Page 35 of Consumed
“I didn’t have biology texts,” Con said inanely. His parents didn’t believe in them.
But now Isaac turned to the orc and spoke slowly. “Are you saying you learn by eating people?”
The orc nodded frantically. “Yes! Yes yes yes. We eat, we learn. We make new home here.”
“Not a great way to culturally assimilate, dude.”
Isaac’s statement was clearly incomprehensible to the orc, and Con’s brain was still catching up. He didn’t understand how any creature could learn by consuming another’s flesh. Brain matter, okay maybe. But the orcs had more or less left his head alone. And what had they hoped to learn? If “here” wasn’t their original home, what was?
Oh, fuck.
Now Con’s heart was racing again, but not with fear. He looked steadily into the orc’s eyes and pointed up. “Is your old home there?”
“Yes. Far. Old home… dead. Dead. All dead.”
Con turned to Isaac. “Orcs are aliens.”
“Orcs are fucking aliens,” Isaac agreed.
Bureau agents came into contact with a great many unusual species, most of which were known to civilians only in myths and rumors—if they were known at all. To the best of Con’s knowledge, however, all of these species originated from the same planet he did. Except, apparently, orcs.
“All dead,” repeated the orc quietly. “Want new home. Please.” He somehow had a certain dignity despite his captivity, despite his nudity and damaged ear.
Dignity. His people had captured Con—and whoever that skull had belonged to, and who knows how many others. They hadeatenhim. Very nearly killed him.
And in the end, one of them had carried him to relative safety.
It was a fact that had rubbed at the back of his mind for a decade, a piece of evidence that didn’t fit in with the rest. Nobody at the Bureau had been able to come up with a plausible explanation. They could all understand creatures that harmed others, that killed helpless prisoners; after all, humans did those things as well. But nobody knew why the orc had let Con go.
“Your people put me in chains, just like you.” Con pointed to clarify what he meant, and the orc nodded. “They hurt me. Bit me. Damaged me. And then they released me. Why?”
He wasn’t sure the orc understood, but then the orc nodded again. “We want know. Not want dead. No more dead.”
Two people as different as Con and Isaac could, given a few days, find empathy for each other. Was it so unrealistic to believe that two species—from different planets—could do the same?
It didn’t make what had happened to Con any less horrible, and it didn’t heal his injuries. It sure as hell didn’t resurrect the owner of that skull. But then, neither would vengeance.
“Isaac, if we let him go we’re breaking Bureau regs. And the coyotes might get offended that we’ve refused their gift. They might refuse to ally with the Bureau.”
“Yeah. But… amnesty?” He gave a small smile.
“Yes?”
“I trust you to make the right decision. And I’ll fully support whatever you choose.”
The right decision. So many people were sure their actions were the correct ones, and yet they caused so much injury. Failing to follow the rules could get you in deep trouble. Attacked by orcs or ghouls. But following the dictates of those in charge, of a supposed higher power, also often led to disaster. To eighteen-year-olds alone in the world, and to people growing up afraid to be their authentic selves.
In the end, maybe what a person needed to do was follow his own rules—and hope like hell he was doing the right thing.
Con’s nerves and stomach were settled, his heartbeat strong and steady. His scars were a reminder of past mistakes—and past successes. And Isaac stood beside him, waiting for his decision.
“My name is Con,” he said to the orc. He patted his own chest. “Con.”
The orc seemed to relax a tiny amount. “Con. I…,” and he uttered a string of syllables that Con tried to memorize.
“Oh-a-cha-aw?” Con attempted, the only consonant being a throaty sound somewhat similar to those found in Hebrew and German.
The orc rearranged his mouth into something resembling a smile. “Yes.”
