CALLEY (RIBUS 7 Book 3) (17 page)

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. The rustling of the leaves finally shook her back to the task at hand, and she looked to her discarded clothes. Slowly, she pulled on the panties and then the jeans, the insignificant effort seeming to exhaust her. Her mind pinwheeled. It was though he had never been there. It was as though he had never existed.

She peered at the pack and the little white pills where she had dropped them. She moved to her knees and put them away. Then she faltered. She reached for the bottom of her T-shirt, drawing it up to her face, and winced. He had not been a figment of her imagination. His lingering scent ripped through her, shredding the last of her emotions.

Suddenly, she jumped to her feet and ran out into the clearing, clutching her hands to her breasts. She looked to the sky frantically. “Fremma!” she screamed. “Take me away!”

Then she fell to the ground, her body vanquished. He was gone. And she was alone—more alone than she had ever been before in her life.

It was midmorning before Chelan could rouse herself. It was a struggle just to complete the simple act of sitting up. She was still in shock. She had been with the Empire for so long that she had fully integrated into it. Iceanea and RIBUS 7 were her homes. Korba was her mate, and Fremma her lover and guardian. Earth was now an alien planet, its cultures and peoples hostile. And what made her all-consuming depression worse was that it had been her sole decision to return home in the first place. She had not been forced or abandoned. There was no one to blame but herself for her self-inflicted stint into purgatory.

Chelan wiped her tangled hair from her face and then set about the task of pulling dead needles and grass from her silky locks. When she was satisfied with the results of her temporary preoccupation, she staggered to her feet and stretched her weary body. She looked around to orient herself and then moved over to her backpack. Hastily, she shoved everything inside and then tucked her wallet into her back pocket.

She stood still, her eyes closed, her thoughts calming. She took a deep breath, trying to reacquaint herself with the smells and sounds of Earth. Opening her eyes, she looked to the base of the large fir tree, the scant foliage still crushed in silent testimony to the love that was exchanged there only a short few hours ago.

She shivered and ran her hands down her neck and over her breasts, wishing all the time that it was Fremma who touched her, his hard body washing over her, shielding her from hurt and pain. But her body did not respond. Her flesh was numb.

Chelan set her jaw. She had to get herself together. She had to do it soon before she withered up inside and died. She stooped and picked up the pack, swinging it heavily over her shoulder. Then she glanced at the tranquil lake off in the distance, but its beauty provided little solace to her all-consuming grief. She had wanted to be dropped here where she had made so many fond memories, but at the moment, everything was lost on her. This was not how she had imagined her first few hours back on her home planet would be, and she felt almost disoriented… hopelessly adrift.

She took another deep breath and tried to bolster herself for what was to come. She must think only of her reunion with her family and all the joy that was about to wash over them—well, of course, after the shock of her reappearance wore off. Hopefully, there would be only happiness, not anger.

She stared at the area in front of her. She knew that there was a small trail below and to her left and that it would bring her to the other end of the lake. From there, about ten kilometers of dirt road separated her from the highway leading to her town. It was time to begin her trek.

The walk along the trail didn’t take long, and although the scenery along the way was beautiful, she hardly noticed. Once on the road she kept to the edges, the trees sheltering her sensitive white skin from the rays of the midday sun. Though the official start to the fall season was almost upon her, she could still feel the heat generated by her planet’s lone star, the warmth as alien to her as her surroundings.

The walk was far from physically strenuous for the young woman, but as she reached the highway she was exhausted. She sat down in the bushes just out of sight of passing motorists and watched the vehicles as they roared past her.
Archaic mode of transportation
, she noted to herself. Obviously, over the time she had been away, nothing much had changed. The vehicles were still loud and smelly, the atmosphere suffering the consequences of the nonstop onslaught from millions of internal combustion engines. If only the people of Earth knew what she did.

Taking a few seconds to relax, she opened her pack and took out a bottle of water. After a long draw, she felt mildly rejuvenated. Then she reached in again and drew out the granola bars, and she smiled. Earth food. She opened one package and took her first bite. Despite her dour mood, the sweet and salty taste was utterly divine, and she savored the bar slowly. Once she’d finished, reality set in once more.

Shaking her head clear, she stood and started toward town again. Time was simply a blur as she hiked along, her thoughts still rooted in the Empire. She furrowed her brow. She needed to adjust to her new surroundings. She needed to concentrate. She needed to be of Earth once again. And whatever happened, she simply could not screw up.

Placing one foot in front of the other was about all she could manage until she found herself staring at the outskirts of her previous world. She licked her parched lips, the burn from Fremma’s hard kiss unexpectedly reminding her of the black-haired Warlord’s love, and her eyes pricked. She panted for air momentarily and tried to clear her vision. Then she set her mind on the problem at hand. She needed to reconnect and reintegrate.

Squinting against the bright sun, she spotted the old convenience store that welcomed the incoming traffic. She stopped to look for cars and waited patiently for an oncoming truck to pass. It slowed unnecessarily as it approached her, and Chelan cursed under her breath.

A man leered out the window. “Hey, baby. What part of town you from?”

Chelan gave him a strained smile. “Not yours,” she mumbled to herself as she began her crossing. She watched as the vehicle proceeded slowly down the road, the two passengers gawking at her out the back window. Chelan shook her head hard as if to dislodge unseen lice.

