Curses, Fates & Soul Mates

by et al Kristie Cook

  And here I was, on enemy territory, taken prisoner. As if the restraints weren’t enough to tell me I was on their stomping grounds, the aroma of rotten oceanic residue confirmed my worst fears. It was a putrid, salty marine smell, one that sank into the marrow of my bones, prompting my gag reflex. Wherever the hell these creatures were from, they made decaying fish and muddy swamp water smell like petunias.

  But it wasn’t the Invaders who were holding so many humans prisoner. Not personally, anyway. To our horror, it turned out to be our fellow humans—traitors of the worst kind—who’d been the ones to kidnap and hold us prisoner. Apparently, according to various rumors, these traitors were serving the Invaders, and had been in charge of setting up and managing thousands of prison camps all over the country, maybe all over the world. News about countries other than our own was limited since our military and technology had been brought down. Apparently, some human prisoners were destroyed upon arrival at these camps, and some were forced into labor units, while others were shipped off in aquamarine, cocoon-like Capsules to God knows where. The Invaders were virtually invisible and unreachable within these prison camps, only lurking there in the shadows to oversee and direct operations while the human traitors did all their dirty work, managing and disposing of their prisoners. Their main ships settled near the water, around their operating stations, while others were deployed to the prison camps and to the streets for patrol.

  The Invaders wanted something more from us than our planet, more than our dwindling water resource. They wanted more than to simply kill us all off. If that was what they wanted, they would have had every opportunity to do so. That was the cause of most of the hysteria since their attack: no answers. After countless attempts to communicate, negotiate peace, or identify their objective, we still had no idea why they were here or what they wanted from us, other than to dominate our water supply with hostile force and hold some of us prisoner.

  Bastards. And here I thought humans were the most hostile of species.

  Rattling the cuffs on the bar over my head, I huffed against the duct tape and used all of my core body strength to twist and contort my upper body, trying every single angle and method I could come up with to break the damn cuffs.

  No luck. If only I had more light to work with.

  The one thing I had going for me was that I was freestanding; my feet were firmly planted on the soil below. I took advantage and tried spreading my legs to feel around, kicking my heel back to feel a wall or something I could use for leverage. There was nothing. Wiping my sweaty forehead with my shoulder, I inhaled deeply and started rethinking my strategy.

  A loud clang came from somewhere in the room, and I froze. The sound of a sliding door? A latch of some sort? I couldn’t tell. Then steps came toward me and my fear spiked, and I was desperate for more light to see what was headed in my direction. I blinked frantically, my chest heaving, disorientation making me dizzy when the lantern on the table fizzed out.

  The shuffle of footsteps resumed and something grabbed me by the waist. A garbled scream erupted deep in my throat and a light blinded me before the duct tape over my mouth was ripped off, stinging my lips. Rough fingers—human fingers, I thought—grazed my lips, slowly, as if to soothe them, before pulling the piece of cloth from my dry mouth.

  “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” a low, smooth voice crooned. The light’s brightness lessened, and I realized it was from a flashlight. My captor pulled the flashlight farther away so it wasn’t blinding me anymore. I spit in his face.

  “Guess I deserve that. But I could shove this filthy piece of cloth back in your mouth if you want me to.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Look around. I’m already there.”

  “Why am I here? What do you want? You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m a mutant alien creature here to take you aboard the Mother Ship. I’m packing heat,” he shifted a large machine gun in his other hand, which was strapped over his chest, “which must give it all away, right?”

  Piercing blue eyes found mine. My eyes adjusted to the light and I could make out my captor’s face: pale skin, sooty-dark brown hair, a military buzz cut. His thick, muscular build was covered with a ratty, grime-covered black t-shirt and cargo pants, the pockets bulging with gear and other weapons I couldn’t make out.

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant you’re one of them. A traitor.”

  “I understand how it would seem I’m your enemy, since I’m holding you prisoner at the moment, yes. But I’m not a traitor.”

  “Let me go.”

  “No can do. I’m here to feed you.”

  “Screw you.” I spit in his face again, then tried kicking him in the groin. Given the circumstances and the fact that I’d just lost my parents and my home, it was all too tempting to just give up. To let the despair sink me. But I wouldn’t let that happen. As long as I was still alive, I’d find something to live for. Maybe I didn’t have the mental energy to fight for my own life, but I sure as hell had enough fury to propel me forward in honor of the lives stolen from my parents.

  He caught my thigh with ease and steadied it. “Anytime, baby. All you gotta do is ask nicely.”

  “Great. Your kind is repulsive and arrogant. What an endearing combination.”

  He grabbed my elbow and leaned in, one palm still gripping my thigh. “Hey. I said I’m not a traitor. Don’t start the ‘your kind’ crap, Rambo. Watch your mouth. I’m human, and I’m on the right side, you hear me?”

  “Oh, you traitors are far from human, you asshole. Humans might be disloyal and greedy, but when it comes to picking our own species over another, we’re clear on where we stand with that one.”

  “My, my. What a potty mouth you have. And what did I just say?”

  I yanked my arm from his grasp. “Screw you.”

