Captive (The Survival Race)

by K. M. Fawcett

  “You say that now because you don’t know any better. I’ll see you in the breeding box. Stepping closer, he licked his lips and whispered in a husky voice, “If not sooner.”

  She pushed him back, but her hand slid off his sweaty shoulder. He didn’t move. “You’ve got spunk, pet.” His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

  “Ye best get back to practicing, lad, if ye wish to best Max at the championship.”

  “Ha. Beating Max is no wish, Gramps.”

  A musical tune like a cell phone ringtone sounded behind Regan.

  “If I’m no’ mistaken, it hasna been reality either, aye?” Duncan grabbed Addy’s hand and quickly ushered her away, but not before she saw Regan’s face flush with anger.

  “I expect that whiskey before I leave tonight,” he yelled after them. His voice and the musical tone faded into the distance.

  Once out of the warrior’s sight, Addy turned on Duncan. “Thanks a lot for introducing me to Mr. Alpha Jerk back there...Who the hell does he think he is?...It wasn’t my fault I was in that stupid box with Max...Why doesn’t he go pick a fight with your stupid Hyborean?”

  “Settle down, lass. I had no choice on the matter. Regan is the alpha gladiator in the Yard, and no mistake. That wee display of power was his way of explaining things to ye.”

  “Well he didn’t have to hurt me to do it.” She rubbed her sore scalp. “A simple ‘Hi Addy, I’m in charge here’ would have sufficed. This planet is insane.”

  “Aye, well, Hyborea is different, to be sure.”

  “Different? I’ve been here one day, and half the people I’ve met shoved their tongues down my throat. I’m like S’mores at a Boy Scout jamboree. Duncan, these men can’t help themselves to me whenever they want. I won’t allow it.” She smacked a low hanging branch out of her way. “I can’t stay here.”

  “Dinna fret, lassie. It’s no’ so bad. Ye’ll get used to the way of things.”

  Was he serious? Who could possibly get used to being a sex slave? A human broodmare? He was as insane as the rest of the planet. She stopped, turned to him, and lowered her voice. “Max told me he knew someone who had escaped.”

  Duncan’s face changed from surprise to sadness then back to normal. He shifted his weight to the other leg. “Did he now? Perhaps that was another of his wee fabrications. Like the baby-selling cult.” He started walking again, his pace quicker than a moment ago.

  Clearly Max wasn’t the only one lying.

  * * *

  They spent the rest of the day walking the perimeter of the Yard—which, according to Duncan, was three miles long by one and a half miles wide—so she could see for herself there was no way out. Duncan agreed to the trek only on the condition they take multiple stops to rest and eat some food they picked along the way. He led her around like a proud museum curator, spouting facts and numbers about the Yard.

  She committed every detail to memory.

  “The Yard is over 2,800 acres. We’ve training fields, woodlands, farmland, and many water bodies. All the flora and fauna ye’ll find is indigenous to Earth.”

  Just how many times had he’d given this little everything-you-need-to-know-about-the-Yard speech? It sounded way too rehearsed to be off the top of his head.

  The sun crossed the sky as they strolled passed people swimming, fishing, and lounging in hammocks. Groups played soccer or practiced some kind of martial arts. They passed three pregnant women knitting baby blankets. Duncan waved to someone farming in a field.

  Only two Hyboreans had been in the Yard until the sun lowered and the temperature fell. Then more aliens—children, presumably, by their shorter stature—had come out to play catch with their full-grown human pets. None of the aliens had paid Duncan or her any attention, thankfully.

  “How come some people wear chokers and others don’t?” If she didn’t want to get zapped while escaping, she had to get rid of hers.

  “The decision is up to the individual master. Mostly though, gladiators, Earthlings, and anyone new to or visiting the Yard wear them. Most Hyborea-born humans—or Hyborhus, as they’re called—don’t.”

  “Do you and Tess wear one?”

  “No, lass. Except when Ferly Mor takes us on his travels.”

  “He lets you out? Where does he take you? How often do you leave? Will he be going back to Earth?”

  “Och. I hope yere no’ of a mind to escape. Ferly Mor won’t let that happen.”