Reaching the small store, she stepped through the front doors and headed straight for the refrigeration units at the back. She glanced at the selection of soft drinks and suddenly, she smiled. She wanted to try them all, their taste a faint yet fond memory. She looked at her old favorites and finally made her selection. Root beer it was.

She closed the door and took out her wallet. She selected a fifty-dollar bill, out of sight of anyone, and returned the wallet to her pants. She started for the counter, then froze.

There she was confronted by the faces of three smiling young men, their scruffy, grimy looks making her skin crawl. She recognized them right away as the men in the truck, and she winced. The man behind the counter moved over to them and looked her up and down. Then one of the trio spoke to the cashier. “Look what we found, Smitty. Pretty nice, hey?” And all four men chuckled.

Chelan walked toward the group and they parted for her. She handed the money to the older man. The driver leaned over close to her. “Oh, and big bucks to match.”

Chelan glared at the man, his eyes clearly directed down her top. The clerk returned her change. “Thank you,” she uttered. Then she turned away and headed for the door.

As she exited, her heart was pounding. On the RIBUS, no matter what had happened, no matter what was thought or said, and no matter what she wore or did, she had been safe. Iceanean men did not violate women—not with their thoughts, their words, or their bodies. “Korba, Fremma,” she whispered, “I love you both.”

She walked down the street, trying to focus on her family, and then cringed at the sound of the voices back at the store.

“See ya, Smitty. We got things to attend to.”

Chelan controlled herself very carefully but walked quickly. Then one of them called out to her.

“Hey, darlin’! Where you headed to so fast?”

Chelan ground her teeth, wishing with every fiber of her being that she had a lazgun. Just a low setting… just enough of a jolt to drop them where they stood. That would be perfect.

So deep within her fantasy was she that she was startled when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. She looked into the half-shaven face of the driver, his matted, greasy hair hanging in gobs about his sallow face. His mouth was formed into a sneer, his unkempt teeth torturing a gnarled toothpick.

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re not bein’ very friendly.”

Chelan looked down at the grease-covered hand that held her arm and then glowered up at him. “Excuse me. Let go of me.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he said, and released her. His friends all chuckled. “Anyway, my buddies here were headin’ for a dip in the lake up yonder. Thought you might want to come for a ride with us.”

Chelan remained silent as she studied the being before her. Fremma’s knives were her next thought. He had been prudent to take them with him. Who knew that she would be placed in a situation so quickly where she could have put them to good use. But now was not the time to escalate the confrontation. As calmly as she could, she answered: “No, thank you.”

She turned and started down the sidewalk, but the man sprang in front of her, impeding her way once again. “Look, sugar. You’re not from around these parts, and we’d really like to give you a tour. So how’s about a little truck ride?”

Chelan looked to her side and saw an opening to escape. But flashes of her Warlords, all triggered to pursue by her bids to flee, arrested that thought. Indeed, the men around her were far less predictable predators. Standing her ground, she looked the man firmly in the eye. “I said, no, thank you. I am not interested. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue on my way.”

The driver straightened and then spat at her feet. “All right, baby. Just tryin’ to show you a good time,” he said, and he stepped to the side.

Chelan resumed her journey as composedly as she could.

“Bitch,” one of them shot at her back.

She exhaled sharply. Now more than ever she wanted to return to the protective arms of her men. But none of them were near. And none of them would be for a very long time.

As she walked, she glanced about her, paying particular attention to the shadows. Fremma had indicated she was on her own among her kind, but she also knew he had planted warriors all over the planet. Their main directive was to look for alien threats, but in addition, they had to keep track of her—to what extent, Fremma had never divulged.

Chelan felt a tremor run through her. It was probably wise that he had chosen not to tell her too much. Ultimately, not only would the warriors remain completely covert, wherever they were, they would be unrecognizable, right?

Suddenly, a disturbing thought occurred to her. If she did spot someone familiar, would they be friend or foe? After all, the ROPE colonies were also genetically manipulated specimens of fine quality. And it was not beyond the realm of possibility that they could find her here. Nothing was an absolute. Another shiver crawled up her spine.

Chelan cleared away the troublesome thoughts quickly. Fremma had taken care of everything. He had assured her of that. It was now time to concentrate on her family and their imminent reunion, and that was what she did.

She wasted no time making her way down the streets and alleys to the small home her parents used to rent in the summers. Once there, she stood outside on the sidewalk, chewing at her lip. Her stomach turned. Reuniting with her family was not going to be as easy as she had once thought. But she was here, and there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, she started toward the door of the modest bungalow.

Chelan knocked. The door opened and an elderly woman stared over her spectacles at her. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

Chelan opened her mouth, but for a moment no sound came out. “Uh, I’m sorry. I know this is the right house. B-but,” she stammered, “I… I’m looking for the MacKays.”

The woman smiled. “Oh. I’m sorry, young lady. The MacKays have not lived here for a long time now.”

Chelan was confused. “Uh, do you know where they have moved to?”

“Oh, sorry, dear. No idea. I suppose some townfolk might know. I’d go downtown and check if I were you. Maybe someone at the main diner would be able to tell you.”

Chelan forced a smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

The old woman smiled and shut the door. Chelan suddenly felt completely lost. She had to get out of this town. She could not run around asking questions and take the chance of being recognized. And she certainly didn’t want to have to answer any questions.

She hustled down the block and to the old corner coffee shop, where she sat outside on a stone planter. She dug for her cellphone and called Information. “I need a number in New York, please.”