Page 13 of Rok's Captive
“Jus…” Jacqui squints even as her brows furrow. She doesn’t even have to say anything else. I know exactly what she’s thinking.Where the fuck are we?
My mouth opens, but I can’t form words. More women have climbed out after us, and one by one, they fall silent as they take in the sight before us.
“This isn’t Arizona,” Hannah states as she steps out into sunlight.
“No shit,” Mikaela responds, arms crossed now as she turns in a slow circle. “Unless Arizona got a hell of a makeover while we were asleep.”
Behind us stands what’s left of our transport. The “bus” is now a simple metal rectangle about the size of a shipping container, now dented and warped from impact. One end is completely crumpled, while the other—where we emerged—is torn open like a crushed soda can. Massive, partially melted drag chutes trail behind it like deflated balloons, their high-tech fabric still smoking from re-entry. Added to that, the exterior is scorched black in places and there are no windows, no wheels—just a plain metal box stamped with the EXA logo on the side.
“How—” I begin, but stop when I hear groaning from inside the container.
“We need help in here!” someone calls out. “There are people hurt!”
One woman, the young med-student, suddenly jerks to attention and hurries back inside the bus.
I turn to the others gathered outside. Shock is written across every face. Some are crying silently. Others look completely numb.
“Maybe we should wait inside until the Xyma come to pick us up.” I swallow hard, pushing back my heart which has been steadily rising up my throat. “No use waiting out here in the heat. I’m sure this…orientation caught us all off guard and they’ll be here to explain everything soon.”
That doesn’t even sound convincing to my ears. I catch Jacqui’s single raised eyebrow and give her a look that says, “yea I know, but what else am I supposed to say?”
Luckily for me, these women actually listen and most begin filing back into the bus muttering about this being really messed up and out of the blue. The moment I step back inside, my shoulders sag with the relief from the shade. Some women who still have places to sit do so, but I head toward the front where there’s a small huddled group.
As I get closer, I see the woman who said she was a nurse—Alex—working on the woman who’d hit her head. The woman isn’t moving, and for a moment, my breath stills in my chest.
“Is she…”
Alex glances my way. “I’m pretty sure she has a concussion.” Her chest rises and falls, her hands moving with practiced ease as she checks the woman’s pupils with her phone’s flashlight, before feeling for the pulse at her neck. “She’s responsive to pain stimuli but not fully conscious. I need something to stabilize her neck, and something to monitor her vitals. Does anyone have a first aid kit? Or at least some clean cloth we can use as bandages?”
Beside her, the med student is working on the other injured woman, who definitely has a broken arm.
I have to do something to help them. “First aid kit,” I say. “I’ll find you one.”
Alex looks up and meets my gaze. She gives me an appreciative nod before placing her attention on the unconscious woman again.
Turning, I face the length of the not-really-a-bus again. I’m moving before I even give it proper thought, gaze scanning the gray interior.
“A first-aid kit?” I hear Jacqui hiss behind me. “Where the hell are you going to find that?”
I don’t know. The walls of this thing are completely smooth. But when it was just a bus, the manuals and earbuds had come out of the walls themselves. Reaching between a woman who is leaning on the edge of a seat, I pound my fist against the side of the bus. Nothing. I continue moving down, doing the same thing.
“Anyone have any sort of first aid kit?” I say loudly as I make my way down. Behind me, Jacqui sighs and begins bracing herself up to reach the seats above us. She pounds on the other side of the bus, doing the same checks I am.
“Not first aid, but I have some wet wipes!” someone shouts.
“Great, anything can help. Bring it to Alex at the front, please.” I’m almost at the back of what was our bus before I hit a panel with my fist and wince.
“Let me try,” Mikaela says from behind me. Before I can react, she steps forward and slams her fist into the panel with enough force to knock a bitch out. There’s a mechanical click and the panel slides open, revealing a compartment filled with emergency supplies.
I startle, eyes widening.
“Muay Thai,” she smirks, shaking out her hand. “And that panel had a different sound when you knocked on it.”
The panel falls to the floor with a dull clang.
“Damn—Nice punch,” I tell Mikaela as I crouch.
She shrugs, but I catch the slight upturn of her lips. “Finally, something from my resume that’s actually useful.”
