Chapter Nine
A crescent moon played with the clouds, receding and advancing. In total darkness, Rok couldn’t see, but with the merest light provided by a sliver moon, his vision was as sharp as any nocturnal creature’s. Still, he’d managed to step into a couple of potholes, nearly turning his ankle.
He wasn’t fully healed, although his body had expelled the foreign objects and closed up the wounds. His shoulder fared better than his leg, which throbbed after hours of walking on uneven road.
He needed to rest. But where? There was nothing out here!
After getting shot and passing out, he’d come to hours later when the crawler flipped and rolled, throwing him off the bunk. He’d banged his injured leg and shoulder and hit his head.
Unable to right the crawler, he’d abandoned it and set out on foot.
That had been two days ago. This afternoon, with the luck of Zok, he’d located Admiral Drek’s camp and discovered the remains of the last men in that unit, as well as a recording of the deaths of those who’d preceded them.
He didn’t find Grav on the list of deceased, nor among the bodies, but due to decomposition, identification had proven difficult. Some had been reduced to mere bones.
A search of the camp led him to his brother’s quarters, discernable by the personal effects. He hoped the lack of a body or record indicated Grav had been absent from camp when the plague broke out, but it could also have meant Grav had accompanied the contagious admiral to the command ship.
Rok dispatched the men’s remains with an appropriate funeral, collected his brother’s personal effects, and set out to search. With a desperate grip, he clung to the hope his brother was alive because the idea that he might be alone on this planet was too devastating to face.
He was literally searching in the dark at this point. Having mistakenly assumed all roads led somewhere, he’d strayed onto a pitted gravel track. Why build roads leading to nowhere?
As he rounded a bend, the crescent lunar satellite emerged from behind a cloud, illuminating a ramshackle dwelling in a field of high grass. Thank you, Zok.
He tromped through thigh-high weeds to the front door. Locked. With two good legs he could kick it in, but he’d fall over if he tried right now. He glanced around in frustration then spotted a window covered by mesh.
He slipped the screen out of the frame and climbed into the house.
The sitting room reeked of human—some odors faint, others more recent, but he couldn’t tell how recent as the profusion of scents overwhelmed his discernment.
Perfumes and disinfectants clashed with mustiness, dust, and the nauseating stench of meat, probably from a last meal.
He could not imagine anything more vile than eating animal flesh.
The stench emanated from an adjacent room, so he backed away and tripped over a two-wheeled vehicle. He regained his footing without falling but wrenched his already-throbbing leg.
A hulking shape in the main room appeared to be a sofa suitable for bedding down, but he had to get away from the meat smell.
He limped down a dark corridor and pushed open the first door.
Moonlight spilling in through a ceiling window allowed him to recognize the sanitation room—although the urine odor emanating from the commode would have clued him in.
Wrinkling his nose, he depressed the lever and heard the whoosh as water flushed away the waste.
He supposed he couldn’t blame the human.
He or she might have been vaporized in the middle of emptying his or her bladder.
Urine odor eradicated, he detected a fresh flower fragrance combined with an oddly pleasant, soothing essence, evoking a feeling of homecoming, caring, and belonging.
Inexplicably, the scents reminded him of the family in the church. What would it be like to be loved? To be valued by another just for existing? He had no idea how that would feel. A Progg wasn’t supposed to desire those things.
He took another whiff and shut the door.
One room had weird stuff in it, the likes of which he couldn’t fathom.
The next musty-dusty room had a small, but adequate bed.
He could park his sorry bones here, but one more room remained.
When he pushed open the door, a fresh, cool breeze wafted over his face, bringing with it that alluring scent he’d detected in the sanitation chamber.
The moon had ducked behind the clouds again, so it was too dark to see much more than the bed was lumpy and untidy.
But he could smell. He inhaled that divine scent.
This one. He would sleep in the fresh-smelling room evoking feelings of a home he’d never had.
He shrugged off his carryall and stripped off his clothes. He settled onto the bed and slipped the vaporizer under his pillow. He didn’t expect trouble, but the Earth campaign had taught him to expect the unexpected.
He relaxed and let the bed support his weary, injured body. That remarkable fragrance filled his senses and lulled him to sleep within minutes.