Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

the silver wrapper. It was more of the Drenard writing her mother had shown her: piles of sticks that she couldn’t believe anyone could discern at a glance.

She looked at Walter and his sneering broadened, his eyes wide as if waiting on something.

“Show me,” she sighed.

The small Palan dropped his utensil and scurried over to her side. He busied himself with buttons on the electric oven and placed the packet inside, arranging it carefully. He constantly glanced at Molly to make sure she was watching appreciatively.

“Where is everybody?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Time iss funny here. I can’t tell if we sshould be awake or assleep.” The machine beeped and Walter moved the package to a plate, opening it up carefully and spilling the food out. “Ssome Drenardss left sseveral hourss ago. They took much sstuff with them.” He rummaged for utensils in a drawer and presented them to Molly.

“Thanks,” she said, more out of habit than feeling. She plopped down to eat while Walter beamed at her. She could see over the counter and through the glass that the shuttle was still parked up front, out of the wind. “Have you seen Cole?”

Walter frowned. He pointed straight up. “Outsside,” he hissed.

Molly dropped her fork, grabbed a juice pouch and ration bar from the cabinet, and went out to find him and drag his butt back to bed. She pulled the glass door open and squinted into the dancing colors. There was no sign of him.

“Up here.” The words drifted down on the wind, barely audible.

Molly turned around and looked up; Cole sat at the edge of the flat roof, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“There’s a ladder on that side,” he said. The blanket shifted, a hand gesturing vaguely from within.

You idiot, Molly thought as she ran around the side of the shelter. She climbed up the ladder and walked across the flat roof to Cole, kneeling down beside him. “What are you doing up here? You should be in bed.” She adjusted the blanket around his shoulders.

“I should be out there,” he croaked, the blanket slipping down again as he pointed toward the horizon.

“And you’d be dead in a minute. Flank, Cole, you’re probably gonna die up here. You do know this canister isn’t doing anything if you don’t hold it up, right?” Molly grabbed the IV container and rested it by her shoulder.

“They’re going for Edison,” he said. “I should be helping them.”

“He’s alive?” Molly sat down next to Cole and put her head close, obviating the need for him to strain his voice.

Cole nodded. He looked over at Molly and managed a weak smile, then tried to open the blanket to allow her inside. She put her free hand on him, keeping him wrapped tight.

“How do they know?” she asked.

“They have a tracker of some sort, or a sensor. I stumbled out last night, or whenever, and found a bunch of them arguing over it. I grabbed a band and asked them what they were doing.”

“I think they were planning on all of us dying out there,” Molly said.

Cole nodded again. “I tried to go with them, but they were insistent. Told me to stay with you.” Cole looked over at Molly. “The way they were talking about you… what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I just about died out there. I came back with one of the Wadis and asked about you. I got pissed and tore the band off my head.”

“You did something.” He looked to the horizon again. “They’re acting different.”

“I know. I don’t like it.”

“I do. They’ve been acting like robots up ’til now. Not like Dani. What I saw this morning, it was like they cared about something.” There was a pause while Cole licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I just wish I was out there.”

“I know you do. Stop talking. Here, I brought you some juice.” Molly set the IV down long enough to rip the juice packet open; she pushed it into one of his hands as it snaked out of the blanket. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into coming inside, can I?”

He shook his head slowly, moving the packet of fluids back and forth so he could keep sipping.

“Well, can I rethink the blanket offer, then?”

Cole peeled it open and Molly sat beside him. She moved the IV canister to her other hand and draped her arm around his back. He wrapped the blanket around her, and they wiggled to get it closed.

They both looked to the horizon. The sky would have looked so beautiful if it were over any other landscape. A landscape more alien to them. Molly tilted her head to the side and rested it on Cole’s shoulder.

“I meant what I said last night,” she said. “Or whenever it was.”

Cole stopped sipping from the pouch. “Me, too,” he said.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t hear you over the wind.”

“That’s okay,” Cole mumbled. “I still said it. And I meant it.”

She lifted her head. “Say it again.”

Cole leaned away to look at her. When their eyes met, she saw he was going to protest, or make an excuse—

“I love you, Molly Fyde.”

She pulled his shoulder back under her cheek and closed her eyes, allowing the strange and alien words to wash over her again and again.

They were alien, but in some ways… it sounded to her like something he’d said a million times before.

••••

Cole shook her awake. The blanket was falling off them and the bandage on her face had stuck to his tunic. He said something, but it floated away on the wind. He pointed after the words, as if she could still catch them on the breeze.

She followed his finger and saw what he was gesturing toward: a group of figures marching back toward the shelter. They moved along in a wide pattern, walking very slowly. It was hard to make out any detail, but there was something about their pace or posture that didn’t resonate as a successful rescue operation.

This was the sad plodding of a hearse, not the eager anxiety of an ambulance.

Molly felt Cole trying to get up, to race after them, but he could hardly speak, much less run. She knew he was in no condition to help. Besides, there were plenty of idle bodies already out there. She pulled him tight and gave him a stern look, but he looked rapt, leaning forward, trying to pick out a familiar shape.

At this distance, they were all dark blobs silhouetted on the dimly lit rock. As they got closer, however, Molly could see a figure in the center.

It was laboring.

Molly felt a jolt of hope. It could be Edison, tired and hurt, but it could also be a Drenard. The figure pulled something along. A large shape—at least as big as a Glemot.

And it wasn’t moving.

Cole saw it too and twisted feebly away from Molly. She threw the blanket off and handed the IV canister to Cole, hoping it would slow him down. She beat him to the ladder and clambered down, racing off toward the group.

Molly concentrated on the central figure as she ran, but when she got close, one of the guards on the perimeter caught her and held her back. She slapped at him, her tunic flapping in the breeze, mimicking the swinging of her wild arms, but the large male effortlessly pushed her toward the shelter, cooing sharply into the wind.

Molly couldn’t see around his wide body, and she had to know what that was being drug across the ground. Forced backward, nearly tripping over her heels, she turned to see Cole stumbling and falling on the rock halfway between her and the shelter.

In her head, she screamed. But nobody could hear.

The large Drenard caught her and lifted her into strong, blue arms. She welcomed it, clawing up and peering