But it had been a place Tamzin had called home for the last ten years, since her mom had brought her here after her father’s death. Her mom had known Sybil well when they were younger, and Sybil had agreed to take them in when they had nowhere else to go.
“I thought we would head to Crintha. Thomsk said he heard they were hiring—only seasonal work, but it will get us through the summer.” Sybil looked up at the sky, and the threatening back clouds. It was a long walk to Crintha, the next town on the sand strip. “You have your tarp? I think we will be feeling some acid before long.”
Tamzin looked up at the sky and said, “Maybe we should wait.”
“No, we packed quickly to be in front of the next wave of those who will be leaving this godforsaken place. We go on.” Sybil hitched up her pack, tightened her grip on her stick—which she used to test the sand for deep pockets that could swallow you up so fast no one could save you—and struck off into the desert.
Tamzin followed, feeling uneasy about the whole thing, but knowing Sybil was right. Still, as she looked behind her, at the small group they were traveling with, she wondered if they would all make it to the next town. As if to reflect her mood, the sky overhead darkened and she swore she felt the first spot of acid on her face.
Upping the pace, despite the protest of the two children with them, they headed north, hoping to hit the harder ground which would make walking easier and faster before the rain came. With each step Tamzin found herself hating the whole situation more and more. She wanted some way of escape and her thoughts turned to the lottery.
If only she could win, she could go and live on a distant planet, where she doubted they had acid rain, or sand, bloody damn sand. She hated it: it got in your eyes, even with goggles on, it got in your clothes, and she could hardly remember the last meal she ate that didn’t contain sand; it crunched as you bit into dried bread, and the water always had a few grains floating on the top.
In fact, she was sure she had a pound or two of sand in her body. It probably lay on the bottom of her stomach, and it was most definitely in her lungs. As if to confirm this, she coughed, and the dread of death filled her. But it is just a cough, she reminded herself.
“We’ll have to stop shortly, the children are exhausted,” Thomsk called from the back of the group. He had one child grasping each of his giant hands, and he was partly dragging them with each step as the soft sand tried to drag them back.
“OK,” Sybil called. “We should find hard ground, though.”
But when Tamzin looked around, there was none, and now she was sure the rain was coming, the tell-tale pitter-patter on her pack making her nervous. Sybil looked up at the sky and then at Tamzin, and her fear was palpable.
“What do we do?” asked Tamzin.
“We walk on until we have to stop. A little farther maybe we will find hard ground.” A few more spots told them they would not get too much farther before they would be forced to take shelter under their tarps.
We should have stayed in town, Tamzin thought, but it was too late now; she knew and understood all too well their reasons for making the choice to travel. There were not enough jobs for all of them and Thomsk knew that his children would starve if he didn’t find work quickly.
Thoughts of her mom, so bravely trying to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, came to her. Why was it so hard to survive?
“I’m going back to help Thomsk,” she said to Sybil, and dropped back before the older woman could protest. Sybil had looked out for her since her mom’s passing, treating her like a daughter. She would have told Tamzin to stay out at the front of the group, but she couldn’t leave Thomsk to struggle.
A cool wind seemed to descend on them from above, a sure sign the acid rain was imminent, but Sybil pushed on. Wordlessly, trying to avoid swallowing the sand that was whipping up around them, Tamzin took one of Thomsk’s children, and gripped his hand tightly.
“How’re you doing there, Sam?” she asked as the small child stumbled.
“Sand in my eyes,” he gasped, squinting.
“Here.” She took off the scarf she used as a muffler around her mouth and put it over Sam’s eyes.
“Now I can’t see,” he protested.
“I know, which is why you are going to hang on to my hand and your dad’s hand, and then you don’t have to see.” She gripped his hand tighter and the four of them plunged on through the sand, fatigue building up until she couldn’t think.
One foot in front of the other, left right, left right. It was the only thing she concentrated on, it was the only way she could ignore the bigger raindrops splatting on her back, and then on her face, the sting of them telling her she would look as if she had the measles by morning.
“We have to stop,” Thomsk said.
“Sybil wants us to get to hard ground,” Tamzin gasped in reply.
“Ain’t happening,” he said, and then with the last of his strength he yelled, “Sybil, we have to stop!”
The group came to a halt, gathering around Sybil, waiting for a decision, but they all looked so weary, there was no decision, no choice.
“OK, let’s get huddled. Tarps out!” She looked up at the sky. “Double them up, people. When this comes down, it’s going to be bad.”
Tamzin didn’t like the tone of Sybil’s voice. She had lived out here for a long, long time, and was used to what the desert could throw at them. If she thought it was going to be bad, then they were about to feel the wrath of a vengeful Earth. And the way humans had treated her, this Earth had every right to be vengeful.
Tamzin dragged her tarp out, and placed it down on the ground. “Here, you two.” She beckoned to Thomsk’s kids. “Sit here and stop my tarp blowing away. OK?”
“Yeah, come on, that’s it, sit here like Tamzin says.” Their dad looked sick with worry, but he hid it well.
