"Hey, wake up," Bulla heard.
Her shoulder violently rocked on her frame as a firm hand prodded her. Her eye lids refused to budge. The voice was ringing and full of echo, like the audio of an old box-tube television. Chilly water kissed her skin. In an instant, she was in Whis's ocean funnel looking at his fading figure against the sky. Bulla snapped her eyes open and tried to sit up. Her elbows and hands banged on the metal walls.
"Ah, there she is."
A white toothed smile greeted her. On the other side of the wired grate squatted a man. His black hair and eyes were unremarkable. His smile was unsettling because he had the face of a young man, but many years creased the skin around his mouth.
"Look here," he said, "We made a mistake, a failing of sorts," he reasoned.
His smile never seemed to fade over his strong chin. His clean cut jawline confused her all the more. She tuned out his spiel as she focused on his face.
You look like an average guy from the mainland. How many times did I walk past you on the street- how many?, she thought.
"So, what do you say?," he asked her, smooth as butter.
Bulla shook her head, her matted mass of hair weighed down her swaying head, "What?," her concussed brain managed.
With a grin still on his face, he jammed a branch through the wiring of the grate. He jammed the dull end into her body over and over again. He yanked the branch back through and turned his head. A male voice echoed through the dusky blue fog. A lively banter distracted them momentarily. Anxious sweat dribbled to Bulla's brow; she knew it was about her- what they would do with her. The box she found herself in was long and shallow like a casket. Pine sap and needles smeared the metal walls.
"Anyway," he said and repositioned himself, "Dumb ass grabbed you by accident. We ain't lookin' for you, girly. You could go home, if you help us out. Nod if you understand me- good."
He pinched a small cut picture between his fingers. He inched the grainy black and white photos to the grate.
What do you want with Pan?, Bulla thought.
"Now, all you gotta do is tell us the access code to the gate to her house. We know that you know it."
"I don't know it, mister," Bulla bluffed.
He inched closer to the container. His breath condensed on the metal walls.
"We know where you lived. We know where you went to school. Who your little friends are, where you worked. I know your mommy's phone number. I know the serial number on your plane ticket for your trip. I know when you sleep, when you eat, when you shit. You know what that code is. Tonight, he's gonna take you there, and you're gonna let him in."
"The code is 7234#," she lied as assertively as possible, "Now let me out. If you know so much about me, you know that my mom is the richest woman in the East. She would pay you if you brought me back home safe. I would just-"
Hooting laughter made her tongue go limp. From the corner of the grate Bulla could barely make out a pair of black boots and grey slacks. The first man whipped his head and snapped at the other's comments, looking away from Bulla. The language was still perplexing, and Bulla struggled to work out the basic syntax, but she had an educated guess. She mulled the idea over once again before committing.
"Kalus? Your name is Kalus, right?" she spoke up.
She stole the words from their mouths. He rocked his head over his shoulder and locked his eyes. Bulla couldn't help but think it was a fitting name for him- smooth, handsome even. Like his name, she knew she couldn't interpret him. He appeared amused yet concerned. His eyes were conjuring something behind a facade of normal.
"So, that's a yes?," she called as he straightened his legs and turned his back to her.
He gave her a passing glance over his shoulder and nothing more. He propped his fists on his hips and began talking to the other man, just visible in the corner of the grated door. Bulla's heart sank into her chest. Her attempt to humanize herself didn't go as planned. The uncertainty was startling to her, like shrieks in the dead of night. Kalus spoke with his open hands and shrugging shoulders while the other man was as still as a statue.
Are they mad- confused?, she thought.
Kalus returned to her crate. He waved his arm over the metal rim of it. The unlocking mechanism echoed through the box. He lifted the wire grate up and reached in. Bulla pressed her shoulders into the corner of the box, doing her best to evade his groping hand. She immediately kicked at his body, ignoring the pain in her leg. The blows staggered him, but he latched onto the metal collar on her neck.
"Aw come on now, I thought you were a good girl," he chuckled.
He wrenched her out of the container body and all, with one arm. Her bare legs squeaked against the stainless-steel slab. Her knees collected grass stains from the forest floor. He yanked her up from the dirt like a farmer pulling a ruffled hen from its coop by the neck. She wobbled to a standing position, leaning on her left leg.
