Chapter 5
Over a week has passed since my abduction. Even if I exceed my sixty-day surveying period while in captivity, Nilsan won’t send a rescue team to search for me until after a multiple-day grace period.
So I’ve come to terms with the reality that I’ll be here for a while.
During the day, I’ve been relegated to hard labor.
Lowell says it’s to ‘keep any thoughts of rebellion at bay,’ but I think it’s because he enjoys watching me suffer.
I’ve been trying to use this time to converse casually with Ginny and Guy to gather information, but they remain tight-lipped.
Sometimes I get the sense that they know what I’m up to, forcing me to tread carefully.
In terms of the Sandpit Snake situation, it’s much worse than I anticipated.
The location the creatures fled to is a hollow shell of land with barely anything to feed on, and their resources continue to dwindle by the day.
I’ve written out many possible solutions in the dead of night while in my cell, some great and others ridiculous, but all have proven ineffective. I’m beginning to feel hopeless.
“The cactuses are still withering,” Ginny states with defeat, the soft, squishy plant rotting from the inside out. It droops sadly to one side, the spines falling off at the slightest breeze.
I stifle a sigh, making a memo in my notepad.
“Well, this isn’t good. That was my best idea with what is available.
” There were a few other plans, but they were based on nothing more than wild guesses from stories Grandma used to read to me from old-world ecology books.
Lowell would laugh in my face if I ever voiced them out loud.
Ginny groans, slumping her shoulders. “Lowell is absolutely going to lose his mind,” she grumbles. “The Sandpits are already barely clinging to life with the little food we can spare. I fear that they’re doomed.”
I won’t say it aloud, but they are doomed.
In the best-case scenario — Gaia 4 succeeding in halting construction — Kinsley will just move the construction to a different location.
A majority of the desert has already been approved for the railway, and the current site is one of thousands of other options.
I’d know, since I helped with the approval process.
I don’t tell her this, though.
I smile sheepishly at Ginny, whose worry-lines and tired eyes reveal the anxiety on her stoic face. “I’ll think of something, I just need the right idea at the right moment. It’ll come to me,” I lie, my physical and mental fortitude decaying with each passing day of arduous labor.
Ginny grins weakly in return. “If you say so. I’d hate for your effort to be in vain. You’ve been working hard,” she says sincerely.
“Don’t remind me,” I grimace. Not often I’m able to forget the comfort of my bed or the alluring scent of hot coffee in the morning, so when I’m thrust back into my shitty reality, it sours my mood.
Ginny hisses a sorry beneath her breath.
Brushing the sand off the lab equipment that litters the ground, Ginny assists me in loading them onto the back of her sandcycle. The daily assessments are the only reprieve from labor I’m allowed before being hauled off to today’s working area.
For the rest of the daylight, I help a group of Gaia 4 members install fencing in a pattern I designed. This is nothing more than a quick fix to keep the Sandpits away from ‘poisoned’ land, but it satisfies Lowell’s expectations of me.
Despite my aching muscles, I’m almost thankful for the work. I worry that if I’m given even a moment to myself, my mind will finally catch up to the realization that I’m being held captive with nothing but death to look forward to.
I strike yet another nail into the fence as the sun sears blisters into my skin, sweat dripping into my eyes. I gaze over the dunes towards the base of Rime Mountain, the tall, snowy peaks piercing the clouds. Birds of prey circle their eventual meal as the sun casts their shadows onto the sand.
Grandma had many stories about the mountains since her job often took her there.
Supposedly, a massive creature that can alter the weather used to roam the desert just beyond a man-made barricade.
Grandma was one of the few people who had seen it in person, back when it was free.
She drew a picture of it once, but she’s a terrible artist.
I turn back to my work.
Continuing to toil, my eyes are repeatedly drawn to the mountains in the distance, a seed of an idea planting itself.
I think of the oblong-shaped creature Grandma drew.
Its status as a protected creature is not lost on me, a handful of Giants just like it allowed to roam their territory unprovoked to this day.
My face pinches together in thought, ideas exploding in my head like fireworks.
