Thorne

Waves broil and crash. The birds mimic each other in concert and trees sway under a slight breeze. The tropical forest is dressed with flat leaves and vines slick with water. Raindrops catch on the canopy roof, they fall in big droplets, becoming sweet to the taste as they roll down the jungle plants. Mel can hear them. The waves and the birds and the trickling rain. But mostly the waves. The coast is close. It was colder than she thought it’d be. She shivered under her translucent emergency poncho - her warm weather clothes had betrayed her to the elements and let them steal the heat from her flesh.

The bugs are still biting - even in these conditions. She swats at them as they dance around her hands. Chittering demons looking for blood. Desperate for a sip. Or maybe they’re Chimma Flies and all they want is to burrow into her nail beds to take shelter from the storm. She couldn’t tell - but she didn’t feel any burrowing. Milly let out a yap from beside her. Mel reached down to pet her.

“Cold?” she asked sincerely.

She knelt and opened her backpack, rifling around in an attempt to dig her thermos out. A small plastic card fell from the mouth of the bag as she hunted. Mel Thorne: Researcher and Therapist was lasered into the front in small black letters. The insects are still buzzing.

Still no burrowing.

Mel sighed and looked over to Milly.

“That's a long time ago, huh?”

Mel closed her eyes for a moment. This is peace, she thought to herself. There were no sounds like this in the cities or the stations. There was a hum in the civilized world But it was a different hum. An unyielding drone that intelligent life uses to police itself into endless expansion through the cosmos. But the jungle had a different hum - one that would continue the same way it had for untold millennia, neither growing nor shrinking, unbothered by the opinions of any audience it might have.

Unbothered. That was a feeling she had never gotten on her planet of Illia. The lids of her eyes flickered open and she resumed her walk, journeying to the edge of the forest so she could see the coast. The sun was setting - it burned red in the purpling horizon. Mel’s eyebrows knitted together. There was a splotch on what should have been her perfectly splendid, beautiful purple horizon. It was red - dark, churning, burning red. A cold stone of fear formed in her stomach and began to sink.

A boom split the sky above her. It was no longer purple at all - the red had filled the atmosphere, reflecting off the ocean, turning it the color of fiery blood. Milly cowered behind her owner. What had once been the splotch in the sky was now a black shadow falling to earth - it grew bigger as it hurtled towards them.

“Milly!”

Mel screamed, diving to shield her dog from the incoming projectile hurtling towards them. She nuzzled the animal to calm it - Milly was shaking in her owner’s arms. The ocean erupted in massive splashes. Milly turned her head back and saw a massive trail of debris falling from the unknown object. Suddenly, Mel realized what it was.

It’s a pod!

The object grew closer and closer until it plunged into the ocean, sending water into the air in a massive splash. Parts fell from the pod in slow motion beneath the surface of the water. Mel covered her mouth in horror. Milly barked - it snapped Mel back to her senses.

“Come on Milly”,

Mel said, running towards the jungle. She had to get to her camper. It was beige with orange lines running the length of the side, a gift from her father, who told her it was something called vintage. Something of a time long gone. She came upon it and threw the door open. Milly jumped in without complaint, and for a moment she almost lost her footing as she scrambled into the passenger seat. Mel threw herself into the driver’s seat and slapped her hand down on a small touch screen. It scanned her palm for only a moment, but to Mel, it felt like an eternity. The Camper sputtered to life. She clicked her safety belt on and hit the accelerator. The wagon punched forward and Mel threw the wheel as it skidded on the jungle floor, turning so harshly it was almost on two wheels. The vehicle reoriented, Mel slammed the gas, speeding as fast as she could back towards the coast.

“Hold on Milly,” she said, seeing the edge of the jungle.

She turned the wheel and spun towards the shoreline. She threw open the door and looked out. The pod’s emergency features kicked on having landed in the ocean, it floated up from the depths. Lingering on the surface of the water, made buoyant by a ring of yellow flotation devices that ran along its base. Mel let out a sigh of relief. She made her way to the back of the camper where she and Milly’s bedroom was. She foraged around under her bed until she felt the cold metal of her rescue kit. Milly began to yap from the passenger seat. Mel whipped her head around, and then she heard what Milly had heard. Air was rushing. Whistling. But not like wind.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Oh God, the pod, it’s sinking!

Mel ran out of the camper and her suspicions were confirmed. Two of the devices on the left side of the pod had burst. It began to sink, lopsided, into the ocean.

“Hold on!”

She called out, to whomever might hear her. She grabbed her kit and strapped it to her back. It was heavy, and the kit materials jangled and rocked when she moved. She grabbed her board off the top of her camper. This was not supposed to be happening. She was supposed to be enjoying her peace! It can’t be peaceful if someone dies in front of me, she thought to herself. She lept forward - the board cruised on the surface of the waves and she climbed on top to paddle. Saltwater forced its way into her mouth. She spat it out and kept moving.

Another balloon popped and the pod sank further. She threw her arms forward, clawing the water, pulling her body forward, kicking and swimming as fast as she could towards the pod. She hurried her strokes - almost there. Her vision was cloudy and the salt stung her eyes. The third balloon popped, and the pod began to sink as if an invisible hand had grabbed hold of it and was dragging it down into the depths below. She was right above the pod now. She took in a deep breath and dove, breaking the surface, chasing after it. She didn’t worry about the board - it knew to wait for her. Once she was under water the Ocean showed its malevolent face. How dark it was, how vast and uncaring. She couldn’t see the bottom.

