Wyst

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  The category of smiles your body recognizes before your brain does because of the threat in it.

  “You folks stranded?” The blonde one asked as the duo slowly walked towards us. My gaze slid to him, and the long, wicked hunting knife he held at his side. “Or just out for a morning stroll?”

  Wyst didn’t answer and taking his cue, I didn’t either.

  “I don’t know, Jerry. Seems to me we got ourselves a couple of mutes.” The dark-haired one’s voice held a taunt as they came closer. They were now only ten yards away and my body began to tremble. “What’s a matter, cat got your tongue?”

  I don’t like this, Wyst!

  He didn’t answer right away and the lack of his voice in my head added a layer of angry to my increasing fear. So I tried again, projecting my thoughts louder and in stronger words. Don’t just stand there, ass-hat! Do something!

  Interesting. They are behaving exactly as your TV and movies villains do. Am I expected to fight them? I’m certain I can win a battle with these two, but the one behind us has a gun.

  I whipped around to look behind us but saw nothing. How do you know there’s someone behind us?

  His noxious body odor precedes him. While he remained in his ready-for-anything stance, Wyst’s voice in my head sounded almost…derisive, even though I couldn’t read his emotions. As if a guy with a gun didn’t pose any more threat to us than a fictional villain.

  “Enough of this shit.” The man behind us finally spoke and his voice sounded rougher and deeper. “Don’t know if you two have figured it out yet, but you’re surrounded.”

  Wyst shifted his weight and used the hand holding his tresl to pull me close and tight into his side. “What do you want?”

  “First for you to shut the fuck up!” The one called Jerry yelled, stepping closer and brandishing his wicked knife.

  The deeper voice from behind, picked up the conversational thread such as it was. “And put your hands up.”

  Pulling away from Wyst, I immediately raised my hands to my ears in the ‘surrender’ position. On the other hand, Wyst raised his forearms until they were straight out in front of him, his elbows tight into his side as he pointed his palms to the sky. What the fuck, dude? You want to get us killed?

  The man told us ‘hands up’. My hands are now up.

  I kept my groan to myself but couldn’t control my eye-roll as I mentally yelled, just copy my move, okay?

  Wyst caught my thought and I saw him nod from the corner of my eye as he raised his both hands, even the one holding the tresl, to ear level.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Wyst answered before bumping me with his hip and once he had my eyes talked to me along that crazy mental link we shared. This is very exciting, pixie!

  “Now, I want you to use one hand and toss those bags and your wallet into the bushes.” The growly voice behind seemed to be the guy in charge, giving us direction on what he wanted. At the sound of a metal-on-metal click, Wyst wasted no time in following the man’s orders despite my mental protests to the contrary.

  Wait! Isn’t all our money in your wallet? Even I could hear the panic in the thoughts I sent to him. We can’t let them have our money, Wyst!

  Calm yourself and follow their instructions. Besides, you took the money and put it in your purse, remember?

  “You too, lady,” Butch yelled, dashing my hopes our stash of cash would stay with us.

  Shit, shit, shit! Why wasn’t Wyst blasting their asses with his tresl? For that matter, why wasn’t I digging my enhanced cellphone from my bag to do the same? I’d already seen how the weapon portion of the device could do some serious damage when Leah and I fought our way off the Picari starship and I had no problem using it again.

  Using one hand to unhook the strap of my purse from over my head, I lowered my other hand to the small outside pocket and snagged my phone, palming it as unobtrusively as possible. Following the trajectory of Wyst’s duffle and wallet, I tried to throw my purse just as far and into the same thicket of bushes. I only hoped each and every branch had sharp thorns.

  “That was easy, Butch, just like you said it would be,” the dark-haired kid drawled, stepping even closer. My eyes slid to him only to find he seemed a little too interested in my chest. “Can we get to the fun stuff now?”