They got the two children seated and then they set to work patching the tarps together, making sure the least worn were on top, and those that were frayed around the edges were around the outside. Then they positioned themselves underneath as the rain became heavier.
This was a drill they practiced often; it was one of the few safety precautions the desert dwellers insisted on. You couldn’t necessarily escape the sand, but getting your skin peeled off by the rain, that was something totally preventable.
Yeah, that’s what they were told anyway. But occasionally the rain was so bad it burnt through the tarps.
We’ve doubled them up, she reminded herself. It’ll be OK.
Thomsk gathered his kids up and they crawled underneath, everyone giving way so they could sit in the middle where it was safe. As Sybil and Tamzin, the last two people to get under the cover, sat down, a gust of wind threatened to rip the tarps off their heads, and then the real deluge began.
Silence, from under the tarp at least; no one spoke, they just all listened as the wind flipped the edge of the tarp, trying to get its fingers under it and drag it off them. The rain gradually got louder, drumming so hard they bowed their heads under the force.
It went on and on, never ending as the dark night covered them and their hope began to fade. They were in trouble, and not from the threat of losing the tarps; instead, they were in danger from the downpour that was puddling around the edges of them and making the sand turn wet, like quicksand.
If this lasted much longer, they would sink, and die.
No one spoke of it, but they all knew. Death was all around them and they had no escape.
Chapter Four – Garth
“Are you ready, Okil?” Garth asked as the Karalian came and sat beside him. “You are late.” Garth had been sitting in the cruiser on Karal, waiting, for more than half an hour.
“Sorry, Garth, I got tied up. Yes, launch when ready,” Okil said buckling up his seat belt and looking worried, as if he had a great weight on him. The colours skimming across his face told Garth he was agitated, and this worried him. If Okil had lied and the Hier Ruler didn’t know about this t
rip, Garth would suffer the consequences too.
“You look terrible,” Garth said as he radioed for clearance.
“Thank you. I have had several sleepless nights in a row. Well, nights when I had not time to sleep.”
“Clandestine meetings?”
“Not of the kind you are thinking of. But there is a lot at stake right now, so many pieces of the puzzle coming together.”
“By puzzle, I assume you mean the saving of Earth and its human inhabitants?” Garth asked, starting the engines after clearance had been received.
The space cruiser seemed to hang in the air for a moment and then they took off, heading out of the atmosphere and into space. Garth looked down behind them as Karal became smaller and smaller. He loved the view of the planet from up here; it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, two suns caressing the violet sky.
“Humans, Karalians, we are all interdependent, although sometimes the Hier Ruler tries to ignore that fact.”
“We could just go and take the females we need and leave the rest of the humans to perish on their Earth,” Garth said, to which Okil sighed loudly.
“I am so tired of explaining this, Garth, we are better than that. Soon you will see that.” Okil leant back in his seat and closed his eyes. “I need to rest.”
“Then don’t let me keep you awake.” Garth throttled back and they cruised past the space station and headed towards the wormhole, its beacons blinking, guiding them towards it.
He took the time to gather his thoughts together. It was only just becoming a reality to him that in the next few hours he would be given a female to breed with. They would journey into space to look for a new world, for a species he had no interest in saving. And yet Okil’s words rang in his head, and he tried to understand why the Karalian race, so strong, so self-reliant, needed these weak humans for anything other than breeding.
A whole new life was about to be thrust upon him, and the loss of his old carefree life struck him hard. He had never had to answer to anyone, except his commanding officers, but his time away from the warriors was his. His leave was a time he used to please himself, go where the wind took him. Climb the mountain, swim in the ocean, eat at whatever hour he wanted.
Would all this be gone now?
The beacons grew closer, and he guided his cruiser towards them, ready to enter the wormhole. Checking the instruments, he placed his hand on the control stick and inched it forward, speeding up and then holding it steady as the wormhole enveloped them.
The ship spun around a few times, and then he righted it and kept it steady as the lights of stars and planets flew past them. Next to him, Okil slept; his colours flashing across his skin, gave Garth the impression he was dreaming, but what about? What secrets did this Karalian hold that might cause him troubled dreams?
Or were they pleasant dreams? Dreams involving his human female, the woman he had conceived a child with?
Garth turned back to the view in front of him. Wormholes were simple, nothing complex to understand, a hole in space connecting one part of the universe to another. Much easier to understand, he was sure, than an alien female.
The wormhole ended, and he saw the big, bright Earth moon in front of him. It shone brighter than any beacon he had seen, and he was drawn to it, and then he turned, his cruiser heading towards Earth, and that view was even more wondrous. He had never expected the planet to be as beautiful as Karal, but it was: blue to Karal’s violet skies. But the atmosphere appeared muddied, and he recognised the pollutants in the air and dreaded having to breathe it into his lungs.
Yet this was where he had to go to find his mate, but he would stay in the cruiser, waiting for the lottery female to come to him. Okil could go about his secretive business and then they could depart.
His ship’s computer flashed up the coordinates of where he had to land, and he took the cruiser down towards the ground, taking readings of air pollutants as he went. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the composition of the air. This planet was sick. Did that mean his female was sick too?
