Obligations

by Cheryce Clayton

  “Short, gray robes. And tentacles, or ropes. It doesn’t matter.” Greg shrugged as he wet Sam’s lips.

  “Tentacles?” Denise looked around the room as if expecting THEM to appear in every corner.

  “Oh, come on. This is too much,” Tim said as he stepped over Sam’s body and reached for the hatch.

  “It ain’t budging man.” Greg never looked in Tim’s direction as he continued to trickle water into Sam’s open mouth.

  “Well, maybe if you got off your self-pitying ass, we might have a chance.” Tim again glared at Greg.

  “Don’t have to. We’re not the first.” Greg pointed to the farthest wall from him, and Denise directed her frightened gaze that way.

  “DBS93? What does it mean, Tim?” Denise sat rubbing her finger over the scratches in the wall.

  “MAT-89, RIC+DEB77. And my favorite, SEX69. It means we ain’t the first, baby. If they didn’t get out, what makes you think we will?” Greg pointed at different marks on the wall as he spoke.

  “Because maybe they all had your defeatist attitude. Think about it.”

  Morgan watched Tim as he spoke.

  “Hey, keep your voice down,” Sam muttered as he tried to sit up.

  “If you’re going to heave man, aim over here,” Greg said as he quickly moved away from the water corner.

  “I’m okay,” Sam said, before his stomach disagreed and he began vomiting in the wrong direction.

  “Oh, shit. Ain’t we just a barrel of monkeys?” Greg snorted in disgust as Denise began to whine once more.

  “Shut up Greg. He must have a concussion. He needs a doctor,” Morgan said as she pulled Sam’s hair back off of his face.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you just knock on the door and tell our Martian friends? I’m sure they’ll just take care of everything for us.” Greg turned away from the others in the room.

  “I’m okay,” Sam whispered as he wiped the last acidic drops from his lips.

  “Tim, I want to go home.” Denise was just staring about the room, her eyes wide as she spotted each successive scratched message.

  “Is your watch working?” Morgan’s quiet voice was barely heard over Denise’s resumed crying.

  “Yeah man. Is it teatime?” Greg began to laugh.

  “It’s six thirty. AM. Shit.” Tim sat down as the information penetrated, and confirmed their situation.

  “Fourteen hours, or thirty eight?” Morgan moved away from Denise and sat between Tim and Sam.

  “Fourteen. Tentacles, huh?” Tim made eye contact with Greg, and they both smiled.

  “Yeah man.” Greg leaned over the mess Sam made, and he and Tim shook hands, once.

  This time the darkness did not surprise Morgan.

  #

  “Well, there are some benefits to waking up first,” Greg said with an embarrassed laugh as he refastened his pants.

  “Please move,” was Morgan’s response as she realized that she needed to follow Greg’s example and relieve herself. The water once again spurted up and drained into the corner.

  “I’ll check on Sam.” Greg turned away and made himself busy.

  “How is he, man?” Tim sat up slowly.

  “How the hell should I know? He doesn’t look worse.” Greg offered Tim a lopsided grin.

  “Tim?” Denise whispered as she sat up.

  “I can’t take you home, kid,” Tim said to the frightened girl.

  “I know. It’s just that I’m hungry, and I have to pee,” she continued to whisper, even as tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to overwhelm her once more.

  “Yeah. We’re all hungry.” Tim moved closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “You can pee in the corner,” Morgan offered.

  “Oh. I…” Denise looked around at the small room, a blush spreading across her face.

  “We won’t look.” Tim removed his hand from her shoulder and sat with his back to a wall.

  “I know.., I don’t know. I’ll try.” Denise stepped over Sam’s body and stood in the water corner, looking about the room once more.

  “Yeah, yeah. We get the hint.” Tim laughed as he stood and reached for the hatch.

  Greg snorted in disgust before standing to join him.

  Morgan was forced to kneel in a corner, straddling Sam’s feet to keep clear of them.

  “I don’t have to anymore,” Denise said from the corner, much louder than she planned.

  “Bull shit. Keep trying,” Greg muttered, without turning toward her.

