I shivered, but not from the cool, dry air hanging over me. The neon mirror, the willowy redhead, and Mom begging on her knees for my life—it all rushed back. I was stuck in a psychedelic crime procedural and its serial-killer-of-the-week chose me as her first victim.
I’d woken up to my head in a fog and my whole wrist throbbing like someone yanked it out of joint. A trail of flickering lights surrounded me, stuck into coppery candelabras mounted on the flaking dirt walls. The domed ceiling had a web of tree roots with fibrous threads dangling from them. Size-wise, the underground shelter seemed only a little bigger than my apartment. My kidnapper left me a burlap cot to sleep on, a big clay bowl as a bathroom, and a ceramic pitcher full of water for a shower.
Was she storing me there, buried alive? Would she remember to bring me food or starve me?
Mom. She’d be alone on the floor, hugging herself like when Abuela had her heart attack. Panic set off her symptoms sometimes. Would she think it was her fault and try to hurt herself? Would she run out like last time? Our neighborhood had nice people, but that didn’t stop the bad ones from skulking around. The worst case scenarios played through my head: some big lowlife pinning her behind a dumpster, or a bullet in her stomach making her bleed out while the faceless shooter ran off.
Best case? The police could pick her up and put her in a hospital. She might tell them what she saw, but what rational person would believe some random chick walked out of a mirror and stole her daughter? If I didn’t show, nurses and social workers would tell her I’d walked out, too young to handle supporting her, until she believed it. She’d be alone, abandoned, at the mercy of strangers.
I wanted Abuela. I needed her to tell me what to do. If she were there, she would’ve kept Mom and I safe while getting that ginger stick away from her girls. There was no way I could replace her. How could Mom see me with the same unshakable faith?
Everything blurred as ugly tears burst out. Snot plugged my throat and dribbled out my nose. My breaths came as whimpering sobs that echoed into wails. I curled up with my forehead buried in my knees. Months of whispered thoughts screamed through the empty prison. Abuela would never fuss over the right way to bleach my hair or sing Spanish hymns under her breath to calm me down. Mom would lay in a hospital bed restrained by padded cuffs instead of on my shoulder watching silly romantic movies where she belonged.
Something fluffy brushed my arm. On reflex, I swatted at it and shrank into the dirt wall behind me. If I stayed still, played opossum, whatever animal she’d locked with me should lose interest. Knowing my luck so far, it wasn’t an idiot and would start snacking.
The creature darted away and the soft candlelight flashed off the white tip of a bushy tail. I picked out red fur and dark brown paws attached to a scrawny, dog looking thing. The long snout clued me in; a bona fide fox. Its beady eyes bored into mine, and the hair on its shoulders spiked like a porcupine. It was probably more interested in defending the half a roasted chicken between its teeth than crunching on me. I let myself breathe again.
The cot had a thin, folded blanket at its head on top of a pillow. I yanked it over and scrubbed my face with the itchy fabric, hard enough to leave throbbing streaks. The solid pain reminded the psychic ache in my chest that somebody needed to shove my wrist back in its socket. Then the chicken fumes hit, full of warm spices and juicy promises. My stomach growled loud enough to convince me the sound bounced off the walls.
The fox crept closer, tail low and ears perked, until the chicken carcass hovered over my lap. It dropped the greasy half-bird, bones and all, onto my work pants and skittered away.
“Let me guess, this isn’t yours.” I cleared my throat with a cough as I lifted the meat up by its leg and wing. Both snapped off. The breast and thigh plopped back to my knees. “You done with this?”
It might’ve been a trick of the twitching shadows bouncing around the room, but the fox nodded.
“You sure you’re not going to attack me when I bite into this thing?”
The fox sniffed a spot on the ground and dug a shallow pit for itself in the packed dirt floor. Then it pranced a circle around the fresh hole and curled up, tucking its its tail over its feet and nose.
I tore a piece out of the leg first. The tender meat broke off the bone like it was made of soft butter. Between bites, I wondered about the fox, and it studied me right back until we had a staring contest going. Somebody had trained it, that much was obvious—I bet it was my kidnapper. “Good stuff. I’m surprised you didn’t eat it.”
