Flashback: Undertow

by Pauline Creeden

Zana struggled to reach the surface.  The memories enveloped and dragged her to the depths of despair.  She wanted--needed to wake up.

Acid filled the air and rushed toward her face, and Zana squeezed her eyes shut against the pain. White spots danced behind her lids.  She heard nothing but high pitched ringing as she turned her head. The screaming came from her throat. Her face burned as though on fire.

Not again.

The ground slammed against her shoulder as she landed on her right side, but the pain focused on her left side instead. Her body turned from the momentum to her back and the pain renewed, dizziness threatened to pull her into unconsciousness.  She struggled; knowing that if she passed out, her brother would be in danger.  Clenching her jaw she forced her eyes open.

Don’t.

A red dust cloud surrounded Zana, but the sun still sifted through.  She squinted, the white dots fluttering like annoying flies.  Her mouth was closed, but she tasted dust and her left cheek moved in and out each time she took a ragged breath.

She tried to pull her left hand up to touch her cheek, but nothing happened.  Her arm didn’t follow her mind’s command.  Is it broken? She thought through the pain, unsure and unable to locate her arm.  The ringing subsided so that she could hear the giant cannonbeetle’s legs thumping the ground in a scurrying motion as it retreated.  She wondered at how it didn’t finish her. 

Fear seized her.  Where was her little brother?

Don’t look.

“Zane?”  She cried, afraid that if she moved she’d pass out.  Zana’s voice cracked lower than she intended and sounded foreign to her.  It was deep, groggy, and echoed funny.  Her tongue felt dry, swollen, and strange in her mouth.

“Zane?”  She called louder, but the force of the word caused the white spots to crowd her vision and increase tenfold.  Blackness seeped in to the corners of her sight, tunneling her vision.  She tried to get up, but her left arm did nothing and her right arm had no strength.  Tears-filled her eyes as she stared at the red sky.

Please don’t.

Dizziness seized her.  The world seemed to spin.  Zana closed her eyes again and turned her head.  The movement caused pain to shoot through her body and the blackness closed in.  When she opened her eyes, half her vision had gone dark.  She fought it again.  When the spots retreated, her brother’s face appeared.  

“Zane!  Thank God, I thought…” She stopped as a black fly landed on his open eye.

Weakness

by Pauline Creeden -

“I saw your father.” Dr. Lee’s voice rose just above a whisper, his back turned to her as he examined her blood in the microscope.

Zana bolted upright and nearly jumped from the examination table.  But she lost her balance and fell hard on her right elbow. The bone rang like a tuning fork. “What?”

“Your blood work looks good.” Dr. Lee turned around, his blue eyes round and grey-brown brows furrowed above. “Zana, you shouldn’t move suddenly; I took two pints of your blood. If your blood weren’t so rare, I wouldn’t need to take as much each visit.  If you get injured again…”

“No,” Zana’s said with as much ferocity as she could muster in a prone position. She pointed a metal finger at the doctor and continued, “That’s not what you said.”

Dr. Lee dropped his arms to his sides and met her eyes. His brows raised in a plea for forgiveness.  He shrugged as he said, “I saw him a month ago at the general store in Currituck.” Dr. Lee’s gaze explored the wall, ceiling, and finally settled on the window. “The man looked old, haggard, and tired.  He wore circuit preacher robes.  Whether it’s a disguise or not, I don’t know.”

Her heart raced in her chest. Zana’s voice shook as she spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here for three days, and now you tell me?”

“You’re going to need to rest a day or two from the blood loss before you go.”

“You did that on purpose.”

Dr. Lee nodded, refusing to meet her icy stare.  “It was a month ago, he could be anywhere now.”

Zana folded her arms across her chest, feeling the cold titanium of her left arm through the gauzy fabric of her shirt.  She stared at the ceiling and said in a soft voice, “I will find him.  And when I do, he’s dead.”

Reality Kills

by Pauline Creeden -

“Cotton,” Dr. Lee called the shepherd over from Zana’s side as she approached his house. The dog loped toward the tall, thin, old man as he kneeled. He rubbed the dog on the head and looked up at her asking, “How has he been? Any coughing?”

Zana shook her head and pulled down her kerchief as she smiled, “Nope. Not a one.”

