Survivor Planet Series 2-Book Box Set (13 page)

We had a small fire later, nestled in the center of a group of tall trees we'd hiked to, just off to the left of our destination. Ayres and I spoke softly, not wanting to disturb Lissa, who'd eaten a little of the meat offered her before she lay down to sleep. It was full dark now, and off in the dense forest beside us, I could hear strange animal sounds and rustling in the undergrowth.

So this would be our last night together. As much as I wanted to spend it making love with Ayres, I could see he was in no mood. All his attention seemed riveted on winning the game and getting his brother freed.

“What will you do now?” I asked. “Once Kenix is released, I mean.”

“Get on with our lives,” he said.

“Aren't you worried about Baynar? He'll know I told you about the game being rigged. Do you think he'll come after you?”

The glint in Ayres' eyes made me shiver. “He can try.”

“It's not much of a life, always having to look over your shoulder. He didn't sound thrilled about you asking for your brother's freedom.”

“Kenix and Baynar were never friends. My brother can be a difficult sort to abide. He is always looking for the easy way of things; never wanting to put in the time or effort.”

“Is he a warrior like you?”

“A warrior, yes. Like me, no.”

“You must be close for you to go through all this for him,” I said.

“He is my family,” he said simply.

Ayres removed his scythe and laid it beside him as he settled his back against a tree. Wanting to be close to him, I curled up between his legs and rested my head on his thigh. He'd spread my fur beneath us, and generously given his to Lissa for her comfort. The soft breeze was mild and the temperature was warm—what a difference from the cold mountains. This planet was strange, going from one extreme to another in such close range. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew Ayres was shifting around and the sun was beating down on my face.

Lissa sat staring into the cold embers of the fire, her arms wrapped around her legs. She had a sad but determined look on her face. I wandered past her, saying “good morning”, on my way to find a spot for privacy. She returned my greeting and then turned to continue staring at the fire pit. As I returned, Ayres was rolling up our fur and packing it into the makeshift sack he'd fashioned from part of the Deaodon's leather hide. I presumed he was packing it up to give to Lissa for her use after we were gone. Once we started out I would broach the subject of the possibility of Lissa returning to Earth with me. It was a slim to none chance, but I still had to try. Lissa saw us getting ready to leave and she got to her feet.

“What should I do with this?” She gestured to the fur at her feet.

“I have one here for you. It should be enough,” Ayres told her.

“You mean when you leave me behind?” she asked. Ayres may have taken offense if her tone had been sarcastic or scornful, but it wasn't. As it was, he ignored her.

We began to make our way through the trees and head toward the wide-open field. Ayres walked first, Lissa second, while I trailed behind, trying to come up with a plan. My attention focused on finding the right words to convince Ayres he had to ask for Lissa to be allowed to return to Earth with me. I was so deep in thought that when I saw a flash of light reflect on the trail it didn't faze me. Probably Ayres' scythe, I figured. It'd been glinting into my eyes on and off for days now. When it flashed again, this time in my face, I lifted my gaze to frown at his back. If he didn't insist on taking the damn lead all the time...

I froze.

Ayres strolled on ahead as I'd expected, but Lissa was now right behind him. In her hands she held a large thin blade. She had it raised and ready to strike. “Don't!” I screamed at the same moment she stabbed the glinting steel into his back. Lissa turned and smiled at me triumphantly before she took off into the forest.

“Ayres! Ayres, no!” I ran to him as fast as I could and came around in front of him. He wore a look of shock on his face, which was rapidly turning white. He dropped to his knees, his hands now reaching to claw at his back. He grabbed hold of his scythe and swung it off to the ground. His hands stopped grappling and reached out, grabbing hold of me like a lifeline. I went down on my knees as well, holding him tight. I didn't know what to do. If I pulled out the blade it could do more harm than good. But if I left it in...

“Ayres, please...” I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

He leaned against me, heavily now. “You...take my scythe. Protect...yourself.”

“No! You stay with me. Don't you leave me.”
Don't you dare.

