Hourglass

by Pauline C. Harris

  Andrew shrugs. “That’s what I’ve done. That’s what everyone has done on this planet.”

  I frown. “Well, I’m trying to offer them a way out.”

  Andrew laughs as if I’ve just said something hilarious. “You want to take every child off of this planet?”

  “Not take them, offer them a way out.”

  Andrew snorts and I glare at him. “What?”

  “First of all, Prince would kill you—and I mean practically flay you alive—and secondly, what are you going to do with a bunch of kids?”

  “Well how many are there?”

  He shrugs. “Nine.”

  I straighten my shoulders, knowing there’s plenty of room aboard Hourglass for nine more passengers, and that dealing with Prince will be tough, but doable. If there’s one thing I’ve learned being the daughter of a pirate, anything you want can be accomplished if you want it enough. “If I got off this planet in one piece, I can get everyone else off of it too,” I state confidently.

  Andrew doesn’t smile this time, he just stares at me intently. “That’s the thing. You getting away? A fluke.”

  “A repeatable one,” I argue.

  Andrew rolls his eyes, looking exasperated. “Prince isn’t going to let that happen.”

  “You keep talking about him like he’s a god or something. How badly does this guy want me back?” I ask.

  “That should be pretty obvious by the abduction of your crew.”

  “And what does he plan on doing once he gets me?” I ask. Andrew doesn’t answer right away, so I prompt, “Kill me?”

  His eyes narrow in contemplation. “No.” He shakes his head. Another pause. “You wounded his ego,” he states. “You got away when he declared that no one would. He’s offended and angry and this is his chance to prove he’s strong again. You’re more of a trophy to him, not an enemy, something he’d want to keep alive and display, to remind everyone, but mostly himself, that he controls everything.”

  “So he won’t hurt me?”

  Andrew pauses again before shrugging. “I have no idea what Prince is going to do, but my guess is no.”

  I nod, gears beginning to spin and click together in my head. “So, if he caught me, he’d win his little ‘game’, right? And the fact that my ship isn’t working, just solidifies everything. He’d believe he’d won, he’d go right back to being confident and relaxed, and he’d have his guard down.”

  Andrew is eyeing me suspiciously, but I can’t read his expression any further. “I see where you’re going with this, but that doesn’t change the fact that, like you said, your ship doesn’t work.”

  I nod, remembering that small detail with a thud to my chest. “But did Prince do it? Does he have the ability to...do something like that?”

  Andrew frowns. “I thought you crash landed or something—that your ship was already broken and that’s why you came here.”

  I balk, not wanting to tell him the real reason we came here. How I gave in to the wishes of a few teenage kids, and how I even wanted to go myself. How I was curious, so I risked all our lives for the sake of exploring an unknown planet. So I simply say, “The engine died when we got here.”

  “Weird. Because as far as I know, Prince isn’t like, magical or anything.” He laughs, but I don’t see it as funny. The fact that he can shape shift into whoever he likes, and that he stalks around the forest at night like some pervert, kind of dampens it for me. “I don’t think he would have been able to kill your engine. Unless he did it manually...however you would do that.”

  My heart seems to lift momentarily, like I can breathe again, see again. “So if it was Prince, whatever he did can be fixed,” I realize. I smile, finally feeling like I’ve found the weakness to this web—the way out. “So we don’t have a useless ship after all.” I stare off at the wall, mentally running over everything in my head. Whether everyone from Hourglass was taken, whether Sylvia or anyone is still there and can fix whatever is wrong with the engines, whether Andrew can be of any help. I turn to him abruptly. “Do you know anything about spaceships?”

  He laughs and it takes me a moment to realize that he thinks the question is absurd. “Of course not. I’ve spent my whole life on this hellish planet.”

  I bite my lip. “Well, I’m going to introduce you to one.”

  “Introduce? It’s a hunk of metal.”

  I almost glare at him, but refrain. Hourglass may be nothing but metal, but she’s mine. “Well, I’m going to take you to the ship.”

