Hunted

by Theresa Beachman

  She put on her most cheerful shopping channel voice. It didn’t hurt to make the effort. “Where we’re going, does it have showers?”

  10

  Heath halted on the horizon and scanned the gloomy scrub. Resu’s triad of pale moons were already visible against the deepening ink of the night sky but he still hadn’t found shelter. His backpack contained first aid supplies and tools but no water or food.

  His knowledge of the planet was sketchy. For the first time, he wished he’d paid more attention to the astronomy section of his pilot training. He’d spent way too much time reading about speed and engine capacity. What he knew was that everything on Resu was here to hunt or be hunted. Beyond the city walls of Ixoth everything was fair game. Which included him and Isa.

  He checked over his shoulder, assuring himself for the umpteenth time she was still following him. Despite everything she’d gone through—the explosion and the abrupt exit from cryo-sleep—she was keeping pace without complaining. Impressive.

  She sensed his scrutiny and for a second, their eyes locked.

  Heath looked away, his jaw tightening. There was a vulnerability in her expression he didn’t want to see that ate at his conscience. He was the reason she was here on this godforsaken rock. He should have told Buke to fuck off from the beginning. Taken the consequences and found some other way to find the money he needed. He’d ignored the fact that he was carrying an illegal load and now he was paying the price.

  Maybe if he’d been a better son, not spent time in juvenile detention, studied harder and gotten a proper job flying star liners he would’ve been able to afford his mother’s meds. Then he wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.

  Damn, that was a lot of maybes.

  “You okay?” She was peering up at him, concern edging her eyes.

  Heath increased his pace, drawing ahead of her, firing back a dismissive answer. “I’m fine.” Somehow, he had to make this right.

  They had hiked to the brow of a small hill. He pointed at a scraggy stand of Exorizza trees below them on the far side. “They’ll make a good shelter for the night as long as we don’t piss them off.”

  “The trees?”

  “Yup.” He didn’t hang around to explain. Loose scree clattered in a haze of pink dust as he worked his way down the slope. He ducked under the shelter of the overhanging branches and noted with satisfaction that the trees backed on to a sheer rock wall. It would provide protection, leaving only the front to cover. Meaty, rubbery leaves bounced off the top of his head as he pushed further into the stand. Isa followed him, and he lifted the branches to stop them from slapping her in the face.

  The grateful smile she gave him took him by surprise. Most of his time in female company was with Angie, and her natural expression was ticked off. Blood smudged Isa’s cheekbone, and he had the urge to wipe it clean.

  Gods. He dragged his focus back to the mechanics of survival. “Here.” He pointed to the small clearing in the center of the trees. The dregs of daylight under the canopy had a greenish tint. Heath dumped his backpack at the base of a gnarled trunk. It contained the emergency kit provided in every escape pod. Basic first aid supplies. Inedible looking dried food. An emergency beacon. Little else of use.

  The base of the trunk was suspended several meters above the ground, supported by a mesh of tough, fibrous roots. There were gaps between them, large enough for a person to squeeze through and Isa was too quick. She ducked into the space beneath the trunk, lifting her fingers to touch the sensitive underside.

  Heath lunged and snatched her hand, wrenching her out of the enclosed space.

  “Hey.” She wrestled against his grip but he held on.

  “Watch.” He kicked knobby bark on one of the distorted roots bracing the trunk. A deep shudder rippled through the tree, the leaves in the upper canopy undulating in a whispering rush despite the absence of wind.

  Isa harrumphed. “I hardly—”

  The creak of wood split the air and the circle of roots bent in a violent contraction, lowering the trunk. Where only seconds before there had been several feet of space, there were now mere inches.

  Isa’s mouth popped open. “What… is that?”

  “Exorizza trees are touchy.” He stroked the trunk. “As long as we’re gentle, they won’t hurt us. Make sense?”

  “I guess.” She took a step backwards and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ll be careful.”

