Captive (10 page)
“They’re killing them,” Addy cried.
“Aye, lass. The last man alive wins.”
The cats roared. The fighters grunted or screamed. The human guests shouted and cheered. The Hyboreans continued to bet.
Addy’s lunch curdled and threatened to abandon her stomach. “This is sadistic.” She clutched her belly. They wanted her to breed babies for this gladiator barbarism? She could’nt stay another moment longer. She couldn’t watch Max—or anyone—die.
She jumped off Ferly Mor’s legs and raced to the door.
“Let me out.” She pounded the door until someone sublimated the bottom enough for her to crawl through. She raced downstairs and into the safety of Duncan’s cage.
T
he blood frozen on Max’s face and in his nostrils made breathing difficult. He gulped in air, trying to catch his breath. As he did, the blood cracked giving him a little relief.
After days of survival and bloodshed, the Championship had come down to two alpha gladiators—him and Regan.
Covered in just as much gladiator blood as Max, Regan wielded his broadsword with a power and fluidity that equaled Max’s own. Their swords clashed.
It was a miracle Max made it this far. He hadn’t been focused. And he didn’t care. As much as he would’ve liked to kill Regan, what was the point?
Who was he fighting for?
Max sidestepped a blow. His boot’s crampons dug into the snow-covered ice.
Not for the Hyboreans. He didn’t give a crap about them.
Aiming for Regan’s collarbone, he brought down his gladimort sword at an angle. The blades crashed again. Vibrations shot up his arms.
And not for himself. His life was meaningless. So what if he won? He’d still be a beast.
Regan attacked, sword slashing. Max stepped back on an angle, squatting on his back leg, and blocked the strike with the flat of his blade. He shifted his weight to the front leg, lunging forward with a thrust. Regan moved back out of striking distance.
Slowly they circled. It was an opportunity to catch his breath.
After what happened in the breeding box, he couldn’t fool himself any longer. The Hyboreans had stripped him of his last bit of humanity. They had turned him into the one thing he vowed never to become. His spirit had been broken. And he had accepted his defeat.
Yet he couldn’t stop fighting. Why?
Animals have strong survival instants.
And no souls.
He swung his gladimort again. Regan evaded and countered with a thrust.
Stabbing pain ripped through Max’s abdomen. Fire burned inside him. His spine and back were set ablaze. He gulped air but couldn’t breathe.
Keeled over, he stared at Regan’s fist twisting and swirling the hilt of the sword as the blade shredded his insides. His blood spilled onto shimmering white powder.
Strength drained from his body. An icy chill invaded his muscles, numbing them. He didn’t feel it when Regan fisted his hair and jerked his head upward. He only knew he was staring into his victor’s eyes.
His vision blurred.
Regan’s lips moved, but he couldn’t hear a word.
His legs gave out, and he reached to grab hold of something, but instead of leaning forward he somehow fell backward. He knew this because he saw sky.
The daylight dimmed and then he saw no more.
A memory came to him. Red-blonde hair. A woman. Fighting spirit. And a Devil’s fire.
Was she watching him die?
Pain receded and he felt no more.
They would kill her spirit. Like they killed his. He hated that thought.
And then he thought no more.
C
loud wisps floated across the blue holographic sky same as the afternoon Addy first saw them six days— one Hyborean week—ago.
Duncan sat in the grass with his back against the side of his house. She crouched down to see what he was whittling, and picked up some of the shavings. Yellow color. Straight grain. Scent of potato skins. “Yellow cedar.”
“Aye, lass.”
“Used by Native Americans for medicinal purposes, as well as for making dishes, masks, paddles, and—.”
“—boats.” Duncan proudly held up his work in progress. He glanced from Addy to Tess. “Where are the two of ye headed?”
“The grove,” Tess answered. “We’re out of oranges.”
“Already?”
“Sorry. I’ve been really hungry lately.” Without the use of her sport utility and other earthly conveniences, Addy’s caloric needs must have increased.
“Well, if ye bump into Regan on the way, ask if he needs more whisky for his celebration.”
The pit of Addy’s stomach twisted. Regan was the last person she wanted to bump into, which was why they’d be taking the long way to the orchard. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the training field.
