Page 16 of Rok's Captive
“Is that it? A beacon?” Jacqui’s hopefulness is catching.
“I don’t know.” Mikaela turns the device over in her hand. “It was in a compartment labeled ‘EMERGENCY’ in both English and what I’m guessing is Xyma script.”
Tina takes it gently, examining the device. “There’s no clear instruction for how to use it. Maybe it’s in the manual somewhere…” She begins flipping through the manual again.
“Try pressing the largest button,” I suggest. “That’s usually the power button, right?”
Mikaela hesitates, then presses the prominent red button in the center. The screen flickers to life, displaying a series of alien characters that scroll rapidly across the display.
“What does it say?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
“I have no idea,” she responds. “It’s all in Xyma.”
Suddenly, the device emits a series of high-pitched beeps and a small light on its top edge begins to pulse with a steady rhythm.
“I think you activated it,” Erika says, watching the light blink. “That has to be a distress signal.”
Jacqui grins, throws her hands up and releases a loud “Whoo!” Taking a deep breath, she places her hands on her hips. “Okay, so what now?”
Mikaela meets my gaze before shifting her focus to Erika. Erika shrugs. The fact is…we don’t know. None of us do. When we all turn our attention to Tina, she pushes her glasses up her nose and shrugs.
“The manual doesn’t say anything about that.”
I release a breath as I stare out at the desert beyond. “What now?” My eyes narrow. “We wait.”
Chapter4
THE WORST ONBOARDING EXPERIENCE EVER
JUSTINE
Three days.
Three whole days we’ve been stuck in this metal box.
Three days of trying not to think about how dirty I feel, my hair greasy and skin coated with a fine layer of gritty sand that seems to get everywhere despite us barely leaving the transport.
Three days. But at least we’ve started establishing our strange community. Settling into a mind-numbing routine that feels like some twisted parody of productivity.
Tina, with her encyclopedic memory of the manual, has become our technical advisor; Alex, the nurse, oversees our health with military precision; Erika manages our inventory; Mikaela has taken to scouting the immediate area. And Jacqui and I? We find ourselves functioning as unofficial morale officers.
Meanwhile, there’s still no sign of rescue.
“I’d kill for a shower,” I mutter, pulling my knees to my chest as I sit in what little shade the wreckage provides. The late afternoon sun—if you can even call it that—is slightly less blistering than midday, so a few of us have ventured outside for a brief respite from the claustrophobic interior.
Jacqui snorts beside me. “I’d settle for deodorant at this point.”
“No joke.” I wrinkle my nose. “I think we’ve officially reached the point where we all smell equally bad.”
“Nature’s equalizer,” Mikaela says from where she sits nearby. I watch as she drops her cell phone into the sand. Dead. I don’t think anyone still has charge. “Doesn’t matter if you’re in designer clothes or Malmart sweats when everyone stinks.”
“Beacon still blinking?” Jacqui asks no one in particular.
“Yep.” Erika emerges from the transport, the device in hand. “Same as yesterday and the day before. Blinking away, sending our little SOS to absolutely nobody.”
She hands the beacon to me as she settles down in the sand. I turn it over in my hands, studying the rhythmic pulse of light for the hundredth time. Is anyone receiving this signal? Do they even care?
“Maybe we should try to find the instruction manual for that thing,” Hannah suggests, joining our little gathering outside. “There could be different settings, signal strengths, something we’re missing.”
