Page 37 of Bound

“I was going to suggest we take a different route to the transport and avoid drawing attention to ourselves,” I say, unable to hide my smile.

“Then we’d better do it now because I think they’ve spotted us,” Chrissie replies urgently.

CHRISSIE

I don’t get a good look at the three Oykig as one points across the square at us, but I can’t shake the feeling they’re familiar somehow. Given they’re toting enough ray guns to supply an army, I can see why Rych decided they were up to no good.

I should be terrified. I spent so much of my time post abduction frightened for my life and my body, until I caught the virus and nothing else mattered. Here and now, alongside my big, bad Gryn gladiator, his movements easy and sinuous, his abs rippling and his great wings held high as we make good our escape, I have no fear.

It’s as freeing as finding my pain is so much reduced since waking up here. I heard about hot springs on Earth which were supposed to have healing properties, but I thought it was a Victorian myth. Could it be the same here on Trefa?

I’m not going to dwell on it. Simply reveling in feeling somewhere near how I was before the virus is enough. I can even keep up with Rych’s long strides as we duck down a number of increasingly narrow passages before we come out into a small space between the buildings.

“Can I ask you to ‘wait here’? Little mate, while I…” He points upwards and opens his wings.

“Just this once,” I respond and stand back as he beats down, whipping up dust and debris as he fires himself upwards but doesn’t get much higher than the roofs above before flipping over and disappearing out of sight.

I wait.

I don’t like it, but I recognize in this particular situation, asking him to carry me with him is neither sensible nor going to be pleasant.

Minutes tick by. I tap my foot and drink the rest of my joh, a hot drink more like chai than coffee, and one I didn’t realize I had a taste for until now.

Something blots out the suns, and Rych crashes back to the ground, his wings falling like a cloak around him.

“Rych?”

“We have to go, now!” he says, rising but keeping his torso hidden from me.

Pain flashes through my mind, but it’s not my pain, it’s a ghost of a pain.

“Let me see,” I demand.

He glares at me for a second, then he unwraps the wing from around himself. A searing livid plasma burn crosses his abdomen down the left side.

“It’s a flesh wound,” Rych says, straightening up. “I’ve had worse in the dome. Let’s go, little spark.”

He ushers me ahead of him.

“You need to get it treated.”

“I heal fast. All Gryn do,” he responds as I’m rushed along down three more winding passages, at the bottom of which, I see an oddly shaped craft.

“I’d prefer we were flying, but this is all I could find on short notice.”

“What is it?” I stare at the thing, a skeleton sphere with what looks like a seat in the middle and a large block below.

“It’s a hover craft,” Rych says, clambering onto it like a motorcycle.

“I think hover craft on Trefa and hovercraft on Earth are two different things,” I say, partly to myself, as I get on in front of him. “How does it work?”

“Press here to start.” Rych wraps an arm around me and presses on the console in front.

The thing hums, and a set of bars rises up out of the solid block, molding themselves to my shape.

“Accelerate is…”

I’ve already wrapped my hand around what I think is the throttle, and as I squeeze, the sphere shoots forward.

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