Page 6 of Star Mates

She studied him a moment, then pushed past him. As she rounded the corner, a row of ten coffins came into view. All standing upright, made from some type of white metal. Each one had a window where a fine layer of dust had been wiped aside, she assumed by Logan, allowing her to peer inside. The face of a stranger rested inside. She moved slowly down the row and every person had been asphyxiated, their faces slack in death, blue tint around the lips. She stopped in front of the last two chambers and stared at the cracked glass.

“Those were ours,” Logan told her.

She stared at them and a shiver tore through her. And once they started, her body could not stop shaking. Logan turned her gently into his arms and buried a hand in her hair. A coldness had settled in her bones.

“I don’t know any of them,” she said, sniffing.

“I don’t either.”

“They’re all dead!”

“I know.”

“Why us, Logan? Why me?” she asked into his shirt. “I don’t have any money and I don’t have any family. Why did they leave eight of us to die?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, rubbing back her hair. Finally, after several minutes, her shaking subsided and the tears stopped. They stood holding each other, body heat melding as they each took substance in one another. She took his strength, leaning into him.

“You and me, Emmarie,” he said into her hair, “and I promise you, I’ll get us out of here. I’ll get us home.”

She silently vowed to hold him to that promise. As she stepped back, she wiped her cheeks. “What about that door?”

“Whatever knocked out the power disabled it.”

He took her hand and led her back. They stared at the door, both analyzing it.

She ran a finger over the side plate. “What language is this?”

Again, she noticed a smattering of odd symbols, completely incomprehensible. “Some form of Arabic, I think,” he told her. “But I’d have to study it. It could take me a while to translate.”

She shot him a curious look.

“I’m a linguist.”

“Oh, well, I guess if one is going to be taken hostage, it helps to have someone who can speak the language.”

He smiled.

At that moment, the compound shook again, almost knocking them down.

“An earthquake or another bomb?” she asked.

“I’m leaning toward bomb. Come on, there may be another way out, or at least out of this room.” He led her to the other side of the room. “I searched around before you woke up and I found this floor plating.”

Part of the room had the floor divided up with metal grates. The ambient light didn’t penetrate the murk below, but Emmarie thought she could identify a corridor of some type under the grates.

“Perhaps this is a maintenance path or an access route,” Logan said. He bent and secured his fingers through several of the grate holes, braced his legs, and yanked. It didn’t budge. He rested, took a deeper breath, moved his feet further apart, and bent deeper in the knees. A low grunt escaped his mouth as the floor plate shifted. He let go with a huff when he had managed to move it enough for a person to squeeze through. They both winced as it clanged loudly when it fell. He took several steadying breaths and massaged his palms.

“Stay here while I make sure it’s safe,” he told her.

He jumped down into the interior.

“I wish I had a flashlight,” he called up to her, “but at least the blue light special extends here.”

“Is it an exit?”

“There’s a tunnel. Come on, be careful coming down.” He held up his hands and helped her into the narrow space. They were able to stand, but Logan had to stoop a bit since he was several inches taller than she.

The lower level was lined with the same pipes that had run in the room above.

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