Alien Attraction

by Cara Bristol

  “Then let me go.”

  “I will not do that.”

  “So, you don’t like me, and I make you miserable, but you’re going to keep me anyway.”

  “Darq cares for you. He will mourn for you. What makes my enemy miserable brings me joy.”

  “Revenge is a cold companion,” I said. “You were going to get first choice in the next shipment. You could have gotten a female you liked—now you’re stuck with me.”

  A flicker of acknowledgement glinted in his eyes before he stomped to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him.

  To my dismay, I heard the snow skimmer start up. I’d hoped he’d go on foot and if—when, be positive—I got free, I could ride the vehicle. On the other hand, since he needed a vehicle, maybe he was going far, far away—which could buy me more time.

  I counted to three hundred to be more certain he wasn’t coming back to retrieve a forgotten item. The last thing I needed was for him to pop in and catch me trying to escape.

  If I could get my hands in front of me, I’d have more flexibility. Doing my best Houdini, I twisted my wrists, trying to loosen the bonds a little so I could work on the knots. Unfortunately, my fingers didn’t bend backward.

  “That’s not going to work,” I muttered.

  Okay, if I couldn’t move my arms, maybe I could dislodge the chair. If I stood up, perhaps it would slip down, and I could free my arms. I leaned forward, but with my ankles tied to the legs and my arms behind me, my own weight kept me firmly seated.

  Plan A and B had failed. On to C. I hoped I didn’t run out of alphabet. If attempting to stand hadn’t worked, maybe falling would. I threw my weight side to side. The chair rocked, left, right. Left, right. A little more... Come on. Over, over…

  Splat! It toppled, and I landed on my arm. It felt like I’d been punched in the biceps.

  Wiggling and flexing my body, I used my feet to pull the chair away and slipped my arms off the chair back. My wrists were still bound, but my torso was no longer confined to the chair. However, my lower half still was. Have you ever tried to stand without having the use of your arms while your legs are attached to a piece of furniture?

  It can’t be done.

  I kicked, trying to inch the bands down the legs. The chair back sprang up and thumped me. Kick…smack. Kick…smack.

  Finally, one ankle slipped off. With that foot, I pushed the chair off the other. My legs were free! Exhausted, I lay there, panting for a moment then marshalling my strength, I attempted to stand.

  Still couldn’t do it.

  I cursed Romando in two languages. It seemed like I’d been working at this for hours. I wanted to cry. I did cry. A tear trickled from my eye. Hope sagged.

  I can’t do this. It’s impossible.

  Suck it up! You can do this. Remember army boot camp? Hiking through the leech-infested, alligator-riddled swamp? Shopping on Black Friday? You’ve survived worse. You didn’t beat the crap out of yourself with a chair to give up now.

  Okay, just let me rest.

  You don’t have time to rest! Romando could return at any moment. Get your butt in gear, soldier!

  Man, I could be a real hard-ass. But I was right. I had to get to my feet.

  I drew my knees to my chest and rolled from side to side, rocking harder and harder. Almost…almost…and then the force of motion propelled me onto my knees. I scrambled to my feet and hustled to the cabinet.

  I nosed it open, carefully grabbed a knife hilt in my mouth, and set it on the table so I could twist around and grab it with my hands. Kel hide had some give, and all my twisting had succeeded in loosening the bonds around my wrists. However, my fingers still wouldn’t bend the way I needed to saw through the kel hide.

  If I couldn’t move the knife against the bindings, maybe I could move the bindings against the knife? A ewer of drinking water rested on the table. It was thoughtful of Romando to leave it for me—even though he’d left me tied to the chair unable to get to it. Moron! Or maybe he’d intended to mock me. Asshole! With my chin, I nudged the ewer to the edge, pulled the cork out with my teeth, and then picked up the knife in my mouth and dropped it handle first into the vessel. About three-quarters of the blade protruded.

  Turning my back, I sawed the binding against the knife. I couldn’t press hard because I’d knock over the jug. If the knife fell on the floor, picking it up would require yoga poses I hadn’t perfected yet. How many traps had Romando set? How far had he gone? Time was running out.

