Travelers (Nel Bently Books, #1)

by V. S. Holmes

  Lin screamed furiously, raising her gloved palm and firing two successive shots at the belly of the craft. “Damn you!”

  Before Nel could think better of it, her feet were pounding down the hillside, skittering over loose rocks. She slid the last few meters down to the site. Pain lanced up her leg at the awkward landing. She hissed through her teeth and hobbled around the open units. She expected the light of the beacons to be warm, but they washed coldly over her. The electricity set her hairs on end. “Lin.”

  The woman didn’t answer, snarling words Nel recognized only as curses.

  Nel paused a step behind her. She steeled herself, then tentatively reached out and took Lin’s gloved hand. She had not heard the conversation, but knew enough that something had gone wrong. “Come on. Let’s go home. We can deal with it after we’ve slept.”

  Lin whirled on her, and Nel expected a shouting tirade. Instead her voice was hoarse and quiet. “He fucking left me here. I haven’t seen him in a decade, and he left me here.”

  Nel brushed a long lock of black hair behind Lin’s ear. “I know. I’m sorry.” She tugged on the other woman’s hand gently.

  The pulse swept past, this time sucking air towards the ship. With the fourth pulse, the ship was gone. The beacons crackled into darkness. The sky was studded with stars. The night was quiet.

  Lin jerked a nod and followed Nel unsteadily to the Jeep.

  Emilio waited for them, leaning on one of the doors. “You appear to have shot my ride — mind dropping me at home?”

  Nel didn’t answer, only opened the rear door for him and climbed into the driver's seat. She didn’t notice all the bumps and ruts on their way back down to the highway. No one spoke, wrapped in thought as their private worlds ended in a blast of light and silence.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  EMILIO SQUEEZED NEL’S hand, but did not speak as she let him out in front of his restaurant. Lin was silent until they stood under the luke-warm water of the shower.

  “He said we weren’t ready. He said tonight was a night for peace and alliances and awakening, and we only had bloodshed.” Her breath hitched and she looked down. “I tried everything I could and failed.”

  Nel peered up into Lin's dark eyes. “I don't know what to say. I barely understand what just happened. But I don't think you failed. We failed. Humans failed. We’re nothing if not stupid and stubborn and violent. Together we can be beautiful, but we can be terrible too.”

  “We had 14,000 years to be ready, what can I possibly do in twenty?”

  “He’s coming back?”

  “Yes.”

  Nel wrapped her arms around Lin, careful of their collection of new bruises. “Then we’ll get ready. Think of all that has changed in the last ten years. We’re almost there, I promise.” Lin rested her forehead on Nel’s. They were too exhausted to weep, but Nel could feel her shaking.

  “What if humans knew something was coming?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lin pulled away. Her eyes held the clarity and honesty that only exhaustion brings. “I want you to publish your report.”

  DAWN CAME WITHOUT MERCY. All Nel had wanted to do was sleep, but it eluded her. She stared at the curve of Lin’s back, watching the slow rise of her ribs as she breathed. The night before clattered into place in her mind. Her chest tightened with each event. They hadn’t cleaned the site before leaving, and Nel had only the barest idea what was left. Fuck, I think there are bodies.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Nel glanced over. Lin’s back still faced her. “What?”

  “You've been fidgeting for the last few minutes.”

  “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I thought you were. Think I could sleep after last night?”

  Nel laughed softly. “Neither could I.” She reached up and tangled her hand in Lin’s hair. “I’m worried about what condition the site is in.”

  “Archaeologically, or otherwise?”

  “We left beacons there. And bodies. And fuck knows what else.”

  “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go clean up.”

  Nel laughed softly and tucked her head against the nape of Lin’s neck.

  “What?”

  “It already is tomorrow.”

  NEL LEANED BACK IN the precinct chair. It seemed like years since she had last sat there, listening to the police refuse to pursue the truth. Now the anger and frustration faded into something else. It’s easy to think in black and white. Los Pobladores aren’t all evil, and we aren’t all good. Just like Lin said, each of us is the good-guy in our own story. Munoz stepped in with a nod at her. “Thank you for your prompt arrival. We've reviewed the autopsy of your colleague Dr. Servais.”