  The metal around her neck seemed to tighten. She tugged on it, though not as hard as yesterday. She didn’t want to risk pissing off the Hyboreans. Would they remove this damn shock collar if she demonstrated good behavior? Searching for an answer her gaze drifted up at the holographic mural. The wall could barely be seen behind it.

  “Duncan, how high would you say that wall is?”

  “Too high for what I think ye’re thinking.”

  “You don’t believe I could climb over it?”

  “No.” Before she had a chance to get riled up and prove her athleticism, he said, “The Yard is no’ what it appears. The walls enclose us in a synthetic habitat. Our sky is nothing more than a brilliantly engineered holographic dome. Hundreds of ultraviolet lights brighten and dim in correlation to the Hyboreans’ solar system.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying we’re actually inside a giant atrium...with a planetaium roof?”

  “Aye. That about sums it up. Ye must agree the 3-D forest mural is a nice touch. We don’t have to look at ugly buildings like in the subclass’s Yards.”

  The sun setting behind the trees painted the sky in a pink-and-orange glow. Hair swept across her face by a gentle breeze that carried the scent of wild onions.

  How could all of that be fake?

  Duncan’s eyes shone with tenderness. “I ken this is difficult for ye to understand, but what I show ye tonight will help. Come, lass. We’re nearly home.”

  By the time darkness covered the Yard, Duncan pressed a black button in the camouflaged wall. A section sublimated. Hyborean doors didn’t open on a hinge, slide, or revolve. Their matter transitioned from a solid state to a gaseous state without becoming a liquid first, like dry ice.

  She remembered Max appearing in her bed as if out of a white fog. That must have been when the Hyboreans sublimated the door and placed him into the breeding box.

  They stepped through the swirling white vapor into Duncan’s kitchen. The doorway crackled as the gas transitioned into its solid state once again. She never would have guessed they’d been standing outside of Duncan’s home. When she’d sprinted out of there that afternoon, she hadn’t looked back to notice the “glass” wall was only transparent from the inside, like a window in an interrogation room. How many other houses were concealed behind the hologram murals they passed today?

  She followed him to the back of his living area where he pressed another button on that wall. A section sublimated from solid to gas. A blast of icy air hit her. She shivered.

  “Put on this cloak.” Duncan wrapped the heavy garment around her, then took his eggplant-colored cloak from another peg on the wall. When they crossed the smoky threshold, the room illuminated without flipping a light switch. “This is our master’s apartment.”

  The stark white room nearly blinded her. Brilliant walls, ceiling, and floor shimmered like ice crystals, and appeared to be manufactured from the same material as the breeding box. To her right, a long white table stood as tall as her head, and the cushions of the accompanying chairs came up to her waist. His ceiling must have been twenty feet high. Each step on the staircase leading upward was about knee height.

  Other than some Hyborean-sized furniture and a potted evergreen-type tree in the corner, the room was empty. There were no bookshelves, no knickknacks, no lamps, computers, TVs, nor wires of any kind. The only visible technology was the 3-D holographic pictures on the walls and side table that played short movie clips of other aliens or of Duncan and Tess before starting over again.

&nbs
p; Addy’s breath clouded in front of her. Her teeth chattered and she drew the hood over her head. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “The Hyboreans live in an arctic environment. They’re verra comfortable in the cold. Ferly Mor usually keeps his home about ten degrees below zero on your Fahrenheit scale, which is a wee warmer than outside.” He crossed the alien’s room, jumped onto the couch, and climbed up the back. “Come see for yourself.”

  Addy followed him up, peered through the transparent wall and nearly tumbled backward.

  Outside bustled a monstrous frozen metropolis. Enormous white buildings lined the streets. Hovercrafts skimmed over crystal power. A flurry of Hyboreans rushed down frosted sidewalks sparkling beneath city lights.

  The aliens looked like giant Eskimos wearing fur suits in a supersized, snow-bleached New York City. She imagined the Yard as a large Central Park walled off by the city’s buildings and a hundred-foot-high roof.