  I was so close to getting free, the urge to hurry beat like a drum, but I controlled my movements. As the knife sliced through the kel strip, and the cut widened, it formed a groove to hold the knife in place, and sawing got easier and faster.

  At last, bindings gave way with a snap.

  I threw on my kel. I shoved the knife into a sheath and tossed it into a bag along with some other supplies: a tarp and a length of braid to rig a shelter, some dried meat, a couple of fire-starter stones. I took a big gulp of water from the jug then recorked it and put it in the bag, too. Without knowing where I was or how far I was from my own camp—or any camp—I had to be prepared to spend at least a day in the wilderness.

  Hugging my supplies, I ran outside.

  Trees, denuded of greenery, their trunks and limbs blackened, stood like dark skeletons against the snow. Visits to the latrine had left footprints, and tracks from Romando’s skimmer led away from the camp. Other than those markings, the ground was unmarred. I had no idea which direction to go, but regardless of my choice, I would leave a trail.

  I scowled at the cloudless sky. Where was a good storm when you needed one?

  I eyed the skimmer ruts. Hmm…what if I walked in those? If I heard a hum, I could leap into the brush until it passed. Romando wouldn’t expect me to head in his direction. It was so crazy, it could work.

  He’d probably set the traps near a water source where animals would go to drink. Most camps were located with easy access to water. So, there was a good chance the skimmer tracks led to a stream, which I could follow to a settlement for help. I could end up in Romando’s camp, but I thought—I hoped!—they wouldn’t re-kidnap me for him.

  What other choice did I have? I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t just charge into the woods to perish in the next blizzard. And that’s if I succeed in eluding him. Most likely he’d hunt me down and recapture me.

  So following his trail was the way to go. I set off, but I’d only gotten to the edge of the clearing when I heard the hum.

  Son of a kel!

  The skeletal trees in the immediate vicinity offered no cover, and the greenery beyond was too far away to reach in time. Even if I managed to make it, my footprints would be as good as an arrow pointing the way.

  My gaze fell on the outhouse.

  He’d look in there for sure.

  But, would he look in the latrine?

  Oh yuck. It was bad enough when I’d been ignorant, but now that I knew…

  It’s my only chance. I reversed and tore down the track, toward the hut then veered off to the outhouse. I ducked inside, shut the door, and peered into the pit. Ugh. There wasn’t much to see, but I knew what was down there.

  The hole was much shallower than the one at the meeting place, maybe a meter and a half deep. Sturdy-looking roots poked out of the ground alongside it. If I couldn’t manage to climb out again, I could toss the braid around the roots to help pull myself out of the pit.

  Yuck. Yuck.

  The skimmer hummed louder, as if it had pulled up next to the hut.

  The engine shut off.

  I jumped into the latrine.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Darq

  Skimmer tracks paralleled the frozen creek and headed downstream. Calian had given good directions thus far, and if the rest panned out, the burned-out clearing would be upstream about a tripta. I eyed the tracks. What if Romando was moving Sunny someplace else? Searchers had been canva
ssing yesterday. Had they made it to Polonio’s tribe? Someone might have warned Romando. Then again, the tracks could belong to anybody, in which case I’d be chasing a wild phea.

  Go to the clearing. If there’s no hut, then circle back and follow the tracks.

  I headed to the right, toward my original destination. Soon the wood showed evidence of fire. No underbrush poked through the pack, and the standing trees were denuded, charred. Only the oldest, stoutest, and tallest with boughs above the fire line had any leaves left.

  The creek curved to the right. I would have followed it, but the rutted tracks led on ahead, so I acted on instinct and went that way. In a quarter tripta, I entered a clearing with a small Terran-built cabin. Mottled in tan and white, the panels faded against the snowy landscape.

  I rode up to the hut and idled, waiting for Romando to charge out. But…nobody. Was anybody here? Was this even his hut? I had only Calian’s suggestion Romando might be here, and he hadn’t wanted to assist me. He could have sent me on a ruse.

