6
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Myla
I’m deaf and I can’t breathe. My lungs are on fire and feel like they’re collapsing inward. Where moments before I saw fire and sparks and smoke, now all I see is blackness…and some kind of purple and gold clouds…
I’m so cold…cold to the point of burning. I’m gonna die.
Against my will, my eyes close. And then nothing…
Screaming. Horrible, heart-stopping screaming.
My eyes snap open; my ribcage feels like it exploded and somebody put it back together piecemeal. I’m lying down in agony and try to bolt upright, but some kind of metal cuffs have got my wrists and ankles trapped. I arch my back in protest, crying and screaming like…a banshee…
A hand smashes across my mouth, stunning me into silence. I blink several times, seeing stars…but not the void of space, at least.
A harsh, guttural voice begins speaking.
“Be quiet, Human!” the voice spats. “Or I will silence your shrill voice!”
I turn my head toward the words, confused and terrified. An alien who looks something like a filthy rodent is standing over me.
“What are y-y-you?” I stammer, unable to identify the species by sight alone.
The alien grins, displaying a mouth full of disgusting, pointed teeth.
The gurgling stops and the thing gets in my face, fetid breath makes me gag, and I scream and scream and scream…
“Myla! MYLA!” a voice permeates my dream.
Hands are shaking my shoulder and I spring up, crouching low on all fours, a growl rumbling from my throat. I see nothing but red as the blood pumps through my veins.
“Myla?” the voice asks, uncertain.
Myla. Myla…my name. Myla is my name. I am Myla McPhail, from Georgia, USA, on Earth.
I blink rapidly, a single tear spilling down my cheek, and then a face comes into focus…
Tekil.
“Myla?” he says again softly.
I throw my arms around his neck, feel him gently stroke my hair.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. It was just a nightmare.” I let go of his neck and force a smile. “Sorry.”
He nods, letting out a slow, deep breath, his eyebrows pulling close. “Are you sure?”
“I am, thanks.”
As I pick the mossy brown stuff from the side of my face, I glance at Tekil. He looks so put- together, not as filthy as I feel. It probably has something to do with his blue skin not showing as much dirt as my fair complexion. I really need to wash off.
After a terse moment, he nods and says, “If you are hungry, I caught us some food.”
That perks me right up, my uncomfortable filthiness forgotten. I’m starving. “Really?”
“Yes,” he smiles, showing his canines. It’s a little unnerving. “Come on.”
He heads out. I follow as he crawls from the drooping canopy, trying not to stare at his perfect behind. The white shorts leave little to the imagination.
Shifting my eyes away, I see a medium-sized brown and yellow-striped animal with a long tail and claws is lying dead at the base of another tree.
Just looking at the animal makes my mouth water and my stomach rumbles. Licking my lips, I ask, “How are we going to cook it?”
Tekil’s lips turn down, his eyes shift briefly to mine and then back to the animal. “I do not think we can.”
He kneels, and using a partially shifted claw, proceeds to skin the animal. Instead of being repugnant, my mouth waters even more, and raw or not, I’m eating it.
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With all the meat stripped from the carcass, it’s the first time I’ve been full since I left Earth. It worries me that I just ate raw meat and loved every juicy morsel. That thought alone should repulse me, but I’d do it twice over.
Licking the last of the juices from my fingers, my mind trails to the others locked in the cell— especially the two blue men. I’m torn between wanting to rescue them and wanting to stay as far away as possible. What if they capture us again, or worse, what if they kill me or Tekil?
It’s silent with only a distant chirp every so often. Meeting his eyes, I finally ask, “Are you sure going back is the best idea?”
He’s quiet. I see indecision cross his face before he looks away. We are on the outskirts of a forest where the trees are thin and sporadically placed. In the distance, they stand close, denser. Black and yellow leaves litter the ground with knee-high brown bushes scattered all over. Plump, inviting blue berries nearly entice me over until I notice they’re surrounded by a crown of long sharp thorns, daring me to pick one.
“No, but I do not have a choice in the matter. I must rescue my team. Leaving them behind is not an option.”
Even if I don’t like it, I know he’s right. Guilt would eat me alive if we didn’t at least try.
“You said their names are Vi’del and Zeno?”
“Yes.”
“Were they friends of yours on Kintuke?”
“I would not call them ‘friends;’ more like acquaintances. Vi’del worked with information systems repair and Zeno worked in planet security.”
Historian, info tech and security…hmm… I guess their paths wouldn’t cross that often.
“But you’re friends now?”
A smile briefly ghosts his lips. “Yes. When we were first captured, they put us together in one cell and a bond formed. We spent months trying to determine who had betrayed us, but with such different occupations, there was no common connection. We had no choice but to trust and rely on each other.”
“And now you’re close with them?”
“I am. But after the Acradidia realized that I couldn’t shift and remained trapped in this form, they separated us. The experiments continued for me, but not for them.”
“They probably assumed it would be safer opening a door where only one of you could fight back.”
“That was what we thought as well.”
“Hmm, I wonder why they chose the three of you when you come from such different backgrounds.”
“We cannot find a commonality.”
“And you were the Historian, right?”
He grins. “On Kintuke, we call it the record keeper, but Historian is the only way I know how to describe it.”
This piques my curiosity; after all, an Historian is an Historian, and a record keeper could be virtually anything.
“Sooo,” I draw out the word, “what exactly did you do on Kintuke?”
“It is difficult to explain it properly.”
“Try me. I think I can keep up,” I quip, mildly irritated.
“I am from the Ruling Quad…”
“The government, got it,” I interrupt, waving a dismissive hand.
“Every decision made by the Leaders is handed down to me, and I am responsible for recording them.”
Wait, what? When I think about an historian, a librarian comes to mind. Someone who records births, history, significant events of the planet. This isn’t remotely the same.
Anger washes over me and I’m not sure why, but I’m pissed. Maybe it’s because I’m back to square one and know nothing about Tekil. Maybe this irrational mood swing is from the experiments. Whatever the cause, I try to tamp it down…and fail.
“News flash, that does not make you an historian.”
“I told you it was difficult to understand.”
“It’s not difficult to understand!” I blurt angrily. “I’m not daft, you’re just not explaining it correctly. An historian records history. You know, life events, wars, that kind of thing. You are entrusted with recording rulings and records. If you make an error, it’s a life-changing error in the rules and laws of Kintuke. That’s not a freakin’ historian.” Dusting the backside of my pants off after I stand, I give him a smirk. “Thanks for the food. I’m going to get some rest.”
Turning my back, I storm off.
There’s no reason to be so irritated, I chide myself. Okay, yes there is. When he said it’s difficult to understand, well, that hit a nerve and made me mad. I know I’m not as smart as him, but maybe he should explain things better.
Stalking toward the drooping branches that have now become my room, I feel a little guilty for getting mad at him. While I rested, he went out and killed something for us to eat; he hasn’t even slept yet.
When I reach the entrance, I drop to my knees and crawl inside. Laying on my right side again facing the entrance, I tuck my hands under my head.
What I wouldn’t give for some soap and water, anything to wash some of the dirt away, scrub the dried blood from my hair. Then maybe I would feel better about myself.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I will search for a pool of water. There has to be a river or lake somewhere—there was too much of it dripping from the sky in the city not to be.