I do not own Lorien Legacies or any of the characters.
Stranded
We stop, sitting on a mostly dry patch of land and roots to rest. It's been hours since we escaped the Mogadorians. So far, Marina has yet to stop radiating cold air. It's a welcome relief from the humidity of the swamp, but it's also not a good sign. She hasn't spoken since Nine and I met back up with her and Six.
"I'll take first watch," I volunteer. "You guys rest."
Six and Nine both pass out without a complaint but Marina simply sits there. I sit beside her and wrap an arm around her. For a moment, her skin is ice cold. Then, the cold fades almost entirely as she curls herself into me.
"Why did he do it?" Marina sobs into my chest.
"I don't know," I say, running a hand over her back and rocking slightly. "I don't know."
We stay like that for a long while, until she finally cries herself to sleep. The cold aura around her finally fades and Six and Nine both wake up, groaning quietly.
"Is she asleep?" Six asks quietly and I nod.
Six nods as well and tries to go back to sleep, as does Nine, but neither can. I remain where I am, holding Marina against me and feel my eyes starting to drift closed.
"Sleep," Nine finally says. "I'll take watch. With my senses I can tell if anything's coming, and can keep animals away."
I nod and rest my head on top of Marina's. Then, I drift off as well. All too soon, Nine is shaking us both awake. Marina's cold aura returns, though less powerfully than before, and we continue through the swamp. The next night, we keep walking, having found a road, and soon reach a small town, if you are being generous. All of the huts were piles of plywood hastily nailed together, probably not even enough to block the rain. Music drifts toward us from further on and we follow the road until we find a log cabin with the word "Trapper's" in sizzling green neon on the roof. One look, and we could tell is was just a sleazy bar, but they might have a phone. And food. All we had eaton was the tiny animals Nine had managed to catch on the way, and that wouldn't even have fed one person. Let alone four. We make out way to the bar and Marina's cold aura evaporates as we enter. Instantly, the music doesn't stop, but all eyes are on us. We don't fit in. We're not dirty enough. We have too much hair, too many teeth, none of us has a mouth full of dip, and while we all stink, we don't smell like we've never taken a shower in our lives.
"Hoo boy!" someone shouts as we walk to the bar, then whistles.
Apparently, not many women, if any, set foot in Trappers. This aught to be interesting, if nothing else. I look around as we stop at the bar. There seem to be two types of everything. Shaved or unkempt bear. Tremendously overweight or alarmingly skinny. Half-open dirty plaid shirts or sweat-stained wife-beaters. Gap-toothed leers, or no-toothed leers. One guy in a torn heavy-metal shirt with a lower lip packed with tobacco sidles up next to Marina.
"This must be my lucky day," he drawls before spitting a small puddle of nearly-black dip juice onto the floor. "Because you girls-"
Before he can finish his sentence, my Tavor is pressing against his nose. The bar goes completely silent. Terror shoes on the man's face and he swallows hard.
"I'll say this once," I snarl. "Keep your disgusting hands, to yourself. Or I'll repaint this entire bar with your insides."
He nods vigorously but before he can leave, I press harder.
"And one more thing," I growl. "Take a fucking shower. You smell like an alligator shat you out then puked on you."
I lower my rifle and he scrambles away. A few men are laughing at the insult and the tension is mostly gone, despite my scene. The message was well-received though. Everyone keeps their distance.
"Thanks," Marina smiles before it fades.
I smile as well, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her onto my shoulder. She sighs quietly as the bartender walks over. He's a round man and slightly more alert than the rest of the bar's occupants. He has an apron on as well, which might help his appearance a little.
"You should know I keep a shotgun under the bar," he warns. "I don't want anymore trouble."
"We won't start anything," I promise. "As long as they don't."
"You have anything to eat?" Nine asks. "We're starving."
"I could fry you up some burgers," he suggests.
"They're not possum meat are they?" Nine asks. "You know what, never mind. I don't want to know.
"Four please," I say.
Six asks for a phone and the bartender jabs his thumb toward a payphone in the corner then walks into the back to start cooking the food.
"I'm going to go call the others," Six says and turns to walk away just as a man from the porch outside the bar who might weigh a hundred pounds and who was chain-smoking before, shambles over.
He sit next to Six and flashes a grin, exposing several holes in his smile.
"Hey honey," he greets. "Buy me a drink and I'll tell you my story. It's a real doozy."
"Get away from me," Six warns.
The man looks past her to where my hand is resting on the pistol grip of my rifle. He stiffens then grumbles something and slinks off. I let go of the rifle and feel Marina smile slightly.
"You didn't point it at him," Marina smiles.
"He wasn't trying to hit on you," I reply, not entirely certain why.
I feel Marina's smile widen as her arms wrap around me. Six flashes me a grin, despite everything that's happened and I roll my eyes before she heads for the phone. Before she can, the TV comes back on and my stomach drops. Marina seems to notice something's off because she turns to look. I kick a bottle across the floor, hitting Six in the back of the foot and she turns. I point at the TV and she looks. On the screen, a police reporter is standing in front of a line of police tape, the John Hancock Center in the background. A moment later, the feed switches to a video of the penthouse in flames. A clap of thunder suddenly shakes the roof and I glance at Six. She nods, letting me know she's got herself back under control.
"This can't be happening," Marina breathes. "The others..."
"Hawkeye and Rookie were there," I say. "They'll have gotten the others out safe. Now we just need to find them again."
Marina nods but I can tell she's not fully convinced, not that I am either. Nine stands and leaves the bar and Six follows, leaving me and Marina in the bar.
"I tell you I saw them," the chain-smoker that had tried to flirt with six to get a drink is saying from down the bar.
"Yeah right Dale," the person at the bar laughs. "Aliens? Really? In the Everglades?"
Marina and I exchange a look and instantly know our next move. A second later, I have one of Dale's arms behind his hack and a knife pressed against his back just below it, leading him out of the bar after Six and Eight.
"We need to figure out what we're going to do next," Nine says.
"Already covered," I say as we walk over. "Our friend here has a very interesting story after all. Talk."
He instantly dives into what would be a long story.
"Short version," I growl, pressing my knife harder.
"I know about an alien base in the swamp!" he says quickly. "An abandoned NASA hangar."
"Describe the ship," I say.
"Shiny!" he says. "White!"
"Mogadorians," Six says. "You're going to lead us to the hangar. Or I'll let my friend repaint the bar."
I smirk at her using my own threat. Dale seems to not want to call a bluff. He nods vigorously and I release him. Then, we follow him to his boat, and we're on our way.
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