She's about to lose consciousness when she sees a pair of piercing blue eyes staring down at her.
❖❖❖
"Sir," an agent booms over the secure radio of General Robert A. Helms, the leader of the United Nations Special Task Force.
Helms, a fair-skinned middle-aged man with no patience for failure, picks up the radio. "Have they been captured?"
Helms can hardly contain his excitement. Since the security forces found the fugitives' abandoned car a week ago, he's been working almost nonstop, directing the operation to apprehend the terrorists. He's deployed hundreds of his best agents to assist with the search, in conjunction with a countless number of drones — including the new Cheetah mechs with their facial-recognition software — to scout the area where the fugitives were last seen.
"Sir, we have one of them," the agent says. "He put up a good fight, but we were able to subdue him. We' re awaiting your orders."
"Which one did we capture? Was it the girl?"
There is a long pause. "Sir, we have the male. The girl killed two agents before we lost contact."
Helms is incensed — the girl is the key. "Very well. I'll be there soon. Keep looking for the girl. She can't have gone far! Do you copy?"
"Copy, sir."
❖❖❖
The howling winds wake Eva from her heavy slumber. She finds herself lying in bed in a small wooden room, with bandages covering most of her body. Her clothes are damp, but the crackling fireplace keeps the cold at bay. The howling is coming down the chimney and through the thin walls; a storm is raging outside.
She's still alive. But who brought her to this place? It feels a little strange to know that someone's helped her. Other than Frazid, just about everyone she knows would rather kill or capture her.
Eva gets up and staggers toward the door, struggling to keep her balance. She leans against the wall and feels a sharp pain. She looks down and realizes that she's been shot. Blood is seeping from the bandage on her side. She concentrates, and draws from her curative powers within, aiming the currents of energy flowing from her body to each of her many injuries. Soon she feels much better. Nearly recovered, Eva does a series of stretches to relieve the stiffness in her body. Then she looks at the doorknob in front of her.
What answers are waiting for her on the other side of that door?
She slowly turns the handle, and steps into a dark hallway in front of her. Faint rays of light leaking from the cracks in the wooden floor are the only source of illumination. Through the cracks, she can vaguely see a shadowy figure pacing on the floor below. When she gets to a staircase at the end of the hallway, she slowly walks down the flight of stairs.
She begins to draw energy from within; she wants to be ready in case she has to fight her way out. When she reaches the bottom of the staircase, she's faced by a broad-shouldered man looking down at her from a height of over six feet. Frightened, she inadvertently discharges a force blast, which explodes on the floor where the man was standing just before he jumped back.
"Whoa! Easy, there. I'd like to keep these feet."
Eva can't believe her eyes. "Blair, is that you?"
"Yes it's me, you maniac!"
Eva runs into Blair's arms and they embrace. "Eza," Blair whispers.
"Nobody has called me by my real name in years — except for Frazid when he's mad at me. I go by Eva, Eva Paterson, now."
Blair lets her go and looks her up and down. "Seems like you got yourself fixed up. When Wally found you out in the forest a couple days ago, you were in pretty bad shape." They gaze into each other's eyes. As far as Blair is concerned, she's still unquestionably the most beautiful girl in existence.
Eva breaks the silence. "Where is Woolly? I miss that crazy giant."
Blair points out the window, where Wally is chopping wood the old fashioned way, with an axe. She admires the smooth play of his form as he splits a three-foot log with one mighty blow. Blair pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for Eva, and they sit. She notices a stitched nametag on his oily coveralls that reads blake. "So, Blake is your human name?"
"Yeah, Blake Johnson."
They gaze at each other again, and Eva slowly places her hand on top of his. Blake smiles. There are so many things he wants to say to her — how much he missed her smile and touch — but he realizes that now isn't the right time; it will probably never be the right time.
"Finally!" Wally shouts as he opens the cabin door. "An old friend from back home. I haven't seen you since we fled the capital." Wally, an Isarian man, was part of the security detail that escorted the royal family to safety when the Ucte Army breached the gates of Greron, the capital of the erstwhile Euperian Empire. He, along with three other Isarians, swore an oath to the queen on that day that they would protect and pass down the memories of her children. "So, darlin', what human name do I call you?" Wally asks, grinning.
"Eva."
"Okay, Eva, so what happened the other night?"
"I was running from the UN with Frazid."
Wally nods. "Anything we should know?"
"I have no idea," Eva says. "Except keep running and hiding. I'm so tired of this shit. I've been running for ten years straight!"
Tears roll down her cheeks as Wally and Blake search for something to say. Back on Azha they were royalty; here on Earth, they have to live as fugitives.
"A month ago I