  “Were you able to get any DNA off his wounds? His fingernails maybe.”

  “Despite what television tells us, it's rare we get so lucky, Dr. Bently. Our coroner reviewed the circumstances and compared it to his wounds. It seems we were wrong in our initial assessment. Dr. Servias was not murdered. He was struck by a vehicle on his way back from the site. We examined his car. The battery was dead. He must have left his lights running and needed a lift back to the Vecuna y Las Rosas. These back roads are dark at night and people often drive far too fast.”

  Nel's thoughts screamed through her head. You're fucking kidding me. “Where's your bulldog, Reyes? There's no way this was an accident. You wouldn't have assumed homicide without a good reason.”

  “Reyes has been called back to the city. I'm sorry that our actions upset you, Dr. Bently. We have Dr. Servais's personal effects, and are ready to release both them and the body to you. Have you made arrangements?”

  “Yeah, I filed the paperwork and everything. I should be gone by next week. I'll call the funeral home now.” She rose and fumbled her phone from her pocket as she headed toward the door.

  “We'll be ready when they arrive.” He paused at the door to their offices. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  NEL TOOK THE STAIRS two at a time. She was panting as she shoved open her door. “Lin?” The silence was emptier than usual. She scanned the room, noting the lack of computer and clothing that had littered the floor that morning. “Fuck.”

  Nel wasn’t big on goodbyes, but leaving without warning was just as shitty. She started to search for a clue, any sign that the woman would be back. Eventually her search ended in her tidying the room. Cleaning yielded a few pieces of paperwork and a shirt she had forgotten she brought. Her eyes narrowed on the box tucked under her pillow. That wasn’t there before. She flipped it open. Inside nestled a bolo tie. The dark leather coiled beneath a metal object. Nel lifted it out carefully, angling it toward the light from her window. The metal was polished to a high sheen, the surface mottled with darker color and etched with a design she recognized. It was the same one her fingers traced down Lin’s body.

  A folded paper sat under the coiled leather. She sank onto her bed and unfolded the paper.

  Nel

  Sorry I left so quickly. Can’t have a gunfight without involving the police, I suppose. I’m staying low for a while. Traveling, spreading the word. I was serious — I want you to publish your preliminary findings. There’s so much more we want to share with the earthbound humankind and I know your study will help.

  -L

  P.S. This is a piece of space-rock, from your rocking space almost-girlfriend. I’ll see you again.

  Nel tucked the letter away. Everything was so surreal. Two weeks ago, she was leading a dig in the boonies of Chile with her best friend. Now, she had no friend, no site, and no almost-girlfriend. She wasn’t ready to go home. Chile was like a vacation, even if she was working. Home meant returning to reality, one that should have Mikey in it. Who knows if I’ll ever be able to come back to this site again after what happened. Regardless of what actually happened, she would be surprised if the feds didn’t blame her for the mess. She draped the bolo over her neck and leaned back against the chimney. She cracked open her
beer. “You were right Mikey. She’s tall and fucking badass.” She raised the bottle before splashing some onto the ground below. “I’ll miss you, man.”

  Her gaze fell to the empty spot beside her. Mikey sat there. Lin sat there. Her throat was suddenly tight. She wasn’t ready to be alone.

  EPILOGUE

  ROCKS SKITTERED UNDER Nel’s boots. She had thought a thousand times about this moment for the past month. She still did not believe it had come. She tucked the box to her chest. Mikey didn’t deserve to be shoved into a backpack pouch with expired sunscreen and a sandwich from last season. The hill had not changed, but her knees were weak by the time she tottered into the cave’s entrance. The turquoise water chattered through the rock face, and Nel laid Mikey on an outcropping while she shucked off her boots. Some things were meant to be done as soul-bared as possible, and boots were not part of that picture.