  “We’re on the second floor? We never walked up any stairs.”

  “Aye. The Yard is about twenty feet or so deep with dirt.”

  “It’s not the real ground?”

  “No, lassie. That’s the real ground out there.” He pointed down at the snowy street.

  A weight fell on her heart. Tunneling out left her with one less escape option. Lights from distant spacecraft climbed into the starry night sky, where two silver white disks—one bigger than the other—hung full.

  “You have two moons.”

  “Aye. Luna Major and Luna Minor. The Yard’s celestial holograms are synchronized exactly to Hyborea’s thirty-hour day. We’ve twenty hours of daylight and ten hours of darkness.”

  “Hold on. Back up. One day is thirty hours?”

  “Aye. Every new day dawns at one o’clock, or zero one hundred hours if ye prefer. We’ve six days in a week and four weeks in a month. So essentially one month on Hyborea is comparable to a month on Earth. Twelve months make up a year—”

  “Stop. Stop it. Please.” She rubbed her temples to alleviate the dull ache behind her eyes. “Don’t tell me anymore. I can’t take it.” Resting her forehead against the windowed wall, she stared out into the frozen city. An icy chill seeped through her hood. Who cared about Hyborean weeks and months and years? She wouldn’t be around here that long. She was going home to earth to live free 24/7.

  But how the heck would she escape? And where would she go when she got out of this building?

  The alien’s apartment door sublimated, and the monster stepped through the cloud into his living room, took off a silver ring from around his head, and tossed it on the side table. The gas crackled as it transitioned back into its solid state. Even if there had been enough time to jump off the couch and run through it, she couldn’t. Her legs were frozen. Her breath came out in quick puffs of smoke.

  The creature approached slowly—probably so he wouldn’t frighten her (too late for that)—and picked up Duncan, embracing him. Duncan returned the hug, and Addy sensed the alien’s happiness. It gave Duncan a pat on the head and set him down on the couch’s seat.

  “It’s okay, lassie,” Duncan called from below. “He won’t harm ye.”

  Before she could say anything, the monster picked her up and cradled her in his arms. Squirming made her hood fall back and the cloak twist and tighten. The alien untangled the material and repositioned her before drawing the fabric around her again. His grip was firm so she couldn’t get away but not tight enough to cause pain. His soft, furry body emanated warmth and the scent of black licorice.

  She hated black licorice.

  His long spindly fingers stroked her hair, and she couldn’t stop wondering if her cat, Zira, had felt as uncomfortable in her arms as she did right now in the alien’s.

  “Can ye sense it, lassie? Ferly Mor cares for ye verra much. Ye’re no’ just any human to him. Ye’re his human.”

  Chapter Eight

  It wasn’t long before the monster had lost interest in petting her, and returned them to Duncan’s house. With its one-way transparent walls for the alien’s viewing pleasure, it was more like a fishbowl.

  The door crackled closed behind them. Duncan hung their cloaks. “Ye’ve already seen the common area.” He indicated the room she had woken up in earlier today.

  A whoosh of cold air startled her. She glanced toward the hutch. Ferly Mor’s hand reached through a smoky window and placed bowls of food on the sideboard next to a giant hanging water dispenser. Could she feel anymore like a caged rat?

  “Suppertime,” said Duncan. “But first, let me show ye the rest of our home.”

  He pushed opened the middle door she had noticed after waking up on his couch, and then turned on a little flashlight-looking thing. The closet-sized room brightened. Straight ahead was a familiar orange flowerpot. To the left, a pitcher and bowl sat atop a wooden table. “The privy.”

  “No shower? No sink?”

  “No, lass. Ye can wash up in any one of the bathing pools in the Yard.”

  “Great,” she mumbled. “More being naked in front of strangers.”

  “Ye’ll find towels under the privy table.” He left the bathroom and entered the open doorway to her right. “My chamber.”

  The room, no larger than seven by ten feet, felt cramped with the overfilled bookshelves, knickknacks, and stuff jammed in every conceivable space. Did the Hyboreans take these things from Earth? If anyone back home was missing something, she knew just where they could find it.

