by Lisa Lace
"Was that good?"
"It means I've set it in place. Half the screen has been shattered, so now we're going to find out if this thing even works."
I turned a knob on the communicator and adjusted it from side to side. The green light on the top of the screen blinked, giving me hope. Gabriella cheered enthusiastically over my shoulder. But when a deep crackling came out of the speaker, I groaned.
"There's no signal down here. I'm going to have to climb to the top. Stay close to me, and don't move any further unless I tell you to. Understood?"
"Yes, commander," Gabriella mumbled. She rose from the ground and looked me in the eye. "Lighten up a little. You can live life without everything being an order."
I stared at her for a moment but swallowed my snippy retort.
"While we're down here, give me a second to change out of these nasty clothes."
"You have two minutes."
I aimed the light toward her body and turned away to face the opposite wall. Gabriella shimmied out of her torn dress. She rolled it into a ball and casually tossed it into the sewer sludge. I could hear a soft unzipping behind me, and I couldn't control my thoughts. I knew she was naked and she would look fantastic.
My eyes focused on the distinct shadow of her body cast against the wall. The side view of her silhouette showed off the rounded curve of her breasts contrasted against her flat stomach. Her hourglass figure bent forward. As she rolled the pants of her jumpsuit over her leg, the shadow of her jiggling breasts shook along with her body. The lustful sight was enough to bring my cock to attention. I averted my eyes and relocated them to a smudge on my boot.
"I'm all set now."
I turned around. All my years spent playing cards were put to good use when I made eye contact with her without revealing my thoughts. She looked good enough to devour in her skintight black jumpsuit. The zipper which ran down the middle of the suit was open over her chest. Seeing the globes of her perky breasts made me want to reach out and touch them.
She ran a hand through her hair and shook it loose over her shoulders. I turned away, ostensibly to investigate the manhole steps but secretly to adjust the sudden tightness in my crotch.
Gabriella handed me a fresh rag for my face before putting her gas mask on again. I grunted at her in appreciation and tied it over my head. With Gabriella behind me, I moved up the cold steps and scaled the length of the wall. I stopped before the manhole opening and held the communicator to my ear.
"Hold."
The crackling continued. Either we weren't high enough, or the cover itself was interfering with the transmission. I reached out and pushed off the cover with the tips of my fingers. The thick metal disc made a loud noise when I moved it aside. I climbed to the top and lifted Gabriella out of the hole by the waist, setting her down next to me.
I was still squatting when the crackling subsided. I distinctly heard a beep from the device before the faint sounds of scrambled voices started to come over the communicator. As I tinkered some more, trying to make the voices even clearer, Gabriella began to poke at my side with her finger. Anger flooded my mind. I needed to concentrate. I turned around to face her.
"What are you doing?"
"Behind you, Laz – watch out!"
I had been so immersed in getting the communicator to work that I had completely missed a figure waddling toward us. Gabriella jumped to her feet and clumsily swung her fist over my head. The figure lifted her off the ground instantly and flung her aside. Gabriella's airborne body hit a crooked street pole before falling limply to the ground.
A Xylo security officer wearing tinted red goggles beat his chest with gloved fists. He seemed pretty excited for taking down a girl. I bounced off the ground and sprang on top of him before he could draw his holstered weapon. We crashed to the dirt, rolling around as we wrestled for his pistol.
More adrenaline pumped into my system. I managed to get my hand on the weapon on the other side of his belt. Slipping my fingers over the trigger, I pulled back, aimed, and fired in a single motion. An electric charge shot from the mouth of the gun and incapacitated him. The Xylo convulsed briefly before his arms and legs became immobilized, and he fell over on his side.
