain in the span of seconds that I’m too confused to sort through them to even ask anything. I lean against the dirt wall beside me and sink to a sitting position on the ground. This planet is beginning to smother me, open up and pull me inside. I blink back a sudden rush of frightened tears. I thought I had had everything together. I thought my life consisted of piracy, growing up with Sylvia, watching Dad pilot a spaceship as we explored the stars. My life was wonderful, my life was perfect.

  And then Dad died, and I took this ship right back to where it found me nearly ten years earlier. I unwittingly walked right back into my nightmares, my past. “I need to leave,” I barely breathe out. “I need to get the others back and leave.”

  Andrew is silent.

  “How do I get them back?” I nearly snap at him.

  He remains quiet and then sighs. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to figure it out then, aren’t we?”

  “Jude.” Andrew heaves an irritated sigh. “You barely made it off this planet the first time, and you lost your hand in the process. Do you seriously think you’re going to get your crew back and leave like nothing happened?”

  I rise to my feet, glowering across the room. “I was a seven-year old child when I left this planet. And if Prince thinks he’s going to try to stop me again, I’ll kill him.” I’m spitting the words out, and I realize I’ve advanced on him, standing only a few feet away.

  Andrew stares back at me evenly, his eyes narrowed. “You’ve forgotten more than you realize,” is all that he says. “Hopefully you remember it soon.”

  My mouth opens as he begins to turn away. “Forgotten?” I stammer. “Forgotten what?”

  “Everything about this planet, Jude. Because it isn’t the rock that matters, it’s Prince.”

  I’m silent as Andrew walks over to the pile of blankets and what looks like straw and reeds underneath, that I can only assume is his bed. He kicks it around for a few seconds before pointing. “You can sleep there.”

  I’m still a little angry, left over adrenaline still shoves through my veins, and I’m not in the mood to take handouts. “No, I can sleep wherever. It’s yours; I don’t want to take it.”

  I can hear him sighing from across the room. “Shut up and just go to sleep.”

  Before I can protest further, he blows out the candle light, leaving us in pitch darkness. I fumble around for the bed and finally situate myself. I stare into the blackness until sleep slowly steals my mind.

  * * * *

  The next morning I wake up to find Andrew gone, and I stumble groggily to my feet. After a few moments of panic, I begin to relax. After all, this is his home, it’s not like he’s abandoned it forever. I glance around. The candle on the table is lit, and light seeps through the hatch up top. It’s definitely daytime, which calms my nerves. I feel safer in the light, like I have a chance at a fair fight.

  Something on the table catches my eye so I move closer. Andrew has random things stashed away in this hole. I see cluttered piles almost everywhere. He’s probably been collecting trinkets his whole life. I swallow, realizing that the ten years I spent aboard Hourglass, adventuring with Sylvia and my parents, Andrew spent it here. I reach for an old photogra
ph lying on the table, surprised to find out that it is, in fact, a photograph. Everything is digital now, and although people have never stopped taking pictures, no one really prints them out anymore.

  The photo is color and shows a man and woman standing side by side, the man’s arm slung over the woman’s shoulder. They’re smiling, their grins stretching across their faces in an expression that can only be genuine.

  Just then, I hear someone coming down into the room, and I set the picture back on the table. Andrew jumps down, a bowl in his hands. He tosses it on the table and I see that it’s filled with some kind of fruit. Or at least I’m guessing its fruit. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s orange, but has skin like a peach or an apple, and it’s somewhat oblong. Andrew gestures for me to take one and I do.

  “Thanks,” I say, before taking a bite. I have to say, it isn’t the best thing I’ve ever had, but growing up on prepackaged space food kind of ruined anything else for me. My taste buds are shot. Andrew takes one of the strange fruits and sits down across the room from me.

  “Why did you help me?” I ask, breaking the silence. He looks up from his seat. “You could have just left me there, but you risked yourself.”

  Andrew shrugs, although he doesn’t look all that uncomfortable. “I remember you. You might not remember me, but I know who you are.”

  I’m silent for a long moment, feeling guilt gnaw its way through me—that this boy I don’t know felt the need to save me because we were once friends, and I can’t even remember who he is.

  “Thanks.” We both pause. “So today,” I tell him, changing the subject. “I need to find out where Prince is keeping my crew.”

  “Oh, come on, I already told you that’s a stupid idea.”

  “Well, I’m known for making them.”

  “I’m not going to take you there.”

  “But you know, right?”

  Andrew doesn’t reply.

  “Well I’m going either way. Either I aimlessly wander the woods in search of Prince and my crew, or you make my trek a little quicker by pointing me in the right direction.” I take another bite.

  Andrew remains silent.

  I roll my eyes and head for the opening in the roof. It’s a wooden board set across the top of the hole, so I shove it out of the way and climb out onto the grassy surface above.

  “Jude, wait,” Andrew calls, following me up. He brushes off his pants, gives me an irritated look, and then proceeds to cover up the entrance to his home. He rubs his temples momentarily before beginning to walk. “It’s this way,” he mutters. I smile smugly as I follow him through the forest, throwing the remains of my finished breakfast into the brush. “I know a place where we can see his camp from afar, but you’re still going to have to be quiet,” he tells me.

  We walk a ways in silence. I can tell Andrew would rather be anywhere else but here, but I’m determined to get my crew back, no matter what it takes.

  “My sister,” I say and Andrew inclines his head towards me, although he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Winifred,” I add, remembering the time the name had come to me aboard the ship. “How do we know she’s my sister, how did we end up here?”

  Andrew keeps going in silence for so long, that I’m about to repeat the question before he speaks up. “After I show you Prince’s camp, there’s somewhere else I need to show you, too.”