He had returned yesterday, victor of the survival race. That meant he’d be on testosterone overload. It also meant Max had been killed.
Along with thirty-nine other men, she reminded herself. For some reason they were always an afterthought.
Why did Max’s death bother her so much? It’s not like they were friends. Seriously, she had barely known the guy. It must’ve been some kind of Earth-bond thing, since he’d been the only other Earthling she’d met here. Duncan may have learned about her planet through his father’s stories, but he couldn’t possibly appreciate it like she and Max could.
Tess handed her a basket and led the way into the forest. They followed a well-worn path to a pristine lake and walked along its shoreline, listening to the lapping waters. The sound might have brought comfort had she not been thinking about gladiators and breeding.
No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t avoid Regan forever. Eventually she’d be sent back to the sex box paired with that barbarian. Moths fluttered inside her stomach just thinking about it. He’d already sexually assaulted her the day they’d met. He’d have no qualms about abusing her or forcing himself on her if she put up a fight.
Considering alpha gladiators like Max couldn’t win against Regan, it wouldn’t matter what she did. She’d end up just as pregnant.
She picked up a rock in her path and fast-pitched it into the lake like she and her father used to do. It didn’t make her feel any better. How could this have happened to her? All her life she’d been determined not to wind up like her mother, knocked up at nineteen and trapped in a life she wasn’t ready for and didn’t want.
And now here she was trapped on Hyborea and forced to get knocked up at twenty-three.
Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed bitter bile. She hadn’t been feeling well lately.
“Hi, Shirley.” Addy hadn’t noticed the woman sunbathing until she heard Tess. “Da has some books and school supplies for you.”
“New books to read?” The woman’s raspy voice sounded like she’d had a cigarette pack too many. “Your father never ceases to amaze me. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Addy.”
The woman propped herself on an elbow, shielded her eyes from the fake sun, and scrutinized Addy. “Fresh off the ship, huh?”
She must have been in her midfifties but looked older with that tanned-to-leather sun-worshiper face. Even so, she had eyes that sparkled and a body shaped like a generously proportioned hourglass. And was only the second woman Addy met who didn’t have a swollen belly.
“How do you like it here?” Shirley asked.
It sucks. Plain and simple.
She shrugged a noncommittal response.
“Addy misses Earth.”
Shirley sat up, adjusted the shoulder strap on her brown one-piece bathing suit. “What do ya miss most? The pollution? The corruption? The rat race?”
No. She missed her father most. A familiar ache crept into her heart. It was the same ache that resulted in a dampened pillow every night. What she wouldn’t give to hike once more with him, listen to him name the trees and plants and their uses. She’d fall into his strong arms, his loving embrace, and thank him for all he’d given her. She’d tell him again how much she loved him. Hell, if she could go home, she might consider telling her mother that.
“I miss my family. Don’t you?”
She snorted. “Honey, back home I worked two jobs and barely made ends meet. I married a white trash bum who drank my paychecks faster than I could pay the bills. I cooked, cleaned, and took care of his sorry ass for thirteen miserable years. Coming here was an answer to my prayers.”
“You prayed for
this
?”
“Look around you, girl. It’s beautiful. And there’s no money worries. No responsibilities. No pressure to keep up with the Joneses. All you have to do is be. It’s paradise.”
“Paradise? What about HuBReC?”
With a devilish grin and a gleam in her eye she said, “Honey, I haven’t been with an ugly male yet.”
Was this woman for real? “But they take your children.”
“Ah, there’s your problem. You can’t think of ’em as yours. I never did. We’re surrogate mothers. That’s all. It’s a small price to pay for freedom.”
Freedom? If being a broodmare was freedom to this woman, she must’ve had a hell of a life on Earth.
Tess tapped Addy’s arm. “We best get going. See you later, Shirley.”
“Tell your dad I’ll stop by later for the books and supplies,” she called after them.
“There’s a school here?” Addy asked.
“Of course.”
“I don’t get it. If the Hyboreans take the babies when they’re born, who’s the school for?”
“First of all, the Hyboreans don’t take newborns. The offspring stay with the mother until they are fully weaned.”