Turning on my heel, I vaulted toward Gabriella. She lay unconscious by the base of the dented street pole. I lifted the side of her head and laid it in my lap. There was a small gash over her eyebrow, but there were no other visible signs of injury. I pressed two fingers against her neck. Feeling her faint but steady pulse beating against my fingertips, I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
I heard shouting behind me. My neck creaked as I looked over my shoulder. Either the Xylo weapon was undercharged, or the security officer weighed too much for the shock to knock him out for long. The Xylo was regaining sensation in his limbs. He snaked his way across the asphalt, rolling on his greasy stomach and heading toward his hover bike, which was still running. It was on standby a few inches off the ground.
I hooked Gabriella's satchel over my shoulder. Scooping her off the ground, I carried her to the hover bike and carefully positioned her in the seat. The security officer tried to pull me off his bike, but he was still crawling around on the ground. I trampled over his fingers. The sickening crunch of breaking bones mixed with his agonizing screams in the air.
Grabbing the keys from his belt, I secured Gabriella before mounting the hover bike myself. Black smog coughed out of the tailpipe as the bike lifted off the ground, blowing in the Xylo's unconscious face.
Chapter Twelve
GABRIELLA
The wooden planks of the bridge sunk slightly under my weight. I wavered and held onto the railing. In the sunlight, it almost looked like the bridge glowed a pristine white. I wondered if I was leaving tracks with my muddy shoes. When I looked behind me, there wasn't a spot in sight.
I did a double-take when I wiggled my toes.
The sky-blue ballet flats Dad gave me years ago sparkled on my feet. But they couldn't have been the same pair. The ones he got fit me when I was a child, but the shoes I was wearing were perfect for my adult body. I also remembered Richard throwing them out when I had accidentally spilled paint on the dining table. I raised one of my legs and tilted my head to the side. The hand-stitched sequins, the little white bows – the shoes were nearly identical.
Shrugging, I proceeded to the other end of the bridge. I didn't have a clue about my location but there was a strong sense of familiarity. I had been here before. Bushes with blue and violet flowers grew along the sides of the clear water. The grass tickled my feet as I walked across it.
I followed the trail of a winding stone path. Wooden signs with unintelligible blood-red symbols poked out of the grass by the sidelines. When I reached the end of the road, I noticed my toes were tingling. It felt like my ballet flats had a mind of their own.
I left the trail and walked across the slope of a small hill.
"How are you doing, Shooting Star?"
My heart did a little flip in my chest. I slowly turned to the man sitting on the grass a few feet away from me. A soft touch of gray peppered his carefully parted hair. The only other hints of his age were bags under his eyes. He had a terribly handsome face. A pair of gold-rimmed frames sat on the bridge of his nose. His glasses were slightly lopsided on the right side, supported by an uneven ear. The initials "K.M.H," were printed on the pocket of his tailored brown coat.
"Dad?"
"Of course." Wrinkles formed next to his eyes as he beamed at me. He patted the patch of ground next to him. "Let's chat."
I joined him on the grass, hugging my legs. "Am I dead?"
Dad held his stomach and threw his head back. His uninhibited laughter rang across the sweeping landscape. I rested my cheek against my knee and watched him, smiling.
"Don't be silly, Gabriella. Of course not."
"What am I doing here, then?"
"I don't know," said Dad. He winked. "You tell me."
"Beats me."
H
e raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say to me after so long apart?"
"Where are we?"
"Why don't you take a look around and see if you can figure it out for yourself?"
I sat up and looked at the beautiful water in front of me. A paddle leaned against the wooden dinghy docked by the river bank. Beyond that stood a quaint country cottage with a thick black roof that looked like a mushroom cap. My eyes lit up when it hit me.
"I'm at the lake behind Grandma Molly's house," I breathed dreamily. My chin quivered. "You taught me how to ride a bike on that stone path when I was six. I felt awful when I heard Grandma Molly sold the cottage."
"I was sad to hear the news, too," Dad shared ruefully. He looked on at the cottage and whistled. "I had a lot of great memories here. All those girls I brought back to my room when I was a teenager..."
"Stop right there." I held a hand up to his face, smiling behind my groan. "Too much. Not ready to hear that, and don't think I ever will be."
