The Survivors Box Set

by Nathan Hystad

  “About time,” Slate said. The tent was up, our meager possessions hidden away inside. He sat facing the water, the black sand only scant yards away from our camp, which was perched on a slightly elevated piece of land just off the beach. It looked like we’d be safe from the tide, as there was no evidence the water made it this high.

  “No sign of any animals,” I said, setting the load of brush down.

  The sun was lowering in the sky, a distant orb reflecting off the large body of water.

  “I really thought we’d go home between these…” Slate searched for the right word. “Challenges.”

  “So did I. Or at least, I thought we’d have the option of going home.” I made a teepee of kindling and broke a few longer pieces of fallen branches. The trees were familiar, but different and alien at the same time. Thin green bark covered them; the leaves were green, but in star-like shapes. Just before the sun went down, the fire was burning, too-fresh kindling crackling and popping as flames licked it.

  “What did you want at home? You always seem to be happier when you’re off on an adventure with us,” Mary said, passing us each a power bar. Slate’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and I wished we had our other packs, with real food stuffed in them.

  Slate shifted his gaze uncomfortably. “Denise.”

  “The woman from the barbecue? That’s great, buddy.” The words sounded condescending even to me, but I didn’t mean them to be. I was happy he’d met someone. “I thought you two were hitting it off.”

  “She’s great. We talked all night. I haven’t made a connection like that…let’s just say, in a long time.”

  The fire flickered, shadows dancing on his stoic face in the minimal dusk light. “What’s her story?” Mary asked. “A story to take our minds off the task might be helpful.”

  Slate looked uncertain whether he should share her intimate details, but after looking at us, he shrugged and started to talk. “She grew up in western Canada. The prairies. She was still in high school when the ships came.” He took a small sip of water before looking back into the flames. “She was on vessel thirty.”

  “Weren’t they one of the luckier ones?” I asked.

  He nodded. “As a whole, but she lost her grandparents and her dad on the vessel. Denise was one of the few who was actually put under stasis, so she never had a chance to say goodbye. She came to on the trip home, like countless others.”

  “That must have been horrific.” Mary was leaning forward from her sitting position on the ground, arms folded across her knees.

  “She cried for weeks. She moved to New Spero the moment she was offered the option. Her mom’s still alive and lives with her. I guess she’s quite the woman.”

  “What does Denise do?” I interjected. It felt so mundane to ask what someone did any longer, as if their profession really determined who they were or what they’d survived. It was still second nature to be curious about their jobs, or it was just a courtesy thing, like asking how the weather was.

  “She’s a cop. She became a cop after the Event on Earth. Runs a precinct on Terran One. Not sure they call it that any longer, but you know what I mean,” Slate said.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed. She seemed so…” Mary cut herself off.

  “What? Cute? Likeable? Sound like anyone else you know who can kick ass and take names when needed?” Slate asked, and we could see the red rise in her cheeks even by the firelight.

  “Okay, busted. And thank you.” Mary poked at the coals with a thin stick. “So you like her?”

  “What? Is this first grade?” Slate asked before conceding after a short pause, “Yeah, I like her.”

  Mary and I laughed, and he tossed a small rock at me, narrowly missing my leg.

  We stayed up for another couple hours, trying to relax after a stressful day, and discussed our plan for the next morning. The only thing we knew for sure: things rarely worked out like you intended.

  Nine

  My wrist device buzzed: an alarm letting me know it was time to get up. I nudged Mary beside me, and she groaned.

  “I’m awake,” she said. “Slate, time to go.” After a moment, she jolted up. “Slate’s not here!”

  A second of panic coursed through me, but the logical part of my brain took over. “He probably just beat us to the punch. Or he’s writing his name in the black sand.”

  The tent opened, and that imposter of a beach smell wafted in. I stretched my back and legs after getting out, scanning the distance for signs of Slate.

  “He’s not here,” I said, the worry creeping back.

  “Maybe he’s scouting the land?” Mary asked from inside the tent. Moments later, she came out, wearing her jumpsuit, her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  I shook my head. “Something feels wrong.” I moved down the beach, wishing I had my boots with me as rocks dug into my socked feet. I slipped the Relocator into my pocket, not wanting to leave it in an unguarded tent. I tapped it, saving the camp’s location into the transportation device.

  I saw Slate’s boot marks in the black sand, heavy imprints leading down to the water. He’d gone for a stroll. I followed along, Mary in tow, as I jogged along the ground just above the sandy area. Abruptly, the prints ended.

  “It stops here,” I said, looking for any more signs of him.

  “What’s this?” It was a red blotch, no more than the size of a dime, on the rocks.

  “Blood.” The word came out as a whisper.

  “Slate!” Mary began to call his name right away, and I joined her. “I’ll get the guns,” she said, already running back to our small campsite.

  I waited for her, feeling useless as I stood there, trying to decipher where he could be.

  Tall thin grass sprouted from the crimson dirt a few yards to my left, and I walked over to it, seeing sections of it crushed in a line heading toward the treeline. Once Mary was back, I waved her over, showing her my discovery.

