Page 6 of Rok's Captive
I give Jacqui one of those closed-mouthed smiles that say ‘we’re in it now’ and settle back in my seat, eyes ahead as I watch the bus eat the road.
“They seem thorough,” Jacqui whispers and I nod, though my mind is racing with panic. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, right?
For miles, the bus travels, till the city is far behind us and we’re heading far into desert land where dusty gas pumps are miles apart. There’s soft chatter in the bus that slowly reduces into low murmurs. Some people start dozing off. Others become content with staring out the window like I am.
I look at the view as we go by, wondering when was the last time Jacqui and I had a trip outside the city. Years. The last I can remember was long after mom died and we both had a dangerous streak, drinking and partying because we both wanted to die too. It’s a time that’s so painful I don’t want to remember it, but I can’t forget it either. And so I stare out the window now, remembering that time and also knowing that things have to get better for us. We can’t keep living like this.
We’re barely living. We’re simply surviving.
With a sigh, I pull my gaze from the view.
The bus has been traveling for hours. The sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the landscape. I check my phone—no signal, not surprising this far out. What is surprising is that the GPS isn’t working either. Just an error message on a blank screen.
“Weird,” I mutter, showing Jacqui my phone. “GPS is down.”
She shrugs, leaning her head against my shoulder, clearly fighting sleep. “Probably just no coverage out here.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
The bus makes a sudden turn off the main highway onto what looks like a maintenance road—barely more than a dirt path with tire tracks. The ride gets bumpier, jostling some of the dozing women awake.
“ATTENTION PARTICIPANTS,” the automated voice returns, startling several of us. “PREPARING FOR TRANSIT PROTOCOL ADJUSTMENT. PLEASE REMAIN SEATED.”
Jacqui sits up straighter, suddenly alert. “Transit protocol what now?”
The driver speaks for the first time, his voice melodic and strangely accent-free. “Earthlings. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we are implementing contingency route alpha. Please remain calm.”
“Contingency route?” a woman a few rows back calls out. “What does that mean?”
No answer comes. The bus continues down the increasingly rough path, the windows reflecting the last rays of sunlight in a way that makes it hard to see outside clearly.
“Initiate secure transit mode,” the driver says, seemingly to no one.
The windows suddenly darken, becoming completely opaque. Several women cry out in alarm.
“What the hell?” I stand up halfway, instinctively reaching for Jacqui’s hand.
“PLEASE REMAIN SEATED,” the automated voice insists, louder this time. “SECURITY PROTOCOLS ACTIVE.”
The driver turns his head slightly, just enough that I can see his profile. Something about the way he moves is too smooth. That uncanny feeling I had earlier returns tenfold. I try to push it back.
This is the Xyma. We can trust them. Earth trusts them. Humans trust them.We can trust them.
“Emergency pressurization required,” he announces. “Implementing atmospheric stabilization.”
Atmospheric stabilization? Awesome. Love that for us. I’ll just stabilize my own atmosphere while we’re at it because panic is definitely setting in.
Before anyone can react, the air vents above us hiss open, and a fine mist begins filling the cabin. It has a faint greenish tint and smells vaguely metallic.
“Cover your mouth!” I hiss to Jacqui, pulling the collar of my blouse up over my nose. All around us, women are doing the same, some crying out in alarm.
“The atmospheric adjustment is for your safety,” the driver says calmly. “Resistance will increase discomfort.”
I glare at his disgustingly attractive face. “What do you mean atmospheric adjust?—”
The bus lurches sideways, then seems to drop several feet all at once, like we’ve driven off a ledge. Women scream. Automatic restraints deploy from our seats, pulling me back down and strapping us in place.
Fear spikes. I try to free myself but I’m suddenly lightheaded, my limbs growing heavy despite my efforts to hold my breath. Jacqui slumps against me, her eyes wide but unfocused.
