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Catalina

 

Catalina’s eyes grow heavy from the lull of silence, the drugs not quite out of her system. Wrapped in Alan’s embrace, she drifts off to sleep.

~~~~

BOOM! Her eyes pop open, she startles in Alan’s arms, and she tries to bolt upright. Alan holds her in place. “What’s happening?” Catalina’s voice is shaky and high-pitched.

“I don’t know.”

A loud noise.

The ship rocks again.

Alan tightens his grip around her middle.

“Alan?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Easy for him to say. She hears the tension in his voice and knows he worries for both of them.

They sit in silence; the dim room offers little light as Catalina stares at the metal sliding door. She pants for air knowing that any minute, someone will burst in and rip her from Alan’s arms. Her anchor in the raging sea will be lost, and she will be all alone once again—her greatest fear, the reason for not forming attachments. With that thought, her breathing grows rapid, and her heart beats wildly in her chest, drowning out all other noise until shouts from nearby ring out.

Her hand wraps tightly around Alan’s wrist, and her fingers dig in, leaving tiny marks on his skin. The more scared she becomes, the tighter her grip. He never complains once, even when her fingers leave little red marks.

The noise sounds closer; the fighting is right outside the door. She hears the scuffles, the grunts of pain. “Alan?” Her voice is a dull, broken whisper.

“Shh…” He kisses the top of her head, trying to comfort her. But after the stories he has told her, Catalina finds comfort as she imagines him staring daggers at the door. And when someone walks through, he’ll take them down Chuck Norris style. Her protector, her hero.

That doesn’t happen.

The door slides open with a loud squeak, and four huge, blue aliens rush in, holding weapons. She rears back against Alan, her breath hitched. Time stops. Fear floods every pore of her body when black, round eyes lock onto both Alan and her.

Words are spoken.

She doesn’t understand.

She turns, placing her face in the groove between Alan’s shoulder and neck, unable to watch what will happen next. She is unable to hold anything else in; sobs rip from her throat.

“Shh…it will be okay.” Alan threads his fingers through her dirty hair, trying to console her. The uneasiness in his voice doesn’t sound convincing.

Normally, Catalina would consider herself a strong woman, but not now. Maybe it is because of the drugs, or maybe the fear of the unknown after living through the experiments. Now she’s reduced to a blubbering mess.

“Don’t worry, Catalina,” Alan says as he continues to stroke her dirty hair. He always sounds so cool and confident, even when she hears the thick lines of tension in his voice. Despite his words, she knows he’s worried. She felt his muscle tightened up when the blue aliens stormed inside.

When a deep voice speaks out, she turns her head slightly, only to see black eyes staring in her direction. In a softer voice, he speaks, but she can’t understand his language. It is clear, though, that he is trying not to frighten her. Fat chance!

Using hand gestures, he waves someone in. Another blue alien carrying a small black bag ambles in. He slowly approaches the two of them, and Catalina almost smiles in a non-humorous, I don’t think so kind of way at his lackluster attempt to appear unthreatening. Not possible. He is huge! His size alone will intimidate most people. A blue Incredible Hulk springs to mind. One who beats his chest with his massive fists while he roars in anger.

He pulls something from his bag, and she buries her face in Alan’s neck once again. She’s been experimented on enough, and she can’t watch anymore. She doesn’t want to see it coming. Whatever it is.

Something cold behind her ear. Unbelievable pressure, and she passes out.

The thump of Alan’s heart slowly lures her awake. Slow and steady. Her ear rests over his heart as he cradles her against his chest. She blinks, slowly at first until she can hold her eyes open, everything coming into focus.

“I am Toran, captain of a Curazin ship.”

Alan doesn’t reply, he stares at Toran and tightens his grip around Catalina’s waist, holding her close.

Toran, as he calls himself, kneels in front of them so she can see his face up close—light blue skin, a strong jaw, three hard ridges that run the width of his forehead. Black eyes that make it hard to tell if he’s staring at her or Alan.

“We have injected you with a translator, so I know you understand what I say. We have taken over the Tureis’ ship and are here to rescue you.”

Silence fills the room. Did he just say they were here to rescue them? It can’t be that easy. A pregnant pause, and Alan finally says, “I’m Alan. We appreciate your help.”

At one point the others—what did he call them? —the Tureis had kept Alan and Catalina separated. She can’t imagine how terrified she would feel right now if the blue aliens had barged in and she was by herself, without Alan’s reassuring embrace.

Toran nods and then asks, “And the female?”

She feels Alan’s arms tighten even more around her. “Her name is Catalina,” he answers in her place.

“Catalina,” Toran quietly says in awe before addressing Alan again. “If you would follow me.”

Alan didn’t readily move. “Where are you taking us?”

“To my ship. I promise you will be safe there.”

Alan leans to the side, and Catalina turns slightly to make eye contact. To stay or to go, that is what his eyes ask her. No contest. Catalina doesn’t want to stay another second in this cell. She gives Alan a slight nod, and his lips tip up slightly.

She leans forward, and Alan slides out from behind her and stands.

“I can carry the female,” Toran says as he steps forward.

 Catalina knows Toran is trying to be nice, but being referred to as female rankles her a little. She’s a person, someone with feelings, but instead of saying so and angering the only person who can help them right now, she clamps her mouth shut and pushes up forcefully, standing and clutching the blanket tightly around her body.

Immediately, she regrets it. Her legs start to shake, her lower abdomen quivers from soreness. Alan grabs her blanket and covers her shoulders, steadying her. She flashes him a grateful smile. With a straight spine, she and Alan follow Toran and the others from the smelly holding cell.

