Escape from Harrizel (26 page)

Tucker pleads with one of the girls,
pointing at Reid and Ansley who have barely calmed down. They’re
still yelling but with no one paying obvious attention, they’re
freer to speak directly. She goes to touch his cheek but he grabs
her wrist and throws it down. She tries again, and again, he throws
her hands off him. She makes one last attempt, her mouth going a
mile a minute and finally, with a reproachful sigh, he allows her
hands to rest there.

“He’s just…” Able starts.

“It’s fine,” I lie, quickly looking for
anything else to occupy my attention. I turn to Sampson, “Mind if I
pick your brain a little?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been dying to ask a few things. I’d
uh… really appreciate it.”

“Yes, Fallon, I think that’d be rather
nice,” his smile widens as I look up to him. “Your bunk or
mine?”

“Yours,” I start, my mind already racing
with the questions I have for him. Sampson begins to lead us away,
the thought of his bunker and the extravagant display of babeebs
rising to the top of my questions, “Because last time…”

A body jumps between us and I’m thrown off
balance. I look up and find Reid with half his back turned to me,
facing Sampson. “We need to talk.”

“Oh—good timing,” Sampson throws an
encouraging glance over. “We were just about to go…”

“Sorry, Fallon,” Reid shakes his head, “not
tonight.”

“Why?”

“Just not tonight, okay? I need to talk to
Sampson about some things. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“We’ll reschedule,” Sampson frowns, Reid
already ushering them away. They head for the stairs up to the
Courtyard, neither looking back. What could be so important that
they need to talk now? It must be important. Otherwise it would’ve
waited…

“Weird,” Able mumbles next to me.

“Do all RCs keep sirollas? Or is it just
Reid?”

“No, we all do,” he opens his sleeve pocket,
where the Dofinikes have been keeping the pills. Retrieving the
same clear sphere, he holds it up, “In case there’s an emergency
and we have to get into someone’s room.”

“Mind if I borrow it?”

He frowns. “Why?”

“I just—I need to. You’ll get it back
tomorrow. I
promise
.”

Reluctant, he hands it over. “Okay, but
don’t—”

I take the sirolla and make off after
Sampson and Reid, flying up the same darkened stairwell and into
the Courtyard after them. Now, would they go to Reid’s to discuss
or would Sampson’s be safer? A thought hits me—perhaps they’re not
going to either. Perhaps they’re going back to Camp. Can I make the
journey by myself?

But then I spot them.

Five flights up.

I take off and am on their floor in less
than a minute. Slowing, I approach Sampson’s door. Grasping the
sirolla in my right hand I pause, holding it in the air. Is this
right? What I’m about to do? Walking right into his room, into
their discussion, demanding to know what’s going on? What if I’m
not supposed to know? What if it’s terrible? A million questions
race through my mind as the intent of my original mission gets
blurred. I came here with a dogged pursuit. And that was…

To learn the truth.

My hand shakes, the sirolla jerking slightly
as I hold it close to the crimson archway. Suddenly, thousands of
tiny white hairs extend from the sphere, latching themselves to the
door. Six blocks of symbols snap back, locking into place and the
door opens.

I rush in, hearing one word. The word, which
takes a moment to register, is like an afterthought; a dessert to
be considered later, after the present entrée is consumed. And it’s
taking me a moment to digest what I see—

Pacing, on one side of the closet-sized room
is Reid, flabbergasted by my appearance. On the other end, towering
high above him, looms an unfamiliar Dofinike who stares at me with
wide, surprised eyes. He’s enormous, nearly the same size as
Tetlak, but he doesn’t exude the same pompous, threatening stance.
This Dofinike looks rather puzzled, like he’s forgetting some
obvious etiquette. He takes a step toward me but I back up
instinctively, kicking into survival mode again.

I don’t have time to scream.

Reid is on me in an instant, one hand over
my mouth, the other wrapped around my waist, keeping me from
fleeing. He pulls me toward him as we fall to our knees, the door
slamming shut. His hand tightens as he repeats the word from
before, sitting me up to look at the Dofinike.

“
Sampson
.”

I don’t understand.

Reid’s got his arms locked around me like a
steel cage, my chest heaving under his inch-proof grip. But I’m
imagining it. I must be. There’s no way I’m seeing what I am.

