Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
When I wake, there is one blissful, sleepy moment where I’m unsure where I am. There is only a white ceiling above me and a hard surface beneath me, and the confusion of my stiff and aching muscles. Then I shift my half-open eyes to the left and find X staring at me from above.
A squeak escapes me that is almost a scream; I slap a hand across my mouth to muffle it as I sit up and press my back against the wall.
X’s pupils flare, and he twitches, his lab coat rippling as though something is moving beneath it.
But after a moment, the tension eases and his eyes return to normal.
“No prey noises,” he says sternly.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I want to scream at him to refrain from scaring the shit out of me if he doesn’t want me to make sounds like that, but it doesn’t seem productive.
Now that I’m awake, I’m quickly remembering that I’m locked in a small cage with a natural predator.
It is vital that I stay on his good side.
I push up to my feet, careful not to make any sudden movements. I insisted on sleeping on the floor, much to X’s chagrin. It was cold and uncomfortable, but I couldn’t bear the thought of climbing into that sleep chamber with him. Eventually he accepted my personal space explanation again.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to match his mild tone.
“You startled me.” I want to ask him to step back farther, but I bite back the request. He might get offended.
Especially since I’m the one in his cell.
It’s not by my own choice, but still, I’m glad he’s not a more territorial creature than this.
There are probably plenty of monsters in this facility who would’ve already killed me—and eaten me, too.
But X is smart. Reasonable. So I have a chance.
More than a chance. I have an opportunity.
It’s easier to deal with this situation when I think of it as field research.
I have a chance to study an alien up close and personal.
We’re communicating. I can learn from him.
And if I understand him, perhaps I can convince him to cooperate with the scientists.
Get him to eat something else instead of me.
I can’t deny that there is a small part of me hoping that if I prove myself useful, the scientists will free me.
They trapped me in here out of desperation, but if I can save our research team, I can prove that I’m worth more to them alive.
I hate myself for even thinking of it, but I’m still clinging to the idea of returning to normal life after this.
But I have to. I have to find a way.
No one will come looking for me. My parents might notice something is wrong after a couple of weeks without our usual obligatory phone call, and my landlord will realize I haven’t been paying rent, but by then it will likely be far too late.
My chest aches, a little, at the realization of how little my disappearance will matter to the outside world.
But that only means I have to find a way to save myself. I refuse to die in obscurity. I deserve better than this.
I brush my fingers through my hair and adjust my clothes.
I’m still in the tailored trousers and white blouse I wore to work yesterday, and I wish I had something more comfortable—and clean—to change into.
I could wash myself off in the sink, but I’m afraid of removing my clothes.
The bathroom has no door, and I know it has cameras too.
I’d be exposed to both the alien and the scientists.
I suppose hygiene is the least of my concerns. But the itch of thirst in the back of my throat is a more pressing need.
“Could I have some of your water?” I ask, pointing at the jug left in here for X to drink from.
An arm darts out—the limb overly long, flashing into a tentacle for a moment before becoming an arm again—and drags the jug to him. I reach out to take it from him, but instead he grabs me by the chin and lifts the jug to my lips.
I’m frozen in shock and nearly choke as he pours the water into my mouth, sputtering helplessly for a moment before I drink. His grip on my chin is firm, holding me in place while he forces me to gulp so much water, I feel like I’m drowning.
When he finally pulls it away from my lips, I’m gasping, water dripping down over my chin.
“T…thank you,” I manage, wiping my mouth with one hand. I’m lucky my shirt didn’t end up soaked, which would have been dangerous in this freezing cold.
I try not to think of the rabbits who used to roam this cell. I noticed the overturned jug before, and the way X crouched over one of the dead animals like he was mourning. Was the alien treating them like pets? It’s…endearing, actually, except that it makes me wonder if he sees me the same way.
X looks pleased with himself as he sets the water jug aside and sits, cross-legged, a mere few inches away from me.
I take a moment to breathe and gather myself.
“I wanted to ask some questions about you,” I say as calmly as I can manage, “if that’s all right.”
He rests his hands on his knees, studying my face. “Ask as you want.”
