Chapter 31
Layla had never been in a jail cell before. At first, the experience had been terrifying with waves of anxiety crashing into her. The claustrophobia had crawled over her skin, and the fear had tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe.
By hour three, however, the fear had almost worn off. What Layla was left with was boredom. By hour four, it was abject boredom. By hour five, mind-numbing boredom.
The small cell held nothing more than a cot and a toilet. The stone walls might have been interesting if they’d been hewn from something like the sparkling jarristone she’d heard existed in abundance on Noxxa or the heat-sensitive, color-changing pixacrystal of Lorr that Zyair had told her about.
Even the limestone or granite of Earth would have been something.
But on the gray, bleak planet of Jorvlen, of course, they only had gray, bleak rocks. The walls were as smooth and uniform as a poured-concrete slab and just as unfriendly. Even the cell door was made of the same stuff. It practically blended into the walls.
Layla sighed, laying herself down on the cot for what seemed like the thousandth time since she’d arrived. That was all there was to do really—lie on the cot, sit on the cot, stand up off the cot, pace around near the cot, lie on the cot again, ad infinitum.
She was almost convinced she’d go mad in there before she ever got out when a small slot at the bottom of the door suddenly opened.
“Hey!” she called out, jumping from the cot and scrambling over to the door.
Only a garbled, angry reply in Jorvlen came back before a dinged metal tray was shoved through the gray, bleak door, and the slot was closed.
Layla stared in dismay. The tray contained a small pile of food and a cup of water. Like the rest of Jorvlen, the food was, of course, gray and bleak. Plus, the water had been half-spilled upon its delivery.
“Great,” Layla muttered, her boredom suddenly broken by a flash of anger.
Unfortunately, she found little relief in the brief break in the monotony. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the tray and carried it over to her cot, taking care not to spill another drop of the precious water.
“This is hardly food,” she said out loud, suddenly preferring the sound of her own lonely voice to the overwhelmingly empty silence of the room. “You could have at least tried.”
She picked at the pile of gruel on her plate. It was in no way appealing, but she was too hungry and bored not to eat it. Even if it was horrible, she reasoned, it was better than nothing.
She slipped a small spoonful into her mouth but immediately decided she was wrong. Nothing was definitely better than the inedible concoction that seemed to stick to her tongue like glue. She tried to wash it down with the little water left in the cup but she couldn’t seem to rid her mouth of the taste of it.
“This is disgusting!” she called out, but she got no answer. Just the same echoing emptiness of her cell.
Layla sighed, setting the tray down and kicking it across the floor to the other side of her cell. It landed there with a clank, sending the cup careening into the corner by the door. At that point, though, Layla didn’t even care.
She went back to lying on the cot, picking at stray fibers to keep her occupied, but she soon was robbed of even that. The gray walls of the cell suddenly turned dark as the lights were extinguished with a heavy clicking sound.
A gruff Jorvlen voice called out from just outside her door. Even though Layla didn’t speak Jorvlen, she didn’t have to be a language expert to figure out what the guard had yelled. Lights out.
There was nothing left to do but sleep, and in the all-consuming dark of the cell, slumber quickly pulled at her mind.
Her thoughts drifted from the confines of her holding cell to remaining forests of Earth—the forests she saw in Zyair’s striking violet eyes. Soon, she was dreaming that Zyair was there with her, tucked away in a forest grove with sunlight filtering in through the leaves high above.
In her arms, she felt something warm. When she looked down, she saw a baby nestled there. She tried to see the baby’s face, but the light was glowing too brightly for her to see. Suddenly, she realized the light was no longer filtered through the trees. It was bright and harsh and fluorescent.
Layla opened her eyes to see the lights in her cell had suddenly been turned on, but she was sure she hadn’t had anywhere near eight hours sleep. Groggily, she found herself questioning if Jorvlen sleep cycles were significantly shorter than those of humans, but her grogginess quickly slipped away as the sound of yelling came from outside her door. So did her thoughts of sleep.
The cries sounded angry. She jumped up from her cot, sure she was about to be dragged from her cell and into some even worse fate. But when the door burst open, she didn’t see a Jorvlen there.
“Zyair!” she cried, rushing toward him.
As she did, though, the blast of an energy pistol caught the side of the door jamb. Zyair jumped inside before returning the fire swiftly. Through the door, Layla saw smoke and energy blasts, and she heard Jorvlen and Lorr yelled back and forth.
“We have to go now!” Zyair told her.
Layla nodded. Although her veins ran cold with fear, she knew she had to follow him out of there. She and the baby had to survive.
Thinking quickly, Layla grabbed the metal tray from where it had landed against the wall and followed Zyair into the corridor. The air was thick with smoke, and she had no idea where they were going, but Zyair seemed to.
He kept her safely behind him as he advanced, taking cover behind the warden’s desk before clearing a path ahead of them with a series of shots. The Jorvlen guards, though, were relentless.
“Masora, cover us!” he called. Layla could just make out the edge of a curled horn around the next corner.
Within a split second, a purple hand wielding an energy pistol snaked out from behind the corner, shooting down the hall. Zyair beckoned Layla to follow, and they made a break for it, rushing in the opposite direction and hoping for the best.
Zyair was armored up, of course, but Layla could only pray that her serving tray would be enough to stop any stray energy blasts. She desperately hoped it didn’t come to that.
A sudden loud bang and the deafening hiss of pressurized air escaping came from behind them. Layla turned to see Masora had shot down one of the pipes that hung from the ceiling, letting out a sudden rush of steam.
A chorus of screams came from the hallway, and Layla could only guess what that had meant for the Jorvlens. But she couldn’t stay to find out if her guess was correct. Instead, she ran onward, following Zyair and hoping they didn’t encounter any more guards on their way to safety.