by Ruby Dixon
Every day that passes, the “un-reality” of our situation seems to grow.
“Come,” a voice yells out, and I recognize that of the chief, Vektal. He’s the big blue guy all the others follow. “Come forward and receive your khuis.”
“That’s us,” Willa says breathlessly. “Shall we go?”
I hesitate, because there’s no turning back once we get this cootie-thing. It’ll let us live here, but it’ll also change us forever. What if I resonate to one of the fierce, angry-seeming strangers here? The only one that seems at ease with the situation is the big gold guy, but even he seems intimidating. I just don’t know.
Then again, I’d like to see.
And be warm.
And, you know, not die.
Damn it. “Let’s get this over with, I guess.”
“Here, take my sleeve,” Willa offers. “Watch your step. The snow’s churned up around here.”
I hold on to her and Marisol holds on to me and we form a human chain, along with the other humans marching forward. One of the big red guys has an arm around pregnant Angie, and I feel a twinge that I didn’t help her out. I should have thought of her. I’m glad someone did. Off to the side, three of the big blue guys are half-dragging the beast guy, who’s tied up with ropes, and snarling, still fighting against them as if his life depends on it.
For a moment, I want to do the same. I feel out of control, pushed in one direction after another by fate. I don’t blame him for fighting and snarling and trying to break free. But Marisol’s squeezing my hand tight, and Willa’s leading me forward, and off in the distance, I know the others are waiting. I know they’re doing their best to help us out.
So I go. I don’t have a choice, in the end.
“No resonance for you, huh?” Hannah gives me a sympathetic look. “Disappointed?”
“Nope,” I tell her, spooning more soup into my bowl. We’re all back inside the ship, sitting in the mess hall after the day’s hunt, and we’re all still recovering from receiving our cooties. The moment mine touched my neck and slipped inside me—something I prefer not to think about—I went unconscious. Happens to everyone, I’m told. Now that I’m awake, I’m noticing a few things.
One—I feel like I was hit with a sledgehammer. I’m exhausted and achy all over.
Two—I’m freaking starving. I could eat a whole cow if someone put one in front of me. As it is, I’m just chowing down on all of the stew I can spoon into my bowl. I’m not the only one. The red twins have been back for fourths and fifths.
Three—I’m no longer freezing my ass off. It’s a little chilly outside, but it’s far more comfortable. Like a “crisp fall day” cold instead of “naked in the Antarctic” cold. No wonder Harlow and Liz seem so unbothered by the chill weather.
Four—I think my eyesight is improving. Just like they promised, instead of nothing but blobs, the stuff closer to me is starting to take better shape. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I can see Hannah’s face, and she’s pretty.
She also looks glum. “Disappointed that you didn’t resonate?” I can’t help but ask.
Hannah makes a raspberry noise. “Me? Please.”
I wouldn’t blame her if she was. It’s hard not to think about right now. Veronica—clumsy, plain, quiet Veronica—sits next to the big golden guy. The lion-haired one. They’re resonating. It started apparently the moment that Veronica woke up and hasn’t stopped since. There’s a low thrumming purr coming from both of them and it’s so loud that everyone can’t help but notice. Veronica looks shy and embarrassed.
The big gold guy looks as if he wants to eat Veronica up with a spoon.
I didn’t want resonance for myself, but it’s kind of difficult to ignore how he’s gazing at her. Even with my crappy eyesight, it’s obvious that he’s utterly fascinated with her, and every time she twitches, he reacts. I suspect if Veronica would let him, he’d try to feed her. I watch them surreptitiously from my seat. Even from here, I can see how bright red Veronica’s cheeks are. The big guy’s sitting extra close to her, and as one of the red twins walks past, he stiffens and gives him a furious look for daring to stroll nearby. He’s practically bristling with possessiveness.
At my side, Hannah sighs. She sees it, too.
Yeah. If you’d ask me, I don’t want resonance. But…that kind of attention from a hot, sexy guy is tough to pass up.