  “Their sensitivity makes them a good place to camp. Any predators come sniffing around, the trees will have a hissy fit.”

  Isa pressed pale lips together and hugged her upper arms. “Okay.”

  Half an hour later, Heath dumped the meager collection of loose twigs and sticks on the ground. Pickings were slim, but he wouldn’t risk taking anything off a live tree. They’d have to make do with a small fire.

  He observed Isa while she worked. She picked up a few sticks but her movements were slow and jerky. She was fading; the hangover from an interrupted hyper-sleep was punishing but the gnawing emptiness low in his own belly reminded him they both needed food and rest.

  He struck sparks from rock flint and blew air into the kindling to help the fire catch. Orange flames licked at the wood, rewarding his efforts. When he turned to her, she was watching him intently.

  “You make that look easy.” She shot him a smile and extended her hands to the flames.

  The tops of his ears burned, he wasn’t used to compliments. He shrugged off her words. “You hungry?”

  She licked her lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “We need to dig for Quamash.”

  “Qu… what?”

  “Quamash.” He made a small oval shape with his hands, searching his mind for the nearest equivalent. “Bit like a potato. Over here.” With gentle motions, he scooped dirt away from the tree roots.

  “Quamash like to live under the Exorizza. They use the tree’s reactivity as protection.” He almost sounded like a biologist. Perhaps he had absorbed a fact or two in planetary classes.

  “Can I help?” She was kneeling next to him, wiping dust from her cheek. Her jaw was set, determined.

  He scraped at the dirt. “Quamash are lazy and don’t dig deep. Just enough to hide under the surface.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Lazy potatoes that like to hide?”

  He allowed himself a grin. “Yeah. But they move slow…”

  “Weird.” She frowned but began to scrape beside him. “Like this?” She was up to her wrists already, clearly not caring about getting her hands dirty. Damn.

  He had a fleeting memory of Alicia, the last woman he’d been involved with. When he’d brought her on to the Annie Mae, keen to show off his lady love, she’d refused to sit anywhere. Instead, she’d swiped a finger across the control panels for imaginary dirt and asked to leave. That had been the last time he considered being close to a woman. His mom had fallen sick shortly after—

  Heath stopped scraping earth, his fingers resting in the stony earth.

  Isa was humming.

  Her hair hung in dirty strands around her face and her forearms were bruised from her violent cryo-pod exit. She was lost on an alien planet with a complete stranger and she was fucking humming. His ears strained to identify the familiar tune.

  She stopped working and glanced up at him. “What?”

  “I…” He would sound like an idiot. “That tune?”

  “Oh.” She glanced away, dark lashes shading her violet eyes from him. “‘You Are My Sunshine.’ I’m pretty bad. Sorry. It’s like an unconscious habit. My parents were always telling me off—”

  He laid his hand across hers. Her skin was smooth and warm to touch. “No, don’t stop. It’s…” He searched for the right word. “Hopeful. We need some of that.”

  She smiled, her cheeks shading pink under his scrutiny.

  He turned his attention back to digging, ridiculously grateful for an excuse to change the subject when his fingers brushed the bumpy outline of a Quamash tuber
. He tugged it free and held it aloft. “Quamash.” It splattered his face in dirt, its roots clawing at the air like a tiny crab, eager to be back in the earth.

  Beside him, Isa squealed. “I got one too.”

  Hers was more resistant, its roots constricting, pulling it deeper into the ground in an attempt at evasion, but Heath was quicker. He leaned over and, within a few seconds, had his fingers underneath its squat shape and ripped it free. “Now we eat.”

  Isa’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. “They’re alive.”

  He tugged the roots off in quick succession. “They’re dead once the roots are off and if you do it fast enough, they don’t feel a thing. Hungry?”

  “God, yes, I’m ravenous.” She studied him as he skinned the tuber with his knife. The intensity of her gaze skittered like electricity across his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone with a woman, especially one as tempting as Isa.

  A faint smile traced her lips. “How do you know all this? Have you been here before?”

