Stars dance in front of my eyes as air whooshes out of me, and I double over, covering my stomach. Gasping, I try to pull in air, but nothing works. Gray edges my vision, tears well in my eyes, but air won’t come.

Yelling, loud, can’t make sense of it. Vision blurs, lungs scream, burning. Must inhale. Air. Must have air.

Head spinning, darkness closes in, going out. Fight it. Stay here, can’t pass out.

One of them pushes me, and I try to straighten but my muscles are locked, not responding.

“Answer us!”

Suddenly there’s a release, and air rushes in, bringing welcome relief. Chest burning, wiping tears from my eyes, gasping gratefully, I shake my head, trying to compose myself.

“Oh shit!” one of them exclaims, then he disappears out of the corner of my vision, screaming.

Shots fire, and I drop to the ground out of instinct, crawling across the loose sand. Something roars, a deep, guttural sound, accented by the staccato of rapid-fire electric bolts from a gun. Cold races down my spine, every nerve alight as adrenaline dumps into my body. Have to get clear. Shit, why isn’t Drosdan here? Where is he? I know he’s close, I need him. This is bad!

Sand gets in my eyes and up my nose. Sputtering, I keep moving. There is more screaming behind me and another roar. Something has breached the barrier. It could be one of a dozen or more monsters that call Tajss home. I should look. I can’t. Look—no, escape.

The ship is close. Tattered plastic sheets flutter in the hot breeze. Close. Almost there. A sense of the familiar that somehow feels like it will be safe. It doesn’t matter that it’s an open wreck with nothing to stop the monster behind me. It’s home, or was.

Clawing forward, I reach the edge of the plastic. Only now do I glance over my shoulder. Gunfire roars, bright flashes of light in the dusk making it hard to see, I can’t tell what the monster is. Heart pounding in my throat, I gasp, cold freezing my veins. It’s huge. It grabs one of the men, lifting him over its head, and throws. He screams as he flies through the air past the makeshift wall. The other man struggles to his knees. I’m blinking fast, trying to see as he brings his gun up and fires.

Rapid shots, buzzing electrical bolts cut through the air and slam into the back of the shadow. Its body reacts, jerking with each hit, but it doesn’t drop.

That should have dropped anything, but not this. It roars and limbs spread wide as it turns.

My vision clears. What can’t be happening is happening.

“DROSDAN!” I scream his name.

He doesn’t look. His wings spread, his knees bend, and he leaps into the air, gliding towards the remaining guard.

The guard continues firing, but is shooting wild and missing. His eyes are wide, and he’s blubbering like a baby.

Drosdan lands in front of him, sand exploding up, blocking my view for an instant. The guard rises into the air. Drosdan has him by the front of his shirt, holding him inches from his face.

“MINE!” Drosdan bellows.

The guard makes a fist, pulling it back, but before he swings, Drosdan tosses him. A casual flick of his wrist, and the man flies through the air past the barrier and lands outside it in a hump.

Drosdan throws his arms wide, tail standing straight upright, and wings spread, he hisses loudly, turning a slow circle.

No one and no thing challenges him. He hisses once more, then his body relaxes.

Every breath I take is a sharp stabbing pain. As the adrenaline runs out, awareness of it comes. It’s not as bad if I breathe shallowly. Moving slowly, I get to my knees, then stop to breathe.

“Sarah,” Drosdan calls.

“Yeah,” I reply, gasping at the end as a sharp pain hits me.

Before my vision clears, I’m in his arms. He lifts me up, cradling me against his overly-muscled beautiful pecs.

“You’re hurt,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I whisper.

Tears run down my face, but not only from pain. Relief. He has me. The fear is gone. I’m safe.

Touching his face, trailing my fingers along his cheek, a light dances in his eyes, then he kisses me. Giving myself over to the kiss, all the pain fades before it.

“Shouldn’t have let you go alone,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m okay.”

He squeezes, and I gasp.

