Chapter Seven
The universe is an empty chasm, void of time. So it doesn’t matter how much time has gone by. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been traveling away from Earth, how long, exactly, I’ve been stuck in this dank prison of a room.
Days.
Weeks.
Months?
Time is relative in space and time is irrelevant when you’re numb.
I’ve died a thousand deaths in this room. I die every time I remember Rika lying in her own blood, her tiny form limp and still on the tile floor. It’s my fault she died. If I hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have followed. And it’s all I think about, because out here, there’s nothing else to entertain my mind. Just despair and regret and despair and regret and despair and regret, and the familiar guilt wrapping around my neck, opening a hole in the pit of my stomach, sucking every last drop of life from my veins until I’m dying another death.
Elohim, I can almost hear Mom say. Fix your eyes on Elohim. Every night she knelt by her bed and prayed to this higher power, this God who supposedly built the universe.
I won’t see her again. Light-years away from my home, there’s no way I could ever get back to Earth. And if I did…would she even be alive? A weight pulls down in my stomach. I get it now. I get why Terrence left. Because no one should ever be forced to leave their family. No one should be shot for merely not having the ability to walk. I understand the burning need to fight for freedom.
I only wish I’d understood it sooner.
I lift my head from my propped-up knees, glance around my surroundings. As if anything changed since I was last awake. No windows line the steel walls. The chamber is illuminated only by fluorescent lights running along the ceiling. Humans are everywhere, pressed against each other like too many tadpoles in a drying creek. I’ve gotten mostly used to the rancid stench of raw sewer, but occasionally the stink of rotten contamination intensifies, making bile threaten to rise up. The only door is locked and most likely guarded.
Sometimes people talk. I hear whispers. But as soon as any Tavdorian steps through that door, everyone falls silent, looks away, petrified by fear. No one speaks to the Tavdorians unless spoken to. It’s like they’re afraid of being killed on the spot if they so much as look at the slave drivers. But the Tavdorians never speak to us. Unless they’re shouting.
And they’re always shouting.
Shouting orders. Shouting reprimands. Shouting curses. We’re like animals, treated worse than dogs. We’re an inconvenience to them. I keep hoping that boy from the river will walk in and deliver us. He seemed so real, so kind, I can’t imagine him working with a company like this. But then, maybe it was an act. Maybe Tavdorians are experts in the field of lying. Maybe that talk by the river was nothing more than an entertaining game to him.
“You were wrong, Rika,” I whisper into the air. “There isn’t a grain of humanity in the parasites.”
Others around me lift their heads, narrow their eyes like I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have. A violent jolt of the ship shoots pain into the back of my head. A loud, familiar rumble sounds from below the floor. The ship gives another jolt, and I realize something I hoped would never happen is happening.
We are landing.
The ship glides to a stop. The lights flicker. I count sixty seconds. Then one hundred and twenty. Five minutes go by, and then an hour. Just when I begin to think we’ve been abandoned, a hissing fills the room and the doors slide open. The tall, slender parasite walks in and surveys the group. I would recognize Rika’s killer anywhere, and I don’t think I could ever forget his name. Zimri.
The saliva in my mouth turns bitter. I remember the way he held the gun to Rika’s head and pulled the trigger without a second thought, and coldness creeps over me. The chasm in my stomach opens up again. Despair eats at me—at my last grain of hope, my last sense of life—until there’s nothing left inside but intense pain and gaping emptiness.
Zimri’s long nose scrunches slightly, and he looks at a guard beside him.
“Take them to the washing room, Denray, before you lock them in the dome.” He looks at us again. “They smell like the crotch-rot of hell.”
The guard pulls out a bunch of white wristbands from his pocket. “Line up.”
I watch Zimri stride out of the room, and the emptiness swells. I’m responsible for Rika’s death. It’s my job to avenge her. I’ve never been one to seek out violence, but for the first time, the urge to kill runs through my veins. Denray straps a white band around my wrist, tightening it until it bites into my skin, then jerks his chin, and I follow the others out of the dark hallway.
