by Amber Stuart
Hard enough to make Nihkil gasp.
More laughter circulated.
I forced myself to acknowledge the scene in front of me, to see it as real. I watched Nihkil look up at those people with the straw-like hair and felt a kind of helpless rage settle over me. I tried again to decide if there was anything I could do. At the same time, logic tried to assert itself. He'd tried to warn me. He’d said this would probably get bad.
I should have listened to him. Really, about a lot of things.
For now, I didn’t know what to do, though. Nihkil said before that we just had to wait out the bad parts. But wait for what? For them to kill one of us? For rescue?
The guy hadn’t made a lot of sense.
The same man who kicked Nihkil now squatted in front of him, so that their eyes came almost level. After saying a few words to him, words I couldn’t make out, the reddish-skinned man put a hand on the center of Nihkil's chest.
He did it only for a bare instant.
Jerking his fingers away as if burnt, he glared at Nihkil in anger. Something about the contact made Nihkil shudder, too, right before he let out another low gasp. The man watched Nihkil’s face, as if suspicious, then frowned, staring between his two eyes.
Whatever just happened, the guy with the weird hair hadn't expected it, I found myself thinking. He also seemed to blame Nihkil. Before I could wrap my head around the angry look that rose to soldier guy's expression, he’d backhanded Nihkil across the face, yelling something at him in a strange language.
When Nihkil gasped words back, sounding apologetic, the first guy only raised his voice. Nihkil shook his head, inclining his head in a gesture that felt submissive. When he wouldn't meet the soldier's eyes, the man grabbed his jaw and chin, forcing Nihkil to look at him as he spoke again. That time, he used a low voice, tapping a metal baton against Nihkil's chest in an obvious threat.
Nihkil only shook his head again, his posture still submissive.
The language they spoke reminded me of seals barking.
It occurred to me that I’d been trying to work it out, to understand it, or at least pick out a few words and phrases as if it were German or Czech or Japanese. When I looked up at that enormous, purple-blue sky, I remembered that probably wouldn't help me here.
I went back to following their facial expressions, instead.
Nihkil’s eyes remained doll-like, vacant, even as he kept his posture submissive to the man holding the baton. From Nihkil's expression, he might not have understood their words any better than I did, but I found myself doubting that to be true.
He must understand, since he'd answered the other guy at least once. He was playing dumb, maybe... or maybe just offering no resistance, but also no assistance.
Either way, the guy with the weird hair wasn't having it.
The soldier crouching there backhanded Nihkil again, harder. When Nihkil only looked at him, his eyes blank, the man hit him again, that time, rocking his head back on his neck. When the man hit him a third time, cracking him on the cheekbone with the blunt end of the metal baton, I cried out involuntarily. I couldn’t help myself.
Heads turned.
Eyes stared at me, almost as if they’d forgotten me entirely.
They all seemed to have large, dark eyes––so dark that, in some of those faces, I couldn’t distinguish irises from pupils. Their faces on average appeared narrow with pointed chins. I knew they must have some variety, but they all looked roughly the same to me still, even between the men and women. The odd hair color must have some variation, too, but I couldn't really see that yet, either. The only means of distinguishing any of them was that some faces looked younger than others. That, and the more female-maybe ones seemed to be smaller than the male-maybe ones, meaning in overall size.
They all appeared to be muscular and tall compared to people on Earth, although none so tall as Nihkil himself. I only saw a handful of bodies that looked female and even with those, I often had to second-guess my choices. The women were just as broad-shouldered and muscular as the men, and they all seemed to use the same barber.
Unlike the weirdos in the gray scuba suits, Nihkil didn’t look at me.
He stared resolutely ahead, his eyes aimed at the metallic buildings.
No one broke the silence or seemed to change expression for a few seconds. Then, as if on cue, a few soldiers grinned, speaking to one another with that barking, seal-like language. A louder voice said something that brought a laugh from the rest of the group.
