Michael's body was sore and stiff by the time the silence came. His light slowly faded until he was in darkness. He was tired, in both body and mind. But he had been like this before. Whatever was going to happen, he could handle it. He had always done his best, and he always would.
From far away Michael could hear a sound. Very faint and monotone, occasionally his ears would pick up a higher note of something else. But what it was he couldn't tell and it was getting louder.
He surveyed the area looking for a way to get out. He could move in the tight spaces, but he knew Jane couldn't. Michael had to get her out of here, eventually the patches would wear off, and it was better to move her sooner, rather than later. How was he going to get her through the debris without making her worse?
There was something else bothering him. How was he going to get passed those people? Michael became very aware that he had trapped them in this room. The sound was getting louder. Michael moved to stand and Jane grabbed his arm.
"It's better for us to separate. Whatever is out there may never know about you."
Jane slowly shook her head.
"I have to look. The sound..."
A tear fell from Jane's eye.
"Stay here. You can--"
Jane's grip on him tightened.
The sound was in the other room. Michael turned away from Jane ignoring her terrified eyes and removed her hand from his arm. He maneuvered through the debris towards the door. The sound changed, like a machine dropping gears. Michael was about a meter away when the door suddenly disappeared. It was torn from its hinges and thrown back into the bright lights beyond.
Michael was completely exposed. He stood stock still, laughing at his ineptness. Then he took a quick but thorough look at his environment. He could see nothing at first, but he could hear voices shouting. As his eyes adjusted he saw the room cleared from debris, and the women and children were gone. Two heavily armoured figures stood side by side, blocking the open doorway. Both of them had their right hand and forearm enclosed in a compound weapon pointed at Michael's belly and he could tell they were trained.
Michael knew he didn't have time to use his own weapon. He knew what he did right now meant either life or death. His thoughts moved rapidly ,sporadically. The old woman had turned around and shown him her back. The machine he had killed looked human from the front, it was its back that showed the truth. Michael turned around showing them his back.
The sound of the machine stopped.
What were they waiting for? Michael had to do something. He faced them.
The figures removed their helmets. They both had short brown hair. One man's face was badly scarred. The other was younger than the first. Michael could tell they were just as surprised by his presence as he was of theirs.
The scar faced man shouted words Michael didn't understand. Michael took a deep breath and raised his arms, trying to calm the highly tense situation. "You found me."
The older man made a sound like something between gasping and swearing. The younger man said nothing. He was looking behind Michael, and to Michael's horror he moved passed him.
"Wait, I..." But Michael was silenced by the glance the younger man gave him—intense and formidable. Michael put his hands up. "I'm not a threat—I promise." The man continued his hunt and Michael followed, ignoring the shouts from the scar faced man obviously meant for him to stay where he was. But Michael was not going to stay.
The bench where Jane had been lying was empty. Michael looked around the room. They both saw the movement beneath the bench at the same time. Michael tried to move passed the man but he was quicker and before Michael could do or say anything the man had his weapon on Jane. And she had hers on him. Michael was prepared to talk the man down, his mind already churning up words to say, his hands already reaching, his eyes gauging. But he didn't need to do anything. The man looked incredibly surprised. So did Jane. The man dropped his arm with the gun and held out his left hand to Jane. She stared at the hand, utterly confused.
Michael moved in, crouching in front of Jane. "I don't think they are here to kill us."
Jane nodded, and let Michael help her up. She leaned on him heavily. The younger man stepped back, saw Jane's injuries, then called to his companion in foreign words.
Out in the room, Michael eyed the machine as they passed. "Ah, Hydraulics, man thanks you again."
The old woman pushed her way into the room, as soon as she saw Michael a huge smile blossomed on her face. She made her way directly to him. She had the same brown eyes as the men and spoke foreign words interspersed with laughing while patting Michael on the arm. Then she looked at Jane. After one quick glance from head to toe, her smile was gone. She faced the two men, words in an angry tone poured from her lips. She moved to the scar faced man grabbing his arm enclosed in the weapon and pointing it to the floor.
The scar faced man smiled and bowed his head as she scolded him. And a scolding still sounds the same no matter what language you speak.
