by A.R. Rivera
Definitely Not In Kansas Anymore
My ears are ringing.
It takes a few breaths to get my bearings. I manage to roll onto my back and find that I’m looking into open sky. Noisy wind cuts across my face like sharp icy blades.
My right leg feels numb.
Off to one side, pieces of metal debris are scattered over the snow. On the other side, it looks as though I’m still inside the ship; half in, half out.
Taking in a deep breath, I hold it and close my eyes to listen. Picking up no other noise, beside the glacial winds, I call out. My voice sounds far away. It takes everything I have to get myself up onto my elbows.
A long piece of white metal strains over one leg. I work my fingers beneath the heavy edge and lift. I still have to wiggle out from underneath the large hunk of debris. As I raise up just enough to turn over, my neck and back wash suddenly warm, and though I relish the heat, I don’t want it or the pain waiting to pounce. On hands and knees, I crawl out onto the snow and search for the three stones that I’m counting on saving me. And then for my father’s alternate—or at least a man who looks like him.
Nothing but broken bits of Orb.
I’ve got to move slowly, inspect myself for signs of internal injuries, and because it’s freakishly cold, But I finally make it to my feet. Once I’m standing, I get my first good look around.
Huge chunks of jagged metal and bits of broken wiring litter the crash site. What’s left of the Orb is comparable to a torn tennis ball. Bits of the ship are everywhere. I move away, unsure if there’s any potential for another explosion.
I find my mysterious rocks only a few feet away, suspended in triad just above the snow. Right beside them, their pouch. I don’t know how it’s possible that they aren’t forever lost in this mess.
I scoop up the rubber casement and give myself a second to stare, to run my fingers through the space between the Threestone and ground. The mysterious, beautiful stones remain stationary and I feel like I’m being examined even though I’m the one staring. It’s as if they’re trying to send a message. But that’s stupid because rocks can’t think or talk.
That’s when I notice the pristine snow. Aside from the obvious markings of the accident, there’s no disruption to the barren land, no sign that a vortex opened. Nothing is melted or blown around like a giant funnel cloud of blue smoke and fire appeared and then disappeared. Not a flake out of place.
For the second time in less than an hour, the stones have taken in energy but no gateway was triggered.
“Is this normal?” I ask the rocks because who else is there?
These people must operate on limited resources... maybe the stones didn’t get enough power to open a wormhole.
Taking them into my hand, they’re so light and wondrous.
I’m trying to hurry, but it takes a very long time to find my backpack—which survived intact. Mostly. I give myself fifteen minutes to gather what I can from the wreck. That plan turns directly to shit when I find my three travelling companions.
The guards were not human. They’re machines. Mechanized people—I mean robots, or androids or something.
With the two guards, it’s easy to tell at first glance. One of them lost his helmet and the spot where his head should be is nothing more than lights, circuit boards, and wires. The second guard has a huge piece of pipe-like metal planted through the face mask of his gray helmet. Inside it looks the same as the first.
It’s the third body that throws me—the pilot-slash-commander that looks so much like my dad. I find him fifty yards back from where the main portion of the Orb landed. He is alone, face down in the snow. He isn’t breathing, so I turn him over just in time to catch sparks flying from his nostrils. A red-hot ember lands on my chest and flickers out.
I fall back, knocked on my ass from the shock. Seeing the flesh scraped away on the side of his face, the way it ripples in the strengthening wind looking more like play-doh than flesh. Beneath it, where there should be bone and sinew, there is only metal.
Holding the stones inside their pouch, I mumble. “Where to?”
My sights land on the skyline of that city that is now much closer than it was before those robots showed up and forced me into their ship (that’s not something I ever thought I’d say). But the buildings are in plain view now. It’s also the only place in sight; the singular sanctuary from this ice desert.
I don’t know what to think about any of this. Robots and ball-like ships. War and destruction. Death is all around me. I’m not going to think about what’s happened. I am going to focus on getting into that city where Arlen told me the Breeders live.
In this barren landscape, whatever circumstances await me in there, they have to be better than freezing to death.