  In the far corner loomed the same pillow bedding as in the breeding box. Addy’s stomach turned. She backed away from the bedding in case Duncan suddenly got the same idea Max and Regan had.

  “This is your home now, so ye’re free to go anywhere ye wish. Except in here.” He retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the door at the rear of his bedroom. “This is my private horde of the malt.”

  Duncan cracked the hinged door open only enough to fit through. Not that she’d be able to see inside, anyway, since the door opened out in her direction. She heard the shuffling of boxes. They were, no doubt, the tower of boxes she had seen through the transparent wall while in Ferly Mor’s apartment. More boxes shuffled and glasses clinked before Duncan emerged with three bottles of whiskey. He shut and locked the door.

  “If anyone asks ye for some, ye must fetch me. I’ll no’ have ye accidentally giving away the good stuff to just anybody. And if Regan ever received the lesser quality—” He shuddered. “It’s best ye not be on the receiving end of his anger, aye?”

  Addy nodded. She didn’t want to see Regan in a good mood, never mind seeing him going ballistic.

  “Tess,” he called, taking great care in packing up the bottles. “Can ye show Addy her bed? I’ve a delivery to make.”

  “What, no squeaky exercise wheel?” she said entering the last room. It was L-shaped with the short end wrapping behind the “privy.” At least she’d have complete privacy in the one place that mattered.

  She stared out into the darkened Yard.

  “The observation walls are only transparent one way,” Tess said, as if she had read Addy’s mind. “All you can see from the outside is the mural.”

  “Does everyone have observation walls like this?”

  “Of course. The Hyboreans love nature. They like to view the Yard habitat.”

  “View it or monitor it?”

  “It’s not like they keep a sharp eye on every little thing we do. We have a great amount of freedom.”

  Ha. What did Tess know about freedom? She’d been born a captive. To her, voyeuristic aliens were normal. To Addy, they posed another challenge for escape. How on earth would she get out of here if Big Hairy Brother was watching?

  She shuddered.

  Perhaps Tess was right that the aliens didn’t monitor every little thing. After all, they hadn’t chased after her when she fled from Duncan. Maybe the aliens viewed people with only mild interest, kind of like she did when watching aquarium fish.

  That could explain how someone was able
to escape.

  He escaped. He got caught. He was killed. Max’s haunting voice invaded her thoughts. Whatever happened to him after being pulled from the breeding box?

  “Where does Max live? Duncan told me he’s not from the Yard.”

  “He lived here with the other gladiators some years ago, but his master eventually sold him.” Tess arranged long body pillows on the floor for Addy’s bed. “When he comes back for breeding or for the infirmary, he stays at HuBReC’s kennel.”

  “Infirmary?”

  “The survival race is a brutal sport.”

  “I see.” Though she didn’t, really. If Max had been hospitalized so often, how come he didn’t have any scars? Not that she’d been checking for scars on his naked body. Her cheeks warmed. She turned away before Tess could see her blush, and flopped down on her bedding, shoes and all. She was not about to undress in front of the alien. For all she knew he was watching her right now. “Night,” she mumbled into a pillow.

  “Don’t you want supper?”

  “No. I’m beyond exhausted.”

  “Of course you are. Good night, Addy. I’ll leave the lightstick here.” The room darkened. A blanket covered her. And exhaustion took over.

  * * *

  Addy had awakened the next day intent on learning more about this God-forsaken planet so she could find a way to escape, but Ferly Mor had other ideas. In the morning, he had brought her to HuBReC’s infirmary, where he’d poked and prodded her and shot her with some supersized EpiPen filled with God knew what.

  As if that medical exam hadn’t been humiliating enough, now the damn alien wanted to train her!

  She stared down the furry, gray beast with teeth clenched so tight her head ached. Hot, heaving breaths expelled through her nostrils like an irate bull. Only this bull refused to charge.

  “Och, Addy, just go to him.”

  “No way.” She folded her arms across her chest. In the grassy Yard about twenty feet away, Ferly Mor faced her wearing his silver ring around his head. Without touching the headband, a musical tone sounded. He crouched down and motioned for her to come.