Testing Grounds (On Dangerous Grounds Book 1)

by G. Allen Wilbanks

  Michael took an involuntary step backward when he saw the aliens. His mouth dropped open as if he wanted to say something, but he remained mute.

  “I know,” Leon assured him. “It takes a minute to process. But to save you the trouble of asking, I don’t think they are the ones that brought us here. I thought they might be at first, but apparently they got dropped in here against their will just like us.”

  When Michael did not comment further, Leon went on. “I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s about all I really know right now. Every few minutes, someone else gets dropped in here. I don’t even know how many more there are going to be. You could be the last one, or there might be twenty more coming. Heck. Maybe a hundred more.”

  Michael placed a palm on Leon’s chest and gently shoved him away. “Step off for a bit. I need a minute to take this all in. It’s not that I don’t believe you, or that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I…”

  “You don’t believe me, and you don’t trust me,” Leon finished for him when he paused. “I get it. Take all the time you need. I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

  Leon returned to his previously claimed spot by the shelves of small mechanical items to give Michael some space, figuratively and literally, to wrap his head around what had happened to him. As he returned to his inspection of the shelved items, Malcolm stepped up behind him.

  “Hey, boyo,” he said, tapping Leon on the shoulder. “Thought ye might wanna know. Before that last arsehole popped in on us, I found out somethin’ you might find interesting.”

  “What’s that?” Leon asked, not looking at Malcolm. He picked up a wooden box from one of the shelves and turned it in his hands, trying to figure out how to open it. It had no hinges that he could see, but there was a line that ran around its circumference suggesting there was a lid that could be lifted or removed.

  “Nope. Not gonna tell you,” Malcolm said. “You’ve got to figure it out yerself. Go talk to Vinod and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “Who?” Leon asked, finally turning around.

  “The bloke with the ciggies.” Malcolm held up his own cigarette in illustration. “Go have a chat with him.”

  With nothing better to do, Leon shrugged and held out the box toward Malcolm. “Fine. I’ll go say hello. Take this and see if you can get it open while I’m gone.”

  Leon paced across the room toward the man in the dhoti. Vinod, Malcolm had called him. The man had stopped pacing and stood passively watching Leon approach. He took one last long drag on his cigarette, dropped it to the ground, and crushed it out beneath his shoe, heedless of the white carpet covering the floor. Leon moved cautiously toward him, trying to keep an eye on everyone else in the room as he went. They had all noticed him making his way toward Vinod, and they were watching to see what he did next. The tension in the room made him feel like he was walking on a barely frozen-over lake, and any sudden movement could cause the ice to break, sending him plunging in over his head. It was worse than being in school and having the teacher ask him to walk up in front of the class to work a problem on the white board. At least in a classroom, he never worried about the other students deciding to pick up weapons and attack him if he got an answer wrong.

  He tried to appear calm and casual as he approached Vinod, although what he really wanted to do was slink back to his self-designated spot against the wall.

  “Hi,” he said, waving one hand awkwardly. “I’m Leon. Um, you’re Vinod, right? Malcolm said I should come over and talk to you.”

  “Do you want a cigarette, too?” Vinod asked, slipping a hand into his shirt.

  “No, thank you,” replied Leon with a quick shake of his head. “I don’t smoke. He just said I should talk with you.”

  Vinod sighed. “Dharma dictates that I take no actions against any of you until I understand fully what is happening here. I am not your enemy Leon, but neither do I think I am your friend. At least, not until I am certain that befriending you does not lessen my own chances of survival.”

  “Oh, I see.” Then Leon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait! Say that again.”

  Vinod looked carefully at Leon, seeing the sudden excitement in the younger man’s eyes. “Malcolm did not tell you about the translation field, did he? That is probably why he sent you to talk to me.”

  What Vinod said was perfectly understandable, but the sounds that Leon heard coming from the man’s mouth were not at all what his mind interpreted. “You aren’t speaking English, are you?” Leon asked.

  “Marathi,” Vinod confirmed.