  Andrew frowns and shakes his head. I’m beginning to feel dizzy with all the head shaking he’s doing. It’s like all he has for me are “no” answers and disdainful chuckling. “I told you, Prince will be watching the ship, you can’t go back there.”

  I sigh, quickly rethinking a new route, another way.

  “What’s your plan?” Andrew asks warily. “Because I know you have one brewing in that cocky little brain of yours, and whatever it is, I’ll bet my life it’s dangerous.”

  I smile wanly at him. “I’m going to Prince’s camp. And you’re going to Hourglass by yourself.”

  “And what do you expect me to accomplish there?”

  I lean forward. “Two of my crewmembers—Sylvia and Angelica—I’m willing to bet they didn’t leave the ship. They weren’t dressed or armed for it, and hopefully they shut the ramp in time to be safe from Prince.”

  Andrew’s eyebrows rise. “You don’t think they went after you when you went waltzing into the forest like a zombie?”

  I shake my head. “Or at least, I’m hoping they didn’t. You’ll have to get their attention, and I’m sure they’ll be wary of you and probably a bit freaked out, but explain what’s going on and help them get the engine fixed.”

  “I already told you, I know nothing about—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Angelica is an engineer. Just help them out.”

  Andrew sighs, but I can see his hardened expression beginning to melt away and I know I’ve begun to crack him down. He’ll do it. I know he will. “And what about you?” he asks.

  “I’m going to go to Prince’s camp.”

  “And get caught,” Andrew guesses.

  I roll my eyes. “If that’s what the situation calls for, yes. He’ll believe he’s won, I’ll learn about him, the other children, and the camp.”

  Andrew purses his lips and I can tell a he has a million reasons why I shouldn’t go on the tip of his tongue, but he holds them in. He gives me a look that’s almost a glare but not quite. “I don’t remember much. Follow the trail we took earlier, but swerve right about halfway there. The camp’s in that direction. That’s all I know.”

  I smile, feeling a rush of adrenaline that I know is from excitement as well as fear. “Thanks, Andrew,” I say. “And I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah,” Andrew mutters and I can’t tell whether he’s just being grumpy, or truly believes that I won’t make it back alive. I don’t let my mind dwell on it. “Good luck,” he says.

  * * * *

  I trudge through the underbrush, the same way we took when Andrew brought me to the ledge. He reminded me of a few landmarks and once I see the indicators, take a sharp right and trudge on into the forest. The path isn’t as worn here. In fact, there really isn’t a path at all. Apparently Andrew frequently visits the spot on the ledge. I suppose it would make sense to know what your enemies are up to now and then.

  I walk past the quiet trees and shrubbery surrounding me, and however much I thought it seemed like Earth at first glance, I notice how different it is. How quiet it is. The empty stillness shrieks at me almost like the blaring noise of a foghorn. And it scares me. There’s nothing to muffle my footsteps, no noises to hide behind. I can hear myself breathing and I’m sure anything else for a good distance away could as well.

  I wonder if Prince is close by. With a start, I wonder if he’s been watching me this whole time. It’s possible. If he can turn into Gregory, or whoever else he likes, he can probably manage to spy on me on
his own planet. It makes my heart beat and my breathing rate accelerate a little. Although I know that meeting Prince, trying to assure him that everything is as he wants it to be is my best bet, it still scares me. A lot. More than I care to admit. Because the last memory I have of him, other than barely a day ago, is the night I left the planet. Running through the woods as if my life depended on it, my heart seizing in my chest, my hand falling dead to the ground, blood soaking my arms, my clothes, the forest floor.

  He’s the last person I’d ever want to see. He’s the incarnation of the nightmares I’ve had since childhood. And if there was any other way around this, I’d be taking it. I steady my breathing and keep walking, knowing that if I dwell on my memories, the exaggerations in my mind, I’ll turn around. My legs will take me back to Andrew’s home whether I like it or not. So instead, I dwell on what Andrew told me. That Prince probably won’t kill me, hurt me. I’m his trophy, nothing more. Not an enemy. Not an enemy.