  Or Romando had been here but abandoned the hut already.

  I swung off the skimmer and kicked open the door.

  A chair rested on its side. Strings of dried kel hung from the ceiling; one strand had been hacked off, and bits of meat littered the floor, along with braided strips of hide. Cabinets were open, with contents spilling out. I slammed the hut door, hopped on my skimmer, and reversed. I’d follow the tracks.

  Mmmmmm.

  Romando rode into the clearing. Alone.

  I switched off the skimmer and confronted him. “Where’s Sunny?”

  He flicked his gaze to the hut. “How should I know?” He scowled, dismounted, and grabbed two dead phea from a travois.

  “I know you took her! Where is she?”

  He ignored me, and, swinging the two birds by their necks, strode to the hut. He nudged the door ajar with his foot and peeked inside before shoving it open. “As you can see—I don’t have her. If she was important to you, you should have taken better care not to lose her. If there’s nothing else”—he raised the phea—“I have birds to dress.”

  “What did you do with her?” I lunged. He slipped, the dead phea went flying, and he fell against the hut. His punch went wild; I dodged and retaliated with a hook that grazed his chin.

  “Where is Sunny?” My direct shot whipped his head back, but the forward motion unbalanced me. I slipped on the ice and fell.

  Romando kicked; I rolled, taking a boot to the shoulder instead of the head. I grabbed his foot and pulled him down. Rolling and wrestling, we pummeled each other. Our thick, heavy clothing softened the impact of our punches, but it felt good to hit him. And when I caught a blow, it only put more determination into my fist.

  “Tell me where Sunny is.” Thump. I split his lip with an uppercut. He grunted and painted the snow a pleasing red with his blood. I hit him again.

  “You stole my chance for a mate. How does it feel?” he taunted.

  “So you admit you have her!” I caught him in a headlock. “Where is she?”

  He choked. “She’s not here. She escaped,” he bit out.

  “She escaped?”

  “I left her…tied up while I checked my traps. Obviously…she got away.”

  The upended chair, the kel ties on the floor…his hesitation when he’d opened the hut door—he spoke the truth, but that made it worse. Much worse.

  “She’s alone in the wilderness?” I wanted to choke him, but I shoved him away and sprang to my feet. I had assumed he’d hidden her elsewhere, someplace safe. I surveyed the clearing, searching for tracks. “Which way would she have gone?”

  “How should I know?” He wiped blood away with the back of his hand.

  “How long ago did she leave?”

  “Depends on how long it took her to free herself. An hour? Half an hour? Five minutes?” He shrugged, but he was beginning to look concerned. It had finally dawned on him a lone Terran female couldn’t survive for long.

  Other than the skimmer ruts, the disturbance from our scuffle, the only signs of activity led to the latrine. Romando followed my gaze then stalked to the outhouse and pushed open the door. “Sunny?” he called. He shook his head.

  The door banged shut.

  Where could she have gone? How could she have gone? If she’d hiked out, she would have left footprints. Unless—I eyed the ruts. What if she’d walked in those tracks to avoid leaving a trail? If she’d had an hour head start, she could be three or four tripta upstream by now.

  I swung my leg over my machine and glowered at Romando. “If anything has happened to her, I’ll kill you.” I zoomed off into the dead forest.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sunny

  Two skimmers had arrived. My heart thudded. Romando and who else? An accomplice from his tribe? I cocked an ear, listening hard. The voices were too indistinct to make out, but I thought I heard my name. No doubt Romando had discovered I was missing.

  Damn, I wished I’d gotten loose sooner.

  Outside the latrine, footsteps drew closer.

  I dropped to a crouch and huddled into a ball just as the door flew open, flooding the outhouse with light. “Sunny!” Romando called.

  I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. Please, don’t look down. Please, don’t look down.

  The door slammed.

  Holy crap! I stood up, my legs shaking. That was a close one. Thank goodness he hadn’t thought to look into the pit.

  A skimmer fired up and hummed away. Had Romando left to look for me? Or was it the visitor who had departed? Maybe somebody was out there who could help me. Shouldn’t I take a peek?