When she was finished, the old woman turned to Michael, and her smile was back. She pointed to Michael's eyes and then to her own brown ones. Then she stared at Michael with determination, mimicking the way they had stared at each other, then she laughed.
"You enjoyed the game we played." Michael said.
Michael's words brought about a great change in the old woman. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She exhaled a soft sound and then her face relaxed as though she was remembering a pleasant memory, she stepped closer. She stared at Michael with a yearning that was obvious. Michael didn't know what to do, it was awkward. The old woman's gnarled hands were cupping his face. "Earth." she said.
Michael looked into her searching eyes. "Yes. Yes! We came from Earth." He pointed to the ceiling. "Earth."
The old woman dropped her hands and almost jumped in excitement. Michael looked at Jane whose head hung staring at the floor. "Can you help her?" The old woman followed his gaze.
"Ah, ah." The old woman moved to the corridor. "Keh, keh." She was gesturing to them. To Michael this gesture meant to go away, but it was very obvious that in their culture it meant for them to follow. The two soldiers waited next to the doorway and when the old woman passed them, she turned her head up, stood on toes, and kissed the older scar faced soldier on the mouth. Then she was out of the room. Michael stood taller under the gaze of the two soldiers as they walked passed. Jane surprised Michael by looking up at them. They looked stiff and awkward, almost embarrassed. The younger one stepped forward, looked down, and then seemed to reconsider his actions. He stepped back beside the older soldier. Once Michael and Jane were through the door, the older one spoke chiding words to the younger one followed by a gentle cuff to the side of the head.
In the hallway were many people. Even now, heavily armoured figures were coming down the corridor. Two lines had formed, one coming in and one going out. Many of the soldiers had their helmets off.
The scar faced soldier was in the hallway now. Jane looked back. When the women came out of the room, they kissed him just as the old woman had. Even the children did this. The younger man was also in the hallway. When Jane made eye contact with him, he smiled.
Michael was careful through the corner, he didn't fall this time. He helped Jane up the stairs, the huge build-up of dirt was gone. They moved through the door Michael had called the door to nowhere. A few steps out and Michael stopped.
The area around them was littered with vehicles, equipment, and chunks of torn metal half buried in gray sand. The smoke rising from them moved into the air a couple metres before it disappeared. Bodies of soldiers lay everywhere. There were woman and children crouched around them. Michael was filled with sadness, then anger. This planet was supposed to be dead! How could this happen?
"Keh! Aiy-s-toat." The old woman was to their right beckoning for them to follow. Jane cried out with each step.
"Just a little further. Look there! She is already setting up." Michael pointed to a blanket on the ground. They passed one of the soldiers in the dirt. It was a human face on one side, hollow on the other. A woman crouched over its belly pulling out gelatinous lumps. She put the dripping pieces into a cloth bag, smiling at Michael and Jane as they passed.
"Aiy-s-toat!" The old woman continued to gesture.
"Michael." Jane reached out to him.
"Only a little further Jane." Michael took her cold hand in his. A small group of children had formed, following a safe distance behind them.
Michael helped Jane onto the blanket. Once down, Jane closed her eyes. "Don't you dare fall asleep Jane. I don't care how long you've been awake." Michael looked up. Three brave children had moved close by, watching Michael, one of them imitating him. They giggled when Michael looked up. It frustrated him.
"Look at me Jane!" Michael did his best to ignore the children's imitation of his speech.
Jane's eyes slowly opened.
"Don't close your eyes." Michael pleaded. While Michael checked the patches on Jane's arm her eyes closed again. Michael realized he had left the med kit back inside. He cursed himself. The children cursed as well. The old woman shooed them off.
She knelt down beside Jane putting her hand on Jane's forehead and spoke Jane's name. Hearing the foreign voice made Jane open her eyes. The old woman pointed to herself. "Oosa." She beamed a wide strong toothed smile. Then she pointed to Jane and said her name again. Oosa pointed to herself again, but she didn't say her name. She waited, then pointed to Jane's mouth.
"Oosa." Jane said.
The old woman pointed to Michael then pointed to Jane's mouth.
"Michael." Jane said.