  Quamash peel hit the fire and sizzled on contact with the glowing embers, sending small wisps of smoke into the night air. He eyed the smoke, hoping it was faint enough to avoid detection.

  “Heath?”

  “Sorry.” Where would he even start? “I work in… transportation. I get around a lot.”

  “Is that how you were on the ship?”

  He hesitated. Silence was best; people assumed silence meant agreement with their statement or question. Distraction was even better. He placed a peeled tuber in her hands. “Wrap this in some leaves. It’s sweeter and less scorched if we can protect it while it cooks.”

  She stared at the vegetable, as if expecting it to make a break for it, then wrapped it in the thick leaves and secured them in place with lengths of grass.

  Heath busied himself with sorting out water supplies, grateful for the opportunity to divert his mind from the way her hair shifted against her shoulder. He took the small metallic panel he’d salvaged from the wreck and, bending it into a V-shape, positioned it between the branches of the nearest tree. It would catch condensation from the cold night air and provide water.

  The sweet aroma of roasting Quamash curled upwards. Stars had appeared overhead and the three pink moons bound by ribbons of rich apricot rose to join them.

  Isa inched nearer, her hip bumping his, her hands hugging around her shins. She stared up at the sky. “The colors are gorgeous.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. “I’ve only ever thought of Resu as a game reserve. Never considered it as somewhere beautiful.

  A deep smile transformed Isa’s face. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Never trust a book by its cover and all that.”

  Her hair caressed his jaw. Gods.

  Heath cleared his throat and unwrapped the protective leaves from one tuber. “Be careful. It’s hot.” She took the vegetable from him, cradling it in the cuff of her sleeve. She’d undone the front of her blue coveralls, revealing a white lace tank underneath that tracked the swell of her breasts. Heath exhaled a ragged breath. Despite the desperate circumstances they now found themselves in or perhaps because of them, the delicate femininity hidden under her work clothes brought a whisper of heat to his groin.

  “Shit.” He dropped his leaf-wrapped package and blew on his fingers. Too easily distracted.

  Isa grinned. “Careful.” She peeled back a leaf and steam puffed into the chilly night. “A long time ago, I thought about working up there.” She jerked her head heavenwards. “Went to college. Did the physics and math. Passed with distinction. Never happened though.” Color crept across her cheeks. “I kinda regret it.”

  Heath stared at the Quamash at his feet and picked it up. “Not everything in the stars is as sparkly as it’s made out to be. Much of it’s just like home but with less air.”

  “Yeah. Still…” She dragged her attention from the sky and scooped a mouthful of Quamash. Her eyes closed in hungry bliss, a small crumb lingering at the corner of her lips. “Ohmygdufmmph.”

  Heath tried not to stare as he took a bite. Her lips would be warm from the tuber and taste sweet.

  Her eyes opened, and she swallowed. “This is amazing.”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbled, his mouth full of hot starch. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He’d been focused on survival, escaping the ship, and protecting Isa, but now he was starving and in need of fuel. Heath ripped the rest of the papery skin off the Quamash with his teeth, filling his stomach. Heat permeated his body, loosening the kinks in his shoulders. He rolled the muscles, easing them out a little more. A warm belly made all their problems feel less insurmountable.

  The tubers were devoured in no time.

  “Oh my God, that was delicious.” Isa ran her tongue across her lips. “Before my parents split up, my dad used to take me camping. Marshmallows on sticks.” Her face lit up at the happy memory, erasing the lines of stress. An embarrassed laugh escaped her, and she blinked, crashing back to reality in an instant. “Not relevant. Sorry.” She produced a shredded tissue from a pocket and blew her nose. “What now?”

  Words evaded him. Her bare shoulder was exposed, her skin golden in the firelight. Heath swallowed and threw scraps on the fire. “We get some rest and move on at dawn. There are caches of essential supplies buried all over Resu for the hunters.” He touched his field pad. “There should be one less than a day’s walk from here. We can pick up what we need, then find the crew members, Angie and Jack.” He kept it as neutral as he could, not wanting her to link him as crew, even though he doubted it was a secret he could keep for very long. “Their escape pods are equipped with tracking signals.”