  “But I’m hearing you speak English in my head. No, actually, that’s not right. I hear what you’re saying, and I interpret it as English in my head.”

  “Malcolm and I discussed this phenomenon earlier. It appears that there is either some form of field surrounding us, or something was done to us directly to allow us to communicate despite any language barrier. Whoever brought us here wants us to be able to speak to one other. The reason for it is still not clear to me.”

  “Amazing,” said Leon, softly. “And, you said ‘Marathi.’ Where is that? I mean, where do you speak Marathi? I don’t recognize the name of the language.”

  “Over 70 million people speak Marathi. Your knowledge of geography is quite lacking.” Vinod held up his hands, placatingly. “I’m sorry. My discomfort from the situation is no excuse to be insulting. I am from Maharashtra, in India.”

  “India. Wow. We’ve been grabbed from all over the world. I’m from Idaho. The United States.”

  “Please,” said Vinod, raising his hands again. “What I said before is still true. While I do not wish to be rude, I also do not wish to compromise myself until I know more about what I am facing.”

  “I understand,” said Leon, taking a step back. His feelings had been pinked by the rebuke, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Twice, he had tried to start a conversation with others in the room and twice he had been pushed away. It seemed only Malcolm was willing to talk to him. “All of us are trying to figure out what’s going on. It seems to me we could learn a little bit more about it by comparing notes with each other, but we all have to process the problem in our own way.”

  Leon heard a loud noise, the snap of a wooden board breaking in two. He turned to stare at Malcolm, who was still standing where he had left him. All eyes in the room turned toward the Scotsman, seeking the source of the sound, but the man himself was staring at the floor. He lifted his foot to reveal a crushed wooden box. It was the box Leon had handed him. Around the edges of the splintered wood, a green liquid leaked out, soaking into the white fibers of the carpet. Malcolm glanced up and met Leon’s stare.

  “It’s open,” he said, a wide grin splitting his ruddy features.

  Before Leon could respond, a high-pitched scream echoed through the room, announcing another arrival.

  CHAPTER 3

  Another flicker of blue-green light flared in the middle of the room a few feet from the ground. Leon’s ears popped again from the change in air pressure as a girl appeared in the air. She fell, screaming in terror before landing with a heavy grunt as the impact forced the air out of her lungs. She landed awkwardly on one shoulder and tumbled in a sprawl of arms and legs.

  The new arrival was small, slender, and stood barely over five feet tall as far as Leon could estimate from seeing her lying on the ground. She had shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair that was currently swirled haphazardly around her head and covering her face. She wore a red polo shirt and a short, gray plaid skirt, along with chunky black shoes and black socks pulled over her knees. As she crashed to the ground, her skirt flared up around her hips revealing a glimpse of yellow underwear.

  Leon felt slightly guilty at the illicit peek under the girl’s skirt, especially given their present circumstances, so he quickly forced his gaze back to her face. The girl remained on her back where she landed, panting, but otherwise unmoving.

  Malcolm, apparently taking on the role of offici
al greeter for the group, approached the newest member of their gathering, exactly as he had done with Leon and Michael. This time, however, he stood far enough back that he wouldn’t get kicked if the girl felt it was necessary to defend herself.

  “You make a hell of a noisy entrance, lass,” Malcolm told her. “Need a hand up?”

  The new arrival swiped her hair out of her face and scrabbled back a few feet from Malcolm.

  “Wh-who are you? Why am I here?” she demanded, blinking rapidly and wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

  Leon couldn’t be certain if the tears were from fear or from the same light sensitivity he had suffered when he arrived.

  “Easy, lass,” Malcolm told her, holding his palms out but not attempting to move any closer to her. “I didn’t bring you here. I’m stuck, same as you are. I’m just tryin’ to help. You look like you took quite a knock when you landed.”

  “Where am I?” she asked, looking around and registering the other occupants of the room for the first time. “Who are you people?”

