Something tugged at him to go check on her. If he was already in the process of being sold what could the Guardians do to him now? He finished off his second bowl and quietly made his way across the floor, all eyes on him. The girl was sitting in a ball at the end of her bed staring blankly at the wall. He approached her like he would a trapped animal, each footstep careful. When he got to her side, he knelt down in front of her and took her hands.
“You need to eat. It’ll only feel worse if you starve yourself.”
“He deserved that. Even if it kills me, god, he deserved that and more.”
He knew she was talking about her getting a shot at Moy. “I know.”
The girl turned to look at him. “He killed my brother in front of me. My nine-year-old brother.” A flash of intense pain briefly crossed her face. Jonathan felt all the air leave his lungs as the memory of his own family’s death washed over him. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, panic filling his eyes. He could sense the girl’s physical ache in his chest.
“He was the one that killed my mother and my two little brothers.” The words came out robotically, but he felt every ounce of the pain of their deaths all over again.
“This can’t be happening…this can’t be real. Just a few days ago I was hunting in the woods with my brother. I was teaching him how to catch a rabbit.”
It was obvious she was holding back a flood of emotions. The women around them murmured, because for the second time they were breaking the rules. Jonathan looked over at the door, but no one was there.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Zahara.”
“It’s going to be okay.” He let her go, looking back toward his bunk. He saw a few tears escape her eyes.
“Thanks, Red,” she whispered, trying to dry them. She picked up her bowl of food and took a tentative bite. He gave her a weak smile.
“I like that name. I might just have to keep it.” He hurried back across the warehouse just before the Guardians came back in and retrieved the empty bowls.
***
Several slaves were sold the following morning, and the boss of the warehouse came and visited to make sure his merchandise was being treated healthy. Jonathan was forced onto a strange contraption where he had to run for most of two hours. By the end he was so exhausted that he practically fell into his cot. He figured they were trying to get him into decent shape for whatever the Quarry held for him.
“I overheard where they are sending you,” one man said to him. His brown hair hung in his eyes. “I’m Maverick.” He shook his hand, a sad look on his face. “I’ve heard the Guardians talking about it.” His skin paled of color. “It’s brutal.”
“I’ll be okay.” Somehow speaking the words out loud felt right. Even if he knew from what this man was saying that it definitely wasn’t going to be alright. Maverick gave him a piteous look as if he knew Jonathan was in total denial.
“I don’t know what’s worse though. Being a slave to one of them for the rest of your life, or getting it all over quick.” An empty look filled Maverick’s eyes. Jonathan had to turn away from the sight. Something buried way deep inside of him said, don’t give up. The voice sounded like his mother. If she was here right now she’d tell him not to lie down and quit. After his father had died, he’d been the man of the house, and the one thing he’d learned was not to give up easily. He needed that now more than ever.
Jonathan could feel the restlessness of everyone around him—the knowledge that they could be sold at any time. He tried to shut out the faces of his family, but every time he closed his eyes he saw his two little brothers. Be strong, Jonathan, for them. You have to make it out of here and do something. A strange feeling washed over him. Words he hadn’t heard since he was a child played through his mind.
There will be one. One who rises above them all. A man of valor and great strength who will free us from the fall. Others will join his name that will ring, will stand beside him, beating the enemy with a great wing. A strength will come in the strangest of ways. An unknown source of power will break through the haze. Every human captive will be set free. Don’t lose heart just wait and see.
The words sent a shudder up his spine. It was a prophesy. His mother had made him recite it over and over as a child. Why am I remembering this now? Who is the one? He had no idea why, but he felt he had a hand in the prophesy. Suddenly he felt a presence hovering over his bed. A hand touched him, and he nearly jumped.
“Sorry…I just…wanted to…” Zahara’s voice whispered. Jonathan’s heart nearly stopped. If any of the Guardians found out about this they’d both be punished. Her hand brushed his bare chest, and again he nearly jumped out of his skin. “I just…” She couldn’t seem to finish anything she said.
“Did you want to lie here with me for a minute?”
“Yeah.” The word was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.
Despite his inner turmoil, he let the girl into his bed.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. The feel of her soft body against his and her hand over his chest made his heart ache.
“I think so.”
He hadn’t had a wife back home, even though he was nearing on twenty. Most of his tribe married when they were sixteen, since the human race had been so depleted over the years.
Zahara softy touched the side of his face. “I’m sorry, Red, I hope you don’t mind,” she whispered into his ear. He could hear the inner struggle in her voice. She had appeared to be the strong, independent type. But even the strongest person had a breaking point.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He drew in a deep breath. There was nothing sexual about their touch, it was pure affection. They lay there for several moments in complete silence, hearing the sounds of everyone around them. Soon he noticed that Zahara’s breathing had deepened. He knew he couldn’t let her sleep long, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her up right now. It reminded him of when his little brothers would fall asleep on his chest, and the pain of loss hit him all over again. Tears trailed down his cheeks as he held Zahara close to him.
After a long while, he gently shook her awake.
“I’m sorry, did I fall asleep?”
“It’s okay, but if we are found like this it’s not going to go well for either of us.”