"Ah." Oosa breathed relief, smiling at Michael. Then she pointed to her head and laughed.
"Yeah," Michael said, "We're not crazy yet."
Several others bent down around them. A hand went behind Jane's head, lifting it. Michael found the owner of the hand. The woman was wearing the same armour as the others and when she saw she had his blue eyes, the corners of her lips curved up into little mischievous commas.
"Michael?" Jane sounded frightened.
The woman had a blue glass bottle which she drank from, then put next to Jane's lips.
"I'm here. I'm right here." Michael put his hand under Jane's neck. The woman moved her hand to overlap Michael's slightly, so between the two of them, Jane's head was supported. Michael glanced at her, and she smiled back. Michael looked down at his sister. "It's okay. Drink it."
Jane drank the offered liquid.
A thick, yellow liquid was touched to every wound Jane had. Michael hesitantly watched Oosa removed the last piece of Jane's protection suit from her broken arm. Jane cried out in pain. The woman with the mischievous smile quickly passed Oosa a cloth soaked in yellow liquid, which Oosa gingerly applied to Jane's arm. Together, the two women carefully removed the blood soaked sleeve exposing the skin. Jane's arm was black, Michael had never seen a bruise so bad. He suspected her arm was shattered.
Oosa spoke to the woman with the smile. Michael watched her run disappearing into the gray dust, then return with a cloth wrapped package. Everyone but Oosa and the woman with the smile moved away. When Michael didn't, Oosa waved her hands aggressively as she spoke to shoo him off.
Michael stood a meter away watching. The woman with the mischievous smile laid the large cloth bundle on the sand unrolling it. Oosa took a brace out, released some pins on the side, and opened it up. Then she positioned it carefully around Jane's black arm. She had the woman with the smile check it before they closed it ensuring that the pins locked. Michael could tell they had done this before.
The woman with the smile approached Michael. Her long dark hair was braided back and she walked easily in her fighting gear, her weapon on her back. She offered Michael the glass bottle. He took it thankfully and drank the liquid. But the moment it hit his tongue he nearly spit it out. It tasted like vinegar. Michael forced what he had in his mouth down his throat and then passed the bottle back to the woman. She bowed, hiding the smile that came to her lips. Then she walked off. Michael watched her go.
That's when he saw the older scar faced man approaching. He was followed by about fifty people—men, women, and children. And more were joining every second. The scar face man called out to the woman who offered Michael the vinegar and she joined the group falling in beside the younger man; they exchanged a few words. Somehow Michael knew this group was coming for him. He swallowed hard, then moved to them.
The scar faced man sat in the sand with his legs crossed, beckoning Michael to sit across from him. There was a line of nine people with the older scar faced man in the middle. On one side of the scar faced man, Michael recognized the younger one from earlier and beside him was the woman with that irresistible smile. On the other side was an empty space, and next to that sat a wide faced man with a flat nose. Michael didn't recognize him, nor did he recognize the woman next to him. Behind the nine, also in rows, sat the rest of the people. Only Jane and Oosa remained separate. Michael was overwhelmed, so many brown eyes looking at him, all the people had the same brown hair and brown eyes. Michael on one side, and all of them on the other. He was careful to cross his legs in the same manner as they did.
The older scar faced man in the middle bowed his head, raised it, and pointed to his nose. "Kill." he said. "Kill Eyes Down." And he said the words in perfect English.
"Your name is Kill Eyes Down." Kill bowed. Michael was impressed, he looked the man over—scars that gave a testimony to the action he had seen, and a calmness in his eyes. The man accepted Michael's scrutiny knowing Michael approved. He pointed to Michael's nose.
"Michael. Michael Hallowell."
Kill repeated Michael's name. Then he began making holes in the sand before him. He made a row of nine holes, then made five more rows of nine holes, working towards his legs. Michael realized about half way through that Kill was drawing the seating position of everyone.
"Kill." Kill pointed to a hole in the middle of the front nine. Then he made a hole in front of Michael and pointing to it he said, "Michael."
Michael looked at the hole that represented him. Kill gestured for Michael to continue. Michael put two holes a short distance away. "Jane." he said pointing to one hole. "Oosa." Michael pointed to the other.
