Page 9 of Healing Creek
Knock, who’d been monitoring his sweep of the ship, replied, “Several tricksy crew members made it to engineering and are playing havoc with the ship’s systems. We’re working on it, but you need to get out of the ship’s perimeter sections and head to the central core, pronto.”
Creek glanced at Grace. Her sapphire eyes gleamed wide and frightened. “There is a prisoner here who can’t be moved.”
“Roger that. We’ll do our best, but don’t take chances, man. Get yourself and your team out of there. I’ll light the best route back to the core for you.”
With Knock’s words the lights at one end of the hallway shut off, leaving only one direction lit.
“Decompression Warning.” This section may become unstable. Please proceed to an adjacent section.
The Dreat, already a good way down the corridor, looked back to him. He waved them on and helped the human male to his feet. “Go.” At the single word, the male took off down the corridor.
The ship lurched again under Creek’s feet.
He glanced at Grace. She sat on the floor, one arm wrapped around her knees, the other hand still holding tight to the bedframe. The storage doors built into the wall of her cabin hung open. Luckily, the storage had been empty. His gaze flicked to the hallway again. Debris had tumbled into it from somewhere.
His gaze settled back on Grace, sitting alone on the floor. She could easily be jerked free from her death grasp on the bed and end up with a broken neck or worse, tumbled into the hallway where the collar might explode. Even if she remained in the room, with no life support and decompression a possibility, she could be asphyxiated.
His kind needed less oxygen than humans. His strength was greater.
Creek raised his voice to be heard over the ship’s repeated warnings. “I’m staying with the prisoner.”
“Not a good plan, pal,” Knock warned.
Creek said nothing as the power in the corridor flashed off and on.
“Okay. Okay,” said Knock. “There’s an emergency supply cabinet twenty yards towards the core—”
The power failed, taking the lights with it.
Grace gasped in the dark.
Knock’s voice was gone and no further warning came from the speakers overhead.
Creek saw well in dim light, but the pitch black was a problem. Far down the hall an emergency light flickered on. He bolted, running for the supplies. He looked for red lettering or markings and he knew how to read basic human writings. They were easy to find. He pulled out the breathers, four of them, and left the first aid kit behind.
He found Grace where he’d last seen her and sat down on the floor next to her. He handed her the bag of breathers. “Only when you need them.” Breathers didn’t last long.
She looked up at him, tears welled in her eyes. “You came b-back. You sh-shouldn’t be here. There’s s-still time. Go, please.” Her whole body shook.
Creek sighed. It seemed simple. Her odds of survival were better with him there. He would stay. He wedged himself between the bed frame and the side wall and snugged her up against him. He wrapped his arm around her. “I remain here. I won’t leave you.”
“Th-thank you.” Her whisper caressed his bare skin and her cookie scent so close made his gut clench. Her breaths came in rapid succession.
“Slow your breathing.” He pulled her across his lap and widened his legs, so she sat between them with her back to his chest. Her fragile frame weighed nothing. He gently took her hand and brought it to her chest. With his hand over hers, he breathed. He moved his body with each breath so she could feel him. Slowly her spine softened, and she relaxed back against him. Together they breathed until her rhythm matched his.
Her lean body was a warm balm all along his, and breathing with her connected them in some elemental way. She was the first woman he’d touched so intimately in a very long time.
The ship lurched again, and he held her securely.
In the dim light they sat, breathing, and waiting.
The ship groaned softly in the pregnant nothing, then a vibration rolled through its frame. A loud suction-like woosh nearly pulled them from the floor. The cabinet doors banged and their hinges squeaked as if straining to break apart. Grace wrapped her free hand around his arm and buried her face in the small space between his bicep and his chest. Things big and small flew past in the hall, moment after moment…
Then everything stopped.
It hadn’t been a full decompression, but the air had thinned. Still pressed up against him, Grace took labored breaths.
“Do you need a breather?”