She unfurled herself from him, bent over, and softly kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” Her voice broke as she said the words, and he heard her quietly walk to the other side of the warehouse. Her kiss remained imprinted on his cheek.
Chapter 6
Heat filled Zahara’s cheeks at the thought of what she’d done last night. She’d never done that type of thing before, and now several thoughts were roaming around in her head. What does he think of me now? A poor, helpless woman who needs a man. That’s not me. She cycled through the past when men had tried to convince her that she needed a strong protector for the rough life they led. From the moment she could grip a weapon, her father had taught her how to swing a knife or wrestle down a wild animal. Now here she was coddling to her weakest form.
Olive walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I saw you get up last night.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where did you go?”
The girl’s brow was furrowed as if trying to figure Zahara out.
“Something happened to me. I did something stupid.”
“It’s called trauma. We all do stupid stuff under it.” Olive appeared to be absorbed in a past memory. “I lost my first child.” Her lips pressed into a firm line. Zahara could see how painful the thoughts were for the girl. She cleared her throat to keep herself from crying. “I was going to drown myself, but my husband caught me in time. Something…snapped. I can’t explain it.” She waved her hand in a circle, her fingers fluttering. “Sorry.” She looked away from Zahara as if she couldn’t believe she’d just revealed such a painful secret.
“I slept with him.”
Olive’s face paled. “They’ll kill you for that. I’ve seen it done.”
/>
“No…not…that…I just laid beside him for a while. It was stupid.” Zahara couldn’t keep her eyes off Jonathan. Maybe she’d completely lost her mind—maybe this was a form of drowning herself.
“You don’t get it. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t have sex, if the Guardians found you—they wouldn’t think twice.” Olive’s face began to turn a sickly yellow color.
“Are you going to vomit?” Zahara put a hand on the girl’s back.
“I’ve seen them…” She looked at the sanitizing chamber for a long moment. “I’ve seen them…” She shook her head. “Just don’t do it again. Please. For both your sakes.” Olive quietly wandered away seemingly lost in thought.
Zahara tried to reason with herself the entire day. She ate and paced around the room trying to keep herself occupied. What made me cling to him? Why now? She found herself sending Jonathan small glances throughout the day. There was something different about him. It wasn’t just his red hair that made him stand out amongst the men. His voice did something to her—as if he held something powerful buried inside of him. She shook her head, dismissing her own thinking.
Olive came back over to her and sat on the edge of her cot. “Customers are scarce today.” Her eyes dully swept the room. “Whenever I don’t get sold I thank God and I’m terrified at the same time.”
“Why?” Zahara noticed the stress lines on the girl’s face.
“I think they do something awful to humans who don’t get sold after a while. They figure we’re defective merchandise and discard us.” Olive’s fingers were intertwining into the folds of her pala. At her last statement, the door to the warehouse opened and in walked several customers. Zahara noticed how they would stop for a few seconds at each cot and whisper.
When the customers paused in front of her, again they whispered to one another before moving onward. These Citizens looked like teenagers with their soft faces and hair that was styled different than most. They carried on and continued around the circle of humans until they stopped in front of a tall, ruddy-looking man with a good-natured expression on his face. Some people handled captivity better than others. The customers smiled at one another and looked at his tag. They whispered again to each another before stepping out. A Guardian came a few moments later and led the good-natured man out. A sick dread filled Zahara at the sight of him leaving.
“What do you think it’ll be like?” Olive said absentmindedly.
“I don’t know.” Zahara was staring at where the man had been. Where will Jonathan go? The thought made her stomach clench inside.
Chapter 7
The following several days took on a routine for Jonathan. The Citizens made him exercise and shower. He was given a new pala to wear every few days and fed the mush that started to taste worse and worse. Every night he was surprised to feel Zahara’s presence beside his bed. The darkness felt suffocating at times, but her very essence filled him with a hope for a future outside of this place. Something desperate must have erupted in both of them—some kind of trust was beginning to form. Is that why I comforted her that first day I saw her? God knew I needed her?
Jonathan smelled Zahara before she came to the side of his bed—her sweet fragrance like the lilac bushes back home. He felt a sharp twist of pain—he used to gather the purple flowers for his mother during their short blooming season.
“Hi,” she said. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “I hope you don’t mind this. Maybe I’m crazy.”
“It’s fine. Please.” Jonathan reached out and brushed her hand with his fingers. He heard her soft intake of breath as he moved to let her cuddle up beside him.
As she lay down she whispered, “Why do I trust you? I barely know you.” Her breath against his cheek made his entire body tingle.
“I can’t explain it either.” Jonathan brushed her face gently, sweeping the curls that were resting on her forehead. “Tell me this.” He drew in a soft breath. “Were you the one who took care of your family?”
“Yes. And part of me knew that my parents were weak. It’s why I took care of Ray like I did. I taught him everything about hunting, even though my father taught me, part of me knew deep down dad was a coward.” Her body shuddered lightly. “I think I knew he wasn’t willing to die for us. He was too afraid of the Citizens. And now here I am being weak—allowing myself to be comforted by a stranger.” Zahara scoffed, but it was obvious that she’d reached the point where she didn’t care. “Is it dumb that I trust you?”