  “Name’s Malcolm,” the Scotsman told her, holding out a large hand. The girl made no effort to take it, and he slowly let it fall back to his side. “As for these other blokes, well, I’m not their mother so I’ll let ‘em introduce themselves.”

  “I’m Leon,” said Leon, stepping forward. The girl flinched away, so he retreated a few paces in apology. “Leon,” he repeated, lamely. “What’s your name?”

  She stared at him for a moment, assessing him as a threat before finally answering, “Annie.”

  “Hello, Annie,” Leon said. “I wish I could answer your questions, but none of us really know why we’re here or what’s going on. I just got…”

  “Are you trying to look up my dress, asshole?” Annie blurted.

  Leon blushed and began to stammer that he had been doing no such thing when he realized that Annie was not looking at him. She was glaring in Malcolm’s direction. The big man was smiling and had cocked his head to one side, clearly enjoying the view the girl’s awkward positioning on the floor provided him. Annie climbed to her feet and angrily tugged her skirt straight.

  “Like what you see?” she challenged Malcolm, her blue eyes flashing.

  Malcolm did not back down, only grinned more broadly. “Oh, aye,” he said. “I must admit I fancy the color yellow.”

  “I’ll bet you do,” said Annie, her cheeks flushed. “It’s probably the color of your bedsheets from pissing yourself at night.”

  Malcolm laughed out loud. “On occasion,” he agreed amicably. “But I must say, you wear it much better.”

  “Um, so where are you from, Annie?” interjected Leon, trying desperately to break the tension. “I’m from Idaho.”

  Annie turned away from Malcolm and stared at Leon with a puzzled expression that stated she was strongly wondering about his mental capacity. “Are you for real?” she asked.

  Leon shrugged slightly. “Caldwell,” he clarified, uncertain why he said it. When he was uncomfortable he tended to ramble, saying the first things to come to his mind to fill the silence.

  “You don’t look like you’re from Idaho,” she said, looking him up and down. “Unless there’s an Idaho somewhere in South America I don’t know about.”

  “Nope,” said Leon, a bit sheepishly. “The one with the potatoes.”

  Annie snorted loudly, then covered her face with her hands to laugh hysterically. “Potatoes,” she choked out before her laughter suddenly broke into great gasping sobs.

  Leon moved closer to comfort her but stopped himself again. This girl did not know him and was unlikely to find any physical contact with him even remotely soothing. He stood still, unhappily listening as Annie continued to cry for several long seconds. Nobody else made any attempt to approach her, either. She sniffled, tugged at the short sleeve of her shirt, and used the material to mop at the wetness on her face.

  “Oh, God,” Annie said, sniffing again. “What the fuck is happening? I want to go home.”

  “I think we all want that,” said a soft voice from across the room.

  Leon turned to see the dark eyed girl in the white shirt approaching Annie. She was taller than Annie by several inches, but she ducked her head to meet the new girl’s eyes and placed a hand on her arm. “Annie? I’m Sofia. Let’s find a quiet corner and get better acquainted.”

  Annie pulled away from Sofia’s outstretched hand. She continued to wipe at her cheeks and compose herself. “I don’t know you any better than I know anyone else here. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I think we all have to trust someone if we are going to get out of this situation,” Sofia said seriously. “And I think we girls need to stick together. Unless of course, you feel more comfortable with one of these guys?”

  Annie paused thoughtfully. “Well, Potato Boy doesn’t seem too bad,” she said after a moment.

  Sofia glanced at Leon and smiled slightly. “No. I suppose he doesn’t,” she conceded. Then she gestured with a nod at the two aliens. “And them?”

  Annie had not noticed the creatures until then, or else she had seen them but not realized that they were living beings rather than random pieces of decoration in the room. She gasped and shrank into herself, hugging her arms to her chest and hunching her shoulders. “Oh my God,” she whispered into a hand cupped over her mouth. “Are they…? Are they…? What the hell are they?”

  “We don’t know,” Sofia answered honestly. “They may be aliens of some kind, but I don’t know where they come from.”