Dr. Lee’s family worked toward producing mammals that could withstand Eclectia’s harsh climate. The typical lifespan of dogs had been two Foundings, but through selective breeding the Lees developed a shepherd hardy enough to live as much as five. The Lee’s gave Cotton to Zana at her visit last year. Now two Foundings old, Cotton was the first of the Lee Shepherds to try to live outside of their breeding facility.

Dr. Lee stood, his soft blue eyes fixing on Zana’s as he said, “How much abuse have your cybernetic parts been put through this year?”

Zana shrugged and followed the old man back to the house for her yearly check-up and adjustments with Cotton trotting in the lead. Mrs. Lee met them at the door with a smile, wiping her hands on an apron. The Lee house felt like home to Zana, and it gave her a heartwarming feeling. Mrs. Lee held out her arms for a hug and Zana slipped into them feeling a little awkward as she stood almost six inches taller than the round-faced woman.

“So what have you been up to this year? Meet any husband prospects?” Mrs. Lee asked, just like a mother with a spinster daughter.

Zana furrowed her brow and clenched her jaw. Even if a man could look past her robotic half, she just couldn’t see herself in the domestic capacity. For now her focus remained on catching the man who haunted her every nightmare. She pulled away from the cheerful woman’s grip and shook her head.

“Well, there’s a nice young man who just moved into town…”

“Lucinda, leave Zana alone. She’ll fix herself up with a man when she’s ready.” Dr. Lee’s sympathetic blue eyes apologized for his wife.

“Besides,” Zana said as she kneeled down and hugged the shepherd, “Who needs a man when I’ve got Cotton to keep me company?”

Lucinda Lee shook her head but left the subject alone, “Well dear, your room’s been made ready for you. I’m sure you’ll want a hot bath before dinner. I made bugloaf for dinner along with Summer Mint Cookies for later.”

Zana’s smile returned. She could smell the mint cookies as she entered the door. The smell of home. Zana wondered what applications Dr. Lee might have to add to her cybernetic parts this year, and how long they would take. Zana and Cotton remained the most public of Dr. Lee’s experiments.

After her bath, Zana stood almost naked in front of the full-length mirror while her long wavy dark hair dripped down her back. Her robotic arm and leg were light and as feminine as they could be, but still overpowered her human half. When she stuck her tongue over to her left cheek, she could taste the flexible titanium that covered the holes she felt in her skin. Her own green eyes stared back at her and she shook her head as she remembered princess wishes and happily-ever-after daydreams. Reality killed them all. She sat on the bed and wrangled her wet hair into a braid.

When she came into the dining area, Zana sat next to the air purifier that pulled in the warmth of home and spit out the “fresh” air that smelled faintly of ozone. Cotton settled on top of her bare feet as she sat in the upright wooden chair. Smiling, Lucinda came in and set the Bugloaf on the table.

“Be a dear and get Rob for me?”

Zana pushed the chair back and stood. She started to feel like a teenager again. Cotton looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, but got up to follow regardless of his fatigue. When she came to the door that separated the main house from the doctor’s lab, Zana knocked and then opened the door before a response issued.

She peeked her head in and smiled as she saw the welding sparks fly into the air. She called out to Dr. Lee, “Dinner’s ready!”

The doctor pulled up his face mask and looked at Zana with a grin that she knew well. He pointed down at the large robotic wheeled contraption he’d been welding. “Know what this is?”

Zana shook her head and made a mock frown. “Nope.”

“It’s your new ride.”

The Waiting Game

by Pauline Creeden -

Wind blew wisps of hair into her face as Zana Black set the rifle on the back of her cybernetic hand. She couldn’t cup the barrel like she used to because fine motor control still eluded her. Through the scope her target came into range, but she couldn’t gain a clear shot. The waiting game ensued.

Zana’s breath filtered through her kerchief in visible clouds. Human prey never relied on scent for warning of a predator, so being upwind of the man she hunted made no difference. Zana continued to watch for the right moment.

“Dead or alive,” but preferably dead was how the Circuit Judges wanted the men she hunted. These small time criminals didn’t compare to the one that she had hunted for five Foundings. The man who’d stolen her arm, leg, and soul still roamed free and she’d travel to the depths of Eclectia or the heights of Avenir for him. She snickered at the thought that he’d make it that far.