“How long is that?”
Tess shrugged. “It depends on the type of growth accelerator drug the child is given.”
“But long enough for the mother and baby to bond.”
“Don’t look so forlorn, Addy. Many children stay right here in the Yard. Especially the males, since most belong to Xanthrag.”
For the second time that morning, Addy swallowed bile. She must be catching a cold or something. So much for Ferly Mor’s twice-a-day vitamin injections.
“Once a woman is past childbearing years, she usually steps into a teaching role.” Tess hopped a residual puddle from last night’s rain, or watering. “It’s an open learning system. Whoever shows up—young or old, resident or visitor—is welcome.”
“Do the Hyboreans know about the school?”
“Of course. They’re intelligent beings. I’m certain they understand our need for learning. Plus everyone knows clever humans fare best at the survival races.”
“Why does everything go back to that damn horse-race-meets-gladiator so-called sport?” Addy grew warm and a single bead of sweat trickled between her breasts.
“You okay? You don’t look so good.”
Addy wiped her forehead. “I hope I’m not catching some Hyborean flu.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no sickness here. It’s only natural for you to be upset and confused by your surroundings. To be honest, you’ve handled the past week quite well.”
A pungent citrus fragrance reached her. They had made it to the orange grove without bumping into a single warrior. Thank God.
Two trees ahead, another very pregnant young woman, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen, picked a plump orange and handed it to a toddler. “Put it in the basket, Angel. That’s right. Good girl.”
“Carra,” Tess said when they reached them. “May I present Addy.” As they exchanged quick hellos, Tess placed her hand on Carra’s belly. “Wow. You look like you’re due any second.”
“I am. It’ll be twenty weeks tomorrow. And I’ve got to tell you I am so ready for this baby to pop out. I figured a walk through the orchard would help things along.”
“Excuse me. You’re hoping to give birth at twenty weeks? That’s only five months, right?” Hadn’t Duncan explained that one Hyborean month had the same amount of hours as one Earth month?
Carra looked at her as though she had three heads.
“She’s from Earth,” Tess said as if that explained everything. “A pregnancy there is about nine months.”
“Ugh. That’s awful. I could never last that long.”
Tess turned to Addy. “The Hyboreans are extremely advanced in science and medicine. They have accelerated human gestation. Isn’t that something?”
“It’s something, all right.” No doubt they sped up the gestation period to make more babies just so they could kill them off in their stupid gladiator race. Her nausea returned. What was wrong with her body lately? It was like all this pregnancy talk was giving her sympathy pains.
After saying their good-byes, they continued further down the row and stopped at a tree with downturned branches laden with heavy, ripe fruit. She didn’t get three oranges into her basket before she noticed a strange Hyborean coming toward her with one of those stupid silver headbands. A tech-ring, Duncan had called it. He walked with purpose—head up, long strides—as if on a mission.
Her stomach lurched, bumping her heart way up into her throat. Something hard hit her shoe with a thud and rolled away.
When the Hyborean walked by her, a ringtone played and Carra, with a smile on her face and Angel toddling in tow, went to him.
Addy released the breath she was holding, and was struck once again by the sweet fragrance of oranges. She bent to retrieve the one she had dropped among the fallen fruit beneath the tree and waved away tiny, hovering flies.
“No,” Carra cried. “Not yet. Don’t take her yet.”
Tess’s head popped out from behind the branches. The Hyborean strode past, cradling the whimpering child.
Holding her belly, Carra ran after them and jumped for her daughter. The alien pushed her to the side. She hit his legs over and over. “Give her back,” she screamed through her tear-choked voice. “Give me my ba—” She clutched her necklace and dropped to all fours.
Raising a pitiful hand to the retreating Hyborean, she choked out the word “Angel,” then collapsed in tears.
A crescendo of nausea undulated Addy’s stomach. All at once, sweat broke out on her body and hot saliva pooled at the sides of her tongue. Muscles deep within her stomach convulsed. She bent over and heaved soured breakfast.
Tess pulled back her hair. “Are you okay?”
“No.” She vomited again. “I think I’m pregnant.”