Page 12 of Rok's Captive
No sooner have I said that before there’s another groan. One that makes my heart shudder as we move again. We’re upside-down, the front of the bus being the thing that met the ground first and now the entire thing is tilting. With a groan like a creature wailing, the entire bus shifts to crash on its side. I hear cries of pain on the side it lands and as Jacqui and I dangle from what’s now the roof, everything goes silent again.
“Fuck this job. Not even for ten thousand am I doing that again,” Jacqui breathes.
For a moment, there is complete silence, and then whoops and cheers erupt from some of the women. But as I turn to look over my shoulder at the tear in the back of the bus, something strange skitters inside my chest.
Because what lies beyond is not the sunny Arizona sky I expected. It’s yellow. The sky. Is yellow.
“Shit, how are we going to get out?” Jacqui looks down. It’s not a far drop, but it will take some maneuvering.
“Oof!” Someone in the aisle seat behind Erika opens her restraints and promptly falls between the gap. “Ouch, that hurt,” she murmurs, and I recognize her as the woman with the birthmark covering part of her face.
Other people release themselves and Jacqui does too, angling her body so her feet hit Hannah’s seat before she helps me down. Along with a few of the other women, we head toward the back where there’s the tear.
“Where are you going?” A woman with light brown hair asks. She’s in what would’ve been the window seat and she doesn’t look like she has any intent on moving.
“Going to find out what the fuck just happened and who’s responsible, of course.” Mikaela’s answer is exactly what comes to my mind first, but then I recall what I heard right as that green gas came down on us. That thing about transiting to some orbital station.
We stumble as we walk, legs feeling weaker than usual. But it’s not only that. It feels harder to lift my legs. Everything feels a bit…heavier. It’s even harder to breathe. Not too hard, but noticeable enough.
Must be the trauma from the crash.
The hole is just big enough for us to slip through one by one and when we finally do, I feel the heat immediately.
We’re in an oven.
The air is so dry it sucks the moisture from my lips in seconds. Squinting against the harsh light, I raise a hand to shield my eyes and take in our surroundings.
“What the actual fuck…” Jacqui whispers beside me.
“This is definitely not Arizona,” someone else whispers.
The landscape stretching before us is…different.
“What can you see?” someone shouts from inside the bus.
None of us on the outside speaks. I swallow down a lump in my throat.
“The ground is a tan, sandy color…” one of the other women that exited with us says.
“Probably because we’re staring at actual sand,” someone else says.
Sand.
Sand for as far as we can see.
Some parts of it are almost rust-like, some brown, but all sand. In the distance, rock formations rise like twisted fingers toward the pale yellow sky. No clouds. No blue. Just a vast expanse of yellow tinged with orange near the horizon.
And the sun.
Jacqui and I tilt our heads in unison as we look at the boiling star above us. I don’t know how her shades managed to remain on her head, but once again I wish I’d carried mine. They slip over her eyes as I pull my gaze away from the star before it blinds me.
“The sun is closer…” Jacqui murmurs, frowning. “Whiter too. Frickin’ blinding.”
Or maybe that’s not the sun at all…
But as I glance at the other women who’d exited the bus with us, I know not one of us wants to face that possibility just yet.
I turn in a slow circle, taking in the barren landscape. There are no plants. No shade. No animals. No road. No structures. Just miles of tan sand and those bizarre rock pillars in the distance.
