Page 7 of Taken By the Soldier
“Yes. Thank you for the drink.”
Now that I feel physically better, I become aware of my body pressing against the soldier. My eyes dart around as I take in my surroundings. I appear to be in the back of a box truck. There are screens that display the outside scenery—the last vestige of the sun slipping over the horizon. Large crates are stacked against the back wall, the only wall that doesn’t contain a screen, and there’s a small lantern on the floor that illuminates the entire space.
I remember watching a news program once about the high-tech armored solar trucks the Zasforrans possess. Holy crap. I never imagined I might get to see one from the inside.
Two enemy soldiers sit leaning against the opposite wall, weapons in hand, their eyes closed. A pair of women lay between them, asleep under a blanket. It appears I’m not the only captive.
Iscaptivethe right word?
I want to know if I’m a prisoner of war but can’t summon the bravery to ask. I’m still too stunned by what has happened. I recall the shaking of my building and the smoke, as well as the loud explosions, and my heart sinks.
I’ve lost my home, my sanctuary, my precious supplies.
The apocalypse really fucking sucks.
Okay, I know this isn’t actually the end of times—life is carrying on just fine in other parts of the world—but it’s the end ofmyworld. My friends, my family, my job, my home—all of it gone.
“Let me help you lay back down.” Luka shifts me onto a soft blanket and places another blanket over my body. His gentleness causes something inside me to break and I find myself blinking back moisture. I hadn’t realized how badly I missed human contact during my weeks of isolation.
“What happened?” I ask. I can guess the answer, but I want his version of events—including why the fuck I’m in the back of a Zasforran truck headed toGod-knows-where?
Luka scowls and glances at his fellow soldiers-at-rest. His eyes return to mine, and I recoil under his intense scrutiny. I pull the cover up to my chin like a shield. Maybe Iamhis captive.
“We got into a skirmish with a few Americans. They aimed a couple of rockets at us, and your building was in the line of fire. I had my goggles on and spotted you under a partially collapsed wall.”
“Goggles?”
He pats a large pair of what look like sunglasses-on-steroids that are attached to his belt. “They detect body heat. Doesn’t matter how far you’re buried under the rubble, if you’re alive and breathing, I’ll see you.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, thinking. Should I thank him? Fear coils in my stomach. He saved my life, but what happens now? “Where are you taking me?” I brace myself, fearing his answer.
“We have a settlement in the mountains.”
“Then why were you in Baltimore?”
He regards me for a long moment, his assessing gaze sweeping up and down my body. “We need women.”
They need…women.
It takes several seconds for my brain to process the meaning of his words.
Holy shit.
I look away from the soldier and swallow hard. The Zasforr Islands had been a rigid, patriarchal society. I’d loved my independent life in the city and doubt I would mesh well with these displaced Zasforrans, especially if I’ll be considered a prisoner.
What would my official status be in the enemy’s newly established settlement?
“Ah!” I wince as I close my hands into fists. I hadn’t noticed the bandages covering my palms until now.
“Careful. Your knees were cut up too.” As he shifts the blanket down to reveal my bandaged knees, his hands trail along my bare leg. My nightgown is bunched up at my waist, and my face flushes with embarrassment as I try to better cover myself.
Suddenly my habit of changing into pajamas before bedtime just to maintain the semblance of a routine feels silly. I would give anything for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt right about now. Something practical.
Something easy to run away in.
Luka’s hand remains on my bare leg, gently stroking, and to my horror, goosebumps prickle my flesh, and a surge of warmth undulates in my core. I berate myself for experiencing any sort of attraction to the enemy.
“Don’t touch me.” The venomous words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. My eyes shoot to his at once, gauging his reaction. Is he quick to anger?