The fox yawned, showing off its rows of needle teeth.
“Here. Call it a tip.” I peeled off a thin strip and tossed it into that open mouth.
It snapped and snatched the meat out of the air, not missing a beat.
The fox chewed behind its poofy tail while I picked at the rest of my dinner. Light shimmered off its silvery irises as it gave its undivided attention to my air-dried cheeks and dribbling nose. The wet munching filling the place hit my mood like a bucket of ice water. I was overdue for a crying fit. Even I couldn’t blame myself for feeling like crap after everything that happened. I couldn’t let it beat me, though. As long as I was alive, I could change things.
I dumped the chicken’s bare bones on the cavern floor and supported myself against the nearest wall. I followed where it led, the candles over my head making everything visible. The shadows shifted once I walked further from the cot, exposing a dark hole in the man-made burrow. It had to be a tunnel leading to the entrance, a way out.
A dark red streak darted in front of me. There was the fox, its fur standing on end as it flashed its teeth and chittered like a growling stray. When I took another step, it hunkered down, ready to jump. I backed away, and its coat smoothed out.
“Who the hell keeps a guard fox?” I glared, and it tilted its head to one side like it had no clue why. Only a few yards between me and the gap. My two legs had a slim chance of outrunning four paws, and trying wasn’t worth catching rabies from a wild animal bite.
I rounded back to the cot and slumped onto my side, facing the wall instead of my kidnapper’s pet.
It pawed at my back and whined.
“I’m done eating.”
It trotted off, claws scraping against the ground. I peeked over my shoulder, trying to catch where it left. It curled up smack dab in front of that tunnel.
And it stayed put until I gave up and fell asleep.
* * *
Without any light to tell the time, I counted my days in sleeps. Over seven of them, the fox and I built this routine: it brought me food and I threw it scraps. The redhead had me living off of tender meat with sides of crunchy vegetables, juicy fruit, or soft bread. It tasted like old times, when Abuela home cooked everything. Better than my usual rotation of doggy bags from the bar, leftover pizza, and cupboards of boxed or canned everything.
After I slept each time, somebody refilled the water in the pitcher I’d used and cleaned the waste in the clay bedpan. The candles never burned down either, so the same person must have changed them out too. I shuddered at the thought of my kidnapper sneaking in there and tidying. But whenever I tried to get a better look at that tunnel, the fox pranced over and nipped at my pants, herding me to the cot.
My foxy friend laid a little closer to me day by day, until it settled on the cot and set its chin on my lap. By then I talked to the oblivious animal, rambling different stories about Abuela and Mom. Those stories echoed through the underground chamber and reminded me not to get comfortable.
On my eighth sleep, my kidnapper’s pet dragged in a linen cloth with a massive leg bone sticking out of it. I started drooling at my first whiff—no American kid could forget the smell of turkey. The fox propped the treat on the edge of the mattress.
I tugged the bundle the rest of the way up. “Is there a fair in town or something?”
The fox cocked its head to the left, silvery eyes zeroing in on my breakfast.
“I bet you’d go crazy for corn dogs too.” I tore a greasy chunk from the turkey leg and chucked it high. The fox vaulted up on its hind legs and chomped on the flying meat before it got too far. “My favorite part was the rides. There’s the zipper, tea cups, bumper cars, the pirate ship. I never got to go on them all, but Mom made sure we never missed the Ferris wheel. One year, our car got stuck at the top, at sunset when the lights came on.” I’d leaned over the edge for ten solid minutes, soaking up the view while they made repairs. A sea of glittering light bulbs flashed against the orange sky. Abuela pestered me to stick my head back in while Mom snacked on her candy apple. The screams and chatter around us faded into white noise.
My stomach gurgled, so I guess it liked that memory. Without thinking, I took another bite out of the turkey leg, balancing the heavy thing in both hands. Sharp pain bolted up my arm.
“Shit!” I flinched and dropped the food smack into my lap.
