Chapter 49
49
P eter stood in his new cell and jumped when two Muiraran guards shut the door in his face. Both scowled at him, turned as one, and marched in sync to a door at the end of a long hallway. One wall of said hallway was made of stone blocks, the other was lined with cells. Peter wondered if he was alone. He hadn’t heard a peep when they entered this area of his prison. Not that he minded being alone. But Peter didn’t relish being by himself for the rest of his life.
He gulped. “Hello?”
Nothing.
Peter sighed in resignation, went to the cot behind him and sat. “I’m doomed.”
“You said it, partnah.”
Peter’s head came up, his eyes wide. “Hello?”
“Howdy.”
He left the cot and went to the bars. “Who are you?”
The man chuckled. “Who are you?”
“Peter Oswald. Doctor.”
“Hmmm, doctor, eh? Thaddeus Slade. Swindlah. Among othuh things.”
Peter gulped. The man had a Cajun accent. “What sort of other things?”
“Well, let me see,” the man drawled. “Abduction, prostitution, robbery, attempted murduh…”
He gulped again and tried to peek down the long hall through the bars. The Muirarans had stuck him in a cell about midway. Their other prisoner couldn’t be but a few doors down. “That’s… quite a list.” At least he didn’t say murder. First degree that is.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Peter gulped again. “Um, where are you from?”
“The glorious state of Louisiana originally.” He heaved a sigh. “I doubt I’ll ever see it again.”
Peter’s heart sank. “How long have you been in here?”
“Hmmm, that’s a good question. Hard to tell when ya haven’t seen the light of day in months.”
“Months?” Okay, he didn’t say years. That had to count for something.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” the man snapped.
“Oh, um, sorry,” Peter said. “I’m sort of new at being taken prisoner by aliens, locked up, and questioned by gorgeous men that turn into beasts…”
Silence.
“Uh, sir?”
“How big was the beast they tortured you with?”
Peter frowned. “Oh, maybe a little bigger than my fist.” He smiled as he thought about how cute “Tylahs the Terrible” as he began to think of him, was. “Make that the size of a kitten.”
“What?!” The man laughed. “Son, they tried to feed me to a creature the size of a covered wagon!”
Peter blanched. “You mean there really are big ones?” Wait a minute, did he say covered wagon?
“Big? Oh yeah. I hear there are some even bigger than a wagon! Try having one of them gnaw on you like you’re a soup bone.”
Peter’s jaw dropped, and he made a squeaking sound. “Soup bone?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Land sakes, boy, are ya deaf?”
Peter silently went over what the Time Masters and other men that questioned him said about Tylahs. “Sarian, they’re called Sarian.”
“I call them hungry. I’m lucky I wasn’t eaten alive!”
Peter loosened his tie. At least they hadn’t left any manacles on him. He cleared his throat. Time to get down to business. “So, Mr. Slade, sir, are they going to kill us?”
He laughed. “They could have done that by now. But seeing as how I’m still alive, maybe they think there’s still some use for me. Can’t say the same for you, boy.”
Peter straightened. “Don’t call me boy. I’m a doctor.”
“Ya sound like a boy, and ya squeak like a little girl!”
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. This Slade hadn’t heard him while he was being questioned, had he? If so, how embarrassing! But as he didn’t mention his screaming like a girl, probably not.
Before he could ask his prison mate anything more, the door at the end of the hall was unlocked and opened. More than one pair of footsteps entered, and Peter couldn’t help but scamper back to the cot and fall onto it. He noticed Mr. Slade said nothing more.
Kwaku, the Time Master, came into view first. “Here he is.”
Two Muiraran guards followed and stood on either side of the Time Master as a fourth man stepped in front of the cell. Peter paled and, much to his dismay, squeaked like a mouse.
Dr. Charles’ prisoner, his prize , stood before Peter’s cell. He considered Peter with his steel gray eyes, and to his surprise, was dressed in a simple loose tank top, athletic shorts, socks and tennis shoes.
He stared at Peter, unmoving, then emitted a low growl.
“Don’t kill me!” Peter begged. He wanted to back up but had nowhere to go. “I didn’t want to hurt her! I was just following orders!”
Mr. Slade chuckled. “Hurt her? Seems I misjudged you, boy…”
“Silence,” The alien snapped. He approached the bars and looked Peter over. “You knew how to find her.”
Peter gaped at him. He sounded… well…
Dr. Charles’ prize clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of the cell. “You will tell me everything.” He stopped and faced Peter. “Or suffer the consequences.”
Peter frowned. Was this the same Muiraran they captured? His mannerisms were… effeminate. “Um, yeah.”
He arched an eyebrow at Peter then turned to the Time Master. “You see, he’s perfectly cooperative.”
Kwaku scowled at him and pointed at Peter. “He harmed Pari!”
The doctor’s prize popped his neck and cringed?
“Yes, bound her to a table, stuck needles in her, removed flesh…”
The doctor’s prize hissed then growled.