The sheer magnitude of darkness meant they would die here if she didn’t save the stranger in the pod now. Or I’ll die trying to save them, she thought. The sun shone through the water's surface illuminating the pod as it sank and Mel as she swam down deeper. There was a glass hatch on top of the pod. She latched onto the hull's side and climbed up to look inside. Her lungs were starting to scream - she’d have to surface soon. She saw a large shadow, a man, incapacitated in the cabin of the pod. She banged her hands against the hull - the ocean slowed them, but she swung as hard as she could and heard a faint banging as her hand connected to the metal. The man still lay unconscious. She moved her hands along the hull and looked for a release lever, or an escape switch, or something heavy enough she could break her way in. Anything, anything at all. Her breath escaped her. Her vision began to grow faint. Eventually, her hand caught on something. Long, metal - a lever! Mel’s eyes burst open and she yanked as hard as she could.

The pod door was released. A cloud of air bubbles flooded the water around Mel and water began to suck into the pod. It pulled her into the cabin with it. Through the murky darkness, she could see the man was buckled in. She pulled her knife from where it rested at her waist and sliced through the fabric of the safety belts. There were oxygen masks hooked to the life support station at the far corner. Her entire body was on fire - she felt sleep pulling at her mind. Inviting her to give up, fade away, wander into the black nothing of death. She pushed off the bench the man was resting on and grabbed one. She fastened it around her face and swallowed the water inside, her stomach turning from the salt. Once the mask was clear she kicked it on and let oxygen fill her once again. It was an incredible feeling. Once she had another breath to hold she let the mask go, and grabbed the man.

Hold on, she pleaded. Don’t give up yet.

She grabbed the man dragging him from the craft. They’d sunk so far. The light of the surface seemed like it was a million miles away. The man was heavy, but the water helped her, and she pushed them both off the top of the craft. She kicked as she held his arms. They began to climb towards the surface - towards salvation. Mel looked down watching as the pod disappeared beneath her feet.

Her watch dinged. 20 Meters. She shook her head. Her lungs started to burn again. Her muscles were tired. So, so tired. Her watch dinged again. Ten Meters. They were so close to the sun. To the light. She just… had… to…

Mel punched through the surface and gasped. She hoisted the man above the surface, letting his face hit the air and the sun. The board was waiting for them. She kept hold of the man’s arm and climbed on top of it, letting it support her weight, resting her exhausted muscles. Once she had her breath again she paddled them to the shore. Milly yapped at the water’s edge, jumping and running, desperate for her owners to return. The board hit the sand with a thud, running aground, lodging itself in the firmness of the island ground. Mel dragged the stranger onto the shore and flopped his body down. The sun was setting over the horizon. They painted the sky with orange and hazel, the cascading array of colors dancing and interweaving above them. Everything had gone silent. The noises stopped, and only the feeling of her heartbeat remained. She fell to her knees and yanked the kit off her back. Stim shot - she needed a stim shot. She dug through the supplies until she found one and pulled it out.

The syringe glinted in the twilight of the island suns - it was full of green liquid, and Mel pushed the plunger, letting a drop run down the needle, proving that it was up to the task needed of it. She positioned herself over top of the man. The waves ran underneath him, his wet hair moving with the push and pull of the tide. He had scars lining his neck. Pale calligraphy mapped out a life of pain on his dark skin from his neck to his hands. Mel took a deep breath and dropped her hands. She jammed the stim needle into his chest and pushed the plunger down. The man jolted upwards and vomited salt and bile onto his lap. He let out a gasp and his bloodshot eyes bulged in their sockets. Adrenaline coursed through him, fired his synapses, and brought every cell in his body roaring to life. His arms stretched out. His mouth was open and gasping but he could not gather air. He threw her off of him. She rolled to her side then to her feet backing away from him. Milly ran between them and growled at the man. He vomited again before trying to stand, only to fall to the side once more.

With a gasp, finally audible, he went limp. His chest rose and fell. He was breathing. Mel stood and put one foot in front of the other. She was so light that her foot barely left marks in the sand. She crept over and touched his head. His body was cold. She moved as fast as she could to her camper and pulled blankets from her cargo hold. When she got back to him she sat the man up and surrounded him with blankets. She wrapped him up and propped him against the camper so he was upright. She yanked out the fire pit from her roof. Lighting the flame was a top priority, she got it lit leaned back, and put her arms behind her. She looked up towards the sky. She laughed for a reason she couldn’t conceptualize in her conscious mind. A hysterical, guttural, animalistic laugh. A celebratory laugh - the laugh a soul lets out when it's’ grateful to be alive. Running her hands through her soaked hair, she leaned forward and stared across the fire at the man against the camper. The flame danced in front of his face. She wondered who he was - why he was scarred, what kind of carnage he’d seen. Her eyes got heavy and she yawned.

The sand was warm. She grabbed a blanket for herself and snuggled under it. Milly took the opportunity to circle in front of her, and once she’d found her spot, flopped down beside her owner.

They let the waves sing, a lullaby of deep comfort, it pushed them to sleep.