  “Don’t think about peeing. Think about relaxing, and just let go.”

  Denise met Morgan’s eyes as the younger girl spoke.

  “I don’t think I can,” Denise said, the tears once more beginning to form.

  “If you don’t do it now, you’re going to wake up to pissing your panties,” Tim said to the wall.

  “Just relax, think about gravity. Pushing down through you. Or walking into the ocean. The water coming up your legs,” Morgan said in what she thought was a soothing voice.

  “Keep that up, and I’m going to beat her to the punch line,” Tim said as he and Greg began to laugh. Their laughter covered up the sound of Denise’s success.

  It didn’t disguise the sharp odor.

  “How did you wipe?” Denise turned her gaze back to Morgan.

  “Your scarf.” Morgan pointed to the cloth lying on the floor, just clearing the water pool.

  “Can we turn yet?” Greg asked impatiently.

  “No! Not yet,” Denise squealed, even as Tim turned and leered at her.

  “Not nice man. Give the same courtesy you expect.” Greg grinned at Tim.

  “I don’t need no fucking courtesy,” Tim said as he stepped over Sam and offered a blushing and angry Denise his hand.

  “Then you won’t mind if I watch?” Denise asked in a bitter dare.

  “Hell. You can hold it if you want,” Tim said with a wink to Greg as he reached inside his pants.

  “Kneel down, or you’ll splash everywhere,” Greg said as he turned a smile to Morgan.

  Tim followed Greg’s gaze. “I was just trying for a freebie,” Tim said with a weak laugh as he grinned at the irritated Denise, and pulled his empty hand away from his pants.

  “I won’t watch,” Morgan said as she realized Tim’s bravado.

  “And I won’t laugh,” Denise said, and she moved to sit beside Sam; pulling his head onto her lap.

  “He’s not hot. That’s good, right?” Denise asked the room, as much for reassurance as to ignore Tim.

  “Yeah. I think so.” Greg was once more sitting against the wall, and he motioned Morgan to join him.

  “How’s his pulse? Is it strong? Morgan asked as she sat down.

  “Yeah. I think so. I had a concussion once, when I was ten. The hospital sent me home. My mom kept checking my eyes. She said I could sleep as long as they matched. I was in bed for two days,” Denise whispered with an unfocused look.

  “I’ll be fine.” Sam’s eyes remained closed as he spoke.

  “How long you been playing ‘possum man?” Greg asked, a relieved laugh entering his voice.

  “Since Denise was in the corner. I figured she would want the privacy.” Sam looked up and smiled weakly at the blushing girl.

  “Always the gentleman,” Tim joked as he began to urinate.

  “Believe it, man. Hurry up. I don’t want to add to the stench, again.” Sam moved to rise. Evidence of his concentration was etched into his face.

  “Sure thing. It’s all yours.” Tim gave a sweeping bow toward the corner, and moved to turn away.

  “Thanks, don’t worry about kissing wall. I lost my modesty in The Corps.” Sam shuffled forward on his knees until he was in the corner.

  “That’s what they all say.” Greg started with a laugh.

  “No, seriously. The easiest way to break a person is to make them piss their pants. The Marines teach you how to break yourself, and then rebuild you.” Sam finished his job long
before his speech, and was cupping water to drink and wash his face with.

  “More of that military brainwashing crap,” Tim said as he shook his head.

  “It doesn’t stink,” Morgan interjected as Sam turn towards Tim.

  “We just got used to it,” Greg offered the room.

  “No. She’s right,” Tim said.

  “You guys figure it out. My head hurts too bad to think,” Sam said as he moved away from the corner and sat.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure, they ain’t coming in here when we’re asleep and cleaning things up.” Greg pulled his knees into his chest as he spoke.

  “How do you know?” Morgan asked.

  “True. Any other ideas…” Tim slumped forward as he spoke.

  The last word stretching out into the darkness as Morgan made eye contact with Greg.

  #

  “Course corrections,” Morgan said into the near silence of the small room. The only sound came from the drinking fountain that was now once again pouring from the ceiling, this time the waste drain was at the top of the wall.