The man crouching by Nihkil didn’t smile, though.
Instead, he looked between Nihkil and me.
After another pause, he made a circular gesture in the air above his head, whistling. It was then that I realized he must be in charge, not just the biggest asshole. A few of the soldiers standing around him dropped their long, metal poles right after he spoke, and began loping in my direction.
I have to say, I didn’t like that much.
The man crouched by Nihkil got up too, and began walking towards me with deliberate strides.
Realizing there was no way this would turn out well for me, I scrambled backwards with my hands and feet, fighting once more to get upright.
Fuck my hands being tied. I had to get the hell out of here. Now.
Whatever they wanted from me, it couldn't be good.
The guy in charge, who I now realized appeared older than the others, too, lengthened his strides as he approached where I struggled to get up. Without taking his eyes off me, he made a side-jerk hand motion to the other three.
The three underlings broke formation, running to get behind me.
Sharp rocks and my bound arms got in the way as I tried to get up. Their leader reached me before I managed to writhe more than a few yards. By then, the other three had circled around behind me, blocking my way. Without really formulating a plan, I’d been aiming my body up the hill and out of the glass-filled canyon, maybe in the hopes I’d be able to run once I reached the dirt and trees.
But yeah, I didn't get that far.
I’d found a boulder and was using it to get the rest of the way to my feet, when the first guy reached me. He leaned down, grabbing me by the hair.
I shrieked when he yanked me backwards, then fought his hold as hard as I could. He continued to drag me down the hill, even as I kicked at the ground with my boots, trying to slow him down. I hit out at him, too, using every part of my body I could access, including my bound hands balled into fists, elbows, knees and feet. Reaching down, I grabbed one of the glass-like shards as a weapon until he knocked it out of my hand. When I grabbed another one, he punched me in the face, stunning me.
He’d already disarmed me by the time I could see again.
After that, I couldn't seem to get my fingers around any more shards. He yanked on my hair every time I tried. Now my hands were slippery with blood, too, mostly from the rocks I'd tried to grab and missed, but also from the ones he’d yanked out of my fingers.
I went back to trying to hit at him with my fists.
Ducking, blocking and absorbing blows from my bound arms and unbound legs, and even one from my head, he barely seemed to notice. Without changing expression, he yanked me the rest of the way to my feet. Once he had me up, he forced me around, so that my back lay to his chest. Cinching an arm around me, tight, he pinned my arms.
Then he yanked on my hair, twisting my head back.
Pain from whatever was wrong with my neck shot down my spine.
It completely paralyzed me.
I’d never experienced pain like that before. Nothing had ever come close... and really, I'd been in some throw-down, nasty, bone-breaking brawls in my time. It hurt so bad all I could do was let out a kind of gasp. I couldn’t scream, or even swear. It took every ounce of my willpower just to keep from passing out.
Reaching for his thigh, the soldier unsheathed what looked like a glass knife.
Turning with me, he displayed the knif
e to Nihkil.
That time, when he spoke, his voice sounded harsher, like an open threat.
My breath continued to hitch and stutter as I fought to stay conscious, making me light-headed. I hung there, in that guy’s arms, my head and back at odd angles, my toes half-holding my weight on the boots. The jerk with the weird hair yanked my head further back, and that time, a scream ripped out of my throat. Fire tore apart my spine and I screamed again, fighting to get free until he laid the knife against my jugular.
The blade felt warm.
I panted, indecisive, then tried to control my breathing when the knife’s edge cut into my skin at each inhale. I fought to clear my head, to think. But the same thought kept repeating, and it wasn’t a remotely helpful one. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening to me. No one got the drop on me like this. No one got to kill me like a pet dog.
I couldn't just die like this, in the middle of some nightmare other world. Not when I didn't know anything. Not when I didn't know who these clowns even were...
Nihkil stared up at me and the soldier guy, blank-faced.