“I...I'm sorry. I...” His voice was barely a whisper. He fell forward and I eased him to the ground. The cursed blade lay deep in his back, a stain of blood seeping round it.

That fucking bitch! Back stabbing, lying, deceitful, hateful witch!

Ayres didn't move. His breath was shallow, his lungs laboring with effort to keep him alive. We were done for. So close to the end, and yet so far. All this time we'd been waiting for Baynar to make his move. Meanwhile, he hadn't needed to do anything—except turn my friend against me. I had no doubt he'd put her up to this.

Terrible sorrow engulfed me, along with flashes of moments Ayres and I had spent together. All of it. All the moments; the good, the bad, the ugly, and what could have been between us whether we won the game or not. A secret part of me had sometimes hoped we would lose and have to face the rest of our lives on this cursed planet—because we'd be together. I'd daydreamed of us winning, of Ayres returning me to Earth, only to come storming back into my life declaring he couldn't live without me.

How would I live without him?

Rage pushed my sorrow aside. It crept up my body like a slow moving tide until it overcame me, heating me up till I felt I would boil with it. Along with it came crystal clarity as to what I would do next.

Without another thought, I picked up Ayres' scythe, struggling a moment over the weight of it. Rage making me strong, I gripped the weapon firmly and strode off to the green valley.

The couple before me crossed the field in the direction of the hill. They weren't rushing. There was no need, now that the dirty deed had been done. Oro appeared healthy and hale, not lying dead or dying somewhere as Lissa had made him out to be. He walked ahead of her, just as Ayres had always insisted on doing with me. Lissa lagged behind, probably in shock or awe over her actions. I took a deep breath, gathered my strength, and began to run.

The soft grass beneath my feet covered the sound of my approach. Before they could turn and react, I was upon them, Lissa being the first to see me. Whether she'd finally heard my ragged breath or felt some tingle of danger, she suddenly turned and froze. As she let loose a scream, I raised Ayres scythe using all my strength and brought it down. I smacked her in the side of the head with the flat of the blade. Not a deathblow, but damaging all the same. She fell like a stone to the ground.

Now I had Oro's attention.

He let loose a battle cry that in other circumstances might have turned my knees to jelly. It had no effect on me. The burning heat inside of me had turned stone cold. As he pulled off his weapon and began to charge, I stood my ground. Gripping the cool steel of the scythe I felt it become an extension of my body. I swung it in an arc the way Ayres had when he engaged his opponents.

“Come for me,” I cried.

And come he did, full tilt with deadly intent etched in every movement he made. Funny how time stands still in life defining moments. With precision I could see the terrible look on his face, fearing all was lost. I noticed his weapon. Saw how it was made to come apart into two pieces—one end given over to his cohort to exact her treachery. Both pieces are meant to go together—perfectly fitted—the way Ayres and I would never be again. What it was about the weapon that so enraged me, I wasn't sure. A combination of things, I suppose: it being the mate of the instrument that had taken Ayres and my friend from me in one fatal moment, and one that would take my life as well. Just as Oro reached me, I closed my eyes. In seconds I expected my head to be rendered from my body. Not exactly the way I'd ever pictured my death. True, I was angry enough to engage him in battle. But it would only delay the inevitable.

I'll be with you soon, my love.

A hush passed over the land, as though everything and everyone had disappeared. Was I dead, I wondered? Is this how death felt—painless and quiet? I slightly opened one eye, warily thinking perhaps I'd misjudged my foe's proximity.

My other eye sprung open when I saw I no longer stood upon a field of smooth grass. Instead there were trees all around me. How had that happened? For one terrible second I thought perhaps Oro had indeed struck off my head and it'd flown far into the forest and I saw through dying eyes. But no. My hands still held the scythe; I could feel it in my grip.

But as I looked down I saw it was no deadly weapon I held.

It was a long, smooth branch.

Further down my eyes traveled, and I realized my feet were not clad in boots. Nor did I wear the black pants of the space uniform. My feet sported runners and I had on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. I didn't recognize the clothes, didn't know where they came from. Stolen perhaps? Slowly I turned, taking in my surroundings.

