CHAPTER SIX

MELISSA

Her elation lasted another half hour, and then the adrenalin wore off. She started shaking. The rope burns on her hands throbbed. After the exhaustion of the lock crossing and the critters with the legs, she was starting to doubt her sanity.

Two close calls and we aren’t even halfway there.

She’d been so busy playing bad-ass that she hadn’t bothered to let it sink in that she could have died. Twice. All before her next meal. She might have been chained to a wall, but at least nothing was trying to eat her back at Kreebo.

Her rubbery legs gave way, and she stumbled, bumping a rock with the side of her sneaker. Her hand hit the wall, and she hissed as pain spread across her palm. Jahle, leading the way, turned at the sound.

He lifted the lamp, and she winced as the light hit her eyes. But she curled her fingers so he couldn’t see the wounds on her palms. “Hey! Watch it!”

“You are tired.” He lowered the lamp. “We should rest. Camp for tonight.” Jahle squinted at the wall for a moment, and nodded. “We should find a side tunnel in a quarter of a bell. It leads to a suitable campsite. Come.”

“How do you know?”

“The stone told me,” he replied.

Mel’s jaw dropped. “You can speak to stones?”

To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed so hard he had to bend over to catch his breath. “No, no. Nothing like that. The stones are guide markers. Directions. They tell us where we are and what is ahead.”

With a sheepish grin, Mel followed his finger, where she spotted a white stone embedded high up on the corridor wall. Strange etchings, which she assumed were letters, marked its surface.

Still chortling, Jahle walked onward. As he had said, the tunnel branched off after a short walk, and they took the new path for what Mel estimated to be a half-hour walk.

By the time the corridor expanded into a small cave, Mel’s feet dragged. Pale light shone from wall sconces, showing what appeared to be a shipping crate sitting against a far wall. After the darkness of the tunnel behind them, the light was warm and inviting. She collapsed onto a nearby rock. Every beat of her heart sent throbs of pain along her hands.

Despite being burdened by the packs, Jahle didn’t seem to slow down. He walked to the container and swung it open. Strange tools lined the inside. He studied them for a moment, and then picked up one that resembled a fence post. He carried it to a circle of metal on the ground and jabbed it into the hole. After he attached a handle to the top and began to crank, Mel recognized the apparatus.

“Is that a water pump?”

“Yes,” he grunted. “Once I prime it, it will siphon ground water up and purify it.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m parched.”

As he worked, she distracted herself from her discomfort by looking around. Strange markings lined the walls. The scratches resembled the markings on the guide stone Jahle pointed out earlier, but these were rougher.

Jahle grunted and straightened. “The pump will purify the water.”

“What are those?”

He squinted to where she pointed. “Names. Here, I’ll show you.”

A pen-like object sat on a stone shelf. A cord attached it to a machine sitting on the floor. Jahle opened the side, and pulled out a lever. He spun it a few times, and the wand in his hand began to whirr. He walked to the end of the line of markings, and began to scratch on the wall.

Mel hopped off her rock and wandered closer. She held her lamp close to the markings.

“My name,” Jahle said. “This is my clan, Geran. You’ll see this character repeated with several other names.”

“So these are all people?”

“Yes, when we stop here, we leave our name.”

She studied the long line of scratches, some faded beyond recognition. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Why leave your name here?”

He shrugged, and headed back to the shipping crate. “Why not?”

Mel studied the wall. “Who was the last person? Before us?”

Jahle didn’t look up, but when he replied, he spoke with certainty. “Ketug. Of the Water People.”

“Water People?”

“His tribe.”

Mel stared at the name. “It looks pretty fresh. I wonder what happened to him.” When Jahle didn’t reply, she tilted her head and followed the names, heading back toward the crate. She stopped in surprise. “You’ve been here before! Look! It’s your name!”

Jahle drew bundles of fabric from the crate, and began to spread them out on the ground. He worked with efficiency. “I have.”