"Fair enough." Dad was still chuckling. His smile slowly faded. "How have you been holding up, kiddo?"
"Where do I start?" I sighed dramatically. My throat was beginning to feel thick. I tried to kick things off on a lighter note. "I think Mom's around your age now. I saw her a couple of weeks ago. You've aged far better than she has, if that means anything to you."
"Maybe a little," said Dad. His eyes twinkled.
"You know, I thought I wouldn't be able to control myself when I saw her. But I wasn't angry anymore. I felt pity for how old and unhealthy she is, but it felt like encountering a stranger at a bus stop."
"I can understand that." Dad's voice was gentle and brooding. "Gabriella, I'm sorry about everything you had to go through. I wasn't there for you, Shooting Star."
"Sorry?" My words sounded distant and forced. "It wasn't your fault. You weren't an abusive drunk who beat his wife into submission and went crazy when he couldn't do the same thing with his stepdaughter."
"You know I would never let anything happen to you if I was around."
"I know, I know," I groaned. I buried my face in my hands. "I'm lashing out for no reason now, and it isn't fair to you, so I'll stop."
"You're angry."
"No kidding." My voice dripped sarcasm. "Considering everything that's happened so far? I wonder why that would be."
"Gabriella, I know this is hard for you, but you're going to have to learn to stop keeping all your anger in a little ball inside you. You need to let things go."
"That's easy for you to say," I retorted. "You're dead. You're done with all the bullshit. You're not the one who was left alone to navigate through life all by herself."
"I'm sorry, Shooting Star."
I leaned my head against Dad's shoulder. The physical contact was more than I could handle and I felt tears start to fall. I slipped my arm under his and clung to his body. He seemed solid to me. If I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough, I could almost smell his particular scent: peppermint and traces of cologne.
"I'm sorry, Dad." I could barely see him anymore through my tears. "I miss you."
"I know," he whispered. He petted my head and planted a kiss on my forehead. "I miss you more."
"How do you always stay so happy, Dad?" I tilted my head to look up at him. "No offense, but why aren't you bitter and resentful like anyone else would be? Do you know what was happening back home all the times you were away at Maztek? Do you have any idea how many strange men have been in your room?"
"I've always known," he admitted glumly. "Your mother's weak. I made my peace with that years ago. If I had done anything about it, they would have taken you away from me."
I wouldn't let it go. "But you've worked so hard all your life only to die in your prime." I wasn't convinced. "I don't mean to sound like I'm accusing you of anything. But some answers would be nice."
"You might not always find answers, honey, but there's a reason for everything."
"What does that even mean? That's too philosophical. I need straight talk."
"Just trust your gut, Gabriella. You were born with instincts for a reason. I'm proud of you, Shooting Star. You're everything I've hoped you would turn out to be. Everything is going to be just fine – I promise."
I stood up immediately. I didn't like the tone of Dad's words.
"You're not leaving, are you?"
"I'm not going anywhere. They're telling me it's time for you to go."
"I don't want to go."
"I know, honey. I know."
Quiet tears poured down my cheeks. They soaked into Dad's pants as I rested my head in his lap. Dad pulled the lapel of his coat and took out his mandolin. I had not seen the gorgeous wooden instrument in years.
The sides of the pure black wood had a painted scene of musical notes flying through the cosmos. The largest shooting star had the word "Gabriella" painted across it.
I huddled close to him. I wanted to make this moment last as long as possible. My eyes squeezed shut as I relished every gentle pluck of the mandolin strings.
Beyond the four stars, with the whispers of this melody
I carry this heart forever, my naima, you'll be.
"Gabriella?"
I groaned. A pair of strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me incessantly.
"Gabriella? Can you hear me?"
"I have a headache."
My head was in splitting pain. I had to open my eyes as slowly as possible. Adjusting to the light shining on my face added to my headache. I felt horrible. There wasn't an inch of my body that didn't hurt.
