by Lea Linnett
Something inside him tweaked with discomfort at the word ‘monster’, but he ignored it. “Not a fan of setbacks,” he said, by way of explanation.
There was a pause in the chewing, but it was short-lived. “That’s a hell of an understatement.”
Kormak huffed out a laugh, closing his eyes in the gloom. “It was a hell of a setback.”
“What’s so important in New Chicago that you’d freak out like that though?”
The chewing had paused again, and this time it didn’t start back up. He peered at her, and could easily make out her eyes, wide with shock at her own impertinence but determined nonetheless. Strangely, he felt as if he had to tell her something. Maybe to reward her for keeping up with him.
“…My old boss… He did wrong by me,” he finally mumbled, and Lena leaned forward in the dark to catch what he said. “I’ve been waiting a long time to punish him for it.”
In his mind, his hands clasped around the older man’s neck, throttling the life from him. The fantasy had played through his head every night for three and a half years now, and it was easy to summon it back. He flexed his fingers, imagining flesh and bone and arteries being crushed beneath them.
He heaved a sigh. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
The girl nodded. “Is he the reason you ended up in prison?” she asked, and Kormak grit his teeth.
“Yeah,” he snapped, trying to signal the end of the conversation. “Go to sleep, Lena.”
They both froze as the name slipped out, and Kormak cursed himself for not being more careful. He was determined not to feel guilty about leaving her in the dust if she couldn’t keep up over the next few days. Getting comfortable on a first name basis was the last thing he should be doing.
“We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow,” he ended up muttering, and laid down on his side.
Lena continued to munch on her dinner, but apart from the sound of her chewing, she made no noise at all. Kormak could have been alone in the dark. He lay there feigning sleep for a while after she finished, just listening to her soft breaths in the silence. Something roiled in his chest: something guilty and perplexing. But he crushed it down. He didn’t owe this girl any answers and he never would.
A tired sigh escaped her, as if she’d heard him, and Kormak cringed. He didn’t dare move as she flopped down onto the dirt near him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
He fell asleep just as the wind changed, luring a wintry chill towards them.
7
Lena woke to a chilly breeze sinking its teeth into her exposed leg. She shivered and yanked the leg of her jumpsuit down where it had ridden up, her teeth chattering.
Sitting up, she blinked the sleep from her eyes. She felt both wide awake and utterly exhausted, and guessed the combination of the wind, walking all afternoon, and having hard dirt for a bed were probably to blame. She almost missed the creaky cot in her cell for a moment, and rolled her eyes.
No cot was worth having Garross sliming all over her whenever he was on duty.
She paused then, staring at the dirt in front of her. She’d tried her best not to think about Kharon, lest she summon the Sweepers that were no doubt chasing them even now.
She wondered if Libby was okay—her cicarian squeeze as well. She could imagine Garross inflicting all sorts of unpleasantness on them in her absence—because of her absence—and grimaced at the thought. Libby had been a little wild, but she was also one of the first to reach out to Lena when she first arrived at Kharon. Guilt sliced through her for not missing the girl more. There was also Talo, the quick-fingered cicarian who snagged her extra pots of oats. And Sam, another human girl she used to talk to sometimes, who constantly mooned over every xylidian that got brought in—no matter whether they were an inmate, a guard, or a janitor.
She shook her head, biting back the lump in her throat that had formed. Those inmates had looked after her, and she shuddered to think what could have befallen her—from Garross or some other unwelcome asshole—had they not been there.
Would Ellie have found someone to look after her? Lena’s brow furrowed. She had no way of knowing whether her sister was okay. She had her room at Augusta’s place, sure, and Lena knew the older woman wouldn’t turn her out onto the street. The seamstress had been housing them since Lena was fifteen—almost a decade now—and Ellie paid for herself by helping out at the shop.
But would Ellie stay put? She’d confided with Lena on multiple occasions that she wanted to live in the big city, in the winding, clustered streets of the inner districts. She’d sounded so sure, but Lena had shot her down every time, fearing that she wouldn’t be able to follow. She worked constantly to keep food on their and Augusta’s table, and she didn’t know a thing about the city. She didn’t have the time or knowledge to protect Ellie there, so she’d kept convincing her to stay in Manufacturing, even once she’d turned eighteen and become an adult.
Maybe she’d already have left by the time Lena made it home. The thought made her stomach clench with nerves. She hadn’t mentioned anything in her mail—but then, Ellie always had preferred to focus on the happy stuff. If she knew it would make Lena worry, it wasn’t unlikely that she’d simply neglect to mention it.
A new sense of urgency gripped her. She had to get back to New Chicago. She had to stop her sister from doing something stupid. From getting herself hurt.
She blinked back to reality, realizing that she’d just been sitting on her ass and she really needed to pee.
She looked around. The light was still dull, the sun not yet peeking over the tree-lined horizon. Kormak was lying on his side by the tree still, but he shifted as she watched, rolling onto his back and blinking up at the leaves above him.
