by Lea Linnett
Someone had crossed this bridge once, and the levekk who were advancing hadn’t let them loiter.
But it would have happened years ago—possibly even centuries—and all that remained now were deep gouges in the concrete, missing pillars, and stretches of bridge that seemed to be connected by the barest of rocky tissue. The closest hole had a thick lump of wood jammed into it, but it was rotted through—Kormak assumed it was the remnant of someone else’s strategy to cross the dilapidated bridge.
Something made Kormak uneasy as well. He was familiar with the technology of the time; the cannon ammunition back then was capable of sending shockwaves of energy rippling through its target, and it could have compromised the entire structure, for all he could tell.
He grimaced as he took it all in, cursing his luck. It was starting to sprinkle, the clouds finally reaching their breaking point and threatening to spill their contents, and Kormak could feel the cold slipping deeper into his skin.
He thought about doubling back, or moving further upriver to another crossing, but it would take too long, and he wasn’t sure if Lena’s food would last the journey. They would also most definitely be soaked by the rain if they took such a scenic route, and his skin shivered just thinking about it. No, that was a bad idea.
There was no guarantee that any other bridge would be in better condition than this one anyway, so that left them with little choice.
“You first,” he said finally, sighing. “You’re lighter; it’ll hold your weight better.”
Lena nodded, looking nervous, and approached the first section of crumbling concrete.
To her credit, she didn’t hesitate, but Kormak heard both of them let out a sharp gasp when her first footstep sent a tiny shower of gravel down into the river below. Most of the bridge had been blown out here, leaving a sliver of traversable ground around the edge that widened and narrowed inconsistently. It wasn’t a tightrope, but there was no way of knowing how stable it was, and Kormak’s heart thundered as images of Lena falling and him being unable to catch her raked across his mind.
But after a brief pause, in which Lena visibly gulped, she pressed on, setting one foot in front of the other until she arrived safely on the other side. The bridge went back to being almost fully intact there, offering her a reprieve before she’d have to continue along the next splinter of concrete.
Now it was his turn. Kormak sized up the narrow concrete path, mouth forming a thin line. He was a hell of a lot heavier than Lena, he knew that much from their struggle to climb the bridge in the first place. But there was no way out but forward. He couldn’t climb around the outside—not only did he lack the skill, he feared the bridge would crumble sideways under the uneven weight distribution.
Steeling himself, he approached the catwalk, slipping off his sandals as he went. When he stepped out onto the narrow stretch of concrete, his bony toes dug in instinctively, but the concrete remained firm, the remaining struts beneath him holding his weight.
He moved slow and steady, listening for any sign that the path might be fracturing under his feet. The breath he’d been holding rattled out of him when he finally reached the opposite edge, and then Lena was there, grasping his forearm and laughing out loud with relief.
He could feel her heartbeat through her hand, beating frantically, and the sensation cut through the rush of adrenaline he’d felt from crossing the bridge. Their eyes met, and Lena froze for all of a second before letting go of him, her hand darting away as if burned. She broke eye contact, smiling apologetically, and Kormak felt his skin tingle where she’d touched him.
She was so warm.
A wave of thunder rolled over them at that moment, forcing Kormak’s gaze up towards the sky. A drop of rain hit his cheek, and it was far more substantial than the misting they’d received earlier. He worried at his lip. They probably weren’t going to outrun it.
But he urged them on anyway, Lena seeing the seriousness of his expression and following him without question.
They picked their away across the bridge, spending minutes on each dilapidated section that would normally have taken seconds to cross had the bridge been intact. In a few places, Kormak thought it was actually going to fall out from under him, the concrete cracking and warping beneath his feet. When that happened, he relied on speed to reach the safety of wherever Lena was standing, and tried not to look back at just how much of the bridge was still standing behind him.
On this side of the river, just like on the other, the bridge extended over the bank as well as the water, although it didn’t quite reach the same length or height. It crept back toward a small collection of buildings that had been placed haphazardly along the road. From the bank onward, the bridge was in much better condition again, and Kormak’s heart soared at the sight of it approaching. The rain had slowly strengthened as they went, and now it poured down upon them in a steady shower. Kormak wasn’t quite soaked through, but it was only a matter of time, and his skin prickled in the breeze.
They were tackling the final, demolished section of bridge just shy of the bank when it happened. Lena was already safely across, watching the progression of Kormak’s feet like a hawk. The rain was coming hard and fast now, and Kormak felt his feet slip and slide on the concrete. He was halfway across the spindle of road, his weight fully supported by the concrete struts, when something gave way.
It took him half a second to register it— the feeling of emptiness beneath his toes. Then, his rain-soaked feet were sliding, losing purchase on the concrete, and his whole body turned weightless as he rocketed down towards the river.
He caught one glimpse of Lena, her blue eyes wide like saucers and her hair sticking wetly to her face, before he slipped beneath the concrete lip of the bridge and she vanished out of sight.
13
Lena watched Kormak fall as if he were in slow motion, following his eyes as they disappeared out of sight. There were a few long seconds of silence, followed by a splash so faint she could barely hear it over the drumming of the rain, and then her own whimper.