The fox crept closer and nudged my arm with its nose as I cradled the limp hand against my chest.
“A present from your not so sane lady-friend.” I rotated the joint with my other hand, but it throbbed worse. “Still hurts like a mother…”
The fox’s big ears folded back.
“That won’t fix it, but thanks for trying.” I scratched under its chin and it rolled over, exposing its white stomach that begged to be rubbed. The scratch attack switched to its chest and it let out pleased little whines. “You know, we’ve gotten pretty close the last few days, but I don’t even know if you’re a boy fox or a girl fox, too fluffy down there to tell. I still have no idea what to call you. Any suggestions?”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Its delicate paws curled in as it rested its head on my leg like a pillow. I massaged its belly and its nose stuck up in the air all hoity-toity. Whenever I threw it a bigger chunk of dinner, it peeled the meat into strips and never left a mess. I’d caught it grooming itself like a cat more than once and it strut around like the cavern was a castle and it was the queen.
“How about Queenie?” I sped up stroking its belly and its hind leg kicked. “Do you like that, your highness?”
It barked and squirmed under the extra attention, but it seemed to like the new nickname. Who knew whether it actually understood a word I said? It still helped to put a name to the only thing keeping away the oppressive quiet of that place. A few more days of friendly pats and it would trust me enough to let me explore that mysterious entrance. If it didn’t? Well, I didn’t let myself think that far ahead.
* * *
The next time I woke, my forearm was caught up in a makeshift sling. I adjusted the frayed fabric, wondering where it came from. How had I not noticed somebody manhandling me like that? Had the redhead drugged the turkey leg to make me sleep heavier? But why stop with basic medical care?
A hunger cramp twisted my gut. No Queenie in sight.
The black tunnel sat there, empty and wide open.
“Queenie?” I called, my voice stretching down the corridor. “Hey, you there?”
No answering barks or yips. The silent opportunity crept in and goosebumps spread over my arms without even a stiff breeze.
I got up and crept toward the dark hole. The closer it was, the better my eyes adjusted to the dim details inside. Rows of dark curtains lined the shaft, hiding long things that shined when light hit them. Those could be doors that led to other parts of the cavern.
Something barked, high and anxious.
Just when I was home free. I sped back to the cot, tripping over the edge and falling into it.
The familiar red ears and brown paws scampered in. The fox carried a small sack in its mouth this time, but none of the goodies bulged out. It hopped into my bed and dropped the bag onto the stretched mattress.
“Somebody’s late,” I said as my breathing and my heartbeat slowed to normal. I dug through the sack, only to find a pile of fresh plant cuttings and a bowl with a little club. “Grass salad without dressing, huh? She must want me on a diet now.”
The fox leaned its fluffy cheek into my fingers and I remembered to give it the petting it deserved for keeping me alive. It ate up the attention, shifting so my fingers dug into its mane and between its ears.
“You saving up for something?” I gave it a final couple pats and puzzled over how to eat what it brought. Did the woman expect me to shove my face in the greens like a cow?
Queenie walked off the cot instead of curling up by my leg and stopped a yard or two away, putting that distance between us.
I glanced up. “Something wrong?”
Queenie stood upright on its hind legs, solemn as a sphinx, and tucked its dark paws to its chest. The spark of intelligence in the fox’s beady eyes lit up on overdrive as they grew and spread further apart on its face. Their shape tilted up at the corners and their irises became gunmetal gray with silvery flecks. I knew those eyes.
The rest of the little creature’s body followed as it flowed into the silhouette of a willowy woman. Its fur melded into fair skin and a white medieval dress, except where it grew into waves of hair around a softly pointed face.
I scrambled back until the rough wall stopped me and kept pushing against it in vain. That couldn’t physically happen unless a top-secret, hyper realistic robot had stolen me, then used Queenie’s shape as a front. The redhead must’ve watched me the whole time, overheard all my rambling stories, figured out I’d lost to a crying fit. I gritted my teeth and cradled my limp wrist against my chest. What else could she want from me?