  “It looks like someone came and took him. Damn it. Why didn’t we keep watch?” I was mad at our slip-up. Even Slate hadn’t seemed concerned with the possibility of hostile locals.

  “There’s nothing we can do about that. Now we just find our friend before it’s too late.” Mary thrust a pulse rifle toward me, and I grabbed it, stalking after her alongside the footsteps in the grass.

  I felt vulnerable out here with no armor or shoes, and hated leaving our gear unguarded and out in the open by the beach. We didn’t have a choice, though, and I pumped my legs quickly and efficiently as we ran to find Slate.

  The landscape changed into open fields as we passed by a half mile of thickets, my feet increasingly sore as we kept moving.

  “Smoke,” Mary said, pointing at a thin plume in the distance, rising toward the light blue sky.

  “Where there’s smoke,” I said, letting the rest remain unsaid.

  I guessed the fire to be a couple of miles away and dreaded the trek across the fields, but as we went, I found the grass gave my feet a little respite from the rocky beach and hard forest bed. A mile in, we arrived at another stretch of woodlands, and Mary slowed, resting behind one of the larger trees. The ground rose and fell in soft hills between us and the smoke source.

  “I see a sentry at six o’clock.” I turned, sneaking a peek, and saw a form pacing back and forth in a medium-sized circle. After I spotted one, I noticed at least five more from my vantage point. “They’ve got us covered.”

  Mary slipped the scope off her rifle and leaned against my torso, looking past my head toward the guards. “They’re beautiful,” she said, voice full of awe.

  “Any sign of Slate?”

  She tapped the side of the scope and moved slightly. “There’s a village a little ways in. They had to have brought him there. What’s the move? Our options are limited, and I expect no matter which way we try to get into town, they’ll have sentries.”

  We discussed it, but the resulting plan didn’t sit well with either of us. “He’d do anything to save us.
Maybe they aren’t even hostile.” After seeing Slate’s blood by the beach, I doubted my own words, but had to sound convincing so Mary would let me play my part in the scheme. I was more than willing to play the goat in the proposal if it meant she’d be safe.

  “If anything goes wrong, get back to the camp and finish the mission. There’s a portal on this world somewhere too. I just don’t know where it is,” I said, taking her hands. This was one of the planets not among the regularly accessible portal selections. It had been tucked away by the Theos Collective years ago, blocked off either because it was too dangerous or because something particularly nasty lived here. I hoped we didn’t see either of those reasons come to light.

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong. I’ll be right back.” She was off, heading back toward camp.

  As soon as she was out of sight, I slung my rifle on my back and began walking toward the village, doing my best to seem friendly. I tried to look like a tourist who didn’t realize he was walking down a dark and deadly alley.

  It only took two minutes of this to get the attention of one of the locals. They approached and stopped at a distance, but close enough to get a good look. This one was female. Her legs were long, covered with tight leggings that looked made from animal skin. She had black markings lining her neck, and a baggy shirt with crude weapons strapped to a belt below it.

  Her thin eyes turned down, and even from thirty yards away, I could see the beauty Mary had mentioned under her breath. Her hair was a thick green, giving it the impression of seaweed rather than hair. She watched me without reaching for one of her knives, and I wondered if that bode well for me.

  I was about to talk, in an attempt to convey my friendliness, when something stuck me from behind and it all went black.

  ____________

  “Dean, you good?” I heard a voice say in English as my eyes struggled to open. The back of my head throbbed and I rolled over, taking the pressure off the wound.

  “Slate?”

  “How’d you get caught?” he asked.

  “Same way you did. By not expecting it.” I chided myself for being so foolish. I’d wanted to be brought to their village, but I was so distracted by the local sentry that I didn’t hear or see the other one sneaking up behind me. It was a classic move I should have been prepared for.

  “Where’s Mary?”

  “She should be coming. We had a plan.” I sat up, looking for my Relocator. It was gone. “Damn it!”

  I looked around the room. We were in a log cabin with a small window on one side. Getting up, I swayed from the head injury and steadied myself against the wall.

  “Not much to see,” Slate said.

  The opening was small, no more than an eight-inch space, two feet wide. Not enough room for anyone to slip out of. I saw village people roaming around, doing what appeared to be daily chores. A male carried a green woven basket with animal furs, followed by two little girls play-fighting with sticks as if they were swords.

  “Is this part of the Theos’ objective?” I speculated.

  Slate sat on the ground, his wide back against the wooden slats, his face grim. He had a small spot under his nose where dried blood had caked above his lip. “I don’t think so. It said ‘swim’ and gave us masks. I think we have to go underwater, and this is definitely not in the ocean.”

  He was right. This was an unexpected delay, and I had no idea now how we could get out. I had to put my faith in my wife, that she could come and help us out of here. I’d been hoping to get brought in, find Slate, and relocate back to the camp, where we’d find Mary. If that didn’t work, she was ready to come in guns blazing, if need be.

  But I knew that would be her last resort, and I was grateful for it. The people here seemed so normal, so…human. I almost laughed out loud at my thought that being human was the normal thing. I suspected hundreds, if not thousands, of other races around the universe would beg to differ.