My eyebrows rise. “You haven’t seemed eager to communicate with the other scientists.” Aside from Mulford, I want to say, but I hesitate to bring up the name of the scientist he attacked.
“That is different,” X says.
“Different how?”
He pauses and seems to think about how to word his response. “I speak with friends. Not with enemies.”
“But I’m not an enemy?”
He coughs out a sound that might be a laugh. “No.”
I frown slightly. I know I shouldn’t push it, but I am so curious. “Because I’m female?”
He huffs. “Because you are taujak. I do not know it in your language.”
That word again. I puzzle over what that could mean. “I’m young? Harmless? Friendly?”
He shakes his head. “No. You are…” He mumbles quietly in his own guttural language, and then says, “Mine.”
I swallow hard, a frisson of alarm crawling down my spine. I’m tempted to inquire more into that line of thinking, but I’m also afraid.
So I clear my throat and move on. “Then we can talk freely?”
“Yes,” he says, but then he hesitates, head tilting. “You may ask freely. I may not answer freely, because of them.” He nods his head.
I follow the gesture to the mirror. “They’re listening.”
“Yes.”
“How many of them are here today?”
He tilts his head. “Three.”
All three: Akimov, Ramsey, Tabs. I imagine them sitting in the lab, watching through the observation window, and have a sudden, wild urge to throw something at the mirror and smash it. A breath, and I suppress the mad idea. “How can you tell?”
“I hear them.”
“What do you hear? Are they talking, or…?”
X smiles again. Wider and toothier than usual, and even more disquieting. “This question I will not answer.”
“I understand.” Though I am very curious. Just how good are his senses? “Can we talk about where you came from? Your home planet.”
His gaze goes distant, his voice quieter as he says, “Yes.”
“What was it like there? How was it different than Earth?”
“I have not seen your Earth outside of here,” he says. “But the air is similar. As is the…” He gestures to the floor, and upward. “The pull of the planet.”
“Gravity,” I supply. “Interesting. Your kind has similar needs to humans, then.”
But his expression changes, his eyes narrowing and drifting toward the mirror again. “But we are also different. My kind would not do this to yours. There is a lack of honor in it.”
“Is that important to your people? Honor?” It’s the second time he’s brought it up. A sense of honor implies ideals, a complex culture. Perhaps even a civilization. I can already tell that X is much more than the animal they treat him like.
“Honor is the most important,” he says with a proud lift of his chin. But after a moment, his head sags toward his chest. “But my honor is…harmed, now.”
“Why? Because you were captured?”
He shakes his head. “There is a loss of honor in that, but I could erase it with escaping and killing my enemies.”
He says that so matter-of-factly that it gives me pause, but I’m more curious about the rest. “Then why? What is the loss of honor?”
He hesitates for a moment, his eyes sliding to the mirror before shifting to meet my own again. “There was a man here before you came,” he says. “His name was John Mulford. He was my friend.”
My gut twists at the name, but I try to keep my face carefully blank. “What happened to him?”
“He used to come here, in my room,” X says.
“Alone. But one day the door shut. He became frightened, and tried to run.” His eyes dart to the locked door behind us, his expression troubled.
It’s strange, how some of his facial reactions look so uncanny, and yet others—like this—are startlingly human.
“I was faster. I was hungry. And I…” He drops his gaze to his lap.
“To eat another being of intelligence…that is a great shame, for me and for my people. I did not wish to do it. But I could not stop. I was so hungry.”
Oh, God.
My heart thuds in my ears as panic threatens to overwhelm me. Akimov and the others have lied to me from the start. They claimed that Mulford was injured in an accident. They never said he was killed or—oh, God—eaten.
It makes more sense why they were so quick to lock me in here. They likely did the same thing the last time the alien refused to eat.
I take a deep breath, and then another. Once I can control myself, I reach out a trembling hand and place it on X’s knee. He looks up at me, studying my face.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
He shakes his head, his gaze locked on mine.
In a way, it makes me feel better, to know he didn’t intentionally kill and eat a human being. But at the same time, it is little consolation. Because if he made that mistake once, it could happen again. If his instincts can surpass his reason, the fact he considers me his will not save me.
I exhale slowly, trying to stay calm. “Is that why you have been refusing to eat?”