Page 62 of Exiles on Earth
Rockets ignite with a roar, vibrating through my feet. This is insane. Insane. What’s even more insane? Hanging on to the inside of a spaceship while it banks and starts to rise. Fuck. I’m going to lose my grip and bounce all the way down the corridor, smashing myself to pieces on the way.
No, the most insane thing is following Ilia in here, but in my defense, the thing hadn’t looked like a flying saucer, it looked like a shed.
“Shit!” Snatching my phone out of my pocket, I fumble to dial Arabella as the ship vibrates. “Pick up, pick up!”
Click. “You’ve reached Arabella the Impossible, apparently, whatever that means. I mean, I’m not that hard to figure out, am I? And I don’t change my mind once my heart is set, even though it’s really, really hard sometimes to keep following it even when I’m not successful, or—” Thankfully Arabella’s newest confusing message runs out, and I can record.
“Arabella, I’m on a spaceship! I followed Ilia in, and they’re taking him somewhere. Don’t… don’t worry, I think they won’t hurt me. I hope. Just stay safe, look after the farm, and?—”
A screech of machinery cuts me off, and the floor tilts violently. I grab Floss, clutching her trembling body against me as the world lurches. My free hand scrambles for a hold on the smooth walls, but the slick surface offers nothing. The ship pitches upward, and gravity yanks me toward the rear hatch.
The door behind me—or now beneath me—shakes. “El-len?” comes Ilia’s muffled voice.
“Help!” I scream, chest feeling like it’s about to split open as I cling to the edge of the doorframe. My grip is weak, my armburns, and Floss squirms wildly in my hold. The ship tilts again, sharper this time, and my fingers slip.
I plummet until a crushing grip catches my bicep, jerking me to a stop. My shoulder wrenches painfully, but I’m not dead. Not broken either. Dangling above the drop, I look to see what I snagged on.
Ilia’s hand extends through a jagged hole in the door, his fist clamped around my arm like a vice. The door’s crumpled outward; he punched a huge hole straight through. His eyes burn with panic, scales flushed deep crimson.
“El-len!” he roars, pulling me up towards him.
I latch onto his forearm with both hands, nails digging into his scaled skin. “Ilia, hold on! Don’t drop us!”
His eyes flash. “I would never.”
Another violent lurch slams my side into the jagged doorframe. I gasp in pain, but Ilia’s grip never wavers. Then, with a guttural roar, his other hand punches through the twisted metal, seizing the front of my clothes. His strength is staggering, but red glows in the ravines between his scales, gaping wider with every passing second. His arms are bursting open in front of me.
The ship tilts again, gravity easing, and my body feels lighter, weightless. I shut my eyes tight, tasting iron as fear twists my stomach. Keep going, lass. Don’t lose focus.
When I finally force my eyes open, my breath catches. I’m floating, surrounded by red droplets drifting around me, like glowing beads in a lava lamp.
I trace the trail back to him. His arm lays wedged into the jagged edges of the door, crimson seeping from gouges in his scales. Red bubbles up, becoming another bead of blood. His eyes lock on me, the agony carved into his features tearing at my heart.
“Ilia.” My voice cracks. “You’re hurt.”
“We’ll enter cruising velocity soon,” he growls, though hisvoice trembles. His fingers spasm against my arm, slick with blood, but he grips tighter. “I won’t let you go.”
His scales blaze a fiery red, glowing brighter as he shifts his weight, grinding his arms against the serrated metal of the door. His determination radiates, but so does his pain.
Tears sting my eyes. I did this. I ordered him not to drop me, and he hurt himself by obeying. “You’re going to hurt yourself badly. Let me go, I’ll be okay.”
His low, guttural growl reverberates through the air, over the scream of the engine blasting us off Earth. “I want you better than ‘okay.’”
He adjusts again, biting back a groan. Blood pools in the air around him, his arm trembling with the effort. He’s at his breaking point, and I can’t let him do this to himself.
“Ilia, let me go. That’s an order!”
His scales flicker in a ripple away from me, his eyes tormented. His hands begin to loosen, his shoulders slumping. The sight twists my stomach with guilt and relief.
The moment he lets go, gravity pulls me gently downward. Floss and I drift, slower than before, my heart hammering as the corridor tilts into view below. I’ve never experienced anything like it, floating freely yet safely. I grin.
I slam into something hard behind me, the impact rattling through my body and snapping me back to reality.
Hands clamp onto my upper arms and spin me around, and I dangle face to face with Ilia.
“Hi! How did you get out?”
He says something in a guttural language, but the accusing tone makes it clear he’s upset, and this time my stomach hits the deck. It isn’t Ilia at all.