  “If you want me to keep protecting you, you better start treating me just a little bit nicer.” He narrowed his eyes and pinched his fingers in front of me, emphasizing the little bit.

  Protect me? Was he serious? Although my hands were bound above me, I was able to return his gesture with my personal favorite, the middle finger.

  He noticed.

  “Piss and vinegar, that’s what you’re made of, baby.” He turned on a bigger lantern at the table, then pulled a chair out in front of me, taking a seat. “My match made in heaven. That anger is good, though. Bottle it up. You’re going to need it soon. Anyway, you need my protection, so save your grievances. You’re lucky you’re in my precinct and that I’m in charge of your cell. Others have it a hell of a lot worse than you do.”

  “Let me go. Please, I’m begging you. My parents are dead. I’m only twenty-three. I have to get out of here. I can’t wind up like them. I’m begging you.” I tried tears now. They weren’t a complete act, although I was hoping they’d appeal to any shred of sympathy this guy had in his bones. He was young. Looked close to my age. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe he could relate if I started rattling off reasons I didn’t want to die young.

  “Don’t cry. I hate that. Here.” He stood and popped open a container of something and placed a spoon in front of my mouth. “It’s just soup, I won’t poison you.”

  It smelled good, so tempting, but I was too angry, too exhausted to eat. The tears kept blinding me, flowing in hot streams down my cheeks. My head hung and my knees gave out, my long brown locks cascading in a pool of rich chocolate around my shoulders. Peering up at him through the tears, I watched him raise the spoon closer to my lips. Wait for it….

  The second he leaned in, I kicked forward, planting my foot right into his stomach. The soup container and spoon tumbled to the floor with a clatter. Expecting him to erupt in fury, I braced myself for the backlash. All I needed was a chance to wrap my legs around him, to manipulate a good body lock and hopefully find a way to break the cuffs in the scuffle. Even better if I could knock his keys loose somehow. One of them had to work on the cuffs.

  Inst
ead, he straightened up and dropped his arms to his sides, and sighed. He paused for a beat before bending down to retrieve the spoon and container, shaking his head. “That was the last hot meal I’ll have for a while. Thank you.” He tossed the items onto the table and returned to stand in front of me.

  “It wasn’t your meal. What do you care?”

  “It was my meal. I was trying to share it with you.” He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his cheek. “They ration our food, and our prisoners only get bread on Sundays and Wednesdays.”

  “Oh.” I watched him stuff the cloth back into his pocket.

  “Lucky for you, I found a stash of something a few days ago while I was called out on duty.” Turning on his heel, he bent down and swiftly pulled a black backpack from underneath the table, zipping it open to reveal a box of Twinkies.

  “Are those….?”

  “Breakfast of champions.” He suddenly grinned. It was a crooked, tired smile. “They’re my favorite. I used to eat them all the time, before … everything.”

  Letting my gaze drift over his chiseled arms and broad shoulders, I wondered how he could have a physique like that and eat Twinkies on a regular basis. He opened a wrapper, broke off a piece and carefully shuffled toward me again. “Now will you let me feed you, or are you going to try and wrestle again? Because if you cause me to drop this, I’ll be pissed.”

  “Use the three-second rule if you care so much.”

  “You don’t want to know what’s been on this ground.”

  “I don’t give a shit, it’s not my food.”

  “Oh, if you make me drop this and use the three-second rule, you’ll be eating it, too, baby.”

  “Stop calling me baby. If you’re really out to protect me, let my arms free. I’ll feed myself.”

  “I told you I can’t do that. Please don’t make this any more difficult on either of us. I don’t want to be on their side. Does that help you hate me any less?”

  “No. Because you are. On their side.”

  “Not because I want to help them.”

  “Right. Okay, why, then?”

  “They have my sister. She’s eleven years old. She’s at one of the children’s training camps. I need to find out which one, and I have a better chance if I’m looking for her from the inside. So I’m here. Now eat.” He reached out and held the piece of sugary goodness to my lips, waiting with patient, pleading eyes. I hesitantly took a bite and dropped my gaze, letting the spongy bread break apart in my mouth, which was scorching with thirst.

  “Why bother protecting me? They’re just going to kill me.”

  “You don’t know that.” Holding up another piece of Twinkie, he first wiped the last of my tears away with his free hand; dirty, callused fingers brushed over my cheeks in gentle sweeping motions.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, taking another bite. “When did they take your sister?”

  “About a month ago.” He swiped a drop of cream from the corner of my mouth and sucked his finger, then raised a cup of water to my lips. “Her name’s Hera, and she’s the most beautiful, kind little girl on the planet.” Tipping my chin back, he gently held the cup to my mouth and I parted my lips, letting the cool liquid pour down my throat. His eyes found mine again and I looked away.

  He cleared his throat and pulled the cup back. “I have to go.”

  “Wait. Won’t you at least tell me when they’re going to take me out of here … what they’re going to do to me? Please.” Tears threatened again and my anger resurfaced, but I steeled myself, knowing I had to stay focused, had to hold it together if I wanted to find a way out of here alive.