* * *
“Lowell requested your presence,” Guy says, his hands tucked shyly in his chest. For a Lizardfolk with such large, threatening spines as his, he’s strangely passive. Diffident, even.
I lift an eyebrow. “Why? If I have anything I want to say to him, I’ll tell Ginny.”
Guy lifts his shoulders, a smile creasing his cheeks. “He didn’t say, I’m sorry. All I know is that he had dinner prepared for you.”
I groan, letting my head fall to my pillow. “I don’t want to be within a meter of that monster, let alone eat with him.”
“My opinion may not mean much to you, but I think you’ll like the food,” he laughs, his scaled throat enlarging with air. “It’s leagues better than what we eat at the cafeteria, at least.”
The prospect of eating something other than rice gruel appeals to my near-constantly empty stomach. But I would rather die than show excitement for anything instructed by Lowell.
I roll my eyes, tossing my notebook to the floor where it thunks against the cobblestone. “I’m good, thanks.”
Guy unlocks the cell, sucking in a sharp breath with a pensive expression. “It’s more of an order and less of a suggestion. You don’t have a choice.”
I groan again, sliding off the bed. “Do I at least get a fancy dress and a bath?” I ask, gesturing to my well-worn clothing. “I hardly look appetizing.”
Guy shakes his head apologetically. “No, sorry, you’re being served as-is,” he teases with a nod. “But I can promise you with 60% certainty that you are not the dinner in question.”
“Those are unconvincing odds.”
“When I’ve delivered prisoners to Lowell in the past, the likelihood of their return was usually 0%. He at least has a table set this time, so I think that’s a good thing!” Guy exclaims, pushing open the squeaky cell door.
I can’t help but smile at Guy’s blind optimism. He’s a bit na?ve, and I doubt he even knows the breadth of heinous crimes Lowell has committed in the name of the group he serves. However, I find Guy’s airheaded nature refreshing.
Over the past week, I’ve unexpectedly let my guard down around Guy, and to my surprise, Ginny.
The Nilsanian newspapers usually describe Gaia 4 members as bloodthirsty animals, but Guy is terrified of rabbits (and honestly, everything in general) and Ginny snorts like a pig when she laughs.
All of them are so unlike Lowell, and almost pleasant to be around.
I trail behind Guy to Gaia 4’s main room without shackles, both he and Ginny no longer seeing a need to keep me restrained. I have no reason to run out into the middle of the desert, especially since there is the small promise of release.
Emphasis on small. Not that I’d prefer death by dehydration as an alternative, in any case.
When we enter, candles are lit at the center of a large mahogany table, a bright-red table runner spanning one end to the other. Two chipped white porcelain plates filled with extravagant foods are on either side, with crystal glasses filled with a red liquid next to them.
On one end of the table, with both arms and legs crossed and a serious expression, sits Lowell. On the other, an empty chair.
Guy ushers me forward, giving a tentative thumbs-up before scurrying away without a word. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough, his tail nearly tucked between his legs.
That’s not a good sign.
I watch Lowell’s eyes shift from Guy to me.
“Good evening,” I greet, pulling back my chair to take a seat. The cushion caresses my bottom not at all like the thin padding of the cell bed, my spine able to take in a moment of decompression.
I glance down at a plate filled with dried, cured, and cooked meats.
Not a vegetable in sight.
When I look up at Lowell, his pupils are fully dilated. The amber has been completely swallowed by deep, black pools.
Tapping a claw over his bicep, he says with intrigue, “I thought you’d be ravenous for food.”
I don’t attempt to lift my fork despite the audible rumbling in my stomach. “I don’t eat meat,” I reply plainly.
A smile of disbelief slowly spreads across Lowell’s scarred face. He hangs his head with a laugh. “Are you refusing what I have prepared? You’re quite picky for someone in your situation.”
I nod, pushing the plate away and down the runner.
“Yes, I am refusing. I’ve never eaten meat in my life, and I don’t plan to start.
” The stench from the meat makes my stomach turn, a frown creasing my cheeks.
Lifting my chin while wrinkling my nose, I sour my expression.
“Tell me why you’ve dragged me up here.”