To her surprise, he didn't lead her off like cattle heading to slaughter. He had her stand in the fog. His fingers picked at the bracket on her neck, just at the base of her skull. Seconds turned to minutes, and she took the opportunity to catch her breath. A hazy red belt sat on the Earth's horizon. Morning waited just beyond the rolling hills. With it she knew daylight would come, and so would people, she hoped. She ignored the sound of metal tools scraping behind her head and the babbling language of her captors. Nothing in the landscape rang a bell in her head. Her best guess would have been just that- a guess. Her mind went back to the flight from West City.
We went over the stadium, so we went north, right? Okay North. The sun comes up in the East, so that way is West. I've gotta go south. Wait, how far did they take me? We could be hundreds of miles away. They would catch me in this green no-man's land. I've got to get somewhere high and look for signs of other peo-
"Stand up straight," Kalus barked and kicked the back of her injured knee. Agony wracked her brain as the nerves in her leg lip up like fireworks. Bulla looked down, studying her mottled thigh. Her spider webbed veins were deep violet, like decay itself clogged them up. Her leg was swollen and blanching at the cusp of her sock. Her foot bulged in the fabric of her sock like a water balloon with toes. This wasn't a simple fracture; the thought of losing her leg made bile climb the back of her throat.
"Look straight ahead," Kalus said, kicking her again. Her whole body rocked forward with his weight.
Bulla looked straight ahead, unable to ignore the silver eye sore. A massive, curved wall displaced the ground. A dozen containers just like the one she emerged from were embedded into the structure wall. The surface was smooth but sparkled like a sand speckled granite. The curved glass paneling above the question mark shaped base left no doubt in her mind. Her mother's travel book came to mind.
It's some kind of aircraft, she thought.
Movement caught her eye. The cage above her own wasn't empty. A grey mass of hair huddled into the corner. It looked like a hair ball that had gained sentience. Choppy short breaths jiggled the mass. Bulla's tired brain finally discerned the sunken green eyes from the hair. Tears collected on her eye lids and deep sobs made her breath thick and rattling with snot. She hadn't allowed herself such tears since she was a little girl. A whistling whine escaped her sticky, wet face. Spit bubbled on her lips as she remembered dropping the old-trusting cat and watching her sagging skin flap in the wind.
Kalus shook the collar and the tears topped. His nails dug into her skin. An idea flashed in her brain, like a vision. Bulla took a deep breath and hardened her heart. Then she waited; her patience paid off. The sound of scraping metal and clinking tools met her ears. She swallowed hard, as if to gulp down her fear. She looked down.
"Eyes, straight ahead."
Kalus' words rolled of his tongue in slow motion. Bulla forced her heavy, injured leg to move. She snapped her legs together. His black boot skidded in the grass as he missed her all together. He lumbered on his toes. His top heavy, squared shoulders leaned toward the dirt. Bulla twisted her fists into the back of his orange jumpsuit, right along his spine. She shoved her good knee into his crotch. Her kneecap ached from banging his pubic bone. His legs disintegrated beneath him.
Bulla whipped around and broke for the thicket of trees. She hobbled on her tip-toes, desperate to get some sort of speed. She peaked over her shoulder one last time through the soupy fog. Kalus shuffled to his feet without saying a word.
"Cloak, you're up!," he called as he waddled like a saddle sore cowboy to the stacked cages.
Kalus flung open Bell's door and dragged her out by the scruff of her keck, ignoring her wheezing complaints. Cloak shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled to Kalus and the writhing cat.
Bulla was too tired to run at this point. She had to settle for a trudging skip through the forest undergrowth. Towering trees broke up the rocky hills. Ferns and stubborn scrubby bushes whipped her legs as she scuttled through them.
I've gotta keep moving, she thought.
She pushed herself forward with numb feet. White poplar trees poked through the fog. Their patchy bark became more clear with every passing minute. They were as straight as tooth picks despite the land's slope. Bulla stopped to quiet her loud desperate breath. She gave the thin tree trunks a quick glance up and down.
Too hard to climb, she thought.
She imagined the straight trees were an army standing at attention, alert and keeping watch for what prowled over the hill. Then the thought hit her.
My cell phone!
She quickly patted down the pockets of her shorts with no success.
Shit, it must have fell, she thought.