  The blonde guy, the one called Jerry, eyed me in a new light as he circled around the far side of me, snagging my arm at the last moment and yanking me away from Wyst’s side. He took two steps back, twisting me until my back was to his front. Off balance with all the tugging, I struggled to regain my footing before I found he’d captured me fully with a tight arm around my throat. “Woo-wee, she smells as sweet as she looks, Hal!”

  Uh-oh.

  “Betcha you’re a soft, wet ride,” Jerry murmured next to my ear. I strained to lean away from him, scratching at his arm to break his hold. “Feisty, too. That’s okay, sweet thang. I like it when they fight.”

  Oh hell, to the fuck, no.

  Hal, the dark haired boy, stepped closer his heated eyes roaming over me as he fingered his crotch. “Feel her up, Jer. I want to see you squeeze on those big titties of hers.”

  My eyes shot to Wyst in alarm, who was just standing there with his hands still in the surrender position. Didn’t he understand what was happening?

  Do something, I mentally screamed at him.

  He’d half-turned when Jerry grabbed me, but rather than look my way, his eyes remained glued on the man I’d yet to see.

  “Can’t because of the knife,” Jerry explained, rubbing himself against my ass. “You do it.”

  My eyes went back to Hal who continued to fondle himself through his jeans as he came closer. “Gladly. Fuck! Do you think they’re real? I mean, they’re too big to be home grown.”

  Wyst! Do something! I screamed again, as I fought against the arm at my throat while I kicked and wriggled in an effort to get away.

  But Wyst remained in the same stance, unmoving except for his eyes.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Wyst stayed as he was, carefully watching the one the others called Butch while the pixie continued to mentally shriek into his head.

  The man was older than the other two, heavier and twice as unkempt. But his appearance didn’t bother Wyst half as much as the edginess Butch displayed as well as the firearm he brandished.

  An uneasy man with a weapon was far more dangerous than two younglings lustful perusal of his Pamela’s chest.

  Still and all, his temper flared with what the two young ones had in mind for his traveling companion. But he knew none of their plans would come to fruition.

  They would not be robbed of their currency.

  Nor would his pixie be violated.

  He just needed to remain patient and aware until the time was right.

  Butch moved to the side of the road, his gaze flicking between the bushes and Wyst while the pistol remained pointed at the group.

  Peripherally, Wyst saw Jerry move closer while Hal continued to try and subdue the she-cat he held. The pixie seemed determined to escape, clawing at the man’s arm as she kicked at his legs with her heeled boots.

  When Butch’s eyes went back to the general area of where the bags landed and remained there, Wyst saw his opportunity. He’d already accessed the weapons portion of the tresl so all he had to do was aim and touch the right portion of the screen.

  The first blast, fired from the unit in the hand still raised above eye-level went wide, but hit the forest floor creating a shower of dirt and leaves that covered Butch.

  “Christ almighty! What the fuck?” Jerry yelled. “Did you see that?”

  Four pairs of eyes stared at Butch who was coughing and waving his hands in front of his face. “What was that?”

  Hal blinked a couple of times before answering. “Dunno. Just saw this beam of light before the ground exploded.”

  Since no one was looking his way, Wyst brought the tresl around and brought his arm down to aim with purpose. The second beam was tru
e and blasted the firearm out of Butch’s hand, causing the older man to bellow, “mother-fuck!” before he turned and ran back to the group.

  Perfect.

  Be ready, leca purvya, he mentally warned a now wide-eyed and much more calm Pam.

  Figuring the older man was the more experienced of the three, Wyst determined it best to take him down first then deal with the other two. Especially when Butch ordered Jerry to go find the bags.

  “Forget that, man,” the blonde kid countered. “Something wacky is going on and I ain’t gonna get blown up by whatever shit’s out there. Make Hal go.”

  Hal shoved Pam towards Jerry while grumbling. “Goddamn pussy. That’s all you are, Jer. You wanted in, said you could help but when the going gets tough, you turn pussy.”

  Now, Pixie!

  Wyst caught a flurry of movement as the woman turned, catching the young blonde with an elbow to his mid-section so hard the boy bent almost in half.