The Dofinike’s whiskers slowly retract on
themselves, zipping up to disappear in the morphing flap of skin
covering his face. Dark pine seconds ago, it fades to fleshy tan as
his yellow, reptilian eyes retake the friendly robin’s egg blue
I’ve grown fond of seeing.

Is it really true?

Is this Dofinike Sampson?

I want to scream. I want to scream it all
out. All the lies, all the secrets. A moment ago, a Dofinike was in
this room and now, it’s only us three.

“Fallon,” he tries, stepping toward me, “let
me explain.”

Squirming under Reid’s grip, I’m confused
why I’m reacting this way. I trust Sampson. I
do
. Maybe it’s
too much right now. Maybe with everything else going on, I was
hoping Sampson would be the one constant. The one thing to keep the
fight going. But with this new development, I’m not sure he’s even
part of the fight anymore.

Reid’s grip on me tightens.

“
Relax
,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s
Sampson.
Sampson
…”

It’s my fault. My punishment for busting in
when I wasn’t welcomed, for intruding on a private moment—one I
should’ve never known about. He hushes me with his hold, dropping
his mouth down by my ear.

“You have to trust me and you have to trust
Sampson. He’s on
our
side,” Reid’s voice creaks at the word.
“He’s our inside source.”

Pausing, I try on his meaning. I guess it
does sort of make sense. Sampson’s vast knowledge on things, his
courageous banter with Tetlak as if there was nothing to fear, as
if a Dofinike was not intimidating to him. And why would it be if
he’s also one? But why pretend? Why hide it?

“There’s a lot you don’t understand,” Reid
says as my eyes shift to Sampson. He’s sitting on his bed, gazing
out to the window.

“Fallon,” Sampson looks at me, “we’ve been
meaning to tell you our secret for some time. I’m sorry you found
out this way—I didn’t think you’d be ready to handle this. Can I
trust by your silence that you are?”

Reid’s hand drops from my mouth tentatively,
ready to spring back to place if need be. I nod, nearly motionless.
This is Sampson.
Sampson
.

“Very good,” he smiles, redirecting focus to
Reid over my shoulder. “It might be best to disclose your side of
things before delving into mine, yes?”

Reid offers a quick nod before shifting me
toward him. We’re still on the floor, sitting now as Reid’s mouth
hangs open, empty words falling out. He closes his mouth, reforms
his thoughts and starts again.

“I told you food dropped into my lap after I
left the Kings,” he tilts his head from side to side, “that’s… half
true. I went out looking for it first. Had to find a way to feed
everyone…” he clears his throat, taking a minute to compose
himself. “The night I left, I waited until midnight, when I knew
everyone was back in their rooms and Tetlak and the guards were
upstairs. I took off through the gate and into the jungle like
you,” he glances at me momentarily, “but… I didn’t make it as far.
I fell into a Plausinis bush. Got shot with enough venom to kill
me. I was…” he nods, the details of the scene reforming behind his
eyes, “…done for. Or, would’ve been… if Sampson here hadn’t found
me,” Reid tosses a gracious smile to his friend.

“But isn’t the gate rigged?”

Reid nods. “And I was tagged. But Sampson
removed it. And I knew I could trust him. Whatever he told me….”
Reid pauses, his mind running away with him again, to another time.
Eyes glazed in the distance, he continues after a second. “He
showed me the tunnels out, how to escape the Castle, how and where
to gather food. For a while,” Reid nods, admitting it, “
we
were feeding the Rogues and Scouts. Every night after Leisure Time,
we’d head out, gathering Gupples and Marowines for hours and bring
them back. Finally,” he rubs his hands through his hair, “Clark and
Vix started coming with us. They knew Sampson’s secret too. There
was debate in telling Pratt… but we needed all the help we could
get.

“If it wasn’t for Sampson, for his
knowledge…” Reid throws him a thankful smile, “for his
humanity
, the Rogues would’ve been done. We wouldn’t have
had a way to pay our Scouts, our Clients… we would’ve starved.”

With this he looks to Sampson again, whose
focus has drifted to the window. The last statement hangs in the
air as a long, silent moment passes. What’s he waiting for? Does he
still think I can’t take the truth?

“Why are you pretending to be human?” I
ask.

“I have no choice,” Sampson continues to
gaze out the window.