The man shouted again, pressing the blade deeper, bringing a trickle of blood down my collarbone.
Nihkil’s expression didn't move. His demeanor remained one of polite disinterest.
The man pulled the knife away, slashing it twice across my shoulders. I sucked in a breath, then shrieked again at the top of my lungs. The man holding me hit me in the face with the hilt of the knife, stunning me back into silence. He tightened his grip on my hair, putting the blade back to my throat. He yelled louder at Nihkil.
Nihkil’s expression still didn’t change.
The white-haired man lowered the knife, pressing his lips together.
He released me in the same set of seconds, stepping away from where I stood.
Almost falling, I staggered instead, legs trembling as I caught myself. I found myself staring at Nihkil, unable to help myself, but he wouldn’t return my gaze. Looking me up and down, the leader of the asshole brigade glanced around at the circle of uniformed men, who'd moved closer to watch the show.
After a pause, the leader gestured another command, whistling.
That time, the circle of humans laughed. Reaching behind his vest, one of the younger ones began unhooking something near his waist.
Watching his motions, I couldn't make sense of them at all at first, not even in the abstract. When he started to open his pants, however, wrestling off the skin-like material, the pieces began to click together in my mind.
For some reason, I looked at Nihkil.
Seeing his indifferent stare, I swiveled my gaze back towards the young soldier.
“No!” I said. “No way!” I stepped back, holding out my bound arms. “No! Look.” Thinking fast, I appealed to the younger, less angry-looking ones in the group. “I don’t even know him!” I gestured towards Nihkil. “Can’t you see he doesn’t give a shit? Nihkil... or whoever the hell you are! Tell them! Tell them who I am!”
A soldier imitated me calling his name, his voice high-pitched.
Laughter rose.
Nihkil wouldn’t return my gaze.
I turned around in a circle to get the lay of the land, my arms stretched out in a gesture that was half a plea for peace and half a fighting stance. I'd been in enough close fights to know I was ridiculously outnumbered, even if I wasn't tied up, cut up, exhausted and unbalanced from whatever was wrong with the air here.
The men smiled, their expressions and eyes relaxed and uncaring. They obviously didn’t see me as a threat, either. They surrounded me in a rough circle, the nearest now less than three yards from where I stood. They surrounded me now, too.
Even the ones who looked female had decided to stay for the show.
All of them held out their arms, smiling, as if corralling a deer.
My boots dug into the glass-like sand, fighting for traction, even as I bent down, picking up another shard of glass and wincing against my cut hands.
I fell into a fighting stance... a real one that time.
Briefly, I thought of Irene. I also thought of Mongoose, my first fight trainer, and Gantry, who still taught me stuff when we got the chance to hit the ring together. I could almost see the three of them in my mind. I could see Gantry there, most of all, shaking his head and smiling with that dry humor of his.
What the hell you thinkin', girl? he said in my head. Alien throw-downs? Mystical circles? You gonna die now, chica. And that’s a damned shame, on a woman as fine as you...
"Yeah. No shit," I muttered.
Just then, hands darted out.
One grabbed my arm. My knee came up, my foot flashing out from my hip. I landed the kick in the guy’s sternum, forcing him back with a sharp cut. He let out a surprised grunt and staggered. It forced him back, yeah, but not enough, not nearly enough; my body still felt way too light in this place. My head, too.
That wasn’t my biggest problem, though. There were flat-out too many of them. All I could do was stall the inevitable, maybe make a few of them hurt for their trouble.
They didn't seem to mind, though.
On the contrary, it only seemed to make the game more interesting.
Laughter rippled the group, more conversations. A few more stepped forward, watching my feet now, their expressions more excited and interested than worried.
I waited, panting, knowing that rushing them would be full-blown suicide. Before, hadn’t Nihkil said something about help coming? He said things would be bad, but he seemed to think we’d get out of this. Maybe I could keep them off just until his people showed.
Given everything, I knew I was grasping at straws.