  “That would make sense,” Tim said from where he stood in one corner, trying to shield Morgan from the spray of the fountain.

  The water already covered their feet.

  “When do you think they’ll make another one?” Sam asked. He sat, leaning against the wall, in the driest corner. His unfocused eyes betrayed his lack of hope.

  “It’s been hours. What if they don’t?” Denise looked in panic from Tim to Morgan.

  “They will,” Morgan answered.

  “Says who?” Denise tried to keep the ever present panic from her voice.

  “The Man has too much invested in his cargo to let it die.” Greg gave a bitter laugh, before noticing the questioning look from the two girls.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Tim said when Greg opened his mouth to continue talking.

  Greg shrugged, and shifted away from the falling water and closer to Denise.

  “How long?” Sam asked into the renewed silence.

  “Two and a half hours, this time. Four days, so far,” Tim answered, and then glanced at his watch to check.

  “I’m hungry,” Denise whispered.

  “Have a drink of water.” Tim’s comment brought bitter laughter from the other men and an elbow to his hip from Morgan.

  “You’re being mean to Denise again,” Morgan said, not looking up at Tim.

  “Sorry,” Tim said to Morgan.

  “And now to the next nasty subject,” Greg said, and Morgan saw Sam slump.

  She watched Greg wince as he realized his bad news would have to wait until after the new blackout faded.

  #

  “What was your bad news?” Morgan asked when she knew she was awake.

  The fountain was still on the ceiling, but the drain was beneath it once more. Tim lay propped up in a still damp corner, and Morgan found herself sprawled across his legs. As uncomfortable as she was, she didn’t move.

  “Moot point. He alive?” Greg asked.

  Morgan twisted about so that her head and shoulders remained on Tim’s lap, and raised her hand to his face to check.

  “Yeah. What was it though? Drowning?” she turned again as she spoke, and stared at Greg.

  “It didn’t happen. That was a rough one though. They’ll be out for a while. You okay?” Greg finished checking pulses and straightening out the other two.

  “Yeah. I’m just tired. Do you mind if I sleep?” Morgan closed her eyes as she spoke.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart,” Greg said as he smiled toward her.

  She squinted and watched his gaze drift from her face to the crushed wilted bunch of lilacs he found in the drain.

  “I think you want these.” Greg leaned over the still unconscious Denise and offered Tim the flowers.

  “Thanks man,” Tim said as he wiped a hand across his face and then stared down at Morgan before reaching out. “She okay?”

  “Just sleeping,” Morgan heard Greg say. “How long’s it been?” Greg moved back against the wall and Morgan didn’t open her eyes as she heard Sam sit up with a groan.

  “Eighteen hours. Nearly six days.” Tim continued to stare at Morgan as he held the lilacs to his nose.

  “I don’t suppose somebody left a cheeseburger behind this time?” Sam asked, but Morgan heard no hope in his voice.

  “De nada,” Greg said as he watched Tim caress the flowers.

  “Hey, put them in here, man.” Sam took a small leather pouch from about his neck and handed it to Tim.

  “I thought that was your grandfather’s?” Greg asked.

  “Naw. I grew up in Foster Care. I bought that to join the Corps with.” Sam didn’t blush as he denied an involved history he had woven.

  “Thanks.” Tim opened the pouch and poured its contents into the palm of his hand. Four kernels of corn: two red streaked ones and two bluish purple; a dried twig of sage that filled the room with its musty odor; and a small nugget of gold.

  “Just dump it, man, it was all bullshit anyway,” Sam said, and he didn’t look at Tim.

  “I’ll keep it.” Tim smiled at his friend as he poured the few items back into the pouch, and then broke most of the stem off to force the flowers in.

  “Yeah, thanks. I am an Indian. At least that’s what the note said. Choctaw. Six months old and almost dead from starvation. She must’ve had her reasons.” Sam continued to stare at the floor as Tim and Greg exchanged looks before Greg reached a hand to Sam.