Mel watched him work for a moment, then turned her attention back to the device he used to carve his name. She bent down and cranked the machine back to life. The wand in her hand buzzed, sending vibrations up her arm. She placed the tip against the rock beside Jahle’s name, and to her delight, the bit cut into the rock, leaving a line.

By the time she finished, her hand ached worse than ever. She stepped back with a satisfied grin and bumped into Jahle, who crept up beside her while she worked. “Oh! I didn’t see you there!”

For a moment, she thought he might step closer. Her heart thumped at the idea, and she remembered the warmth of him pressed against her when he shielded her body with his.

He stepped back. “Did you write your name?”

“Melissa Rose Harlock,” she read, running her finger over the crude lettering.

“What is that symbol underneath?”

Her face grew hot. “It’s a cat. An Earth animal.”

“A… kaaht? It is your clan symbol?”

“I-It’s a silly… Jen… My sister always called me Garfield. He’s an orange cat. And because of my hair…” She lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

As much as I hate the name, I would give anything to hear Jen call me Garfield again.

Exhaustion closed in on her, and it was more than physical. It was the dangerous kind. The kind that crept into one’s soul.

“Siblings are strange,” Jahle commented. He seemed to read her mood, because he nudged her shoulder. “Come, let us check how much water we have been blessed with. Then we can eat.”

Jahle hummed a note of irritation when he extracted a canister from the side of the water pump. His mouth made a narrow line as he shook the bottle.

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of water,” Mel remarked. “That Water tribe dude drink it all on us?”

“We will have to make do.” He narrowed his eyes at Mel. “Do you urinate?”

Taken aback, Mel blinked. “Err, yeah? In fact, now that you mention it, I kinda need to go.”

“Excellent.” He handed her a second canister. “Place your urine within this container. We can run it through the purifier.”

Mel stared at him in horror. “You want to drink my pee? Like that bear guy on TV?”

It took some negotiating, but eventually Mel caved. She returned from behind the crate with a bottle. She refused to watch as Jahle plugged it into the purifier. She sat on a rock and turned her back.

Don’t think about it, Mel. Just don’t.

Truth be told, she was thirsty enough to consider swigging out of the unpurified bottle. To her relief, Jahle handed her the first canteen, and she drank half of it in a single go. He didn’t stop her, just stared at her, while she chugged. When she handed it back to him, he corked it without a word and sat across from her.

Her stomach growled as Jahle pulled two of the bars out of the pack. He peeled both and handed one to her. The mahogany puck resembled the energy bars her ex-boyfriend Paul used to eat.

Nothing could be worse than his kale and quinoa bars. Mel brought it to her nose, and inhaled a scent like lake algae and rotting fish. Maybe I was wrong. Her mouth watered despite the nose-wrinkling stench. Jahle bit into the bar with relish and murmured in pleasure.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Synthetic protein,” he replied.

Mel’s lip curled. “That… sounds not appealing.”

Her stomach won. She bit down on the bar, and whimpered. She pulled the bar from her mouth and stared at the divots her teeth had left on the dark surface. She tried again, this time, using her molars. Again, she couldn’t bite through.

“It’s like biting into a boot sole,” she said.

Jahle, who had finished his bar, took pity on her. He extended his hand. “Give it to me.”

She handed it over, and to her dismay, he took a huge bite. “Hey! That’s mine, you jerk!”

Jahle raised a hand. A placating gesture. He chewed for a moment. Then he spat the food into his hand and extended it to her. “Eat.”

Mel shot to her feet. “Ew! Gross!”

His hand remained extended.

“No! No way, and no how! First you want to drink my pee and now you want me to eat your spit? What is with you and bodily fluids?”

“Suit yourself,” Jahle replied. “You will collapse from weakness and I will leave your corpse for the borebugs to find.”

Mel growled at him, but she sank back onto her rock. She eyed the mush. The smell was worse now, but her tummy complained. With a sigh, she reached out her hand. Jahle grabbed her wrist with his free hand, and examined her palm. The unexpected contact sent tingles running across Mel’s belly. The band of his fingers across her wrist seared her skin.

He’s so warm!