A warm body came and lay next to hers, trying to conserve his warmth as well as aid in keeping her own. She pulled her face from the scope and looked down at her right hip to find liquid brown eyes staring back at her. The sand and black shepherd laid its ears back in submission when he saw her acknowledge him, and his long tail swept the ash-covered hill.

With a smile she accepted his presence and looked back through the scope. A clear shot presented itself, and she pulled the trigger.

Just a Myth

by Pauline Creeden -

Zana Black stepped inside the darkness of the pub to a greeting of silence. A gasp went up as she pulled down the kerchief that covered her nose and mouth, and her boots echoed as she strode across the hardwood. She squinted her way to the bar, straining against the flash blindness that blocked her ability to see faces. Hushed whispers replaced the silence.

As she set her robotic left arm on the bar, her eyes finally adjusted and she could see the bartender staring at it. He shook his head and looked away quickly. He stuttered as he said, “How can I help you?”

“I’ll take a Spring Root Ale.” She handed over the credits.

Zana turned around and leaned against the bar, scanning the dark tavern. He wasn’t there.

The bartender set the drink next to her right elbow and Zana turned around. It wouldn’t do to crush the glass with her robotic grip, so she pulled it across the surface with her right hand.

She laid her left arm on the bar and opened the panel on the wrist. She pressed a few buttons and a hologram popped up in the center of her hand. The murmuring at the bar grew in intensity and the bartender’s eyes widened.

“You seen this guy around?” she asked him.

The bartender hesitated and tore his eyes away from the hologram. He shook his head and tried to go back to wiping the bar.

“You’re lying,” she said, making her robotic hand into a fist. The hologram popped like a bubble.

The man swallowed hard, blood draining from his face. “I…I…He was in here yesterday, but he left.”

“And?”

“And he said something about going west, I think…”

“You think?” Zana narrowed her eyes.

“I know he said west. He definitely said west.”

Zana nodded and picked up her mug, turning around again so that she faced the room. A sigh of relief came from behind.

“So what did you do?” A little tow-haired boy looked up at Zana, his big blue eyes wide with wonder and sticky fingers reaching toward the robotic appendage.

Zana looked around and couldn’t tell who the kid belonged to. He looked about four Foundings old and she couldn’t see anyone who looked as though they missed him. She set down her ale and kneeled, unbuttoning and pushing her duster back.

She pulled her robotic arm closer to him and set it on her cybernetic knee. “Beetle attack, kid. I’ve never been a slave.”

His eyes grew wider, “You mean you survived?”

She nodded, and answered, “But my arm and leg didn’t.”

“Wow!” He reached out and touched the silver titanium that covered her left cheek. She leaned in for his touch and her black braid fell forward. He asked, “Here, too?”

“That’s where one sprayed me with acid.”

“It’s true? They can spray acid?”

“Only the female cannonbeetle, and only during breeding season.”

He grabbed a hold of the black braid and tugged it with a giggle. Zana smiled wider, tempted to pick the kid up and hug him.

“KRISTOF!” A woman squealed as she walked out of the kitchen. A plate slipped off her tray and fell to the floor.

The little boy winced and jumped back from Zana, putting his hands behind his back. The woman set her tray on an empty table and marched over. He started pouting before she even got there.

“What did I tell you about bothering customers?” The woman’s voice shook.

Zana stood up and leaned against the bar again. The waitress looked at Zana with eyes full of fear and apologized. Zana gave a head tilt and took another sip of her ale.

The woman rushed away, dragging the boy by the elbow. “I didn’t do nothing. She wasn’t bothered, I swear!” The boy whined.

She said something under her breath that couldn’t be heard. The boy’s response made it obvious enough. “Un-uh! It was a beetle attack! Her face was sprayed with acid.”

The woman looked back quickly and said in a harsh whisper that Zana didn’t miss this time, “Beetles don’t shoot acid—that’s just a myth.”

Zana smiled and headed for the tavern door, her boots resounding on the floorboards where silence otherwise reigned. Everyone’s eyes followed her once more. No matter to her. She raised the red kerchief over her mouth and nose once more to keep the ash out. Zana pushed the door open and pulled her duster in tighter to face the ashy eastern wind. At least it would be to her back as she made her way west to the mountains.