“You are hurt,” he says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “I don’t think it’s… too bad.”

The stabbing pain is worse. I can’t take a deep breath—it hurts too much. Nice, shallow breaths, those are okay. Focus on that.

Gently he sets me onto my feet then kneels in front of me.

“Even on your knees, you’re almost eye-level with me.”

I can’t stop the laugh, or the gasp of pain that follows it.

“Be still,” he orders.

Starting at my neck, he runs his hands across my shoulders and down my arms then back up. As he passes my armpits onto my sides, I cry out when he reaches my ribcage. Slowly he lifts my shirt up. My right side is a dark purple from the middle of my chest around as far as I can see. His hands on my waist, he turns me to the side, inspecting the bruise.

“It’s just a bruise,” I say.

He glances up, his lips a hard line, then shakes his head.

Rising to his feet, he looks off into the distance. Not towards our new home, but towards the City.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We can’t, we have to save them.”

“They don’t matter,” he says. “You need care.”

“It’s not that bad,” I say.

“Sarah?” Tessa’s voice comes from behind me.

Holding my side, I turn around to see her emerging from the wreckage. Several others come with her. All of them look terrible, well on their way to starvation. Skeletally thin and weak, skin bright red and blistered.

“Oh, god,” I whisper, pain shooting through my chest, not from my wound.

“You’ve come back,” Tessa smiles, then she’s sobbing without tears.

“It’s one of them,” someone says from behind her, pointing at Drosdan.

“He’s come to finish us,” another voice whispers. “Where are the guards?”

The crowd of survivors talk over each other, espousing their wild theories.

Drosdan and I look at each other. He frowns and shakes his head.

“Help us,” Tessa says. “Please, help us.”

Silence falls over the dozens of survivors at her words. The sight of them is heart-wrenching. Gershom’s experiment is a failure. They won’t last another week without us. Meeting each of their eyes, there is a gamut of emotions, but mostly I see resignation. They’ve given up. There is nothing left to hope for.

Forcing a smile on my face, I reach out and take Drosdan’s hand.

“Survivors,” I say, raising my voice to be heard. “I can see how hard the past few weeks have been for you. I don’t know what’s happened here since I left, but it doesn’t matter. You followed Gershom into the desert. It should be obvious to everyone here where that has left you.

“So I bring you a choice.

“Will you follow a Zmaj into the desert? We’ve found a place you can call your own. A small village, abandoned, it needs repairs, yes, but there is water and there is food. The choice is yours. Do you continue to follow Gershom’s mad vision, or will you choose a new path?”

“He’s just going to lead us to our doom,” a male says.

“We’ve already found our doom,” a woman responds.

They argue amongst themselves. Tessa comes over while they debate to stand with Drosdan and me.

“Are you okay?” she asks, glancing at Drosdan.

“Yes, I am,” I tell her, smiling.

“He’s not… making you?” she asks, hesitant.

Shaking my head, I chuckle and instantly regret it, wincing at the stab in my chest. Closing my eyes, I breathe through the pain with short, shallow breaths.

“No,” I say, opening my eyes once it’s passed. “Believe me, he’s not. If anything, I’m making him be here.”

“Oh,” she says, looking between the two of us. She meets Drosdan’s eyes, frowns, then shrugs. “I’m sorry.”

Drosdan tilts his head to one side, arching an eyebrow.

“Why?” he asks.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she sighs then her body shakes with dry sobs.

Dropping Drosdan’s hand I take her in my arms and hold her, ignoring the screaming pain in my side. Tessa breaks down, crying silently without tears.

“It’s fine,” I say, stroking her brittle hair. “Everything will be fine.”

Drosdan shifts, uncomfortably looking around, obviously feeling out of place.

“I’m… sorry… so… sorry,” she says.

“Drosdan, they need food. Can you go get something for them?”

Relief and concern mix on his face. He looks the crowd over with a critical eye, frowning.