“Do calm down,” she said, tapping one hip with the tips of her pearly nails. “I haven’t hurt you thus far, have I?”
I jabbed a finger at the sling.
“That injury was a necessity of the moment.” She bit her full bottom lip, like Mom when she was uneasy.
“You came out of a mirror! We were already scared shitless. That wasn’t a necessity, it was overkill.”
“Well, I have come to fix it. That absolves any debt for the transgression.”
I gaped, worse than a fish staring at a kid in an aquarium. Any response I had, let alone fear, got stuck somewhere on its way to my mouth.
“Did I not speak clearly enough for you?”
I just blinked. Couldn’t help it. I had the same reaction to customers who talked to me in caveman sentences where they punctuated each, fragmented word by saying it slower and louder. “Excuse me?”
“Has your bravado run out already?” Her chest puffed out as she huffed. “I thought you were supposed to pose a challenge.”
“Are you trying to piss me off? ‘Cause it’s working.” I got up and used every bit of my five feet and eight inches of height, even if I only came to the redhead’s shoulder. The only people allowed to use me as a doormat were my well meaning bosses and dependent family, not condescending bar-goers and never fox-changing-robots. “You broke into my home, threatened my mentally ill mother, and kidnapped me to a terrorist prison. Fixing a broken wrist is the least of what you owe me after the mini-hell you’ve put me through!”
“You rather enjoyed my hospitality when I was ‘Queenie.’ We shared meals, tales of your life, even a few intimate touches.” She grinned at my cringe as more X-rated petting sessions with Queenie flashed through my head.
“My mom might be dead because of you!” I invaded her space until she had to lean back to see my face. It strained my neck to shove my chin up that high, that fast. “You know her name already, right? Jennifer Diaz, in case you forgot. Her favorite colors are pink and baby blue. She loves horses and has a huge sweet tooth. She tries to be optimistic, no matter how much she blames herself for needing other people’s help. Making sure she stays that way falls on me now. You remember all those stories about my grandmother, how she held our family together? We lost her less than a month ago. But you didn’t think about any of that when you made this sick game, did you?”
The redhead opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Nothing came out.
“Did I not speak clearly enough for you?”
“Bodb was right,” she muttered, taking a step away from me as she crossed her arms. “You humans are impossible to please.”
“Really? I’m making it pretty damn clear what’ll please me.”
“That is enough.” The redhead dropped her hands to her sides and they curled to fists. “Understand, Maya Alvarez-Diaz, this burrow is your home now. The only reason you did not perish in the womb was because your beloved mother begged me to save you. This is the price of that gift. I recommend you make the best of a bad situation and make due with what company you do have.”
“A situation you made—”
“Sit down.”
Something filled up my legs from the hips down, tingling pulses like when I left them in one position too long and they went numb. I strained against the movement, urged my brain to send more signals down south. No dice. My legs folded together and they lowered me ass first to the floor. “How’re you doing that? What’d you put in that food?”
“It has only been my intent to harm you once. My purpose now is to make amends.” She knelt, reached behind my shoulder, and picked up the sack of plant cuttings on the cot. I jerked out of the way, but her silky hair brushed against my bare elbow enough to send shivers through it. “I meant what I said about fixing your arm, but I need you compliant to do so. If you fly into a rage every time I offer aid, then I have to force it on you. That expends needless energy that I could put to better use if you cooperated. So, will you let me help?”
My wrist hung there in the sling, sore and useless. Having her that close didn’t leave me many options. Trying to overpower her got me injured in the first place. If her guilty conscience didn’t let up until she treated me, I might never get rid of her long enough to explore those tunnel doors. At least it proved she wasn’t totally heartless. I could use that, so I agreed with a shaky nod.
“Excellent.” She plopped the sack in her lap and dug through it. The alien energy in my legs settled enough that my knees bounced when I wiggled them. She pulled out the bowl and club first, then piled the plants in and ground them up.
As she mashed the green leaves and stems together, they started to look like fast food guacamole. I scrunched my nose at the mix’s bitter smell. “I’m not eating that stuff.”