“You think they’re going to share quarters tonight?” Hannah whispers between bites of stew.
I shrug. “It’s none of my business.” Though I admit, I’m super curious, too.
“Oh please,” Hannah says. “It’s a small group. It’s everyone’s business. Look at how they’re all watching them, too.” She nods at the doorway and I notice that there’s a bunch of blue guys standing nearby, arms crossed. They’re watching Veronica and her new boyfriend, too.
Chaperones. Good. I’m actually happy to see that. It means that even if Veronica wasn’t interested—which, damn, she’d be crazy not to be—no one’s going to force her into anything. It makes me feel better. I shovel a bit more stew into my ravenous belly. “Did anyone else resonate?” I ask, since Hannah seems to have all the deets.
“Nope. Just those two. I think someone’s got her eyes on one of the red twins. What about you?”
I look back behind me carefully, where the—very naked—red twins are sitting. No one’s sitting at their small table with them in the mess. They both eat hunched over their bowls with grim, methodical shoves of their spoons into their mouths, as if they’re in a hurry. Neither one looks at his food, either. They’re too busy watching everyone else.
One looks in my direction and I hastily turn my attention back to my food. I don’t want to be caught staring. Seems rude, especially when one of the parties is naked. “They seem…nice.” I can’t think of anything else to say.
Hannah snorts. “And Cujo’s just a dog.”
She’s got a point. But I’m trying to stay positive. We’ve got enough to worry about right now. Everyone’s dealing with all of this differently. Some people are kind of…nosy about all of it. I finish my food and glance around. “Have you seen Marisol? Or Willa? They’re not eating.”
Hannah shrugs.
Crap. I bet Marisol’s hiding again. She’s struggling with change—not that I blame her. “I think I’ll go see where they’re at. Talk to you later.”
“Don’t forget that we’re arriving at the shore tomorrow,” Hannah reminds me. “Last day of ship life before we go all primitive.” She twirls a spoon in the air. “Goody.”
Right. The ship is slowly crawling over land right now and we’ll be arriving at the coastline of the ocean in the morning for part two of our “rescue,” in which our new friends promptly destroy the only spaceship we have.
I don’t think anyone will be forgetting about that. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll remember.” Like I can go anywhere in the meantime? What am I going to do, jump out of a moving spaceship and hope to strike out on my own? I put away my dishes, because the tiny dining area in the ship feels a bit too cramped with so many people inside, and I go to look for Marisol and Willa.
Willa’s on her way back to get more food, an empty bowl in her hands. “Are you not eating with the group?” I ask her, curious. “Is everything okay?”
“I brought Gren some food. I don’t think he’s been eating,” Willa tells me in that soft drawl of hers.
“Gren? Who’s Gren?” We’ve met so many people in the last few days that they’re all starting to run together. I mentally try to place the harsh-sounding name with one of the alien faces.
“You know.” Willa gives me an exasperated look. “The one they keep tied up.”
That’s Gren? I shudder, remembering those bright red—now blue—eyes and the feral anger on his face. “Are you sure that’s safe, Willa? He’s not exactly happy about being here.”
“Are any of us?” She shakes her head, her expression full of sympathy. “He’s just as freaked out as I am. He just shows it in
different ways. He needs a friend.”
Here I was thinking he needed tranquilizers, but maybe Willa’s right. Still, I don’t trust it. “Just be careful, okay?”
“We’re all in this together,” she tells me simply. “He’s lost his home, too, and everything he knows.”
And now I feel like an ass. I smile at her. “You’re right. I’m just worrying.” I peer past her, and then ask, “You haven’t seen Marisol, have you?”
“I think I saw her running down one of the back halls.”
I bite my lip. “Thanks. I better find her before the red twins eat all the stew.”
“And I’d better get my friend a second bowl.” She holds her dishes up, smiles, and heads on.