“No,” he answers at last. “This isn’t safe.”

“Get me a gun,” I answer, nodding out towards where he threw the guards.

His frown deepens, but he leaves without another word.

I hold Tessa until she’s cried out, and she straightens. As she does her hand grazes my right side, and I gasp in pain.

“Oh, Sarah,” she exclaims, dropping to her knees in front of me. She lifts my shirt without ceremony or apparent concern for all the eyes on us. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s fine,” I say, but cry out in pain when she touches the area without warning.

“Sarah!” Drosdan yells, and I hear his feet pounding the sound.

“It’s fine,” I shout. “Tessa is looking at the bruise.”

His feet stop pounding on sand which is good. Tessa continues looking my bruise over, touching it with a much lighter touch now that is a somewhat less debilitating pain.

“You’ve got cracked ribs,” she says. “This is bad Sarah. You need medical attention.”

“So do you,” I counter. Biting her lower lip, she doesn’t argue.

“Food and water, we’ll recover. That won’t help this.”

It doesn’t matter that she’s right. I can’t leave these people here.

“Can you wrap them up? Are there any bandages left out here?” I ask.

“Yes, but that’s temporary. You might have a pierced lung or internal bleeding. Sarah, I’m serious—this is really bad. You need to get back to the City. You need a doctor, medical machines. We don’t have anything out here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Get the bandages.”

Drosdan comes back with both guns.

“Are there other guards?” he asks the crowd.

They exchange looks, fear on their faces. No one answers.

“Look,” I say. “We’re here to help. He’ll go get food for you, but he’s not leaving until he’s sure I’m safe. If you want to eat, answer him.”

“Food?” the murmur runs through them.

“No,” a thin, balding man says. “Those two are the only ones left.”

“Where’s Gershom?” I ask. Silence falls like a heavy blanket. No one looks at us or each other even, finding something else to focus on. Drosdan hisses his frustration. “Well?”

“He’s… gone,” the balding man says at last.

“What happened? He was holding all the supplies for himself when I left. How can he be gone when all of you have survived?” I ask.

“No one… knows… for sure,” balding man says, holding something back.

“He was a liar,” someone shouts from the back of the crowd but other voices hush him. “No, he was. A liar, and we all know it, even if we don’t want to admit it.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, searching out the one who is speaking in the crowd.

Silence greets my question stretching into another long pause. They shift their weight, quick glances, it takes me a bit to see it, but they’re ashamed.

“Answer her,” Drosdan hisses.

“He was taking epis!” the man from the back yells.

“We don’t know that,” balding man says. “It could have been… a disease or something.”

“Are you saying he’s…?” I can’t even finish the thought.

It’s a game changer. If Gershom is gone then why are they still here? Why didn’t they return to the City when they figured out his betrayal?

“He’s dead,” someone answers.

“Then why are you still out here?” I ask.

“Why?” Balding man asks. “Why? Do you really have to ask? We’re not welcome in the City. We don’t want to live under alien rule. We don’t want to watch them take our women from us. We don’t want any of this! We just want to live in peace. Live our lives without them interfering.”

Drosdan’s tail drags across the sand making a swishing sound, and his wings rustle. The crowd looks at him with open fear. Tessa comes back out of the ship, bandages in her hands and stops, looking from the survivors to Drosdan and me.

“Okay,” I say, a cold empty void opening in my core. Even now, facing certain death, they’re blinded by their own hatred and fear. What would Rosalind do? That’s the question. This group needs to survive. We need them if we’re going to make it on this planet. Rosalind has run the numbers, and the gene pool of survivors is barely enough to prove viable past the next three generations. If we lose too many there will be inbreeding, and our entire race will die. “Drosdan get them some food, please.”