“No,” he said, because he felt the same way and couldn’t put it into words. “It’s not dumb. My mother used to tell me how you could know almost immediately if someone was trustworthy.” Jonathan held her close to him and felt her body sigh. Something deep down inside him truly cared about this girl, despite only having known her for a short time.
Is God trying to tell me something here? He’d heard stories from his mother about what true love was like. After his father had died, she’d told him more and more what it felt like to meet the person you would love forever. What is it about her? He continued to stroke Zahara’s skin, loving how soft it felt beneath his fingers.
“How could they just leave Ray like that? Why were they so selfish?” Zahara’s entire body was taut with anger at the memory of her parents’ suicides. “They didn’t have to watch him scream and suffer—they didn’t even try to save him.”
Jonathan pulled her closer, trying his best to comfort her. He was thankful that at least his mother had attempted to save them all. He could tell Zahara felt betrayed by her parents.
“You need to forgive them, Zahara. They were selfish in their actions. I’m sure they thought you’d take care of Ray if anything ever happened to them.”
Her entire body grew stony. “I tried. And look where it landed me? Him dead and me a slave...”
He wanted to say more, but he still struggled with his own nightmares of his family’s death. After a moment he said, “I’m really sorry they did that.”
“You talk about God right?”
“Yah.”
“You truly believe there is a savior that could rescue us all? I mean truly?”
“Yeah I do. It’s the lack of hope in the human race that is killing us, not just the Citizens. People have stopped trying to find a solution, but I know…there is something or someone who can help us out of this mess.” He really believed what he said to her. There had to be something or someone out there. There had to be. His chest burned with a passion to find the answers.
“How can you believe that? How?”
“Call it stupidity. Or faith. I don’t know.” Jonathan gave a soft laugh. “If we don’t have hope, we have nothing and we might as well do what your parents did.”
Zahara stiffened at the mention of her parents.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. What they did is a symptom of lack of hope. It’s a disease in the human heart. I’m sorry.” Silence stretched between them for a few seconds before she shifted deeper into his arms.
“It’s okay. You’re right. They had no hope.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “But when you look at our reality, Red, hope isn’t easy to find.”
Jonathan smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. He liked when she called him Red. “That’s why I live outside of reality.”
“Maybe that’s why I like you. You’re a bit insane.” Zahara touched his bare chest, and his heart began thumping harder. How did she do that to him?
“It takes one to know one,” he said. Her hand slapped his chest lightly.
“I should get back.” She climbed out of bed, pressed her hand once more against his cheek, and walked away, her footsteps softly fading.
Jonathan woke up the next morning already aching for Zahara’s touch. He knew it was dangerous what they were doing, but something in him was beyond reason. From across the room Zahara looked over at him, a soft smile on her lips. Her blonde hair was curling around her face, and her blue eyes had taken on a new shine sin
ce the first time she’d been brought into the warehouse. Maverick came over to him, looking full of concern.
“You’re only torturing yourself, man,” he said.
“I know, but if I’m going to die in a few days I might as well enjoy life.” Jonathan’s lips twitched into a smile. He continued to watch as Zahara moved around, talking to the other women. She had told him that she’d been encouraging some of the other girls lately. Telling them that this wasn’t the end, to have hope that God could one day rescue them from their oppression.
The warehouse door flung open and a customer walked in. It was a female Citizen with lovely golden blonde hair that hung down her back in waves, her black wings tucked away as she strolled across the room with a Guardian at her side. Jonathan’s throat closed as she approached the girls and browsed one after another.
Please, please, don’t pick Zahara. Please.
She shook her head at most and nodded at some. He wished he could overhear what the woman was saying to the Guardian, but they were too far away to catch it. The Guardian was tagging beds as they walked, until they came to Zahara’s cot. The blonde girl was standing in front of it with her head looking down. The woman took her webbed finger and lifted Zahara’s chin. At that point Jonathan finally could hear bits and pieces of the conversation.
“She looks healthy, but does she have any unique qualities?” The woman Citizen twirled her finger. “Are you an artist? A singer?”
“I can sing,” Zahara said.
“Sing me something.”
A sweet voice filled the warehouse as Zahara began a melody. Everyone paused to look at her. The golden-haired woman clasped her hands together with delight.
“Beautiful! But I want a closer look at this one. The last girl you sold me had some damages,” she told the Guardian.
Jonathan knew exactly what that meant. He turned his head away at Zahara’s soft sounds of embarrassment as the Guardian allowed a full check over. He knew the Guardian was being rougher than he needed to be, and his anger rose for the girl. Something about Zahara yanked at his insides, but what could he do for her? The powerful-looking Citizen woman gave a firm nod after the inspection and waved her hand.
“Get her ready. I don’t have time to waste.” The Guardian gave a wicked smile and proceeded to redress the girl, who was already trying to dress herself anyway. He shoved her forward, and Zahara nearly tripped over her pala. Jonathan watched her be led away, his stomach churning. I’ll find you again, Zahara. Before she was led out the door, she turned and gave him one final look, a strange mixture of fear and determination on her face.
Fatal Alien Affection Page 3