  “We need to get out and finish our task. Throw on the masks and…” I didn’t know what was next. The hints were too insubstantial and vague.

  “We’ll figure it out, boss. We always do.”

  The statement calmed my nerves. We did always find a way to solve the puzzles before us. Could that last forever, though? Eventually, even the best had to falter.

  I continued to stand, my head still pounding but feeling clearer with every minute that passed. My feet were aching, and I reached down, pulling a large splinter from the center of my left foot. Relief passed through me at the removal.

  A group of armed females was approaching from a large building down the dirt path, which was probably a roadway for them, though I didn’t see any form of vehicles.

  “We have company,” I said, and Slate got up, groaning as he did so. “Did they rough you up?”

  “Just a bit. I may have hit one of them. It didn’t even hurt her.”

  “Her?”

  “You think I won’t hit a female alien if she’s trying to capture me? Then you don’t know me very well. I’m progressive.” He said it with a grin that faded quickly. I imagined him remembering how I’d looked at him after he’d shot Mae. You couldn’t unsee something like that.

  “I don’t blame you. I’m just noticing a trend with this race. The females carry the weapons. They’re the tough ones.”

  “Hah, I’d say. The one who clocked me in the nose was less than half my weight but carried a punch Tyson would be jealous of. I think even Natalia would lose that battle.”

  A lock rattled on the large wooden door before it pushed in, letting four green-haired bodies pour in.

  We stood, backs against the far wall, only a few yards separating us from them. They had knives out, clutched between white knuckles. This couldn’t be it. My heart leapt into my throat at the notion they might cut our throats and wear us like animal skins.

  The lead woman crossed the room, her arm jutting out until she gripped my face with her left hand. Three strong fingers squeezed my cheek and turned my head from side to side in a calculated move. She was looking at my neck.

  The lines on her neck, which I’d first taken for a tattoo, were actually slits in her throat, each one lifting slightly to show greenish flesh underneath as she breathed. It reminded me of a fish’s gills, but I could also see her chest rising and falling beneath the baggy top she wore, so she was breathing with lungs.

  She said something in her language, and it was the first time I’d heard one of them talk up close. It was a clean sound, almost sing-songy. Her narrow eyes squinted even further as she moved her face in closer, and she opened her mouth. I saw thin teeth and again was reminded of a salmon.

  Every part of me was telling me they came from the water. If that was the case, why were they on land? Evolution? I thought it must have gone deeper than that, or the gills would be gone by now.

  She said something else and moved from me to Slate. Her middle finger ran to his lip, and his teeth bared in a growl.

  “Slate, take it easy. We’re going to get out of here.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He closed his mouth, his eyes intense as they stared daggers at the alien before him.

  The other three stayed by the door, and the one near us grabbed us each by the arm and pulled us toward the exit. She wasn’t doing it in a painful way, just a confident tug to make sure we followed along.

  “Why don’t they tie our hands together?” Slate asked me quietly.

  “I think they know we’re males,” I said.

  “What the hell does that have to do with it?”

  “Don’t you see? The women wear the animal pants and kick ass Xena-style. The men are docile here. Mary’s going to love this.” I almost laughed but cut it short because we were nowhere near out of the woods yet.

  “Great, maybe there’s hope yet. We can attack, get one of those knives…”

  “Slate, let’s just take the passive tactic for a while here. Mary will come for us.”

  We were outside. A breeze blew against us, giving me r
elief after sitting in the warm stuffy cabin. The town was quaint; cabins lined the way, and the locals milled around working or gardening behind their homes, but when they spotted the invaders being paraded through town by their sentries, they all took notice and followed along. Children gawked, pointy teeth displaying their excitement.

  I nearly tripped as I stepped on a rock, but the one behind me grabbed me under the armpit and thrust me back up. This went on as we passed by the entire town, and hundreds of their people now walked beside and behind the procession until we came to the edge of town, where a fire roared high. That would be the source of the smoke we’d seen earlier.

  The clearing was in the shape of a large circle, reminding me of the clearing on Atrron. Short, thick trees created a border, doing more to mirror the other planet’s Forest of Knowledge.

  “This stinks of them,” I whispered to Slate, who nodded in agreement. I purposefully didn’t say the race of missing deities, because I didn’t know how these locals would respond.

  The fire was in the center, and heavy smoke poured from it in plumes. We were forced to our knees in front of it. Again, they were firm but not abusive. They wanted to show us something. We faced the fire, away from the townspeople, and I could feel every one of their gazes on the back of my head as I looked into the flames.

  The sentry who’d appraised us at the cabin moved between us and the fire, and took a bowl from an old gray-haired woman. The elderly female’s back was crooked, but she still had passion in her eyes and wore the knives on her belt. The bowl was shoved in front of my face so quickly, a splash of tepid liquid hit me in the forehead.

  “I think she wants you to drink it,” Slate said.

  “Thanks. How about you go first?” I joked, trying to make light of the situation. If they’d been trying to kill us, they could have done it already, not in a circle with the whole town watching. I hoped.