  The box was warm in her hand, sunwarmed, but also body-warm and breath-warm. It seemed fitting that under the high noon light, that they both would seek shade in the ancient shelter.

  Nel carefully undid the top, tapping the displaced grey dust from the lid before laying it aside. She sat carefully beside it, feet trailing in the water. “It’s been a while since I talked to you. I don’t think you can hear me, that you’re up on some cloud listening, don’t worry. But maybe you’re in the fish here. Maybe you’re in the water. Maybe you’re somewhere up in the stars. Maybe you’ll be part of what Lin needs for her family to find their way back.”

  She dipped two fingers into the water, then his ashes. The body was ephemeral, really. The fear-rooted embalming, pretending at life, was only more painful. You can’t grieve if they’re still there. If you never accept they’re gone. Nel had never been a griever, but she had never lost someone as integral to her being, to the career she had built, as Mikey.

  She trailed her fingers into the water again, letting ash disappear downstream. “Dammit, Mikey, I guess you’ll get me to sing after all.” She cleared her throat softly. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” Her fingers brushed ashes, water, ashes, water. Her voice did not soar in the canyon, rather the sound stumbled against the stone as she let Mikey go, the whisper of ashes washed from her hands.

  “And we’ve been there ten thousand years as bright shining as the sun.” She botched half the lines, humming through the words she was uncertain of, and singing the chorus more than she figured was accurate. Finally, the box was all but empty, and her fingers were pruned with their continued swim. She trailed a finger around the inside of the box and pressed it to her lips. The ashes tasted like sand, but she smiled. “You may be a thousand things now, but you’ll also be in my bones.”

  She rose with a sigh and began the trek back up the hill. The low slung sun painted the sky a soft almost-green at the edge of the blue of dusk. A battered car stood behind the jeep. Emilio leaned on one open door, his expression that of patience and understanding. He watched her clamber over the rail, gaze brushing red eyes and lighter shoulders. Still, he waited to speak until she raised her hand in greeting.

  “This is a good place.”

  She nodded. “When we were first here, he said this is where he’d want his ashes, some of them, at least.”

  He hummed in acknowledgement. His eyes remained fixed on the sky for another minute before easing himself up onto the hood of his car. “We have a story about this place, you know.”

  “A Los Pobladores story, or a another kind?”

  “I think they are the same.”

  She smiled faintly. “Perhaps you’re right.” She hoisted herself up beside him, leaning back on her elbows. “You gonna tell it, or just tease me?”

  He grinned. “You are full of impatience, Bently. It's a good story, but not one for today.” He gestured, patient and gentle, to the canyon. “My father said when our ancestors were new, this world was already old. Our people first began to search. When you find what you're searching for, you come find me and I'll tell you the story.”

  “But I'm always searching, remember?” She leaned her head back, staring at the first, dim stars. “I think searching, exploration, is a home of sorts. Looking for a greater sense of home. Besides, without exploring, without those questions that lead us there, we wouldn’t have stories to tell, now would we?”

  Emilio's eyes flicked to her and softened. “Perhaps we say the same thing, just in different words.”

  Check out the next

  Nel Bently Book

  NEL STEADIED HER THOUGHTS before tugging her bag from the passenger seat and heading towards the sprawling multi-addition Social Studies building. She had fifteen minutes to collect herself and drop her things at her desk. Every thought grew heavy and frantic as Nel shoved the doors open. Six months ago, the only goal on her career list that had yet to be checked off was attaining a tenured position. Working with a smaller university like UNNE that focused more on published papers and teaching ability than seniority brought her goal that much closer.

  It hurt that she might not achieve it now, depending on the meeting. It hurt worse, though, that a large part of her no longer cared. It was the same part that howled into the void in her chest where Mikey used to be. She strode through the History wing and into the breezeway between the original part of the building and the first addition. She pulled the package from her stoop out with a sigh. Right, because I want to read the details of all my permits being revoked. Still, it would distract her from the looming shadow of her meeting. The package was heavy, and decorated with multiple stamps and seals. None were of her local post office.