Kill nodded and pointed to the hole that represented himself, then moved his handover the holes behind him. "Ni-cho-ko-waks." Kill repeated this gesture and the accompanying phrase three times. Then he pointed to the hole representing Michael.
Michael suddenly understood. Kill was explaining that the people behind him were his people and he was wondering if Michael had any people. Michael stood and took two steps away. He drew three rectangles in the sand then began to make holes in the largest rectangle. He named off a soldier for each hole. Once he was done he took his hand and ruffed up the sand. He looked up at Kill. "They died. They're dead."
Kill pointed to a body in the sand.
"Yes. They are dead."
Kill pointed to his gun.
"No they weren't shot. Jane saw them." Michael pointed to Jane.
Kill exchanged words with the younger man beside him. Then he turned back to Michael and spoke. Suddenly Michael understood.
"No. Jane didn't kill them."
Kill bowed his head. Michael wondered as he continued, "I don't know what killed--" Kill bowed his head again, looking slightly confused. "them because I didn't see them get killed." Kill bowed his head again, definitely confused.
"Why do you keep bowing your head?" Michael asked. Kill looked at him blankly. "It was Jane who saw them get killed." Kill bowed again.
The younger man grabbed Kill's arm and quietly spoke to him. As he explained, Kill's eyes widened along with his mouth, then he laughed.
Understanding suddenly came to Michael. "Your name. You bow your head when I say your name."
Kill beckoned for more words.
"Jane didn't shoot them. Harris and Ibber. Jane saw--" Michael cupped his hands around his eyes. "Jane saw them - get dead."
Kill looked at Michael for a moment, then stood. The others followed including Michael. Kill gestured towards Jane. Michael knew Kill wanted to talk to her. But Michael couldn't get anything out of her, and he didn't think they would either. He just didn't know how to tell them that.
"Jane." Michael called to her as they approached, hurrying past Kill to get to her first.
Jane looked up and immediately became intimidated by all the brown eyes. She focused on Michael.
"This is Kill," Michael spoke quickly. Kill bowed his head. "He wants to know what ki--, what made Harris and Ibber dead."
Jane looked at Kill, then she looked at Michael with fear in her eyes.
Michael crouched down, roughing up the sand. "Can you draw it? In the sand?"
Oosa spoke to Kill, and after he answered she drew in her breath sharply and helped Janes it up. Jane looked again, from Kill to Michael. Then she looked down at the sand.
It was taking along time. Michael grew impatient. He shuffled his weight from foot to foot. Many others were anxiously moving, and some of the children had already run off. But Michael noticed Kill waited perfectly calm.
Jane couldn't draw what she had seen. So instead she drew two figures in the sand, one running from the other, long lines coming out of his belly, and the figure chasing him had no head. Before she was done, Kill sucked in his breath. "Ss-ee-hoi-ah."
Oosa leaned over and destroyed the picture Jane had drawn. Then she wrapped her arms around Jane and hugged her.
"See – what?" Michael said.
Kill began shouting orders.
"Michael!" Oosa beckoned for Michael to help her get Jane up.
Michael couldn't believe how quickly the people moved. One minute everyone was moving around in a mass, the next minute they were packed, their dune buggies, hidden by the gray tarps, ready to go.
"I don'tunderstand." Michael spoke to Jane as they moved into a vehicle. "What are they running from."
Jane couldn't answer, but she knew what it was.
Michael sighed. "We are never going to get back to the others."
His comment joined the other comments deep inside Jane. The ones that blamed her, the ones that hurt her. They were never going to get off this planet,and Jane knew it was her fault. She blamed herself for everything. She'd killed thousands on the Holiday. She'd killed the soldiers by bringing them to those buildings. She'd even killed Captain and his group. Captain had told her to come back; she never would. Everyone was dead. Everyone but her and her brother.
Jane rested her head against the seat, her eyes half closed. The physical pain was gone. But without it, the emotional pain had nothing to stop it. Jane could see only one way to run. The temptation to sleep was stronger than she could bear.
"I don't understand." Michael's voice was the last thing Jane heard.