The levekk raised his knee, his bare foot scraping against the dirt, and Lena watched with fascination as he wiggled his bone-covered toes, stretching out tendons that were hidden beneath layers of keratin. His fingers made a rasping noise when they scratched at the skin between his head plate and his ear, and Lena looked away with a blush, embarrassed to catch herself staring.
She stood abruptly, excusing herself to the obviously-awake levekk and disappearing behind another tree a short distance away to relieve herself.
When she returned, the levekk was rummaging around in her food bag with one hand, and he held up a slightly bruised-looking apple for her to see.
“Mind if I have this?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
He bit into the apple at her nod, and Lena noticed that his teeth weren’t all that different from her own. Maybe a little smaller and rounder, but just as white.
“You eat fruit?” she asked, sitting back down in the dirt to pick out her own breakfast.
Kormak let out a short laugh. “We’re not carnivores.”
Lena snorted lightly. “So sorry. The horror stories of baby-eating levekk coming out from the city to hunt down little kids who didn’t respect their curfew mustn’t have been as factual as I thought.”
Kormak blinked at her, his mouth open in disbelief. “That bad?”
“That bad,” Lena said with a wry smile.
They sat for a short while as they ate, but Lena quickly felt that sense of urgency creeping up on her once more. Kormak looked uncomfortable as well, and they gathered themselves up to start walking again.
They headed east, loosely following the highway, but keeping their distance from it. When Lena asked why, Kormak explained that, now that they had a small rise between them and the highway, it would be easier to avoid patrols if they used it. It was harder, walking along the rough and slightly overgrown terrain rather than the roadside, but it was worth it if it meant they’d be left alone.
The land was dry. The majority of what they crossed was flat grasslands, with the occasional dilapidated fence here and there that made her wonder if this used to be farmland, back before the Invasion. She knew there were dedicated farming areas to the north of where they were now. The levekk had brought knowledge and technology with them
when they invaded Earth that let them bend the soil to their will. With a little bit of streamlining, they’d been able to effectively pick and choose where they wanted arable land, and promptly centered it all in one huge, extended area. This swathe of land was kept in peak, climate-controlled condition to increase yield, using the same domes that protected the inner-city to ward off unwanted rain, wind and snow. This monolith was known as the Arable District, and it remained green and healthy all year round, if the gossip Lena heard was to be believed.
But that meant the patches of land down here that would once have grown crops were instead left to their own devices, growing green in the summer when rainfall was highest, and drying out in the winter until they resembled a flat yellow desert of dried grass.
She was thankful for the lack of hustle and bustle around them, though, if it helped them pass through undetected.
They were closing in on a more wooded area. Lena could see it clearly on the horizon whenever they made it to the top of a rise: a worm of dark green growing thicker and thicker as the hours passed. She looked forward to it, even aside from the cover it would bring. Her father used to take her out to the woods near her home in Rockford sometimes when she was small. He’d taught her some basic survival skills, like how to light a fire, what made good shelter, what berries to eat (or not to eat).
She’d also heard there was a huge river a little while west of New Chicago. She wondered if they’d have to cross it, and shivered slightly. She’d never swam a day in her life, but she pushed the fear away. She could worry about it later.
They stopped a little after midday to rest and Lena took the opportunity to scarf down some more food and stretch out on the ground. Kormak didn’t eat anything, the apple from that morning apparently enough to sate him for the foreseeable.
She regarded him thoughtfully as she bit into her second breakfast bar of the day. “So… you don’t eat much.”
Kormak swung his sea-green gaze towards her, and her stomach flipped slightly at the scrutiny. “I think what you meant to say,” he began, face carefully controlled, “is that humans never seem to stop eating.”
Lena froze when the levekk just stared at her, feeling something go icy in the pit of her stomach. But then the alien rolled his eyes, breathing out a sigh of laughter.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t mess with you. Our metabolisms are slower than yours.”
Lena played at being offended, heaving a silent sigh of relief internally. “So what, you can just go days without food?”
“Yep. Still need water though—speaking of.” He held out a hand, gesturing for the water bottle sitting beside Lena’s knee. It was their third out of the four that she’d filled up in the town, and it was starting to run low. She hoped they hit the river soon or they might have a problem. She passed the bottle over.
“So how does that work?” she wondered out loud. Kormak sent her a questioning look. “I mean… When I was a kid, my family would all sit down to eat together. They were too busy to talk most of the time. But at dinner, they’d sit me down and make me tell them about my day, even when I didn’t want to.” She shrugged. “Do levekk not have that?”
Kormak blinked pensively, his brow plate dipping downwards as his gaze turned out towards the dry, yellow hillocks surrounding them. It was fascinating to see how the strange armor moved. She’d assumed it would be hard and immovable—built for smashing against rival’s heads or breaking things. But seeing it up close, it appeared to be made up of many tinier plates, which shifted against each other just enough to allow the levekk to emote—almost like eyebrows.
“I think I still had that,” he murmured. “My family would do a big, weekly meal—and I mean big. My father would cram as many family members and friends and desirable work contacts”—his tone turned mocking—“as he could into the eating hall. The table would be overflowing with food, and people would talk, I guess.”
He sent her a sidelong glance.
“Honestly, I used to try and get out of it whenever I could.”