“What do you mean? How can you have no
choice?”

“It’s very easy when you’re overruled, you
see,” his words are slow, giving each one the attention it
deserves. “The obligations you must keep. I’m here, on Harrizel,
taking the form of a human because I
must
. Because it is the
will of my life to be bound to your kind, rather than mine,” a
subtle tinge of anger hangs at his last word. “So believe me,
Fallon,” he concludes, finally turning to look upon me with a
heavy, morose gaze I don’t expect, “while I do enjoy your company,
I’m here out of necessity rather than preference.”

“But why?”

“It’s our own fault. Our love for your
kind,” he glances between Reid and I, then back to the window and
the captivating night, a sight he seems to sink further into.
“Clarence and I didn’t mean for it to happen.
Any
of it.
Truth be told, we were too arrogant—too superior—to accept the
obvious risk involved. As if it couldn’t touch us, as if we were
out of its reach…

“It started off innocently enough, as most
things do,” Sampson shifts ever so slightly, his robin’s egg eyes
fixated on some point lost in the sky, “when we first learned of
you. A culture so vastly different from our own but then, so very
much the same. What were you strange creatures and why had your
fate been so irrevocably intertwined with ours?” at this he offers
us a glance, as if still trying to figure it out. “But we were
young—what did we know of life? Of
consequences
…” he nearly
whispers the last word, his eyes returning to that same point
outside. A long, quiet moment and then, “We started bringing you
back.”

“In the beginning, it was just a few and
only those who’d die otherwise,” he glances at us again, to make
sure we understood his meaning. “What good are you as rotting
corpses when here, you could have a second chance? We only took
those already lost to that life—we gave them a new one. We thought
we were doing the right thing,” a large lump rolls down his throat.
“Soon, with so many humans, a small colony began, thriving
alongside the Dofinikes. We were friends… some of us family. It was
wonderful really… but then it all changed.”

The Ruins. I feel them now, feel their pull
as Sampson talks about it. My heart’s beating with excitement,
anticipation but I force myself to sit and wait. It’s his turn to
talk.

“The Leaders found out what we’d done. It
was treason, with the prophecy…”

“Prophecy?” The word slips from my
mouth.

“The risk,” Sampson nods, “what causes your
kind to be irrevocably intertwined with ours—the prophecy
sullio
pf ticrocki gagazinoff
—
human conquering Dofinike
. It’s
known throughout our people—our world. You see,” he says, taking a
heavy breath, “within the Dofinike culture, we are all related. Not
in the family dynamic you’re accustomed to. We have that, yes, but
also, our
species
is related to one another. With every new
Dofinike born, we strengthen individually. With every one deceased,
we weaken. We are related to one another on more than just a
physical level. It is one of the spirit,” he waits a moment for me
to digest his meaning. “So the prophecy of
human conquering
Dofinike
—to some—has been depicted as a war
against
the
Dofinikes
by
the humans.” Again, he waits for it to sink in,
unleashing the horror I know to follow. “So, when the Leaders found
our colony, Reuzkimpart ordered the immediate cleansing.”

At this, Sampson lowers his head, his words
hanging in the air.

There’s so much I want to ask. So much that
needs clarifying. The thoughts all jumble into each other, fighting
for the front of the line. Finally, I blurt out the first question
that drops to my mouth. “Who’s Reuzkimpart?”

Sampson glances up. “One of the Leaders.
Curiously enough, the one who discovered the prophecy. The rest of
the Leaders weren’t receptive to the idea of killing the humans at
first. Reuzkimpart—out of cowardice—convinced them it was best for
Dellapalania.” As if anticipating my question, Sampson answers
automatically. “Dellapalania is our home planet. Harrizel—here,” he
glances around the bunker, taking in its sordid sight, “this is a
moon. Supposedly
Moon of Hope,
but who knows what that means
anymore?”

Sampson glances out the window again, “With
Reuzkimpart’s persuasion and the threat of the prophecy, the rest
of the Leaders agreed and ordered the extermination of all humans,”
his words soften as he considers what he’s saying. “Generations of
families lost. Friendships, all shattered forever… I’d been labeled
a traitor, aiding the humans who were here to conquer us. Conquer
us
?” he repeats to himself, seeing the scenes replaying in
his head. “The humans were massacred. Children. Elderly. And
I
was the traitor?