“You don’t have to eat it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “These are ingredients for a salve. It is my aunt’s recipe, and she is very adept at these medicinal concoctions.”
“Wait a sec, there’s more of you?”
“An entire race.” She set the bowl aside and reached for me. “Your arm.”
“So you have a family?” I shrugged out of the sling and held out my dangling hand.
“Of course. All creatures have relatives.” She scooped the guacamole paste, wiped a glop of it on my wrist, and rubbed it in. The clammy salve went on like a lotion with soft chunks, but the throbbing pain settled to a dull ache.
“What are they like?” I flexed my fingers. They only twitched.
“Patience. It will not be better until you wake next.” The redhead looped the sling off my shoulder, wrapped it around my wrist and tied the makeshift bandage off in a tight knot. “As for your question, my family are largely unpleasant. I can only stand the company of a couple of them.”
“Do they know what you’re doing?”
“Some do. Most of them do not. For your own good, it has to stay that way.”
“Why?” I dragged my pillow into my lap and rested my hand on it. “Am I in the middle of a racist Hicksville?”
“Not quite.” She picked up the juice-smeared bowl and club then dropped them back into the sack. “You’re at my home, by my father’s estate in Bri Leith.”
“You and your dad must be close if you’re still living next door.” I watched her neutral face and relaxed hands for any signs.
“He gave me a portion of his lands out of obligation after my aunt convinced him to pity me, and that is the least of his sins.” Her knuckles turned even whiter as they clenched over the sack. “We are far from close.”
I made a mental note: stay away from kidnapper’s daddy issues. “What about your mom?”
“If you think to manipulate me to sympathy, this ruse is far too obvious.” She snapped around so her back was to me as she got up in one of those quick motions, too fast for me to catch. “I already told you, going back is out of the question.”
“I just want to make sure my mom’s okay.” I grabbed the bottom of her dress and clung. She couldn’t leave. Not yet. “I need to know she’s still alive and taken care of.”
“I thought I had laid this issue to rest.” Something made her stop and peer back over her shoulder. She pouted like a frustrated kid staring down a broken toy. “Surely there are others in your village who can take her on.”
“No, there isn’t. I’m the only one left.”
“That changes nothing.” Still, she frowned, and the color of her eyes seemed to shift, from a hard tint to a soft sparkle. She patted my hair, giving me more of a stiff tap than anything. “The truth of the matter is I cannot take you back, even if I wanted to.”
“Then check on her for me. Show me she’s okay.” I tugged on her dress and swallowed my pride enough to let my tear ducts water. “Please.”
“Show her to you?” She pursed her lips and focused on the entrance for a hot minute. Her fingers flexed a couple times and her mouth flitted open, only to smack shut. “First I must gain approval, but it is possible.”
“What? How? Did you install cameras in our apartment or something?”
“No strange devices. Though, it means involving my half-brother yet again.” She sighed and narrowed her eyes at me. “If I do this, you must stay in here. You mustn’t explore the hallway.”
So that was the way out. I nodded so fast my teeth rattled. “Fine, I’ll stay put.”
“Nothing there will lead you back. Wandering there will only lead to your peril. If you insist on being stubborn, I have no choice but to stay and supervise you as before. Then I won’t be able to show you your mother.”
“Cross my heart,” I said, but she quirked her head to the side. “It means a promise.”
“Very well. I‘ll return after I have gained permission.” Her tight shoulders relaxed as she knelt by the nearest wall. From there, I could make out her tracing some rectangles in the air, but not much else with her back to me. When she stepped away, a little cupboard filled up the empty space. “If you should become hungry, open this.”
I ogled the new piece of furniture, a dozen questions running through my head about where it came from. None of them made it out. If she was really leaving me unattended, even for a little while, any more small talk might give her second thoughts.
“Please do take my warning about the hall to heart.”
I drew an X over my chest while mentally crossing my fingers.
She disappeared down the hall, the darkness of it swallowing her, white dress and all. I’d wait a little while longer to make sure she was good and gone. Then I’d find a way out and start with whatever was behind those curtains.