by B.J. Keeton
***
Swinton and Harlo ran as hard as they could, but they weren't fast enough to keep up with the flyers. Between the muddy ground and the tall grass, they stumbled along and were barely able to keep Ceril and the others in view as their captors flew them toward the mountains. Swinton and Harlo kept running, though. And despite not technically having any soldier training, Harlo had been a health nut most of her life, which let her keep up with Swinton fairly easily.
By the time the pair heard the gunshots, the mountains were towering in front of them. They both stopped in their tracks at the sound.
Harlo said, “Well, that can mean one of two things. They're either okay and working their way back to us. Or they’re not, and we have to keep going after them. I prefer the first scenario, but either way, I think we should head that direction. At least meet them in the middle.”
“Yeah,” Swinton said, “that sounds good. It’s probably going to be night soon, and we really shouldn't be out in the open after dark. At least we know the mountains have places we can hide and sleep. We should keep going.”
“Let’s just hope they don’t miss us on their way back through while we’re hiding and sleeping.”
“Can’t think like that, doc. Let’s go.”
By nightfall, they had heard no more gunshots, which was a good thing, but they had also not seen their teammates, which was bad. They had not been accosted by flying kidnappers anymore, either, so Harlo considered them to be ahead for the moment.
It wasn’t hard for them to find a decently covered spot where they could sleep for the night. When they stopped and decided to camp, Swinton looked at Harlo and said, “We'll find them tomorrow.”
She mumbled a vague response. If they're not dead already, she thought.
“It's probably not safe to have a fire tonight,” he told her.
“You're right. There's no telling what would find us in the dark if those things could find us during the day.”
“Well,” Swinton offered, “we were in the middle of a purple field. We kind of stuck out.”
“That we did,” Harlo said. She didn't feel like much conversation, but it seemed like he did.
“Where do you think they are?” Swinton asked. He tried not to shiver as he put his back to one of the outcropping's walls.
“Somewhere above us, that way” she said and pointed. “I'm pretty sure they're alive. They have to be. Roman and the others wouldn't have sent us somewhere so dangerous that we'd have been killed on our first day there. I mean, I know I've heard the Rites are tough, but that's a little insane.”
“I don’t think they really knew that much about this place,” Swinton said. “All they told me was that our Rites were about to begin and that Ceril was in charge.”
“Which makes me think they knew where they were sending us, Swinton,” she said, a little annoyed. “How could they send us out to be tested if they weren’t sure about the test?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “But still. The way the portal went out like it did. And this attack? And no panel to reopen the portal? I have a bad feeling about this.”
Harlo did, too, but she didn't want to say it. That might make it real. “I get that, Swinton. I do. But right now, we're just going on conjecture, and that's not good for anyone. We’ll drive ourselves crazy with a night full of what-ifs. The best thing we can do right now is get whatever sleep we can and head in the direction we think they’re in when we wake up.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you're right.”
I certainly hope I am, at least, she thought. “Good night, Swinton,” she said.
They both pulled their folded, foil blankets from their satchels and cowered beneath them, unsure of what to expect from the alien night.