"Come out, where ever you are, girly!," Kalus rang through the fog.
Bulla ambled forward. She cut her teeth with the realization that rest was a luxury she couldn't afford, and she had failed to lose them despite crossing ravines gouged into the forest crust and crawling over several barbed thickets. The thorns and burs were embedded in her flesh for nothing. Her bleeding feet betrayed her, cursing the ground she walked on with tattle-tale droplets. Bulla knitted her brows as a hum reached her ears
It's the wrong time of year for locusts, she thought.
Cracking twigs and ruffled foliage drew her eyes to the hills. Something split the tall grass and fog like darting bullets through smoke. The clicking hum grew louder and tiny inflections, high pitched titters whirled through the air. Bulla kicked up her heels, throwing grass from her socks. She pushed through the pain, ignoring the tears being forced to the lobes of her ears from the air breaking on her face. She didn't dare look behind her. She imagined something sleek and reptilian from the way they zipped and zig zagged behind her,
"Oh Kami, please," she cried to the sky.
"Stop running," Kalus called to her in a sing-song voice, "I'll catch you- you stupid little bitch!"
His voice sloped from velvet to gravel in a matter of seconds. Bulla's amygdala sent her into overdrive. Her muscles soaked up every molecule of adrenaline, but they were still hot on her heels. He was louder, and worst of all- closer. The trees cleared and the wide mouth of a river appeared. Without hesitation, Bulla waded in waste deep, leaving clouds of blood and dirt.
The sun finally climbed her back. New day light warmed her skin as she crossed the river. Time was an enigma to her. She didn't know if the chase was twenty minutes of two hours. She stumbled onto the other bank, completely blocking out the water splashing behind her. Her only focus was to avoid flesh tearing rocks and slimy stones that made the current a death trap. She charged into the forest, noting the hollering voices lingered father away. Bulla latched onto the first tree with spreading branches that she saw. She rubbed her hand and thighs raw to shimmy up the trunk and grey bark. She pulled herself up limb after limb ignoring the bristly needles jabbing into her hands. She kept going until her back was against the morning sky. Bulla straddled a limb and hugged her body against the tree. She wrapped her arms around it and pretended it could comfort her and it was someone who loved her- even after all this.
Just after she had settled, Kalus and the other man strolled along the forest floor with bell hanging from his fist. Two four legged creatures sprouted from the ground. It was like black jelly bubbling up and gathering itself from foot to head. Bulla licked her lips as she thought of grape jelly on a piece of sponge cake. Bulla thought they resembled sand sculptures disintegrating in reverse. The thought of food fled as Kalus shoved Bell into the snorting faces of the creatures. Bulla squeezed her hand over her mouth and blinked her tears away. The man with the deep voice goaded the animals on in his harsh tongue. They stuck their long snouts into the dirt and prowled the ground on their three toed feet. Their black skin was translucent and shiny like an earthworm. Their squatting shoulders narrowed into a small pelvis, then tapering into a thin whipping tail. Long rounded ears stood up on top their heads. Their eyes were like grey-blue marbles sitting in a black jello mold.
Blood dripped from Bulla's sock. The chunky clump of half coagulated blood plopped on Kalus' shoulder. Kalus raised his eyes to the canopy.
"You wanna swap blood ?," he called to her.
Kalus thumped the rib cage of the now sitting creature with his hand painted in her blood.
"Be my guest," he finished.
A rusty cloud swirled in the creature's empty body. The black flesh morphed into a purple mush, like a squashed concord grape, beneath the yellow morning haze. The creature galloped to the tree fueled by its blood lust. It scaled the tree with its sticky feet like a chameleon, swarming toward her. Bulla dug her nails into the tree trunk as its toothless mouth neared the sole of her foot. Its face was brain dead and placid, yet juiced with drive to complete its task. Its eyes bobbled in its hollow body, like ice cubes in grape soda. It perplexed her and her tired brain hated it. Rage boiled over within her, finally being born after a hectic conception.
"You dumb, hyena-reject, fuck," she growled.
Bulla shoved her foot square onto the top of its head, hoping to kick it from the tree. The sunlight faded from the world, as it sucked her in, leg and all. It spread around her like warm purple mold. She was overcome by the odor-like a festering wound under the hot sun, until her breath was no more.