  Wasting no time, Wyst kicked out at Butch, feeling the satisfying crunch of a knee-cap beneath his boot while following up with a fist to the man’s chin and knocking him out. Turning back to Jerry, he found Pam astride the youth’s chest her knees pining his arms to the pavement as she used her small fists to pummel the man’s face. Wyst didn’t think she could do much damage since he was sure she didn’t have the strength, but by the time he made it to her, the poor Jerry’s nose was bleeding and his lips were split.

  “Ge’ her da fuck off me,” the kid begged, turning his face from side to side in an effort to avoid her blows.

  Placing a boot on the man’s crotch, the same spot Jerry was fondling earlier, Wyst leaned forward and snagged Pam up by her armpits. “Okay, pretty one. That’s enough.”

  “No, it’s not,” she squealed, kicking out until Wyst put her on her feet. Leaning forward enough to drag Wyst with her, she spat at the man on the ground. “You don’t know how fucking lucky you are, you son of a bitch!”

  Jerry used both hands to cover his nose as he rolled to his stomach on a groan.

  “And for your information, ass-hat,” she yelled on a pant. “There isn’t anything fake about me!”

  Wyst got her to her feet and looked to where he’d last seen Hal only to find the man immobile, his wild eyes trained on his friend and what was happening in the middle of the road. As if knowing he was next though, he took one running step and prepared for another before Wyst tackled him into the dirt and bushes.

  “Don’t hurt me,” Hal cried, holding both hands up in front of his face and offering no resistance as Wyst yanked him upright by his hair. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Gyed! Were all human males such cowards when brought to task for their attempted crimes? Wyst thumbed his tresl before aiming it at Hal’s head, using just enough power to knock the man unconscious. Another beam flashed to his left and Wyst saw Pam had done the same to Jerry, cutting off his groans.

  When she turned back to him, she was wearing a wide smile. “Guess we showed them, huh?”

  Everything within Wyst rebelled at the jubilation Pam showed. He’d been trained to address any threat and immediately subdue it without emotion. “There is no glory in what happened here.”

  She stopped bouncing and turned back to him. “But we, like, won.”

  “We overcame, little beauty,” he replied, eyeing the bodies lying in the road. He didn’t think the men would suffer irreparable harm but he’d never had an occasion to use his skills on any of Earth’s populace. “Overcoming is not winning.”

  “Okay. But what do we do now, Wyst?”

  “Do you want to search for our belongings?”

  “As opposed to what?”

  “Rummaging for the keys to their vehicle as well as their identification cards.” He found her scrunched up face amusing and took it as his cue to root through the downed men’s pockets. As he listened to her walk away he made short work of pulling everything out of the different compartment of all three trousers, tossing everything he found into a small pile.

  “Why do we need their identification?”

  He paused and glanced at her retreating form, idly admiring the sway and jiggle of her bottom as she sauntered to the area they’d thrown their belongings. “So you can give them to the police when you make the report.”

  She immediately came to a full stand still before turning to face him. “You expect me to report this?”

  “Certainly.” He nodded to add emphasis to his answer. “They wanted to steal from us as well as violate you, both of which I know are crimes. We need to alert law enforcement of their actions as well as ensure someone retrieves them.”

  Her eyes widened before a tiny frown appeared. “Wyst, we can’t do that. We’re supposed be flying under the radar, remember?”

  Sometimes he was sure the fiery little vixen argued with him just to be contrary. Pushing up from his crouch, he rose to his full height. “I am very tired of you speaking in words I do not understand.”

  “And I’m freaking tired of you and your bossy-assed attitude!”

  He sighed and propped a hand on each hip. “What does this mean? The ‘flying under the radar’ you spoke of.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and turned her gaze to the length of road they’d yet to travel. “It means to not get noticed, not stand out and attract attention. We’ve got to keep our heads down to try and blend in as much as possible.”