I pause, wondering if I’m being unfair. Gren really does creep me out. But if Willa’s learned his name, maybe that’s the first step to calming him and being his friend. I know the others are more concerned about him harming us than caring for him overall. We’ve got too many people that are too helpless right now. I get it. We’re in a triage situation—you take care of the most urgent stuff first and then worry about the trickier stuff later.
I know Harlow and Liz and the others are feeling overwhelmed. I can see it on their faces. Liz looks like she hasn’t slept in days and Vektal—the chief—seems frayed at the edges. The hunters are either constantly watching over us so we don’t get hurt or hunting to feed and clothe us. Harlow and Mardok and Farli are racing around the ship, trying to salvage as much as they can before we trash it all in a blaze of questionable glory. Twenty newbies is a lot to bring into a small group, and everyone’s pulled to their breaking points.
Which is why I’m trying to help.
Which is why I need to find Marisol.
I head down the hall once more, looking for her. I start peering into any human-sized nook or cranny on the ship, trying to think like a frightened woman. If it were me, where would I hide? I’d try to find the last place anyone would look for me, of course. Someplace dark and quiet and that I could disappear into and just hide away from all my problems for a bit.
I think for a moment and then head for the cargo bay.
“Are you lost, Lo-ren?” One of the big blue guys—Zolaya, I think—asks as I pass him in the hall. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and honest. He has long, messy braids, and I remember him telling the others yesterday that he misses his mate because she usually fixes his hair for him. I remember that, and I remember him talking about their kit together. It makes me trust him a bit more, weirdly enough, to hear that he’s got a wife and family and he misses them.
But I’m pretty sure Marisol wouldn’t appreciate the alien company. She’s still skittish around all non-humans. “I’m just looking for my friend.”
“Do you need help?”
I shake my head. “I think she’s scared and hiding.”
Realization dawns on his face. “Ah. That one. Mar-ee-sol.”
Poor Mari. A legend already. “That’s the one. I’m going to find her and bring her back to the dining hall.”
He nods. “I am heading that way. Come find me if you need help.”
“I will. Thank you, Zolaya.”
He grins to hear his name and looks boyishly human for a moment before he gives me a little nod and then heads onward. I relax. Maybe they’re people just like us after all. Of course, as he turns, his tail flicks back and forth as he walks, and that quashes that thought pretty fast.
Human-ish, maybe. Not quite human.
I wait for him to leave, and then I head into the cargo bay. I pass by each of the pods, running my hand along the surface of one. How long was I in here for, I wonder. How did they take me without me knowing? What would have happened if no one had come to wake me up? I shudder at the thought. Even now, though I’m not thrilled to be stranded here, I’d rather be awake than in limbo, unaware of anything. That seems like a special kind of hell.
One of the pods in the back has the lid pulled over it. I move toward it, keeping my steps noisy enough that I won’t be sneaking up on Mari. When I come to the side, I hesitate, and then knock gently. “It’s me.”
She opens the lid a peek and looks out at me with teary, electric-blue eyes. “What?”
“I came to see if you’re okay,” I tell her gently, pushing the lid aside so I can see her. “Everyone’s eating but you.”
“I’m not okay.” She sniffs, swiping at her cheeks. “I woke up on a strange planet and someone put a parasite in me. Why would I be okay with any of that?”
“I know,” I say, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “I feel like you do. I’m overwhelmed and I don’t know what to think. But it’s better than being stuck in limbo.”
“Is it?” She shakes her head, wiping away more tears. “Because at least then I didn’t know what was going on. At least then, I wasn’t afraid.” Mari presses a trembling hand to her forehead. “I wish no one had woken me up, you know? I don’t know that I can handle…all this.” She waves a hand at our surroundings. “I’m not brave like you.”
Brave like me? I resist the urge to laugh hysterically. I’m hanging on by a thread myself. I sigh and eye her pod, and then start to climb in beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asks, startled.
“Seeing if this works,” I tell Mari. “If I can hide away from all of this for a few hours, I’m going to join you.”