“Yes, let him loose. Let him question dis man,” Kwaku said. “You cannot lock him away just because he may have killed who knows how many men last night.”
“Killed?” Peter said with a gulp.
“Quiet you,” Kwaku snapped.
“Oh, um okay.” Peter sat on the cot and nervously bounced one leg.
Dr. Charles’ prize went to the stone wall and rested his hands and forehead against it. He was breathing hard, and the occasional growl escaped.
“Melvale.” Kwaku put a hand on his shoulder. “Do not be afraid of what you are becoming. De Alpha’s instinct to do what is necessary to protect is needed.” He drew closer to him. “She needs him as much as she needs you .”
Melvale spun to him.
“Uh-oh,” Peter said. The man’s eyes were blue. He’d seen enough of this version to know what could happen next. Oh, geez, what did Kwaku call him? Melvin, Marlowe, Melvale? “Hey, I was under orders…”
Melvale’s eyes locked on Peter’s. “You…” the voice was low, gravelly. “You harmed her.”
“Not on purpose,” Peter shot back. “I didn’t want any part of the really bad stuff. He was going to kill her!”
Melvale lunged at the bars, bending them inward.
Kwaku stood by, proud as a peacock, and tossed his hands in the air. “Dere he is.” He glanced at the two guards who had backed to the stone wall, terrified. “Now we are getting somewhere.” He casually stepped to the bars. “I suggest you start talking. Dese bars will not hold him back for long.”
Peter’s breath caught as his throat went dry. All he managed was a squeak of alarm followed by, “Sure.”
“Alpha Melvale,” Kwaku said. “You do not have to touch him to make him tell you what you want to know.”
Melvale looked at him, baring his fangs, and nodded. When he turned back to Peter, he smiled. It was terrifying!
“Wh-what are you going to do?” he stammered.
Melvale closed his mouth and stared at him, his eyes getting bluer.
Peter was suddenly gripped by an unseen source. The same that forced him to unlock the girl’s cell the day the two escaped.
“How did you find Pari Linder and me?”
Peter cringed as he was forced to his knees. “C-camera footage. YouTube.”
“You already told us dis,” Kwaku said. “Where did you come from? When?”
Peter gulped. This wasn’t going to bode well for him. “The Anontist Center. 3056.”
Kwaku sighed in resignation as someone else entered the cell area.
Melvale looked but said nothing.
“Alpha Melvale,” the Muiraran called Zerbe joined them. “I see you’ve met our prisoner.”
“One of my captors,” Melvale corrected. His voice had gone deeper, making Peter cringe.
“You are questioning him?”
“Yes,” Melvale said. “Though it takes little to make him speak.”
Zerbe nodded in agreement. “You will also note he speaks like a mouse.”
“Yes.”
They stood, staring at him, and Peter hoped he didn’t do something embarrassing like soil himself. Again. At least they gave him a fresh pair of pants and boxers to wear. He didn’t want to know where they came from though.
“Tell me,” Melvale said. “How did you get from the Anontist Center in 3056 to New York of 2024?”
Peter began to sweat. “Portals.”
The Time Master and Muirarans looked at one another. “Portals?” Melvale said. “Where?”
Peter stared at them and said nothing. He’d managed to hang on to this last bit of information, but he couldn’t now. He was going to die. “Quite a few places… actually.” He shivered as the alien’s grip on him tightened, and he found it hard to breathe. “Lots in fact,” he choked out.
“What kind of portals?” Zerbe inquired as he approached the bars.
“T-time p-portals.”
Melvale’s eyes narrowed. “Where is the portal that brought you to Pari Lindir?”
“Wisconsin, 2022.” Peter bent over and was looking at the stone floor now.
“Dat is two years prior to when you took her,” Kwaku said.
“The p-portals each go to a set time. You can’t make them go anywhere you want. Y-you have to use a portal that’s closest to when you want to be.”
“So you passed through this portal,” Melvale said. “And waited for her like a hungry spider.”
“Y-y-esssss.”
“Loosen your hold, Alpha,” Kwaku suggested. “We do not want to kill him yet.”
“Thank y-you,” Peter stammered. The force holding him lessened, and he could breathe easier. He rose to look at them but couldn’t stand. “I’m sorry, so sorry…”
“Not sorry enough,” Melvale hissed. “Where are these portals? You will show us.” He turned to the guards. “Bring him.” Melvale turned on his heel and strode away as the two Muiraran guards unlocked Peter’s cell, hauled him out, and began to drag him down the hall.
“Nice knowing ya, partnah,” Mr. Slade called after him with a sadistic chuckle.
“I’ll be back!” Peter yelled. “I will!”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Mr. Slade yelled as they reached the door leading to a wide corridor.
“I will,” Peter repeated weakly. “Won’t I?” He looked at the two expressionless guards as they hauled him into the wide corridor and started the long trek to who knows where.