  “Man, I was four years old when mine dumped me on the state,” Greg said. “Two days after Christmas. The bitch didn’t even let me bring my new truck.”

  “Why did you leave home?” Denise said, and Morgan looked up in time to see Tim meet Denise’s gaze.

  “For a really lame reason,” Tim said and Morgan thought he sounded sad.

  “This I gotta hear,” Greg said as he offered Denise a place to sit beside him and Tim.

  “It ain’t worth worrying about. What do you think we should carve into the wall?” Tim said much too loudly.

  “Now I want to hear,” Sam said, looking up from his feet.

  “So my dad didn’t like my music, okay?” Tim said with a sigh. “What do you want to carve in the wall?” he added in a rush that did not prevent the others from laughing.

  “I left for you,” Denise said as the laughter subsided.

  The sound of the corner fountain filled the room, and no one spoke for a long time.

  “What did Greg mean by cargo?” Denise asked; the loudness of her voice startled Morgan.

  “Just that,” Greg said more in answer to Tim’s look of warning.

  “I don’t understand. You make it sound like we’re a thing, or food.” Denise sat forward, and her voice rose in panic.

  “Denise baby, you ain’t that slow. What color is my skin?” Greg shrugged off the angry look Tim was giving him, and spoke to Denise.

  “Oh.” Her small, pathetic word ended all conversation as each thought about the ramifications.

  Morgan, still lying on Tim’s lap, bit her lip to keep from crying.

  “What are you carving?” Morgan asked finally as she tried to twist her body to see Tim’s work, without leaving his lap.

  “Watch the elbow,” Tim said with a self-conscious laugh, and then placed his back against his finished project.

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered as she quit trying to see behind Tim, and focused her attention on the room.

  “Hey, does anyone else feel that?” Greg leaned away from the wall as he spoke.

  “Yes,” Morgan answered for the rest. The room was vibrating slightly, a hum building with the motion.

  “How long has it been?” Sam placed his hand flat against the floor as the vibration built in intensity.

  “Seven and a half days. The water’s off.” Tim pointed to the corner.

  “We’re here, aren’t we? Tim?” Denise asked, her voice rising as panic set in.

  “Yeah. Hey, we probab
ly aren’t going to be given much choice in things. Just..,” and Tim’s voice was cut off by the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Bystocc - 2012

  Neavillii lay on the floor of a barren room. She stared at a dirty spot on the ceiling and tried to block out the distant screams that echoed. With a sigh, she tried once more to rise; falling back when her body exploded in pain. One of her arms ended in a bound stump at the elbow, and she feared a seeping injury in her spine.

  The shot that had disabled her had also robbed her of her consciousness, and thus her ability to choose her moment of death. Now she lay, beaten, waiting for her captors to return. Her only satisfaction lay in the fact that Tadesde’s retainers had not recognized her. She was being forced to die alone, but she wasn’t being tortured.

  Neavillii was startled out of her misery and depression when the door opened, and a tall, thin Sansheren strode into the room. She wore a single banner of order, and for a moment Neavillii thought she was hallucinating her first days on the planet when she recognized the young soldier as the leader who had escorted her and Morgan for the Arbitration.

  “I was told it was the great Neavillii. Subservient spouse to an alien monster. Tell me, what is it like to bed something so bald?” the interrogator punctuated her sentences by kicking Neavillii in the side.

  Neavillii felt her body driven along the floor until she was brought up against the wall.

  “I contacted my Lady Tadesde the moment I heard your name whispered among our troops. It is a pity she will not be here in time for your death; it is a spectacle I intend to enjoy.”

  Neavillii felt bones cracking under the continued onslaught.

  “But I will be here, and I find it no pity that you will not. Your familiarity grows tiresome.” Tadesde stood in the door of the room, pointing a weapon in their direction.

  The interrogator froze at her leader’s voice, and did not move until well after Tadesde’s shot pierced the back of her head and exploded.

  Neavillii stared up as the face disappeared in a flash and the body tumbled onto her.

  “Remove this carrion, and tend my children.” Tadesde moved to one side as her aides ran into the room and grabbed the dead body.