She dropped to the edge. Below, the river’s surface rippled fiercely, but nothing broke the surface.
She raced along the bridge towards the bank, her body feeling two steps ahead of the rest of her. She swept her head left and right in search of some way to get down, but the bridge was too high. She couldn’t leap off the side with the ground still so far below her, but she had to get down to the water’s edge. Her heart hammered in her chest, loud and uneven, and something seemed to clutch at her lungs, making it hard to breathe.
She ran to one side, hauling herself up over the railing to search for more shipping containers or debris stacked up on this side of the river—anything she could leap for. But the bank was bare.
Groaning in frustration, she picked up her pace, crossing to the other side of the bridge and glaring down at the ground. There was nothing but trees. The bridge was lined with metal bollards here, connected by a broken fence. The twisted metal curved down and away from the bridge towards the wooded patch, and as Lena stared at it, she had an idea.
Her heart skipped nervously in her chest, but she had no time to waste. It would take forever to run the length of the road and find an exit ramp. She didn’t know if Kormak was drowning or injured or what and she had to get down there.
So she planted a foot on the warped metal, testing its strength. It was surprisingly sturdy, but she knew it would only hold her weight for so long. She glared down at the tree. The trunk of it would be close enough, she thought, if she jumped from the end of the metal. It wasn’t overly thick, and it had a multitude of branches. She’d be able to get a grip on something—at least, so she hoped.
She swallowed, her heart shuddering, but she heaved herself up onto the metal nonetheless, tiptoeing down the length of it and leaping off the end before she could think about it too hard.
She was thankful for the sneakers Kormak had pressed into her hands all those days ago when her feet hit the tree. She managed t
o land one on a branch, but the other went skidding down the trunk, and she would’ve skinned her toes in seconds if it weren’t for the rubber soles.
Her hands came out instinctively, wrapping around the thin trunk so she was practically hugging it. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest when she began to slide, but one arm caught on a branch with a solid thunk, halting her progress.
She blinked, only able to catch her breath for a few moments as she stared at the gnarled bark just inches from her nose.
She’d done it.
She’d jumped into a fucking tree.
She barked out an incredulous laugh, nerves tingling all over her body and adrenaline coursing through her. A dull pain throbbed in one leg where the muscles had been quickly and unceremoniously stretched, and her torso hurt from slamming into the tree, but as far as she could tell, she wasn’t too injured.
She blew out a breath, calming herself. Now she just needed to get down.
Moving one foot experimentally, she felt around for another foothold. She found one fairly easily, and after that it was just a matter of looking before she leaped and crouching down to grasp some of the more widely-spaced branches.
When she finally landed on the ground with a thump, she fell straight onto her backside. She sat there, stunned for a moment, her adrenaline gradually wearing away. It was still raining, but under the thick cover of the tree, she could almost ignore it.
But she shook her head, forcing herself to stand. She turned and headed for the bank, running at first, but slowing to a nervous crawl when she realized how slippery the clay surface had become. There was a slight drop by the water’s edge, and she slid down it, only just keeping herself from gliding into the water.
Her head shot up, eyes scanning the bank, and she let out a cry when she found Kormak laying there, staring up at the sky with his chest heaving as if he’d only just pulled himself from the water.
She rushed over to him. He was shivering, his prison jumpsuit absolutely soaked through and sticking to his skin wherever it could reach.
“Are you okay? Are you injured?” she found herself asking, but her own voice seemed far away as she checked him over. He was still breathing and his eyes were open. That was good.
“F-fine,” he managed, voice sounding choked. “Just winded. C-cold.”
Lena breathed a sigh of relief. The rain hammered down upon them, droplets hitting her back with an unbroken intensity. “Can you get up? We need to find shelter.”
He nodded shakily, and allowed Lena to hook an arm under his back. They slipped in the wet clay as she helped him to standing, and the mud stuck to their clothes despite the rain.
They hobbled up the steep incline, feet sinking into the mud and slipping on rocks. Kormak had lost his sandals in the river, it seemed, but Lena was thankful, his clawed toes doing more to help their ascent than his flimsy sandals would have.
Once they made it to flat ground, it was a little easier. Kormak was obviously trying to keep much of his weight off her, and they crossed the stretch of grass and gravel that led up to the buildings fairly quickly.
Kormak mumbled something about trees as they passed a small copse of them, but Lena shook her head. “Fuck that,” she said. “I’m finding us a roof.”
Many of the buildings this close to the water had caved in over the years, but she managed to find one that just barely counted as whole. It looked like it had been a store once, but now it was empty, the walls bare.
She walked the levekk into one dry corner of it, helping him lean up against the wall.
He wasn’t visibly injured, apart from some bruising from the impact with the water, but Lena couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was wrong with him. He was moving slowly, shuddering every now and then, as if he’d fallen into a frozen lake rather than a rushing river.
Fire. She needed to make a fire. She pulled the backpack from her back where it had clung through her entire journey down from the bridge. It was caked in mud, but the contents of it were dry enough, and she nearly cried with relief when she found the tinder she’d secreted away in the bottom was still light and fluffy.
