Coil of Worlds

Lara woke feeling warm and comfortable. She glanced around to see whether she was back in her bed or still in the cave with Chion. When she saw the sun filtering through her blinds, she heaved a sigh and stretched. Which classes did she have today? She checked the time, making sure she had enough time to get ready. Just maybe she’d have time to eat breakfast today. With food as an incentive, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her clothes to take a shower.

She was putting the finishing touches of makeup on when she leaned back. Lara groaned. Concrete blocks had taken up residence in her body. Although her feet were healing, other parts of her body weren’t used to the amount of activity she’d been doing in the tunnels. She smirked. She’d soon be in the best shape of her life. She might even lose the twenty-five pounds she’d gained since starting college.

On her way out the door, she grabbed a dark blue, knitted cap to cover the black tattoo. It was strange. The mark was rotated exactly ninety degrees to the left of Chion’s. It was surprisingly decorative and intriguing with its abstract lines and curlicues branching out from the center. But it couldn’t be in a worse location. Lara licked her lips as she tried to figure out how she’d cover the tattoo in the future. She couldn’t wear a hat all day, every day. Hats made her feel claustrophobic on the best of days. Glancing at the clock, she shrugged and hurried out the door.

Later that day, Lara strolled to the dorm for lunch, her feet feeling only a little tender. She was at their designated lunch table when Becky walked up with a hesitant look on her face. “How are you feeling today?”

Lara raised her eyebrows in surprise. Why was she being treated with kid gloves? Then, it hit her. Last night she’d come back to Earth from fighting the rakir. For her, it’d been almost three days. Blinking at her friend while trying to unravel the differences in time and days, she mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You were pretty out of it last night. I’ve never seen you like that before. You scared me half to death.”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just needed some sleep to get over the shock.”

“Can you tell me now? Or are you still not up to it? I’ve been going out of my mind trying to figure out what happened.” Becky’s eyes glimmered with worry.

Lara gave a small shake of her head. She could always count on Becky to want the grisly details. Shrugging, she said, “I guess. It doesn’t seem as important now as it did last night.”

As Becky picked up her fork to swirl the spaghetti onto her fork, she said, “Well?”

“Geez, woman! Don’t be so impatient. Let me figure out where to start.” Keeping her eyes on her plate of food, she recounted the attack with the rakir and how she held them off long enough for Chion to save her. She kept her voice low, not wanting to chance that people would overhear.

Lara left out how she could talk to Chion or why he’d come to her rescue. Her reticence, she realized, had nothing to do with whether her friend would believe her. She was simply reluctant to share her unique relationship with Chion. In a way she couldn’t explain, Chion was hers. Possessiveness reined in her tongue.

And she knew, without a doubt, that no matter the words she used to explain, Becky would never comprehend the complexity of their bond. Lara wouldn’t have a week ago, either.

Becky sat in shocked silence. Her food was left untouched, although her fork had a bit of spaghetti spooled around it. Leaning toward Becky, she whispered, “You believe me, don’t you?”

Her friend shook herself and brought her fork up for a bite, chewing thoughtfully before she answered. “I do. I shouldn’t, but I do. You forget, though. I saw you when you woke up last night. Your eyes looked like something you’d see in the movies. You know, when someone’s raped or almost killed. You looked as if you’d seen or done something horrific the way your face was as white as paper.”

Shaking her head, Becky reached over and squeezed her arm. “Of course I believe you. I think it is unbelievable and almost improbable, but for some reason, I believe you. The condition of your feet alone makes a believer out of me.” Her friend was silent for a moment, and Lara lightly fingered the cap on her forehead.

“You know, if that had happened to me, I would have probably just sat down and cried.” Hesitating, Becky continued, “I do believe you. But if I were you, I wouldn’t tell anyone else about your trips to another place. You would have a hard time getting people to believe you.”

Lara quietly snorted. “Yeah, they would probably send me to the loony farm in a blink of an eye.” All of a sudden, she noticed none of their friends had joined them. She looked up at the clock across the dining hall. It was twenty minutes later than when her friends usually showed up. “Where’s everyone today?”

Her friend glared at her like it was her fault. “I called and told them to give us some space today. I thought you would be kind of out of it because of last night. You didn’t need to have everyone prying into your business.” Waving her fork in the air, she reminded Lara, “You know how they are.”

Yes, she did. Her friends were great, but they tended to feel entitled to everything with the least bit of drama. Normally, she was comfortable with everyone wanting information because nothing ever happened to her. Becky was right; this was not something she wanted known. Even Becky wouldn’t be comfortable knowing everything that had happened to her.

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Skye was grateful for the wood the Kurites had provided for a fire. The materials the Kurites used for fires did not give off light. Without some light, he would have gone a little insane several days ago. He was alone in his prison. He could yell, rant, and rave, and no one would hear him except the walls around him and the occasional passersby. Surprisingly, his cell wasn’t hidden away from the city’s occupants. It was as if his capture was an afterthought. He was in a side tunnel that had Kurites passing by his cell throughout the day.

He had learned through observation that his tunnel had less traffic than other main tunnels and hallways in the city. No one spared him a glance, except for the young, curious children walking with their parents.

He had been pushed across an invisible boundary by a silent Kurite guard. A barrier he could not get back across. When he entered the small cell, he had felt an invisible surge crawl over his body, front to back. Later, in an attempt to escape, he’d run up against what felt like a brick wall. Bouncing off a solid wall of air had left him breathless and sprawled in an undignified heap on the ground. He’d tested every inch of the doorway, seeking a weak spot. There was none.

The only person he came in contact with was a golden-eyed woman who brought him a meal at daybreak and nightfall. At least he thought it was early morning and late at night. Without the sun, it was hard to tell. After several days, Skye decided the worst part of being held captive was the loneliness and sheer boredom that made up his days.

He’d developed a tough regimen for himself while awake. When he was certain no one watched, he spent the long, lonely hours honing his battle skills with repetitious fighting stances. As the days passed, Skye realized he was also inadvertently honing his other senses. His eyes had acclimated to the small amount of light produced by the fire, and he was better able to see things in the dark. While not training, he whittled away the hours by learning about the Kurites. He studied the Kurites’ day-to-day interactions and their social ranking within this society. Their society was not all that dissimilar to his own culture, making it easier to process the similarities and differences.

The soft tread of feet in the tunnel to his right intruded into his musings. After listening, he recognized the near silent footfalls of one of the four-legged creatures. Yesterday he had learned they were called pakas. Straining his ears, Skye didn’t hear anything except the cat’s faint breath as it walked toward him out of sight of his cell. He scooted back from the fire, turned his back to the light, and shadowed himself in between two jutting rocks. Careless in his movements, he scraped his bare arm against a sharp rock, drawing a hiss of pain from him.

A woman’s high-pitched, maniacal cackle pierced the silence surrounding his cell. In a hideous sing-song voice, it sang, Why does the prisoner hide? Why does the prisoner hide? Nobody’s here but the prisoner and me. Nobody’s here. Why? Why? Why?

The last refrain of the off-key song made him wince, but otherwise, he showed no reaction to the words. He’d long since given up finding the voice’s origin. The rambling voice spoke and sang at the oddest of times, leaving him to never know when it would appear.