  “I would if I knew. But I don’t know yet. People are in here for all sorts of reasons. You’ve been collected, not charged with a crime, which means they’re going to use you for something, not punish you. I’ll do my best to make sure you’re sent to one of the safer units.” He returned the Twinkies to the bag and came back with a roll of duct tape.

  “Collected? What does that mean? Which units are safer?”

  “The Collected are sent into training or labor. At least there, you’re alive. Those who rebel are either killed on the spot or sent to the labs for testing. But those who cooperate and don’t cause any trouble seem to avoid those paths, so just behave, will you?”

  “What crimes are people being charged with? They’re the ones who came to our planet. They attacked us.”

  “Rebelling, refusing to surrender, hoarding supplies. They look down on those things.”

  “Oh, do they, now? Who the hell wouldn’t rebel when they’re being forced against their will?”

  “It’s more than that to them. Look, I don’t have time for this. I have to go. I have other cells to monitor.”

  A million objections crowded my thoughts, but for some reason, I found myself apologizing. “I’m sorry I ruined your only meal.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I won’t put the gag in your mouth, I’ll just use tape. But please stay quiet or you’ll get us both into trouble. And you don’t want the others to come in here.”

  “You mean them?” My eyes rolled up to the ceiling, listening to the Invaders’ monotonous march above us. It was a strangely lithe march, a smooth yet heavy sound that moved in a constant, forward motion.

  “No. My kind.” He glanced down at me and winked, his height swallowing mine, and he ripped the tape, carefully placing it over my lips. “We’re all in charge of different cells. I’m assigned to yours and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll be back in a few hours. The toxin they injected you with is starting to wear off. It knocked you unconscious long enough to capture and transport you. That grogginess will be gone soon and you’ll have a wicked headache. I’ll bring you more water, too. That’ll help.”

  He smoothed the edges of the tape around my lips and I nodded, feeling my eyelids swollen and heavy from all the crying. I held his stare for a moment until he broke the connection, readjusting the gun across his chest before turning for the door. He stopped, his back to me, his body a stark silhouette in the dark. “I’ll try and find out where they’re going to transfer you.”

  And then my captor was gone, leaving me in this musty, damp hole in the ground, my arms and mouth still restrained, but my stomach fuller than before.

  * * *

  The sounds of laughing stirred me from a restless slumber, my neck and shoulders aching from the position in which I’d fallen asleep. I tried to straighten up and stand, to wiggle my knees and stretch them, but everything hurt, coaxing me to wince and cry out in pain. The light in the room grew brighter, and I found three men sauntering toward me with amused, excited looks on their faces.

  “Well darlin’, we were just doing our rounds to check out all the new prisoners, and we are mighty delighted to find a hot young thing like you hanging here for our viewing pleasure.” The door locked behind them and I heard their knuckles cracking; low throaty chuckles made my skin go cold.

  “Yes ma’am,” one of the larger, huskier men piped up, whistling through his teeth, eyeing me up and down with greedy, carnal hunger. “We’ll do right by you, honey. We’ll make sure you get yours good.”

  The three of them moved in and circled me. My adrenaline coursed thick and fast in my veins, my eyes wide. I lifted my head and struggled with the restraints, trying to adjust my feet on the floor. My legs were numb and my back ached in protest as I worked to straighten them out.

  “Come here, baby. I promise you’ll like it.” One of them stationed himself in front of me and moved closer, his potent breath making my stomach roll. He bunched my shirt in his fingers and ripped it clear down the middle, yanking my bra apart next, the shredding sounds echoing through the cell. I didn’t have time to think. The other two quickly moved in behind me and I screamed loud and guttural against the tape, fear pounding hard and vibrating against my chest and throat, my legs flailing everywhere as I fought their hands on my body.

  “Take off the tape,” one mumbled from behind me, while the man in front o
bediently ripped it from my mouth. “I wanna hear her.”

  “No one’s coming for you, baby,” the bulky, greasy one said, laughing, his big hands cupping my breasts from behind. I flinched and cried out, my skin recoiling from the contact, and I tried desperately to land a kick on one of them. No luck.

  The greasy one yanked my head back and stuck his tongue into my mouth, instantly triggering a rising of bile in my throat. I choked and gasped for air, pulling away from him. “Stupid bitch, come on!” he roared. A hard, ruthless smack landed across my cheek while the man in front successfully jerked my jeans open.

  “No!” I screamed, writhing in front of him, the rage in me overflowing, morphing into something fierce and animalistic.

  A loud pop and crackle sent waves of soft thumping into my ear, a fuzzy deafness settling over me like a heavy, warm blanket. The man in front of me dropped to the floor in a pool of crimson, his body jerking at my feet before the life drained from his eyes. Guns were pulled fast behind me, but my captor was faster, taking the men down with two swift blows to the chest. They both slumped to the floor as I heard their guns drop next to their lifeless bodies. My captor was already undoing my cuffs and tossing me my shirt, but I couldn’t see anything but the puddles of red at my feet.

  “Hurry. We need to get out of here.”

  I just stood there holding the shirt, an empty shell unable to repress the tremors rocking my body. He glanced down at the shredded lump of material in my hands and pulled his black shirt up over his head, carefully sliding it over my bare skin. He straightened his undershirt. “Skylla, listen to me.”