  Dr. Annalise Bently

  C/o Lin Nalawangsa

  IDH Canadian Headquarters,

  4 Endeavour Ln

  Oromocto, NB, E2V 4T9

  Nel frowned. She can drop a package at my stoop, but can't respond to a text? And why send this to my house rather than my office? She tugged the tab, expecting a thick document. Instead, a cheap cell phone dropped into her hand. It was new, and off-brand, the kind that box-stores sold minute cards for. She frowned, but flipped it open and held down the power button. The chime was tinny. It was fully charged and had prepaid minutes through the end of the month. A cartoon UFO decorated the background. What the fuck?

  She thumbed to the message box. There was only one, from a contact titled, “Mothership.” She rolled her eyes and looked at the message:

  TEXT 'RECEIVED' AND YOUR SURNAME WHEN THIS ARRIVES.

  She did as it asked and trotted up the stairs to the lobby of the Anthropology wing, barely looking away from the phone.

  “Dr. Annalise Bently?”

  Nel glanced up. Two campus security officers blocked the doorway to her department. A state trooper stood a step in front, holding up his ID. “Dr. Bently is fine.”

  “Ma'am, I'm Officer Thomson. You oversaw the Los Cerros Esperando VII this past summer, correct?”

  “Yes, I did.” Her nerves screamed at her.

  “The Chilean police found a body yesterday.” He glanced at the students milling around. “You need to come with us.”

  “I haven't been on site for over a month.” The new phone buzzed in her hand. Her fingers tightened around it.

  “The body has your DNA on it, ma'am. We need to bring you in.”

  “For arrest?”

  “Come quietly and you won't make a scene in front of your students.”

  Adrenaline exploded through her body. I'm wanted for murder. Lin said there were no bodies. She said I'd be safe. Her eyes flicked up to the cop. She slid the envelope into her bag before glancing at the phone. An incoming text opened on the screen.

  RUN

  And she did.

  Discover Lin’s Story in

  “Disciples”

  Coming soon in Beamed Up

  CRYOSLEEP WAS A TEMPORARY death. The lights were dim, a twilight between waking and sleep. Lin blinked and rolled her shoulders, stretched her neck, curled her toes. Viscous stasis fluid drained silently, leaving
goosebumps across her beige skin. Nausea shuddered through her. She ignored it. Instead she drifted in the peace of momentary amnesia. The hiss of heated air punctured the stillness. She flexed her fingers and tapped the smooth metal embedded in the flesh of her wrist. “Commence waking sequence in five....” She counted the seconds down silently.

  “Good morning, Opsir Nalawangsa.” The low voice was male, and just shy of truly human. The lights rose, gradual and faintly yellow.

  “Good morning, Phil. Where are we?” She pushed out of her tank, rising in the zero G of her cryo tube. The lights were fully bright now.

  “We’re in orbit, 437 km from the surface of the planet Earth.” There was a pause, and she almost thought the ship’s voice held a smile. “Welcome home.”

  She snorted. “My genes may come from that ball of dirt, Phil, but I certainly don’t.” The air rolled over her skin, drying as it went. A click and pop echoed from beside the closed door of the cryo tube. She grabbed the vial from the ship’s delivery system and held it up.

  NALAWANGSA, LIN

  IMMUNIZATION LEVEL 2

  STABILIZERS

  PROTEIN

  CARBOHYDRATES

  ELECTROLYTES

  VITAMINS A, D, B, C

  SALINE

  She groaned. “What does a woman have to do to get proper grilled fish with her breakfast in bed?”

  “When you cure cryo-sick I will personally deliver you a plate of fresh milkfish in bed upon waking.”

  She rolled her eyes and snapped the vial into the port in her arm. A moment passed then her nausea subsided. Aching in her head ebbed. “How was the trip?”

  “Uneventful. You are wanted in Trajectory.” Phil’s tone often trod the line between a butler’s deference and a captain’s rebuke.