She laid out her tools and cast about for material. There wasn’t much in the abandoned store, but there was a dilapidated chair in the opposite corner, and when she inspected it, it was only slightly damp.
Determined, she broke it apart and added it to her collection of wood. It took her a while—the minutes slipping by her randomly as she fought off panic—but eventually, she managed to produce a tiny flame, and minutes later a modest fire was burning a few feet away from Kormak.
She shivered, as if the sight of the flame had suddenly reminded her own body how cold it was.
She moved to sit next to Kormak, pulling her backpack closer to them. The fire was close enough to cast a meager veil of heat across her skin, and even that was a small comfort. But when she looked at Kormak, she could see he was still shivering, his eyes staring at a far-off point beyond her imagination.
She frowned, and reached up to feel the fabric of his jumpsuit along his arm. It was soaked through and icy to the touch, much like her own, and when she pressed a finger to the levekk’s scaled hand, it felt frigid.
Her endless wonder at how odd his skin felt beneath hers was eclipsed by her worry. No one—alien, human, or animal—should feel that cold, she thought.
She glanced at the fire. She needed to dry their clothes, and if the rain kept up, this might be the last fire she was capable of making. She couldn’t guarantee her materials would survive. Plus, they’d be trudging through the forest again soon, and there would be no escaping the dampness then, even if the trees shielded them from the worst of the rain.
She looked back at Kormak. They probably wouldn’t be going any farther today—the clouds were so thick she couldn’t tell what time of day it was anymore, but she thought it must be getting close to nightfall. Her mind raced.
She felt a twinge of embarrassment at what she was about to suggest, but swallowed it down. They needed to be dry. That mattered more than privacy right now.
Jaw set in determination, she stood, and started to undo the buttons on her jumpsuit.
“Kormak,” she said firmly, and the levekk blinked, looking up at her. “Get undressed,” she ordered, voice turning slightly flinty to hide her embarrassment. She could feel the blush spreading across her cheeks, hotter than the soft warmth of the fire on her chilled skin. “I’m gonna dry our stuff but it won’t work if we’re wearing it.”
Kormak stared at her for a moment, as if his brain was struggling to compute what she’d said rather than out of any desire to watch her undress, but Lena felt her flush deepen regardless. “Come on, big guy,” she urged, pausing to help him to his feet. She pulled her arms from her sleeves and turned away slightly, sliding the jumpsuit down her legs.
Without looking at the levekk, she laid the jumpsuit out on the ground near the fire, vowing to watch it like a hawk lest their clothes go up like tinder. She stayed turned away from the levekk, trying not to imagine him disrobing behind her. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of him in such a way, but memories of their encounter at the river picked at her all the same. The temptation to take a peek was strong, but she kept her eyes on the fire.
This wasn’t sexual—she was trying to save his life.
But she would have to turn around eventually, she realized, to get to her bag. She grimaced.
She heard Kormak shifting behind her, the rustling of cloth, and then the sound of his footsteps on the uncovered floor. A blue jumpsuit was held out in her field of vision and she took it, laying it out beside her own.
She couldn’t avoid it any longer. Her blush was hot on her cheeks, her lips pursed in embarrassment. She glanced down at herself, at the prison-issue underwear that covered her just enough. He’d be the same. All she needed to do was sit down by the fire and get to her bag—she could do that without ogling her sick traveling companion.
So with a sniff, she turned to face t
he levekk, trying to act as casual as possible.
All pretense at looking unembarrassed went out the window when she laid eyes on him.
Lena flushed an impossibly deeper crimson, her cheeks burning. The long planes of scaled skin, she’d expected. And she knew already from when he’d held her close on the first night that his body was strong, so the hard muscles cast in sharp relief by the firelight weren’t a surprise.
No, what was surprising was that Kormak had apparently not been wearing any underwear under his prison uniform, and Lena’s eyes were drawn like a magnet to the one thing she’d promised herself she’d avoid looking at.
And Kormak’s was… large, by her estimation. She’d been with people before. There had been a few fumbled encounters when she was younger that had all but dried up once she decided working to support her sister was more important than getting her rocks off, but she knew how big a cock was supposed to be and Kormak’s…
Kormak’s was bigger.
She averted her eyes, catching herself staring, but Kormak was looking down at the fire, seemingly oblivious to her reaction. His eyes were glazed, lost in thought, and he moved slowly, sinking down beside the flame as if his whole body were suddenly suffering from arthritis.
Lena’s brow quirked in worry, and she sat down beside him, placing her backpack in her lap—partly for modesty.
She rummaged around inside, handing him one of the last apples still left in the bag. He took it, but his eyes were still distant.
She laid a hand on the nearest jumpsuit, checking to make sure the heat of the fire could reach it, and pulled out a box of cookies from her pack.
They sat in silence that afternoon, thunder rolling through the sky and rain hammering down on the roof above them. Lena focused on eating and keeping the fire going strong, leaving an arm wrapped loosely around her knee in a bid to feel less naked.
She kept her eyes to herself, looking over at Kormak only long enough to notice that he was slowly curling and uncurling his fingers, forming a fist and then letting it go.