Lena snorted. “Why does that not surprise me?” Kormak looked away, but she noticed a small smile worming its way onto his face. “So, you didn’t talk to your parents that often?”
“They preferred work,” he said by way of explanation, and shrugged.
Lena frowned. Her parents had prioritized work too, but that was out of necessity. She got the impression from Kormak’s tone that the same couldn’t be said of his parents.
The levekk turned his gaze back to her for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something. But then his eyes dropped down to the ground again, breaking the connection. “Sounds like you and your parents were close,” he said instead.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I didn’t have any older siblings or anything. It was just them, me, and Ellie.”
“And you lost them?”
Lena nodded, eyes dropping. “Yeah… They worked at one of the factories. There was an accident, half the building went up,” she said, opening her fists to vaguely imitate an explosion. “I don’t know the whole story—I think the adults were trying to keep the worst of it away from me, y’know?”
Kormak nodded. “What happened to you and your sister?”
“We got by,” Lena said, shrugging. “We were bundled into a children’s shelter for a while but they didn’t have enough resources. When I was fifteen, this lady named Augusta took us in. I don’t think we ever even told the shelter people. We just up and left.”
“Huh.” The levekk looked surprised. “I would have killed for that kind of freedom at that age.”
“It always comes at a price though,” she replied ruefully.
Kormak looked away. “You’re right about that.” His hand came up to touch the scar on his cheek, seemingly unconsciously.
The scar was angry and white, its edges jagged—as if the skin had been ripped away violently. She wanted to ask what may have caused it, but could somehow sense that now wasn’t the right time. Kormak scratched at it for a few seconds longer, until his eyes cleared and he shook his head.
“Ready to move?” he asked, rising slowly to his feet.
Lena nodded, zipping her backpack up and falling into step with the levekk. They set off east once again, keeping the ridge between them and the highway, just in case the Sweepers came exploring. This time, Kormak didn’t stride ahead, and Lena took comfort in his stable presence by her side.
8
It was late afternoon when they finally hit the forest. Kormak shivered, feeling the drop in temperature as soon as they disappeared under the shade of the trees.
The further they walked, the slower they became. The forest was overgrown, large furls of bracken curling across the gaps between trees and fallen branches catching on their feet and clothes. After a while, Kormak slipped off his sandals, carrying them over two hooked fingers. Twigs threatened to poke at his feet after that, but the layer of fallen leaves helped soften the prickling enough that he could push on and ignore it.
It was an odd feeling, walking barefoot through the forest. Levekk had tough soles, so it wasn’t like it hurt. It was probably even natural—although he knew his home planet tended towards desert climates rather than forest. But living in the city, shoes were the norm. He hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to experience nature in his life.
And when a low-hanging branch threw its leaves into his face for the third time that afternoon, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the opportunity.
He heard a giggle from behind him, and turned to scowl at Lena.
She straightened, mouth working mischievously as she tried to hold the laughter back, and Kormak rolled his eyes.
“Enjoying the forest?” she asked, tone outrageously light.
He huffed out a breath. “It’s… an experience.”
Lena’s laugh escaped her at that. “I can agree with that. It’s a little dry right now, but that smell.” She breathed in loudly, causing Kormak to raise an eyebrow. “I love it,” she finished.
Kormak walked on, breathing experimentally. “It just smells musty to me.”
“Hah. Yeah that’s probably all the dead leaves.”
“So you’ve spent time in places like this?” he asked.
“Yeah, with my dad. He had a hunting hobby—came in handy when the factory salary was spread a little thin.”
Kormak frowned, glancing over his shoulder. “Did that happen often?”
“More often than was comfortable.”
Kormak didn’t have a reply for that, so he just shook his head sadly. His life wasn’t stable either, but at least he’d chosen for it to be that way.
“So, hunting…” he began, changing the subject. “We having rabbit for dinner?”
“Pfft, no. Dad had premade traps. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She paused. “I can light a fire though. Hopefully without it catching onto the forest, too.”
Kormak snorted. “Good plan. It’s fucking cold in here,” he added.
“Is it?” said Lena, and he could practically hear her blinking owlishly. “It’ll probably be warmer at night compared to the desert. The leaves on the evergreens keep the heat in.”
He wasn’t so convinced. He could feel the bite of the cold getting worse every day, but at least out in the sun he could pretend it didn’t affect him so much.
“So how do you light a fire? I always wondered.”
Lena’s eyes lit up at the question, and she reached down to scoop up a dry bit of scrub from the base of a tree. “See this? This is the good stuff.”
She launched into an explanation about kindling, flints and the importance of a fire pit, and Kormak nodded along. He watched, fascinated by the way she pantomimed digging a pit with a shovel as she walked, or how she yanked pieces of wood and foliage from the track around them to demonstrate her points. He couldn’t remember any of his own people being so animated.
But her exuberance wasn’t annoying him. Normally, any human who made this much noise when speaking would have driven him mad within seconds. But somehow, instead of the crawling sensation he would have thought he’d be feeling after the third minute of an explanation about the correct properties of kindling, he now felt strangely relaxed.