She gives a husky little laugh as I squeeze in next to her. “I have to warn you, it doesn’t. The hiding only helps a little.”
“Ah, but it does help, right?” I lie down beside her, our shoulders pushing into one another, and I squeeze her hand. I know how she feels. The only reason I haven’t broken down sobbing myself is because one more crying person isn’t going to help things. Others need someone strong to look to, so I might as well be that person. I give her hand another squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Are you just saying that?” She sounds teary again.
“Yes?”
I get a laugh out of her, at least. It’s something.
That night, as all the humans are piled into our fur beds in one of the storage rooms in the ship, the gentle rocking motion makes it easy to fall asleep. The glowing eyes of my neighbors, not so much. I drift off anyhow, and I’m not surprised when Mari comes and curls up next to me. She’s decided that I’m her protector, somehow, so I put a motherly arm around her, pat her back, and try to go back to sleep.
As I do, I hear the nighttime crying again. I think it’s Hannah.
I guess we all deal with things differently. She’s a daytime bitch and broken by dark. It happens. I wish I could help, but I don’t think she wants anyone to know her “weakness.” So I close my eyes and try to sleep through it.
Things will get better, I tell her silently. This is only the beginning. When you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up.
Of course, I’m not sure if I’m telling her that, or trying to convince myself.
3
LAUREN
I stare out at the waters of the ocean, numb with shock.
There’s lots about this world that’s different, of course, but there’s also so much that’s the same. Snow is snow. Mountains are mountains. Rocks are rocks. And back where we were, the landscape was nothing but snow and rocks covered by snow. It didn’t look so foreign, at least not to my eyes.
But this beach?
This is alien. This is otherworldly.
This is downright creepy.
The ship made it between the valleys of the jagged mountains surrounding us and has come out to the water’s edge. The long ramp extends out into the sand, but the ship itself is already in the water itself, resting on a tripod of legs that look like they should be sturdier than they are to withstand the slamming of the weird-ass ocean.
And boy, is the ocean weird.
The water’s green. Not a comforting sea-foam green or even blue-green. It’s a deep, bottle-green and the froth that curls along each wave is green as wel
l. The sand is a darker, almost jade color and the grit is thicker than I seem to recall it being on earth. It smells like the ocean, at least, even if it doesn’t look like it. The waves are chaotic, too. I recall summer vacations spent at the Florida beaches when I was a teenager, and being disappointed that the waves were so tepid that you couldn’t ride them like surfers did on television. They were gentle, refreshing little waves.
Not here. These monstrous waves are chaotic and angry. They crash and slam onto the beach as if trying to punish it. I know that has something to do with the pull of two moons instead of just one, but it’s alarming to see.
And the creatures.
God, there are creatures everywhere. The crabs look more like scorpions and the waves undulate with tentacled, serpentine things. And lucky me, my vision has corrected itself enough that I can see them in all of their glory. This is not a friendly place. Somehow, when I heard we’d be taking the ship to the ocean, I thought of white sandy beaches and rolling, gentle waves. Even if it’s snowy, it’d still be lovely and comforting to look at.
Yeah, not so much.
But…there are birds. Brown, fat little birds cluster along the cliffs and fly away in waves the moment anyone approaches. Bigger, white-feathered birds with long, spindly legs dip needle-like bills into the waves and fish out treats. It’s not quite like home, but seeing the birds somehow makes me feel better. Watching them always calms me. It’s interesting how creatures here are similar to the ones at home, but still wildly different. The bird in the waves looks like a strung-out pale cousin to a flamingo, but its beak looks more like a razorblade. The crabs here are similar but creepier. The ocean is water, but not quite the same as ours.
The people here…same thing.
“Well, this is…different.” Willa moves to my side, gazing out at the water. She hugs her fur wraps closer to her chest as the strange bird in the waves wanders away from us. She absently kicks a tiny crab-scorpion away from her boot. “I don’t recall the beach looking so very…spidery.”