Fresh air. I crave it. I need it. It’s the only thing I look forward to on this planet. We walk through a maze of steel halls until one finally has an opening where natural daylight floods in. It’s been—how long since I’ve seen the sun? My skin screams for its warmth. And I finally step onto the ramp that leads to the mysterious and terrifying planet Tavdora.
I have to shield my eyes from the blinding sunlight. When my pupils adjust, I take in my surroundings. To my right stands a spiraling skyscraper made entirely of glass-like material, making it look like a cluster of icicles Ahead, four disk-like spaceships line in perfect organization on the lot. And to my left is what I can only imagine is a sea.
Water the color of deep violet stretches for miles until it looks like it drops off the edge of the planet. The sun is twice as large as ours on Earth, and twice as hot. It dips beyond the horizon, sending shafts of purple, orange, and gold across the sky. Kalen was right; Earth sunsets are nothing compared to Tavdorian ones. A breeze rushes by, and I breathe it in. Salty air fills my lungs and cleanses them from the ship’s stench.
“Back in line.” A guard swats my leg with a crop, and I leap back into the single-file line of Humans. I can’t be a slave. I can’t live like this. What’s the point of life when you have to live in fear of death all the time? Rika took a bullet to the head just for having a disability. I have to escape. Living in freedom on a planet as foreign as Tavdora is better than living as a captive.
I peek toward the sea again, a massive body of violet water promising freedom. Nothing stands between the lot and the sea except a fence with a gaping hole at the bottom, just large enough for me to squeeze through. A quick death by getting shot is worth the chance of freedom.
I glance at the guard. His back is turned, his attention focused on those farther up the line. My heart beats once.
Twice.
And I bolt out of line.
Shouts ring out behind me. I break into a full sprint. The fence comes closer. I wipe my sweaty palms on my shirt, ready myself for the leap. I haven’t been shot yet. Maybe I’ll make it. Dozens of shouts sound out behind me. Loud. Angry. Cold. But I ignore them, because I’ve already bolted and there’s no turning back now. And maybe—maybe if I keep running they’ll shoot me and the end will be swift and painless.
“Human!” Another voice calls out above all the others. I recognize it. Smooth and lucid, like honey. Deceptively inviting. A voice that takes me back to the sluggish river on Earth and an August sunset. That voice saved me from slavery once. I halt at the edge of the lot and spin around.
Kalen stares at me, lavender eyes sparking with shock before lighting with amusement.
“Where are you going, little native?” he asks.
My stomach drops. He recognizes me, but does he care? Is that boy I met alone on Earth completely different from this boy surrounded by slave-trading guards?
“Do you even know how to swim?” He smiles a little, but his voice is laced with concern.
“Of course I do.”
A guard strides forward, lifting his hand to strike me.
“Don’t lay a finger on her,” Kalen snaps. Tilting his head, he slowly walks toward me. “Are you going to swim all the way to Ogan, then?”
The guards chuckle. Is he making fun of me? Humiliation heats up my neck, but the amusement leaves Kalen’s eyes. “If you walk back now,” he says, “I promise no harm will come to you. But if you jump, all I can assure you is that you will be captured again only to receive harsh punishment.”
I’m breathing too fast. My brain screams at me to run while another, deeper part of me tells me to trust to him.
He presses his lips together and releases a small sigh, then waves the guards away. “Leave us.”
“But, sir—”
“Did you misunderstand?” A muscle jerks in Kalen’s jaw, and the guard clamps his mouth shut, gestures for the others to follow, and they walk away. Kalen must be in a really high position to be ordering guards around. His breathing is unsteady as he stares at me. His muscles seem to relax, though, now that we’re alone.
“Please don’t jump. I can’t control what happens to you if you do.”
I blink at the sudden softness in his voice. The gentleness in his eyes.
“What will happen to me if I stay?” I whisper.
“I can make sure you’re given an easy life.”
“As a slave?”
He blinks and averts his gaze.
But he still doesn’t offer freedom.
My heart is pounding. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine. Freedom is screaming for my attention. Maybe this is a suicide mission. And maybe.
Maybe death is a better option than slavery, anyway.
So I spin around.
And leap off the ledge.