Page 12 of Zalis
“Being cared for.”
“Tia? She was pretty ill.” The way her cough had grown steadily worse and that she had been completely unresponsive haunted Gemma. She hoped rescue had arrived in time.
“I am not a medic,” Zalis said.
Something in his tone made her believe that he withheld information. “Please,” she said. “Tell me what you know.”
“She is being treated for pneumonia and expected to recover. Several of your compatriots are being treated for a respiratory infection, in addition to dehydration and malnourishment.”
Not surprising but still distressing. The days had been hot and the nights cold with only the thinnest blanket. Barely enough food and water to survive. Of course they were sick. “They kept us in cages like animals. Actually, animals are treated better,” she said.
“Conditions were appalling,” Zalis agreed.
Gemma nodded—and that was a mistake. The room spun and wobbled.
“What did they do to me?” she asked.
The soft noises of the room filled the silence as she waited for an answer.
“Your question is unclear,” Zalis eventually said. “Do you mean your abductors or the medics?”
Gemma wanted to laugh, but she was too busy drifting away from herself. She had a good idea of what her abductors had done, but there were gaps in her memory, and she was fairly certain she didn’t want those gaps filled in. “The medics.”
“You have a fracture in your left ankle.”
“Good thing I’m right-footed,” she said.
No response.
“You’re right. That punchline doesn’t work. Let’s start over to get off on the right foot.”
Another long pause. “You are using humor to cope with a traumatic experience.”
“Gallows humor is a perfectly respectable means of coping.” Healthy? Not necessarily. Also, it was hard to crack jokes with her head drifting and floating. “Why don’t I hurt? I feel fuzzy.”
“The ankle requires surgery. You are being treated for pain until then.”
Well, that made sense.
“Emry? Where is she?” Gemma had the feeling that she had asked before.
“On her way.” Zalis leaned forward, his face fully in the light. It wasn’t a handsome face, but it was interesting, which was better. She liked it. He said, “You should sleep.”
Impossible. Not with nightmares waiting when she closed her eyes.
“When the medics come back, tell them to ease up on the meds,” she said.
He cocked his head to one side and said, “Suffering proves nothing. You should be comfortable.”
“Suffering proves this is real.” And not another nightmare.
Zalis seemed to understand this despite the words never leaving her throat. His eyes fixed on her outstretched hand, hanging over the edge of the bed. “With permission, I will hold your hand so you know this is real.”
Gemma hesitated. She didn’tknowhim. A few weeks ago—a month? Two? How long since she had been abducted? It didn’t matter. Before she had been abducted and sold to aliens, she railed against the treaty and, by extension, the aliens that traded female lives for Earth’s safety. Holding his hand wasn’t proof this was real. It was proof that she continued to be trapped in a nightmare universe that treated her like property.
Somehow, despite all that, she trusted him for no good reason. A laugh? An interesting face? She was disappointingly shallow.
Too exhausted to pick through the thorny issue, Gemma decided it could wait until morning.