“Sarah—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He locks eyes with me, a silent battle of wills. His hands ball into fists, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. Butterflies dance in my stomach. I don’t like facing off against him. Tension rises, the air becomes thick, and the crowd stares on with bated breath. I can’t look away, can’t flinch. I need him to do this. At last he hands me the guns and turns to go hunt. Tessa comes over, pulls my shirt up and reveals most of my breasts. Embarrassment floods me, knowing they’re all watching. I stare at Tessa instead of looking up, pretending we’re alone in a proper medical bay and not standing in front of crowd of hungry eyes.

“Hold this,” Tessa says, putting my hand on my shirt.

Numbly, I obey. The bruise is worse, a lot worse. A purple so deep it’s almost black covers my entire side. Damn it, I don’t have time for this. Tessa places the gauze on my back behind the bruise, and sharp pain stabs, blinding me, and I gasp air until the stars clear.

“Sorry,” Tessa says, gritting her teeth.

“It’s fine,” I lie.

She shakes her head and continues wrapping. As she pulls the bandage more tightly, the pain subsides to more manageable levels.

“There,” Tessa says, tucking the ends of the bandage into itself.

“All right, you all have a choice,” I say, dropping my shirt and looking at the crowd.

“You can follow a Zmaj into the desert and make a home for yourselves, or you can return to the City. The choice is yours, but staying here isn’t an option. You’re not going to make it.”

“You can’t tell us what to do,” Balding guy says.

“No, I can’t. What I can do is leave you here to die, which you are, or you can wake up, smell the non-existent coffee, and make your choice.”

Balding guy opens his mouth to argue more, but either he realizes the truth in my words, or that it’s futile, and his mouth snaps shut.

“You have to go to the City,” Tessa whispers.

“I will, soon,” I whisper back, watching the crowd.

Soon. I’m having a harder time breathing. The bandage is helping, but she’s right. I’m going to need a doctor, but not yet. If I breathe shallowly and focus, I can keep the pain under control. For now.

Drosdan, Tessa, and I watch the assembled survivors. There’s a soft murmur as they talk with each other. Anticipation is like ants crawling across my skin. Biting my lower lip I can only hope they’ll make the right choice. They need to go back to the City. We need them there and I need medical attention I can only get there. Please, be smart. Get past your fear, please, please, please.

They turn into each other making a rough circle leaving Tessa and I standing outside. She and I glance at each other. She shrugs and smiles tentatively. It hurts too much to give her a smile back. Shallow breaths and the constant ache accented by moments of sharp stabbing hold most of my attention.

“Fine,” bald guy says at last, the crowd turning around. As if that answers the question in anyway whatsoever.

“Fine?” I snap, anger flashing in response to his provocation.

He grins. Stepping forward before I can stop myself, I’m going to slap that grin off his face. Tessa’s hand on my arm stops me. I close my eyes and count to five, then open them and stare at the asshole who’s provoking me. It’s no wonder he followed Gershom into the desert, he’s no better than Gershom was. Taking a breath, wincing at the pain, I let it out slowly.

“What is your decision?” I ask.

“We’re going to follow the monster into the desert,” bald guy says.

“He’s not a monster!” I shout, anger flashing white-hot, but pain follows it, and I gasp.

“Right,” baldy says. “Sure, anyway, that’s our choice.”

Shaking my head, I wipe away the tears of pain, grimacing.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Pack what you can carry. It’s several days’ journey.”

“There’s one more thing,” he says.

Grinding my teeth, I struggle to control myself. Heat flashes across my skin, and my hand balls into an involuntary fist.

“Yes?” I growl.

“We keep the guns,” he says. “Just in case.”

That’s a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid, stupid but can I win the argument? The options lay out before me, and I have to choose a path. If I refuse them the guns, they’re not going to go. It will be a fight I can’t win. If I give them the guns, then they have a very big advantage if they try to do something stupid. It’s more than obvious they’re stupid. They followed Gershom into the desert and even now, given the opportunity to go back to the comforts the City offers they choose to go further into the desert. They’re not rational people.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Start packing.”