No, Okil would never allow a sick female to come to Karal. Would he?
Looking sideways at the sleeping form of Okil, Garth had his doubts. What if the weak-willed Karalian took a sick human in out of sympathy?
Bringing them in to land, he placed his hand on Okil and shook him awake. “We are here.”
“Thank you, Garth.” Okil rose quickly, went to the back of the craft, grabbed his belongings and backpack and a roll of paper and then hit the button to lower the ramp. “I will return as soon as I can. Make sure you are polite to the lottery winner; she will be afraid, although she might not show it.”
“I will be courteous, Okil, you can be assured.” Garth watched him disappear out into the polluted night, and then shut the ramp again and waited. She was due in an hour. He sat back and waited patiently, as any Karalian warrior would.
***
“She has not arrived.” Those were the words he greeted Okil with as he entered the cruiser some two hours later.
“Have you checked with the Lottery HQ to see if she had made contact?” Okil asked.
“Yes, twice. They said they would radio us if she was found. She has stood me up.”
He didn’t know why, but he took it personally, even when he reminded himself that she had no idea who he was or what he looked like. This was still a personal affront to the huge Karalian. It was a matter of pride.
Okil brushed past him, depositing his belongings, which now included a bound folder of papers and another backpack, in the hold. Then he went to the control deck, radioing the Lottery HQ once more.
“And you have no fixed address for her?” Okil asked.
“No,” came the answer.
“Thank you. Permission to fly within your atmosphere to locate her.”
“Of course, permission granted. I will notify the tower.”
“It seems we must hunt her down.” Okil pressed other buttons on the cruiser’s console and pulled up some data. Flicking through it, he stopped at a screen and then zoomed out. “The signal is weak, but this is where she is.”
“How can you pinpoint her?” Garth asked, coming forward and looking at the screen.
“She has a tag in her neck. It sends out a signal and we can pick it up.”
“This tag is definitely her?”
“Yes, it is linked to her DNA. It’s how Darl matched her to you.” Okil sat in his seat. “Shall we go? I am afraid she might need our assistance.”
Garth sat down and powered the engines. Yes, this female was already influencing his life, and he hadn’t even met her yet.
Chapter Five – Tamzin
“We are in trouble.” Tamzin had moved among the other people under the tarps so her mouth was next to Sybil’s ear. The words were for her alone. The last thing they needed was panic, but by the look of things, that was what they would have any minute now.
Those on the outside edge of the shelter were now sitting on their haunches to keep off the ground. It was beginning to become a thick sticky mud, which would damage their skin if they touched it.
“I know. But while the rain lasts, what are we supposed to do?” Sybil said, her face shadowed in fear.
“If we stay here, we are going to die.” Another burst of rain battered them, and the whole group seemed to be buffeted sideways.
“And what will happen if we go out there?” Sybil asked. “I don’t like it, but we stay put.”
The wind buffeted them again and more rain splattered across the tarp. Tamzin closed her eyes, wishing she was somewhere else, somewhere where the sun shone and she was safe. When was the last time she had felt safe? Never.
That was right: never in her life had she felt safe and protected; her days had been spent lurching from one nightmare to another. Those nightmares had always ended in the death of someone she loved. Now it seemed death was reaching out for her, for all of them. These pitiful excuses for human beings were dying, even though half of them hadn’t
realised it yet.
Sand was the other problem. The wind was whipping it up, and it was falling on the tarp, and around it, the south-facing side was now covered in a layer of it, making the tarp heavier. To make it worse, they were all getting tired. The long walk across the desert had tired them, and now with no rest and no food, they were not strong enough to hold on for much longer.
A sudden gust, and the tarp was ripped out of someone’s hand. A scream went up, and they fought together to catch the edge before it blew away, taking their only shelter with it. Tamzin stood, getting a faceful of rain and sand, which blinded her, but she reached the edge of the tarp and dragged it back down.
The cover, now back over them, revealed the next problem. Someone had slipped and their leg was soaked in the caustic wet sand.
“Don’t brush it with your hand,” Sybil called.
Sobbing filled the shelter, as slowly and methodically, someone helped brush the sand off with a gloved hand, but it didn’t stop the wet burning her skin.
“We have to keep still,” Sybil said, her voice belying her fear. Tamzin looked at her, wondering what was wrong now, and then she followed Sybil’s gaze and saw that their movements, as they had fought to right the tarp, had led to the sand underneath them becoming a quagmire. One by one they had to stand so only their feet would get wet, which gave the wind and rain the advantage it needed, and it began to relentlessly pull at the tarp, coming under it, making the ground wet, which in turn made the sand stickier, and they began to sink.
“Damn it,” Tamzin said. Of all the ways she thought she would die, this was not it. Not out in the middle of nowhere. She was supposed to live to at least an old-enough age to suffer her lungs packing up from inhaling the sand too much.
Then, in the distance, a different noise could be heard. A noise none of them had heard before. “What is it? Rescue?” Tamzin asked.
Hunted: BBW Alien Romance (Warriors of Karal Book 4) Page 2