The Esther Experiment

The Esther Experiment -- Chapter 3: Arrival

Chapter 3: Arrival 

 ESTHER 

Swallowing the string of swear words that threatened to launch from my mouth, I forced myself to keep pace with the group. I wanted to sprint ahead and yank the alien leader from his mount. As if little me would have the strength to challenge super-strong-him. If only I was that reckless. But I wasn't. So I tried instead to memorize every detail of our new reality.  

Our captors rode creatures that resembled horses with elephant trunks. Every so often, one of the beasts would raise its trunk and trumpet. The sound was ear-shattering, but there was nothing to do but endure it. The fear of being eaten kept us all in obedient formation.  

I was jogging beside Josh and Naomi, my two surviving teammates. I tried to push the vision of Imad's slaughter from my mind, but was failing. We were being prodded like cattle toward a huge stone wall that snaked around a mountain fortress.  

The mountain itself was part of the castle and the other sprawling structures, some of which resembled Twenty First Century buildings and others that reminded me of eras long past. If someone asked me to describe what I was seeing, I'd be hard-pressed. A mishmash of ancient splendor, combined with architecture that could have been constructed on earth, in my lifetime. Overhead, several Blimps glided through the clouds, and I saw what looked like a handful of military jets taking off from a distant airport. The contradictions of the planet were mind boggling.  

Continuing my appraisal of our surroundings, I again noticed the vile commander. He seemed to be everywhere. One second he was leading, the next he was riding beside me. In fact, he'd spent a bulk of his time just off to my right. When I finally gave in and looked his direction, his eyes found mind. He met my angry gaze and stared back. It almost seemed he was pleading with me to understand. If I didn't know better, I might have even believed he was sorry for sucking my new friend dry.  

Refusing to be swayed by his considerable magnetism, I turned away and spat on the ground. My rebellious action earned me a hard shove forward. I wasn't sure if it was one of my fellow captives or a captor who did the shoving. I didn't care. There would be time later (I hoped) to discover who I could or couldn't trust.  

For now, I glanced again at the commanding warrior. Despite his undeniable good looks, this merciless murderer had little in common with the romanticized blood drinkers featured in movies and books.  

For teenagers and adults too, vampires, werewolves, evil faeries, and other supernatural beings were the current rage. Some of my peers back home would be envious of my situation, regardless of the spilled blood. After all, I was surrounded by an alien race of bronzed, buffed, and beautiful male vampires. I wasn't sure what else to call them. And I hated myself for finding them, the despicable leader in particular, attractive.  

I decided I'd call him, in my mind anyway, Fang Face. Thinking of him as "the leader," just wasn't cutting it. For now, until I discovered his true name, Fang Face would have to do.  

As if suddenly aware of my rogue thoughts, the leader guided his horse-with-a-trunk closer to my side. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, and increased the speed of my jogging to a slow run. Not dissuaded by my refusal to acknowledge him, he blew a strange wood whistle and his riders slowed their mounts to a trot. We'd been running for several miles, the more relaxed pace was a huge relief. Several of the kids begged for water.  

Ignoring the plight of his thirsty captives, he turned to me, and with accented English introduced himself: "I am Rykeir. This ..." he stroked the creatures head, "is a chartigue. You are a guest of my royal family. This planet will be your home."