One of the young soldiers grabbed me from behind.
I moved without thinking, head-butting him. He dropped me, fast, but when the pain from whatever they’d done to my neck blinded me, I fell hard on my knees into those shard-like rocks, ripping open the nylons I wore and gashing my knees pretty bad. Bad enough that the pain from my knees paralyzed me briefly, too, making it impossible to move.
Trust me to get kidnapped by aliens while dressed in hooker wear.
I got back to my feet, fast, as soon as I sensed movement.
Another one yanked on my hair and I turned, swinging both arms and hitting him in the face. He grunted but I had to fight harder to get him to let me go that time, shoving at his chest and kicking him hard in the abdomen.
Something between anger and fear burst out of my lips.
“Nihkil!” I snapped. “Help me, damn it!”
More laughter broke out.
I heard one of the females imitate my plea, aiming her words at Nihkil with a smirk. Even their leader, the older guy, smiled that time.
I swung my bound hands again when another couple of them approached, twisting my waist to get more momentum. I hit one of them in the temple, even as another grabbed me from one side, forcing me to use the first one as leverage to kick him off.
The others cheered when I broke free, laughing harder.
I backed up warily, still roughly in the center of the crowd. I already knew they could have taken me by now, probably minutes ago. I'd become sport, so they were going after me one on one to draw things out.
They were having fun, in other words... using me to kill time.
I managed to fight off a few more, then someone swung one of those metal poles, too fast for me to avoid. It thwacked a sweet spot on my thigh and my leg crumpled. I fell, gashing my knee more seriously that time on the glass-like rock.
The men cheered. I gasped, fighting angrily, and more than a little desperately at that point, to pull myself up.
Nihkil watched emotionlessly.
I'd barely gotten to my feet when someone grabbed my shoulders. I brought my elbow back as hard as I could, aiming at his crotch. He raised his knee to block, but not fast enough. Staggering backwards, he yelped in pain and anger, making sounds that even I recognized as cu
rsing in seal-speak.
The next guy got in closer.
Before I could move out of the way, he recoiled his fist and punched me hard, right in the face. Pain exploded around my eye. My vision whited.
He grabbed the front of my shirt before I could fall, cinching my waist with his other arm. I hung there, gasping, my bound hands pinned between our bodies. The soldiers cheered. Catcalls grew louder, the men laughing and talking at an increasing pitch, and then...
All of them fell silent.
Completely silent, as if they'd all been smacked on the back of the head by the same nun in Sunday school. Humor slid off faces as their dark eyes widened at someone or something standing behind me.
Without warning, the man holding me released my arms and body.
I let out another gasp when I landed on the rocks... I couldn't help it.
I didn’t try to get up that time, either, but knelt on the sharp stones on my cut and bruised knees and hands. Adrenaline, fear and anger shook my limbs.
I looked up, fighting to catch my breath as I took in the fear in the faces above me. As one, the men and women with the dark faces and straw-like hair stepped back. Still panting, looking up between strands of matted hair, I saw them bowing to someone seconds later, touching their shoes with their fingers.
The circle parted...
Then two newcomers blocked the light.
They looked absolutely nothing like the soldiers with the weird hair and the gray scuba suits.
Translucent skin lay over dark veins like white silk. Two sets of round, frog-like eyes stared down at me, their utter lack of inflection creating an eerie synchronicity, even though they bore no physical resemblance to one another.
I could only really take them in in fragments.
The male-looking one was entirely hairless. He had a thin, elongated face with black and purple markings that ran in an animal-like pattern up his throat.
The female-looking one’s skin stretched taut over large-boned features, making her head appear too large, almost bulbous in shape. Roped, bone-white braids fell down her back and over her shoulders. Orange irises cut into white orbs, opaque and flat-seeming as plastic.
I stared at the symbols woven in purple thread on the front of their dark brown robes, feeling almost like I'd seen those markings before, somewhere.