“You there!” a voice echoed loudly in her head.
Laura suddenly realized she had stopped moving and her tray was still resting in her hands while she’d been lost in the voices inside her head.
“Yes, you,” she heard again over the others. Laura glanced down and saw a female face—the same as the one she’d met on her arrival. Scanning the room, she saw they all looked identical in every way, only a scar or birthmark to tell them apart.
Laura began to speak but held her tongue in fear of the warning she’d received. Her hands gripped the tray tightly, and she stared down at her white knuckles, afraid she may have already offended the alien by looking it in the eyes.
“It’s okay, you may speak to me,” the guide said.
Laura looked up again, waiting for a response.
“Has every guest been served?” the guide asked.
Laura again eyed down. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be sorry, be obedient. Do not stand and wait to be called,” the guide said, shooing her away.
Laura backed away and hurriedly completed her rounds around the table before returning to the kitchen with an empty tray. She set it on the counter then pressed her palms onto the cold metallic surface, listening to her heart beat.
Taurine watched as she put back her head and took deep breaths. The old woman moved by her side. “Why are you in distress? Why do you find it difficult to serve the communal, what is there to fear?” she asked.
Laura felt the presence of the others—the women returning to the kitchens with empty trays of their own. They gathered around her, all looking at Taurine.
“This is not a trick or a difficult question; you may answer it freely,” Taurine said. “I am here to help you with the transition.”
Laura gaped at her confused. “What transition?”
“Is that why you are afraid?” Taurine asked. “Because of the unknowns?”
Laura pursed her lips. “It’s because everything has been taken from me.”
“Everything? Do you not have a daughter? A home? A purpose?” The woman waved her arms, motioning the kitchen. “What more would you need?”
Laura fought to hold back her emotions. “What about my husband?” she said, her voice breaking and a tear forming at the corner of her eye.
“You’ve been assigned a mate; does Francis not suit you?”
Laura gasped and looked away.
Taurine flashed a wicked smile. “Oh, you didn’t know. Well then, maybe you are the one that is not being found suitable. I suggest you work on that before you are cast aside. Do you think that would be best for your child?”
The old woman clapped her hands, bringing the other women in close. The door to the dining room slid closed as a new group of women entered the space from behind them. Laura listened as they were given instructions on what their job would be. She leered up and locked eyes with Taurine, who flashed her a vindictive smile.
“You are all dismissed. Your mates will greet you in the passageway,” Taurine said.
Laura stumbled and stepped toward the exit door, her body feeling heavy and out of breath. She moved slowly, falling into the group of women. She wanted to be far away from the vindictive woman who appeared to take pleasure in her agony. She fell into line, following the others through the narrow opening and back into the dimly lit passageway. Just as Taurine had said, she found Francis there waiting for her.
He didn’t speak, turning away once she acknowledged him, knowing that she had no choice but to follow.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The bunker didn’t spare them from the sounds of the roaring storm outside its walls. The space was cold and dreary; rain seeped under the door, turning the concrete a dark gray. A stream of murky water traced a line between the tired soldiers, making its way to a drain vent located in the center of the small space. The man-made cavern was dimly lit by a single low-watt bulb hanging in the center of the bunker.
Jacob watched Jesse move, happy to see him on his feet. His friend was back; the attack had invigorated him. He stood in the corner over a propane stove warming water for soup. His neck still wore a bandage, and his body bore the wounds from the fight, but he knew the other soldiers expected more from him as a scout, and he was doing his best to put on a show.
Not designed for housing, the bunker was filled to capacity. Along with the two who came in with Jesse, four more had arrived during the night. Survivors and stragglers, men who, when they found the destroyed cabin, knew this was the last refuge in the area. Along the floor, intermixed with bundles of equipment and crates, men sat exhausted. A lone soldier stationed himself at the back, fidgeting with the only working radio, desperate for a signal. All the landlines back to the cabin were dead; an uplink to the radio tower was their only hope.
Jacob pressed against his space of open wall, moving his knees to keep them from the encroaching water. His eyes turned and focused on the prisoner across from him. Its head was still covered in the fabric, its wrists and ankles still bound, and the blue-and-gold-sleeved uniform coated with mud from the trail. Rogers and James were arguing about what to do with it, how and whether or not to interrogate it. The other men listened in anxiously, this being the first live alien they’d managed to capture.
“We need to get that uniform off and get rid of it,” James said. “It could have a tracker embedded in it; they’re probably using it to find us right now.”
Rogers rubbed his forehead wearily. “Seems like they’d already be on us if that was the case.”
James pointed up at the ceiling. “These walls are pretty thick and shielded by the cell company that