My legs were spread open. I tried lifting my right leg to close them, but the severe stiffness overtaking my muscles told me I should give myself a chance to rest.
I blinked rapidly. My eyes drifted to the hands holding my shoulders up. As soon as the blurriness subsided, I remembered. It felt like I saw the four black asterisks tattooed onto Laz's knuckles for the first time. He leaned over and gently lowered my head back onto my pillow.
"Four stars," I rasped groggily. I winced. My parched throat burned every time I tried to speak.
"What was that? Did you say something? Can you hear me?"
"Will you please," I gasped. My eyebrows snapped together as my eyes fell back shut. "Keep it down."
I heard Laz exhale and fall to the ground. One of my eyes curiously opened. Laz was on the floor of our room. His hands were on his face with his fingers pressed against his temples. A thin sheen of sweat covered all the tension points on his body – his forehead, chest, and under his armpits. The expression of concern was something I hadn't seen from him before. I didn't think I had ever seen him show emotions other than annoyance and anger.
"Can I get some water?"
Laz stood up and pulled out a bottle of water from my knapsack. He opened it with one hand and held the back of my head with the other. I lifted my chin and greedily swallowed the water he poured into my mouth. The cold drink brought life back into my strained vocal chords.
"Thanks." I licked my lips and fluffed my pillow against the shaky headboard.
"How are you feeling? Try lifting your arms and wiggling your toes."
I wanted to move, but it was difficult. Lances of pain shot down my back whenever I tried to lift a finger. It was nearly unbearable. Laz knelt next to the bed and reached for my hand.
Color swept across my cheeks. My palms started to tingle. I shifted on the bed and lay against my pillow. Laz pried apart my thumb and index finger and massaged the swollen pressure point. He only touched my hand, but I thought I could feel my pulse rate increasing from his touch.
"Whatever it is you're doing, it's working." My low moans of pleasure filled the silence. "My head feels lighter already."
"Good."
"What happened? Did you get him? Ow!"
Laz dropped my hand abruptly. He got to his feet and loomed over me with his arms folded across his chest. I rubbed the sore spot on my elbow, glaring at him.
"What's your problem?"<
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"I've had it with you and your inability to follow simple orders."
"If you say 'orders' one more time, I'm going to go crazy." I threw up my hands halfway in frustration. "Ow! Damn it."
"I don't know how they do things back on Earth, but take a look around." Laz gestured wildly with his arms as he lectured me. "You're going to have to adjust your feelings. You're on Xylox, for fuck's sake. If you don't do what I tell you to do, you're going to die out here. End of story."
"That's rich, coming from you," I fired back. My rising anger was temporarily numbing the pain in my body. I wasn't ready to back down. "I'm pretty sure I saved your ungrateful butt out there."
"I'm the one with over twenty years of training under his belt. Not you."
"If that's your version of a 'thank you,' let me be the first to tell you, mister – it sucks."
Laz stared at me for a moment. He was so angry I thought steam might shoot out of his nostrils. His chest suddenly deflated. He relaxed his hands, which had curled into fists, and snatched his bag from the floor.
"Going somewhere? Why am I not surprised?"
"I'm going to find some specialized tools. My communicator broke when that fat bastard rolled over it. I stole his communicator, but it needs to be rewired to reach my crew's frequency."
"Do you need some company?"
"No," said Laz immediately. He turned the doorknob open, unnecessarily adding, "You've helped enough for today."
"Just trying to be a good girl!" I called out resentfully to the slamming door. "Jerk."
Shaking my head, I touched the back of my hand against my cheek to calm myself down. But as I pulled off the covers to look at myself, I shook my head. I saw several nasty abrasions and bruises on my arms and legs. Laz had treated every one of them with blue ointment. I twisted my neck to look at my back. A light cloth covered the large gash running next to my spine.
I looked at my washed and folded jumpsuit sitting on the chair by the wall. On my nightstand was a mug of soup. It was still hot enough to drink.