Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Where the fuck am I?
I peel open my eyelids and scan my surroundings. The darkness is so thick I can’t see a thing. A dull ache pulses at the back of my skull. I brush my hand over the spot and hiss when I press on a huge egg.
Ouch.
My fingers come away wet and sticky. I bring them to my nose and inhale the metallic scent of blood.
The bastard who hit me most likely gave me a concussion with his makeshift baseball bat.
Groaning, I sit up carefully. “Fuck.” That hurts.
“Quiet,” a woman whispers in a strained tone. “You don’t want to let them know you’re awake.”
I recognize that British accent. “Where am I?”
“In one of the cells.”
Sniffling comes from the corner.
“Hush, Maeva,” the British woman says. “Try to get some sleep.”
Sleeping in the bitter cold and in the harrowing situation we find ourselves in is out of the question. I get onto my hands and knees, almost puking from the pain that increases with the minor effort, and test my balance before pushing to my feet.
Swallowing down bile, I feel my way through the darkness with my arms stretched out in front of me. All the while, I fight the dizziness that threatens to claim me. I take tiny steps, cautiously putting one foot in front of the other until I hit a barrier. I sweep my palms over the surface. The wall appears to be made of vertical poles that are covered with scratchy fabric.
I walk along the length, searching until I find the edge of the rough cloth, and pull it aside. The rudimentary drape acts as a curtain. Behind it is a wall crudely fabricated of branches that act as prison bars. A soft glow spills through the narrow gaps between the bars. The light comes from a fire that burns on the ground below. The smell of the smoke is thick outside. It seeps inside, already clinging to my clothes and hair. The silhouettes of the stilted houses are visible around the clearing. The sky is scattered with stars but moonless, leaving the landscape dark beyond the border of the trees.
When I turn my gaze back to the room, a circle of pale faces are staring wide-eyed at me. The group is a mix of different ages. I count one man and five women.
“What are you doing?” one of them whispers. “They’ll punish you.”
I snort. “They can try.”
“They’re forever punishing us,” someone else replies wryly. “We don’t even know why, so what difference does it make?”
I bundle the cloth between two bars to keep a corner open for a bit of light and slide down to the dirt floor. This way, I can also keep an eye on the clearing and on the Phaelix when they return. Bracing my back against one of the branches, I wrap my arms around my knees to maintain some warmth.
A woman creeps closer and sits down in front of me. Her golden-blond hair catches the light. I recognize her from earlier.
“I’m Sandy,” she says, keeping her voice down.
I lean my head against the pillar and swallow more bile. Nausea is definitely a symptom of a concussion.
She studies me with a curious expression. “What happened to you? How did you end up here after that Alit took you away?”
I sigh. “It’s a long story. In short, I escaped. What about you? I thought you’d gotten away with the barge. I hoped you’d found a portal to take you back to Earth.”
“We did get away.” She snickers. “I did some sailing in my day.”
The man shuffles toward us on his knees. “We ran into slavers while crossing the jungle.” His accent is Germanic. “The bastards got us again.” A long, unkempt beard matches the chestnut color of his shoulder-length hair. “We didn’t stand a chance.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Karl, by the way.”
I shake his hand, wincing at how thin and bony his fingers feel in my palm.
The woman called Maeva whimpers louder in her corner.
“Shh.” A willowy woman with platinum-blond hair throws an arm around Maeva’s shoulder. “There now, dorogaya. I’ve got you.”
“Maeva wasn’t with us.” Sandy sneers as she juts her chin toward the clearing. “Those dogs already had her when they intercepted the rest of us. Who knows what they’ve done to her? She never speaks.” She taps her temple. “She’s fragile up here.”
“We’ve all been here for different lengths of time,” the redhead says, moving toward our circle. “But Maeva seems to have had it the worst.”
“What about you?” I ask Sandy. “How long have you been here?”
She squares her shoulders. “Longer than the others, but I’m strong. It’ll take those motherfuckers a hell of a lot more to break me.”
I look around the room. “How did you all end up on this planet?”
“The same way,” Karl says. “The last thing each of us remembers was being sucked through a circle of colorful lights. There’s no regularity to the abductions. We come from different backgrounds and places.”