  He mulled that over, comparing her explanation to the instructions he’d been given before they’d started their journey. “So, filing a police report would bring unwanted interest?”

  “Yeah babe. It would.” Her voice held a note of resignation. “I’ll get our stuff and we can get back to hoofing it down the highway.”

  Glancing and the prone bodies and the small pile of personal belongings, Wyst considered both what had happened and the resulting outcomes to their logical conclusions. And at the end of it, he decided Pam was right. Better to simply walk away from the scene of the proposed crime and get back on track.

  But his mind kept returning to the truck, or more accurately the sound of the villain’s vehicle. And as he allowed the thought to take full shape, he reached for the three sets of keys and pocketed them quickly before his traveling companion returned.

  Although he knew two wrongs didn’t make a right, stealing their potential thieves truck held a certain symmetry somehow—especially if he didn’t have to continue the journey on foot.

  Chapter Nine

  I don’t know why but that last mile and a half into Wayward seemed longer than the trek we’d taken before we stole Butch’s truck. Maybe it was because the truck ride was only twenty minutes long before we ditched it on the side of the road.

  Or it could’ve been because the closer we got to the small town, the less trees there were to shade us as we put one foot in front of the other on that lonely ribbon of hot asphalt. All I knew was that I was tired, hot, sweaty and downright dirty.

  Not to mention hungry and thirsty.

  Raising my eyes, I took in the ‘Welcome to Wayward’ sign which announced it was a thriving town supported by the Lions and Elks with a population of five-hundred and eighty people. Although I didn’t quite understand how it could be considered ‘thriving’ since outside of Butch and his band of merry men, there hadn’t been any traffic on the road the entire time we’d followed it. Listlessly I threw the question away and went back to instructing my feet to move.

  “How much further?” I asked on a croak. My mouth was so dry, my tongue and teeth felt gritty. I only hoped Wyst heard me although he wasn’t that far ahead. Like me, his pace had slowed, but I wasn’t sure if the change in his speed was to stay close.

  He listlessly held up his tresl, turning it this way and that before calling back, “A half a mile.” Then he came through loud and clear in my head. Since we can speak without using our mouths, why do you waste your breath, pixie?

  He had a point but it wasn’t one I was willing to concede. Mainly because every time I thought
about the way we could communicate with our minds, it creeped me right the hell out. That was the stuff of fantasies, something you might see in a movie or read in a book. Not actually have happen to you.

  Plus more times than not, each time we did it, the inside of my right wrist itched like crazy. And due to all the scratching I’d done to ease that damn prickle, the skin was red and slightly swollen. Wondering if I really had come in contact with poison ivy in my intermittent forays into the forest to relieve myself, I tried an age-old pain management strategy. The one of ignore-it-and-maybe-it’ll-go-away.

  I’m calling first dibs on the shower, I announced to Wyst using the communication tool he’d suggested.

  We will not be staying for a shower, pixie. We do not have the time.

  Then we’ll make the time, shithead.

  He shook his head in the negative as he continued to walk in front of me. We will obtain the automobile part needed, purchase both food and water then return to our transport. Hopefully prior to nightfall.

  Of every scenario I could’ve come up with, his idea of how the rest of the day was gonna play out was so wrong it wasn’t funny! Don’t give a shit what you’re gonna do, big guy. But this chick will be renting a room, taking a shower and having a bit of downtime before making that hike again.

  Why do you disagree with everything I say? Our mission is to protect and assist Rykhan and his mate, who are now hours away. We must hurry to catch up with them.

  Pulling out my enhanced cellphone, I dialed Leah’s number. “Hey girl, it’s me.”

  “Pammy!” The delight in Leah’s voice was easy to read. Typically by that time of the afternoon, she and I would’ve traded multiple texts and called each other more than a few times, so our enforced lack of communication made it seem like I hadn’t talked to her in forever. “How’re you doing?”

  Glaring at Wyst’s back, I couldn’t help the sneer in my voice when I replied. “Been better. Listen, don’t have a lot of time. But where are you guys?”