Page 50 of Zinnia and the Zombie
Their journey to the Grorn ship was silent, each lost in their own thoughts. The city spread out around them as they walked, magnificent even in its abandonment. She found herself memorizing details—the way sunlight filtered through the crumbling spires, the sound of water flowing through the ancient fountains, the rustle of the plants that had reclaimed the streets.
He kept her hand firmly in his, his thumb occasionally stroking her skin in a familiar gesture even as he remained alert for any remaining hazards from their traps. That small contact was enough to keep her darker thoughts at bay, though she couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her when they finally reached the ship and as they passed the site where the Grorn had performed their ritual sacrifice.
The ship itself was larger than she’d expected, a serpentine mass of dark metal that seemed to absorb rather than reflect the sunlight. It didn’t have the bulky lines of the Ithyian vessel they’d been imprisoned on, nor the simplicity of the flyer they’d escaped in. There was something almost organic about its design, as though it had grown rather than been built.
“Stay behind me,” he murmured as they approached the entry ramp, which still gaped open like the maw of some enormous beast.
The interior was dimly lit and smelled of something acrid and unpleasant. Just inside the entrance was a small shrine—another religious symbol similar to the one the priest had carried, surrounded by offerings that made her stomach turn. He quickly sealed the door to that compartment.
“We won’t need to go in there,” he said firmly.
Beyond that initial chamber, the ship was surprisingly functional, although everything was in shades of black or red. Utilitarian corridors led to various compartments—sleeping quarters, what appeared to be a communal eating area, storage rooms filled with supplies, and a larger temple which he also sealed. He moved through the space with the confidence of someone familiar with spacecraft design, though she knew he’d never been aboard a Grorn vessel before.
“The bridge should be this way,” he said, leading her down a wider corridor.
The command center was a stark contrast to the religious trappings near the entrance. Here, everything was efficient, designed for a single purpose—navigation and control. Rows of instruments lined the walls, their displays glowing with symbols she couldn’t begin to decipher.
He settled into what was clearly the pilot’s seat, his golden fingers moving over the controls with increasing confidence.
“Can you fly it?” she asked, taking the seat beside him.
“Of course. The fundamentals are similar enough to vessels I’ve piloted before,” he replied, his focus on the displays before him. “The Grorn have made some… unusual modifications, but the navigation systems follow standard principles.”
He bent back over the controls, exploring the ship’s systems. She watched him work, admiring the intensity of his concentration, the sureness of his movements. After several minutes, he paused, giving her an odd look.
“Zinnia…” he began, then hesitated.
“What is it?”
“I’ve accessed their navigation logs.” His eyes, those beautiful amethyst eyes, held a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite read. “There are coordinates for many systems. There is a possibility we might be able to find your home planet.”
The words hung in the air between them for a long moment.
Earth. Home. Her shop with its riot of colorful flowers. The quiet routine of her days. Mrs. Jensen’s cooking. The familiar streets of her small town.
All of it suddenly seemed like a half-remembered dream, belonging to some other woman who had lived some other life. The Zinnia who had tended those flowers and walked those streets would never have recognized the woman she had become—a woman who had survived abduction, crash-landing on an alien planet, and an attack by religious zealots. A woman who had found love in the most unlikely of places.
She looked at Jaxx, his golden skin glowing softly in the cockpit lights. This extraordinary being who had protected her, respected her, and loved her with a passion and tenderness she had never imagined possible. He was watching her now, his expression carefully neutral, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.
He was giving her a choice. Earth, with all its familiar comforts and safety. Or the unknown, with him.
No choice at all, really.
A slow, certain smile spread across her face. “You are my home now,” she said simply.
The tension melted from his posture, replaced by a warmth that made her heart swell.
“Instead of searching for Earth,” she continued, “why don’t we go in search of your people?”
The flash of naked hope in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “Zinnia, are you sure? Earth is your world, your?—”
“My past,” she interrupted gently. “You’re my future. And I think finding your people—or at least discovering what happened to them—is more important right now than returning me to a planet I don’t even belong on anymore.”
He reached across the space between them, taking her hand in his. “If we find my people, there’s no guarantee they’ll welcome a human among them.”
“Then we’ll face that together, just like everything else.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, I’ve gotten pretty good at adapting to alien customs.” Her teasing smile made his lips quirk.
“That you have,” he agreed softly.