The cold metal floor chills her bare feet as she ambles along behind one of the blue aliens, looking one way and then the other. She’s been out of her cell several times, but filled with terror, she’d never taken the opportunity to look around.

Nondescript charcoal-colored walls line the corridor. The insipid color zaps all happiness from everyone and everything around. As the blue aliens lead them into a shuttlecraft, she glances over her shoulder one last time. This has been her hell, even though she’s gained a friend. It was her nightmare, and she hopes the blue aliens killed every last one of the bastards on board. After one last glance, Catalina turns around and doesn’t look back as she steps inside the shuttlecraft.

Sitting next to Alan on the shuttle, the fear intensifies as the blackness of space surrounds the craft. Stuffed in a cell on the Tureis ship, this is her first look at the vastness of space, and suddenly it feels surreal. She grips Alan’s hand tighter and stares at the great expanse, seeing a huge ship come into view…

Catalina steps out of the shuttle and glances around. This ship is a little brighter colored, a little cheerier than the one that held her prisoner. Ivory-colored walls with bright lights make it easier to see. It’s like a breath of fresh air, and she instantly feels better, at least until they pass a group of aliens, who all stare at her. Maybe. Hard to tell with black, marbled eyes.

Alan leans over and whispers, “Are you okay?”

She smiles up at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He’s such a sweetheart, always worrying about her. At times, she wishes that she thought of him as more than a brother. He is a handsome man, strong in spirit and in body. But it isn’t meant to be. “I’m fine,” she whispers back from the side of her mouth.

“This way,” the leader, Toran, says as the other aliens break away, heading in different directions.

They follow Toran down a corridor until he stands in front of a nondescript doorway. When it slides open, he steps aside and waves them forward.

“These are your quarters,” he says to Catalina.

“I stay with her,” Alan asserts as he moves to stand behind Catalina.

Toran takes a large breath and folds his arms across his chest. Without knowing anything about him, Catalina can tell he doesn’t like the idea of Alan staying in the same room with her.

“Very well. I’ll let you two get cleaned up, and I will be back to retrieve you for last meal.”

“Thank you.” Catalina’s eyes touch on him before resuming her scan of the room.

“If you desire anything, please let me or one of my males know.” With that, he turns on his heels, letting the door slide shut behind him.

Catalina looks around in wonder, her eyes wide as saucers. “Oh my God! Alan, do you see this?”

It isn’t anything extravagant, but after living with meager supplies for the last—who knows how long? —this may as well be a palace lined with gold walls.

Her fingertips trace the top of a green couch made of an extremely soft material. Not suede, not cotton, it feels more like a stack of rose petals. It beseeches her to sit down, but she refuses. Not until after she showers. No way she will sit on this beautiful couch with her filthy body.

After sleeping on a hard table or Alan’s shoulder, the bed looks just as alluring. Her mouth waters, wanting to lay her head down on the stack of blankets.

Looking from the bed to the blanket covering her body, she opens the edges slightly only to see the dirt and grime that cover every inch of her. Even the insides of her thighs show dried runs of liquid that left trails down her dirty legs. Evidence of what happened to her.

“Catalina!” Alan yells with excitement.

She slams the edges of the blanket closed, covering her body once again and rushing in his direction. “What is it?”

“A shower…” His head swivels toward her, and an excited grin stretches across his face. “You go first.” She sees the happiness shining in his warm eyes.

“Are you sure?” He nods. “Okay, you don’t have to ask me twice.” She giggles as she steps inside the bathroom. His deep chuckle grows faint after she shuts the door.

It takes a few tries until the water flows heavily down her back. The spray is so powerful it almost hurts. Catalina doesn’t care as she lathers her hair and then her body.

Repeat.

Wash, rinse.

Repeat.

It takes several washings until she feels clean again, inside and out. When she steps out of the shower, she searches every cupboard, looking for a towel, anything to dry off with. Nothing.

Spying a big green button on the wall, she hesitates briefly and then slams her hand against it. Warm air gushes from the ceiling, making her cry out in surprise. “Oh!” Her hand flies to her chest.

“Are you all right?” Alan yells through the door.

“Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.” The air flows over her body until even her hair is completely dry. “Wow,” she murmurs as she runs her fingers through the silky strands.

“Okay. I found some clothes.”

“Thanks!” She cracks open the door, takes the bundle from his hand, and flashes him a smile before closing the door softly in his face. The fact that he gives her privacy when they’d had none before means more than she can ever say.

She dresses in a pair of loose white cargo pants and a loose green pullover shirt; the garments are thin and breathable. She feels so much better, but she still…

After rummaging through drawers, she yells “Yes!” when she finds what she’s been looking for. A small finger brush that can easily slip over the tip of her index finger. A tube lies right next to it. Taking off the cap, she sniffs. Not bad, but she still isn’t sure. “What the hell.” She squirts the paste on her finger brush and starts to scrub her teeth.  At least the taste doesn’t make her gag. and she really hopes the paste isn’t something equivalent to hemorrhoid cream.

Finger-combing her dark, silky hair once more, she smiles at the reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

Heading out of the bathroom, she spots Alan leaning against the wall and holding his own bundle of clothes.

“Wow,” he says with a cheeky grin. “Look at you.”

“It’s the first time I’ve felt clean in forever.” She lowers herself onto the couch, her eyes closing in pleasure with the feeling of sure comfort caressing her bottom.

Glancing back at Alan, she cocks her head to the side and squints. “Go on. Take a shower.”

With one nod, he heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.