  She followed the line he traced across the field pad and touched the blips that represented the escape pods. “When we find them, what then?”

  What then? Her words echoed in his mind. Isa had been Buke’s human cargo. He hadn’t worked out what Buke had been planning for her. Yet. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  He forced a smile. She deserved to believe there was an easy solution here. He’d do the worrying for the both of them. It was the least he could do. “Then we get the hell off this planet and take you home.”

  11

  Heath woke with a start, his breath caught in his throat. Daylight, on the Annie Mae? What the…?

  Reality crashed down with unrelenting force.

  He was lying on his side with his back to Isa on stony ground.

  On Resu.

  He rubbed sleep from his eyes and sat up, every tendon in his abused body aching from yesterday’s exertion.

  Isa was still sound asleep, but dreams raced across her closed eyelids and creases furrowed her brow. “Karl… no.” There was a thin gold band on her left hand. Was Karl her husband? It didn’t surprise him that she would be married, but an unfamiliar stab of jealousy pierced him.

  She shifted, rolled, and draped an arm over Heath’s waist. Her fingers touched bare skin through the tear in his fake uniform, electrifying nerve endings across his abdomen. His breath froze in his lungs as he stared at the small hand curled loose against his skin. He exhaled and shifted her hand, the bones of her wrist delicate in his grip. A soft moan escaped her as he touched her and loose hair slid down her cheek. She didn’t wake, but sighed as he tucked her hand flush against her body.

  A quick check of his watch confirmed he’d slept for two hours. Dawn was creeping through gaps in the branches above his head. It was an insipid pink light, strengthening by the minute, like the gremlins of doubt multiplying in his mind. Soon, Resu’s mammoth sun would rise in the sky blasting any soft-hued light out of existence. The sheer enormity of the day ahead settled heavy on his shoulders as he stood up.

  His gaze slid back to Isa’s sleeping form. She was valuable to Buke. The question was how valuable?

  He pushed up his sleeves and tilted the metal he’d bent into shape toward his water bottle. The water was a slow trickle. He took a swig and held the cool liquid in his mouth
for a moment before allowing it to slide down his throat. He screwed the bottle tight, turning his back on Isa and blew out a breath, scrubbing his hands across his face.

  What a fucking mess.

  What was there to salvage? The Annie Mae was destroyed and desperate situations meant difficult decisions. He’d learned from a young age to fight for he needed. Nothing had ever come easy. If you gave up at the first sign of trouble, you got nowhere. Something his father had taught him, even if unintentionally. He shook his head as he slid the piece of metal into his backpack for safekeeping. Offering Isa to Buke was wrong, but did he have any other way out of this?

  He crouched low and crept out of the stand of trees. A cloud of carmine dust bloomed on the horizon. Heath wiped his mouth. Hunters. How had they found them so soon? The ground was barren and compacted, making tracking difficult—if not impossible. What had he missed? Some obvious trace?

  He headed back to Isa’s side and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

  She woke in a panic, her fists digging into the ground, her breath coming in rapid pants. “What? What?”

  “It’s time to move.” He offered her the water bottle and when she didn’t drink straight away, he cupped her elbow, tilting the container to her lips. “Drink.” She was no use to him if she died from dehydration.

  Isa shot him a glance and did as he instructed, the muscles in her slender throat working in a soft beat as she downed the liquid. He straightened and turned away, folding his arms in a tight knot before he said or did something he’d regret.

  “What now?” Her voice was a soft question behind him.

  He guided her out of the shade into the dry heat of the new day where he pointed at the dust cloud growing in size on the horizon. “Hunters. We need to get the hell out of here.”

  He took her hand, but she snatched her hand out of his grip. Heath suppressed the urge to sigh.