  “Sunny! Sunny!” Romando’s voice filtered through the walls of the outhouse.

  Well, that answered that.

  From the sounds, I guessed he was stomping across the clearing. His shouts grew louder, and then I could hear his footsteps again. He was coming back to the outhouse! If he did more than glance inside, he’d see me. Sooner or later, he would look inside the pit. It was the only place to hide. But I ducked down again.

  “Sunny! I’ll take you back to Darq,” he shouted.

  Yeah, right. He probably had some tropical real estate he wanted to sell me, too. Fat chance, buddy!

  Mmmm…

  Another snow skimmer!

  He headed away, probably to meet the visitor. I heard voices again then the pounding of feet. Closer, closer. Sunlight flooded the latrine.

  “Sunny!” That voice. That familiar, wonderful voice.

  “Darq!” I jumped up.

  He peered down at me. “What is it with you and latrines?” he joked, but the relief on his face was heart-attack serious.

  I laughed and cried at the same time. “I don’t know.”

  “Let me get you out of there.” He knelt, grabbed me under the armpits, and hauled me out. Damn, he was strong! He pulled me into his arms and hugged me hard. His face was scraped and bruised.

  “Are you all right? What happened?” I wanted to examine his injuries, but my hands were dirty.

  “I’m fine. Romando and I had a little talk.”

  “He kidnapped me!”

  “I know.”

  “I heard skimmers, but I was afraid to come out. Romando called my name. He said he’d take me back to you, but I didn’t believe him.”

  “I think he realizes the seriousness of you wandering alone in the wilderness. I watched him look in the outhouse and accepted his word you weren’t there. I had a hunch you might have followed the skimmer tracks, and left to find you, but I got to thinking, what if he had lied? What if you were inside? I came back to check for myself. I didn’t expect to find you in the latrine. Again.”

  “I was going to follow the tracks, but when the skimmer came, I assumed Romando was returning.”

  Darq pressed his lips together. “That was me. Are you ready to go home?”

  “Yes!”

  Romando’s jaw dropped when we
emerged from the outhouse. “I looked in there!” Then he sniffed and wrinkled his nose with disgust. I would have punched him, except it looked like Darq already had. His lower lip had doubled in size, and his left eye was starting to close.

  I stuck my nose in the air and swept by him without a word.

  “How did you know to look for me here?” I asked. “Did you just assume Romando had me?”

  Darq shook his head. “We only knew you had disappeared. Since we’d all agreed to the reparations, it never occurred to me Romando would have taken you. Your producer told me.”

  “Apogee did? You’re kidding!” I recalled how the last camera had been with me before it had fled.

  “Your producer was worried about you.”

  “Worried about the ratings,” I muttered. What if the star of Apogee’s number one show had died? Stormy for sure would sue for wrongful death, viewers would be aghast, the government might investigate—especially if women got scared away from the exchange program, and Terra had nothing to trade for illuvian ore—and the show would fold. I’d figured out Romando didn’t intend to hurt me, but Apogee hadn’t known that. Besides, what played better than a rescue? The hero riding in on a silver skimmer to save a damsel in distress?

  Even though I was no damsel, I’d succeeded in freeing myself and eluding Romando. I deserved a big pat on the back. And maybe a Nettie for best reality show star. I’d been nominated twice for a ’Net Vid Award but had never won. Maybe this would be my year. I could end my reality-show career on a high note.

  “I knew who had you, I just didn’t know where,” Darq said. “The camera crashed before your producer could tell me.”

  “So, there aren’t any more cameras?”

  “None.” He shook his head.

  This was the end of the show, then. It had been my livelihood and life for years. I felt…not sorry. Not sorry at all. Elated. And curious. “So, how did you find me?”

  “I went to Romando’s camp. Your friend Gretchen got her mate to tell me about this place. I’m supposed to tell you hello.”

  Gretchen! My buddy from the SS Deception. I needed to meet up with her and thank her. But later—after Darq and I had a proper reunion.