Page 127 of Rok's Captive
My chest tightens, lungs burning both from exertion and from the fear squeezing my heart. The bus grows larger as I approach, but I still see no movement, no sign of life. The silence is oppressive, broken only by my labored breathing and the sound of my shoes pounding against the sand.
“Jacqui!” I call again, my voice cracking from strain and desperation. “Anyone! Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
I push myself harder, stumbling slightly as my shoe catches in a small depression. Rok’s thoughts flare with alarm, but I right myself and keep moving. I’m close enough now to make out details—the bus sits just as I left it, half-buried in sand on one side. The drag chute still stands, creating that makeshift shelter extending from one side of the vehicle.
And then—movement.
A shadow shifts under the drag chute. Someone stands, one hand raised to shield their eyes from the sun’s glare. Relief floods through me so intensely that I nearly collapse. I slow my pace, waving my arms frantically above my head.
“Hey!” I shout. “Over here! It’s Justine!”
The figure freezes for a moment, then I see them turn and speak urgently to someone else. Another figure rises, then a third. They’re moving now, scrambling toward the transport as if for protection. I watch as one of them disappears inside, only to emerge moments later with something in her hands.
As I draw closer, I can finally make out their features. Mikaela stands at the front, her dark braids pulled back in a tight ponytail, a high-heeled shoe clutched in one hand like a weapon. Next to her is Pam, the happy one, holding what appears to be a bag filled with sand, ready to swing it. Their faces are gaunt, skin reddened from sun exposure, but they’re alive.
They’re alive.
“Justine?” Mikaela calls out, uncertainty and hope warring in her voice. “Is that really you?”
“Yes!” I shout back, waving both arms now. “It’s me! I’m here!”
I hear Mikaela’s voice, pitched high with emotion, calling back into the transport. “Erika! Come quick! It’s Justine! She’s alive!”
Women begin emerging from the transport—first Erika, then Tina (the one who’d read through the manual), then Alex (the nurse), Mira (the med student) and others, faces I recognize but don’t remember their names. They stand in a loose cluster, expressions ranging from disbelief to joy to caution as they watch my approach.
When I’m within twenty feet, Mikaela breaks rank and runs toward me. We collide in a fierce hug, her arms wrapping around me so tightly it knocks the breath from my lungs.
“We thought you were dead,” she sobs against my shoulder, her body trembling. “We thought you were gone forever.”
“I almost was,” I manage, my own tears flowing freely now. “But I’m here. I made it back.”
More women approach, surrounding us in a circle of embraces and tearful exclamations. Hands reach out to touch me, as if confirming I’m real and not a mirage born of heat and desperation. I’m passed from one embrace to another, each woman offering some variation of relieved disbelief.
“How are you alive?” one of them asks.
“What happened to you?” asks another.
Their voices overlap, creating a cacophony of emotion that washes over me after days of the calm, measured mindspeak of the Drakav. It’s overwhelming and beautiful all at once.
“You look…different,” Alex says, stepping back to examine me. Her keen eyes take in my sun-darkened skin and probably the fact I don’t look dehydrated or dying.
“I feel different,” I admit, wiping at my tears.
It’s then that I notice the hush falling over the group. One by one, the women’s expressions shift from joy to uncertainty, their eyes fixing on something behind me. I feel a familiar tug in my chest, a presence in my mind that has become as natural as breathing.
I turn slowly to find Rok and his clan standing several yards away, maintaining a respectful distance. They’ve arranged themselves in a loose semicircle, with Rok standing just a few feet before them, his golden eyes fixed solely on me. The contrast between them and the human women couldn’t be more stark—their tall, powerful frames, their alien features, the way they hold themselves completely still except for the slight tilt of their heads as they observe us.
“Holy shit,” Mikaela breathes, her hand finding my arm in a tight grip. “What the actual fuck are those?”
“Who.” I correct automatically, turning back to face the women. “Not what. Who.”
“Fine,” Erika says, her voice tight with fear and suspicion. “Whothe fuck are those…people?”
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain everything that’s happened—the connection I’ve formed with Rok, the clan’s willingness to help us, the complex society they’ve built in this harsh environment. It all seems too much to convey in simple words.
“They’re called the Drakav,” I begin, keeping my voice calm. “They’re native to this planet, and they’ve come to help us.”