“What is wrong with your hand?” Jahle asked.

Mel snatched her hand back. “Nothing. Just a little rope burn.”

He frowned at her. “You have been injured this entire time?”

“No big deal.” Mel shrugged. She grabbed a handful of mush from Jahle’s palm and hissed when the juices touched her torn skin. She dropped the food and wiped her hand on her sweatshirt.

“Here.” Jahle scooped food with his fingers and held it to her mouth.

“You’re kidding.” When her stomach cramped, she choked back her pride. “Fine.”

She nibbled a piece of the mush. The saltiness of it twisted her face, but once the initial shock wore off, she found herself grateful for the food. And for the patient alien who waited for her to finish her mouthful before handing her another.

Just don’t think about alien drool, or alien pee. Or about how aliens make synthetic protein.

When she reached the end of the bar, she felt more like herself. “Is that all?”

“You may have another, if you wish. There are plenty more.”

“You only had one.”

“My needs are different than yours.”

Years of dating the wrong men had given Mel a finely tuned bullshit meter, and Jahle’s statement activated it.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a scientist, but I know the bigger the animal, the more calories it needs.”

“We should tend to your wounds.”

Oh, wanna play that game, huh? No worries. I honed my skills against Jen in the waiting game.

She let him fuss over her hand. The tin of medicinal salve from the storage crate had dried out. Water from the canteen rehydrated it, and Jahle dabbed the paste across her palm. First it stung, then coolness seeped into her skin, bringing relief. Jahle wound strips of lightweight sealant tape around her hand.

“That must do. No bandages.”

“Thanks.” Mel yawned, and peered around the campsite with bleary eyes. “Which bed is mine?”

“Your pick.”

She collapsed onto the nearest one, wrapped her arms around the gun, and shivered. “‘S cold.”

Jahle returned with a machine, which he placed between the two bedrolls. He spun the handle until the machine hummed to life. Soon, warm air began to wash over Mel from the machine.

“If you wake and the heat has gone, power the dynamo as I did.”

“‘Kay. What about bugs? Giant ones?”

“It emits an ultrasonic sound. They will stay away.”

Yeah, right, she thought, that one pinged the BS meter, too. But she was too sleepy to argue. Against her better judgment, her eyes shut, and she fell asleep.

When she jerked back awake, the ground rumbled. Mel was uncertain of how much time passed, but the quake ebbed. The campsite was washed in pale light from the sconces. The heater hummed. Jahle’s bedroll was empty.

Before she could sit up, she spotted him sitting on a rock by the cave’s entrance, his back to her. He nearly blended into the rocks surrounding him. He stretched and rolled his neck, grumbling, but his attention never wavered from the darkness of the tunnel. The sight sparked a warm glow in her chest.

He’s standing guard.

His shirt sat on the rock beside him, and she watched the muscles of his back move as he stretched. He pulled the tie out of his hair, letting the mass of braids tumble down. One by one, he undid each braid, and then his fingers worked to neaten them again. She got the sense he was only doing it to pass time, but she was mesmerized by his wildness, his otherness.

Maybe the butterflies in her stomach were from lack of food. Or maybe she was following her predictable pattern of falling for the wrong guy at the wrong time. The last five guys she dated had been the same: nice at the beginning. But when Mel got to know them…

When they got to know me…

The night she was snatched from her apartment, her latest boyfriend, Paul, had just broken up with her. The night had started out well enough. They had sat down in their usual booth at Georgette’s and ordered. Over appetizers, Paul had asked her to move in with him.

And she’d freaked. She told him it was because she couldn’t move out of the apartment. Jenna counted on her, not just for rent, but for emotional support from her big sister. She had stormed out before the appetizers had arrived.

The truth was that she couldn’t stand the idea of not having her freedom. Commitment on that level scared her. Picturing a life with Paul scared her.

Relying on someone else scared her.

Plus Jen really, really needs me.

She pulled her blanket tight around her and rolled over, turning her back to Jahle.

Not this time. Not this place.

Not this guy.