  It takes about a half hour to trek across the landscape, but finally Andrew turns to me, puts his finger to his lips, and we step out into a clearing. More than a clearing, I realize, as I see the edge of a cliff looming in front of us, the jagged rocks miles beneath gleaming in the sunlight.

  Andrew’s hand brushes my shoulder and then he points. Downwards, and to the right. I squint my eyes and I can barely make out figures far beneath. Children, by the looks of it, which I realize is obvious. I don’t see Prince, but then again, I’m not quite sure what he looks like. My memories are vague and when I saw him in the woods he was covered in a blanket of night. I stare down for a little while, trying to discern between the children running around. Where is my crew? Where is the little girl? My sister.

  “I did what you asked,” Andrew whispers from beside me. He tugs on my sleeve and I turn and follow him back into the trees.

  “But I need to get them out of there.”

  “Later,” Andrew tells me, but by his tone I know he doesn’t see that as a possibility.

  About twenty minutes later, I still don’t recognize any of the surrounding scenery, and usually I’m pretty good with directions, so I slap Andrew on the arm and demand to know where we are. “This doesn’t look like the way we came here.”

  He brushes my hand off. “I told you there was someplace I wanted you to see,” he reminds me defensively. He takes a few steps forward, pushes a few branches aside and suddenly we’re in an entirely different clearing. I stop in my tracks, my gaze darting around.

  The area was obviously manually cleared of trees, leftover stumps still adorning the ground. Canvas and tarp lie scattered throughout the vicinity, in what I can only guess is the remains of a camp of some sort.

  “Is this where Prince used to live?” I ask. Andrew doesn’t answer, so I take his silence as a no. I walk forward, and as I advance, I notice more and more things. Tables are set up, or smashed, or crashed. I see metallic bottles, and old rags, and weird pieces of equipment. I lean over to pick up a small, black, box. But when I see the buttons and screen imbedded across its surface, I realize it’s a radio. Upon this realization I hold it in my hands as if it’s a relic, an antique. Which it practically is. No one uses this type of radio anymore. In fact, all of the things in this clearing are wildly outdated.

  “What is this?” I ask Andrew frankly.

  “Doesn’t bring anything up?” he asks. “No deep dark secrets your mind is keeping from you?”

  I frown at him in confusion.

  He kicks an old metal canteen across the clearing. “This is where we came from,” he explains. “The children.”

  I stare around in bewilderment. “But this is completely abandoned.” Everything is weather-worn, covered in dirt, slowly being swallowed up by shrubbery and creatures.

  Andrew nods. “I know.” The words sound like they hurt him. He says them quietly like he’s trying to get through pain. I wait for him to continue the explanation, but it takes a few minutes. “Our parents were all colonizers. They came here to explore the planet. It was almost identical to Earth, sustainable for human life, everything was perfect,” he says. “You can probably guess the rest.” But I can’t so I only stare at him in further puzzlement. So he goes on. “Prince isn’t human, I hope you know that.” The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but now that he mentions it, I understand. Prince is anything but human. The farthest thing from human, I could think of. “This was his planet and he was angry.” Andrew kicks at the ground with his foot, sending up clouds of dirt into the air around his ankles. “He took the children because he was lonely. It’s sad, when you think about it. He was just lonely.” He shrugs, but I can see a hardness to it. Like he’s forcing himself to see both sides to the story when he clearly is blinded by his own. “Everyone thought the children had died. They didn’t know what happened, they didn’t know anything. So they left. Probably declared the planet dangerous, uninhabitable, or whatever, because no one’s been back since.”

  I’m quiet as I stare at the radio in my hands. It seems so sad. Left alone, abandoned, forgotten. Like the children on this planet, like Andrew. Like me. It shocks me all over again to realize that more of my life than I realize is tied to this place I know almost nothing about. I wonder how much I’ve forgotten. And I wonder why I’ve forgotten it.

  And most of all, I wonder what Prince wants with me.

  Andrew turns around to look at me. “Nothing?” he asks, and I shake my head. “It’ll come with time,” he says, heading from the area and back into the forest. I wonder how he can be so sure.

  “Andrew,” I call, and he stops and sw
ivels around to face me. “Why does he care so much? Why does he want me back?”

  Andrew looks at the ground for a long moment. “Because you left, you got away. You’ve been his obsession for years. You’ve been everyone’s obsession, because you achieved the impossible.” Standing so far away from him across the clearing, I get the feeling that the distance between us is more than just space. Its jealousy and fear and hurt and awe. So many things bundled into one because for ten years I’ve been The Girl Who Got Away.

  “And with a planet riddled with little boys who roughhouse all day and who don’t know what to do when they get hurt, or need to cry, or need a hug...And with Prince being who he is, untouchable, unlovable. It’s the same reason he holds so tightly on to your sister. Winifred.” Andrew smiles to himself as if something is funny. “A girl is worth so much more than all of those boys combined.”

  Chapter Nine

  Andrew and I are back at his home, eating what’s left of the fruit he brought this morning. Images of the past hour or so still swim through my mind—the distant view of Prince’s camp, the abandoned tents and supplies.

  “I need to get my crewmembers and get off this planet,” I state.

  “You’ve already said that,” Andrew informs me. “Quite a few times.”

  “Well, I mean it this time. And I want you to believe me.”

  “I believe you want to get off the planet, I just don’t think you actually will.”

  I glare at him reproachfully. “How do I get to Prince’s camp? For real, this time. Where can I actually get in, not just gaze at it from miles away?”

  Andrew takes the last bite of his meal before answering. “I don’t remember.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t remember?” I scoff. “We both lived there, apparently.”

  “Yeah, and I haven’t been back for ten years. Do you remember the way?”

  I’m silent.

  Andrew sighs. “All I’m saying, is that Prince is a tougher battle than you’re thinking.”

  “Well what do you expect me to do? Just live here my whole life?”