  As Sofia spoke with Annie about the aliens, Leon realized for the first time that she was not speaking English. Sofia was speaking Spanish. He recognized the language, and even understood it fairly well since his parents had spoken it at home while he was growing up, but he hadn’t noticed right away due to the instant translation that was happening in his head. Annie did not appear to have realized the discrepancy between the words she was hearing and the movement of Sofia’s lips.

  “Why are they hanging out with all the weapons?” Annie asked. “Are they a threat to us, or are they just keeping us from getting too close to them?”

  Annie’s instant tactical awareness of her situation impressed Leon. It had taken him a while to figure out the aliens’ positioning in relation to the weapons, and he had only thought of it when he wanted to grab one of them for himself. Annie understood at first glance the implications of the aliens’ location.

  “I don’t know,” Sofia told her. “But the big one has been there since I showed up, and neither one has made any attempt to pick up a weapon. They stand there talking to one another and completely ignore the rest of us.”

  “They seem very calm,” Leon said, trying to join the conversation. “Maybe they know something about what’s going on?”

  “So, you’re an expert on aliens now?” Annie asked. She took an aggressive step toward him, raising her face to his and thrusting out her chin in challenge. Leon noticed her eyes were an icy, winter blue, and he observed a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, standing out against her pale skin.

  “Well then, Idaho, can you tell me what they look like when they get excited?”

  “Uh, no. I guess not,” Leon admitted.

  “Then what makes you think they’re calm?” she asked him. She cocked an eyebrow, then bobbed her head in agreement with herself when Leon could not answer her question. “That’s what I figured. Why don’t you stand there and look pretty while the adults talk.”

  Leon felt a flush rise in his cheeks. Annie’s expression softened a bit when she realized she might have gone too far with her last comment. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, he realized. She was scared, confused, and trying to bring some logic to an abnormal situation. They all were. Still, Leon didn’t want the girls to think he was a pushover, so he tried to think of a comeback to her dismissal. Glancing at Annie’s red-blond hair, he said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I see you have red hair. And you said you
r name is Annie, just like…”

  “Don’t say it!” Annie warned in a growl. “Don’t you fucking dare say another word or I’m going to make orphans of your balls. They will not be coming out again tomorrow or any other day soon.”

  Leon’s mouth dropped open, and he stammered out a hurried, “No, no, of course not.”

  He saw Sofia covering her mouth with one hand and he thought she had been as shocked as he was by the angry comment. Then he noticed her eyes squeezed shut and her shoulders hitching lightly up and down. She was laughing at him. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when her amusement became audible.

  Annie saw Sophia’s reaction and snorted out a laugh at her own outburst. Sofia placed an arm around the other girl’s shoulders and, together, they walked off to an unoccupied section of the enormous library to resume their conversation.

  Malcolm leaned closer to Leon. “Fud,” he said in his ear.

  “What?” Leon asked, but the man had already walked away. Leon did not understand the word as, apparently, there was no accurate English translation. He did however have the impression he had just been deeply insulted. Malcolm approached Vinod, probably to get another cigarette.

  Leon turned in a slow circle, searching the room, looking for someone to talk to. Everyone had paired off except Michael, who was making his way around the library, examining the selection of items along the walls. He had already been very clear with Leon that he wished to be left alone, so Leon did not attempt to join him. Other than the aliens, there was only one person with which he had not attempted a conversation. With a mental shrug, he decided he should at least introduce himself.

  The old man sat alone on the ground with his legs crossed underneath him and his back pressed against a dark-colored, wooden chest of drawers. He was barrel-chested, with sagging breasts that at one time may have been muscle but now rested slack and deflated on his round belly. Wrinkles of skin hung loosely on his skinny arms and legs, suggesting he had been a much larger man in his youth, but time and a sedentary lifestyle had eroded much of his size away. He had a sparse gray mustache and a tuft of white hair on his chin that complimented the fringe of hair around his head. At the moment, his eyes were closed and his hands rested casually over his knees.