  But that doesn’t mean that he’s not mine.

  I realize I’ve been walking for quite a while, so I stop to look around. Andrew’s directions ended with, “turn right” so I have no idea if I’m still going in the right direction or not. I glance around. I’ve been walking downwards for a ways; I’ve probably reached the bottom of the slope by now, which means I’ll be on the same level as Prince’s camp. Am I close? I have no idea.

  Just then I hear a noise and I practically have a heart attack. I’ve heard nothing my whole way here. Not a bird, not an animal, not even something small enough to scurry under the bushes close to the ground. And whatever’s coming near me is big. Bigger than a small animal, bigger than a bird. I take in a deep breath of air and hold it, slowly backing up, trying not to make any noise. My boots crunch against the twigs and leaves, seeming to echo louder than they did before. I crouch.

  And then I see her. The little girl. She looks to be about six or seven and she’s walking through the trees, something yellow in her hands. Something I realize is a handful of flowers. Her dress is pink, but faded. Like she’s worn it for ages, like she’s played in the sun, rolled in the dirt, slept in it. Her blonde hair is dark, and suddenly her eyes look up. I freeze as our gazes meet, every thought leaving my head like it never belonged there in the first place. And then she opens her mouth and speaks. A word that tears through the air like ice through flesh, hitting me in the heart and sending ripples through my mind.

  “Jude.”

  I stand slowly.

  She looks at me for a long time. Her eyes say she knows me, but her frown shows how far apart we now are—the look you might give someone you used to know a long time ago. Someone from your past. “What happened to you?” she finally says.

  It takes me a moment to find my voice. “I left,” I nearly choke out, not realizing how dry my throat is. And I realize that it was never her in the woods earlier. She was never at the ship, it couldn’t have been her. Because she moves with the innocence of a child, the blissfulness of never knowing. And the question in her eyes tells it all. She never knew I was here.

  “I know.” She shakes her head. “But why did you come back?”

  I’m not sure if I should be hurt, if her question is meant out of spite, or out of something deeper, something glued to fear and longing. But before I can respond, I hear another sound. Another being, another person. And then it’s him. Standing behind her. His hand reaches out to rest on her shoulder and although she stays perfectly still, her eyes widen a little.

  I feel my heart die in my chest and plummet, dead, to the ground. Just like my hand so many years earlier. He cut off my hand and now he’s cut out my heart. Just with his presence, just with that face, the way he stands there like he was never anything but in control.

  “Little Jude,” he purrs. “Although I don’t suppose I can call you that anymore, can I?” He tsks like I’ve stolen something from him, or broken something he used to love. He smiles and as the grin stretches across his face, I can almost feel my soul shrinking, my mind melting, everything inside of me turning to dust. “I knew you’d come back.”

  * * * *

  The children paint their faces. Black, red, green. They turn to me as I enter the camp, Prince’s hand grasped firmly around my upper arm. I keep expecting him to suddenly chop off my other hand, or something equally horrifying, but he doesn’t seem to want to. He just smiles at everyone in the clearing before letting go of me and gesturing to a log by the fire where I can sit.

  He doesn’t look any different from my memories, from my dreams. Which shouldn’t be surprising, but it is. He still has that boyish quality to him, but without the innocence. He looks to be in his late teens, but I know he must be older than that. Whatever he is, whoever he is, he can obviously stop time, stop aging, so he can be anything he wants. His eyes are still black. Like Andrew’s. And as he walks away, I glance up at the sun and then down at the dirt below his feet.

  No shadow. None at all. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.

  “Jude’s back,” Prince coos to the children and they all eye me suspiciously. I’m not sure if they remember me or not, but apparently on Prince’s statement, they take it I’ve been here before. But even though they take his word for it, coming a little closer to me, they keep their distance from Prince. They eye him almost as much as they eye me, the newcomer. Like Prince is more of an animal than anything he could drag into this camp. And that worries me.

  And also ignites a fire in my soul.