I knew this place.

The forest I'd hiked a million times with Uncle Mick surrounded me now. No longer was I on Taleon. Indeed, had I ever been? Or had it all been an Episode? But I was so sure it'd been real. I released the stick and put a hand to my head—at least it was still attached to my body. So, maybe this was a good thing? Hope suddenly sprang into my chest. If it'd all been an Episode, Ayres may still be alive. And Jack and Danny wouldn't be prisoners on board Baynar's ship. I must have flipped over the edge, as I'd feared in the beginning. There was no other logical explanation. Then again, when had anything in my life ever been logical?

“Now what should I do?” My voice sounded strange echoing through the silent woods. I had to return to the cottage. The last place on Earth I wanted to be, but what choice did I have? It was there or Lindove, and I wasn't ready to face the loony bin yet. What would happen if I went back and discovered Jack and Danny were missing? Maybe they had found me like I remembered, and all of us did go into the cottage. Maybe there hadn't been a tremor, and strange light sucking Danny into the bedroom. What if I'd been the one who'd made them disappear? Who knew what I was capable of anymore?

Or perhaps they were fine? I could've been wandering these woods for minutes, days, or even weeks. Conceivably, this time I may have eluded my keepers for so long that they'd given up on me. I'd have to take the chance the cottage wasn't being monitored. I began to move. Judging by the sky, it'd be dark soon enough. It would only take about ten minutes to get back. At least this time I was unescorted. What my plan would be once I got there, God only knew. What other life did I know but that of Lindove? How could I think to make it in the real world on my own?

And what about Ayres?

Since I'd killed him off in my realistic Episode, maybe he was gone for good? Maybe I'd needed to go through something like that—so life altering—to finally end the insanity?

Would I be free, then?

No more nightmares? No more stalking? No more good boyfriend gone bad? And most especially—no more alien encounters?

The cottage rose up in my line of vision through a haze. Fog had crept across the land making all appear sinister. Passing through the scorch-marked doors, I entered within. Nothing appeared to have changed.

“Hello?” If the attendants from Lindove were lurking about, I may as well get it over with.

Nothing.

I walked through, opening every door and every window covering, letting in what remained of the light. My belly growled and I wondered when was the last time I'd eaten. The cupboards held items that would keep. I boiled the kettle and made a cup of black coffee. Though tired, no way was I ready to sleep. Despite my resolve, as the hours crept on, I finally gave in and lay on the bed in my old room. The pillow and blanket I'd tossed on smelled musty. My last thought before I feel asleep was of Ayres.

What an adventure we'd shared...even if it was all in my head.

Next morning, I awoke and climbed out of bed. I'd slept in my clothes—even the runners—so there was no need to dress. The only change to my wardrobe I made was to swap the shoes for my old hiking boots, which miraculously still fit. As a precaution, I slipped a knife down the inside of my boot—just in case. If I suddenly had to make a dash for it, I wanted to be prepared. I opened a tin of soup and heated it up for breakfast. Eating mechanically, I wondered about my next move.

The television was welcome company. No news about me being a killer at large at least. Leaning back, I put my feet up and waited. For the first time in as long as I could remember I had nothing to do. Was this what sanity felt like? Slightly boring perhaps. I closed my eyes and relaxed.

That's when I felt the shaking.

I squeezed my eyes tight, refusing to acknowledge it. But as it grew more violent I couldn't ignore it any longer. I sat up and watched the windows. Though only mid-morning, all was suddenly dim. The television played static.

“Oh, shit.” What would it be this time? Little green men, or perhaps the Grays? Could I dare to hope it may be Ayres?

Blinding light came through the windows. I pulled up my legs and wrapped my arms around them, closing my eyes tight. Once the shaking stopped, I slowly opened my eyes again. There stood a huge man before the window, shrouded in mist or smoke.

“Ayres?” The man took a step toward me, becoming clearer. My eyes widened in alarm. He was not Ayres.

“Kenix, actually,” he said.