  I watch as he comes full circle around the fire and then takes a seat on the log beside me. I resist the urge to inch away, feeling him next to me like I have in my dreams so many times. Every time I wake up screaming, wanting to run away, as far away as possible. And nothing has changed.

  Suddenly he reaches out to grab my hand, the metal one, and I suck in a breath of air. The corner of his mouth twitches like he thinks it’s amusing. His fingers run over the smooth metal, turning it over to survey the black, matte that now serves as my hand.

  “Funny,” he breathes. His hands let go of mine so quickly that my arm drops for a few seconds. “I thought your hand would be a little less...replaceable.” He stares at me for a long moment, his expression completely blank. I fight the urge to look away, to climb out of those dark black, staring eyes, but instead I look right back.

  “You look the same. Almost.”

  I swallow. “So do you.”

  He laughs, but I can’t tell if it’s real or fake. “You know, it’s a shame. Growing up. I bet you regret it now.”

  I don’t answer.

  “And this time, you’ll never get away.” He smiles again and gets up from the log. I see the little girl—Winifred—walking closer. She’d wandered off once we’d initially reached camp, but as she steps closer, Prince puts a hand on her arm. “I brought her back for you,” I barely make out. “I know how much you missed her.”

  “Wait!” I call after him and Prince turns halfway around. “My crew,” I state. “Where are they?”

  A smile tugs on the corner of Prince’s mouth and it sends dread racing through my stomach. “In time,” he says quietly. “In time.” And then he saunters off before I can utter a sound. I glare after him, a million horrible thoughts flitting through my head. Without my crew, I’m not only stranded here, but worried sick as well. And Prince probably knows that. In fact, I’m sure that’s the reason he’s doing this in the first place.

  Winifred’s expression doesn’t change much as she watches the encounter. I can’t tell if she likes him or not. If she fears him, hates him. She approaches me slowly, warily, like she’s not sure who I am, or what I am anymore. And I can’t blame her. It’s been ten years.

  “Winifred,” I say when she sits down on the log, taking the place Prince sat only seconds earlier.

  “You used to call me Win,” she states.

  “Win,” I clarify. But then I realize I have nothing else to say. I don’t know what to talk about. Is there anything?

  “I don’t und
erstand,” she finally says.

  I pause, unsure of what she means. “Why I left?” I guess, feeling guilty because even though I barely remember this little girl, I already feel like I’ve betrayed her.

  She shakes her head. “How...” she trails off. “You look so different.”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  “But you’re older. A lot older.”

  I nod slowly. “It’s been ten years. I’m seventeen, Win.”

  Win’s eyes suddenly go wide and she nearly jumps out of her seat. “No,” she states, although her tone isn’t denial, or avoidance, it’s said like a fact. She truly believes it’s untrue. “No.”

  I frown. “I left ten years ago,” I tell her again. “I left when I was seven, and I grew up.”

  She’s still shaking her head. Suddenly she gets up from her seat. “What’s he done with you?” she leans in and whispers so suddenly that I’m taken aback.

  “Done with me?” I echo back in a whisper. “You mean, Prince?”

  She nods, her eyes becoming darker, angrier. “You’ve changed.” She looks at me. All seventeen years of me like she’s seen her sister morphed into something she’s not—morphed into a monster. And my denying it only makes it worse.

  “I left the planet,” I tell her.

  “But you haven’t been gone that long!” she says, her voice rising higher, her expression desperate. I look at her openmouthed for a long moment, but before I have time to think up a response, she turns on her heels and walks away. I watch her go, dumbfounded.

  I see the other children around me, watching with curious eyes. They venture close, but not too close. Just enough to see me, to hear me, to survey. As I glance around, they almost seem to lean away from me.

  “Hey,” I call to the nearest child—a boy about the age of ten. His eyes narrow as I beckon him closer but he slowly creeps forward. “This planet,” I say. “How long have you lived here? With Prince?”

  The boy furrows his eyebrows in thought and finally shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m not good with guessing.”

  “Just try,” I urge.