Rook by T. Strange

Author:T. Strange
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Science Fiction, mm
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2018-02-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

"Rook."

It was still dark when Stevie shook him awake. Dark, but he could see. His first thought was fireworks, and he smiled—until he remembered where he was. He sat up, bumping into Stevie in the small space. "What is it?" There was a low, throbbing sound at the edge of his hearing. He shook his head to clear it, but the sound persisted.

"I don't know."

Rook swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. Stevie always knew, had an answer for everything that happened here; his admission of ignorance was terrifying.

On his own, Rook would have stuck his head outside, before waking Stevie, but Stevie had lived here too long and was too cautious to be that reckless. He'd woken Rook before emerging. Moving together, they slowly eased into a position that let them both see what was happening outside.

It was raining.

The sky was on fire, streaks of flame shooting in all directions. Rook still didn't understand.

Stevie screamed, rolling back into their shelter and emerging with his rifle, slipping in the mud. He fired as soon as he'd steadied himself, wildly, shooting at the fiery trails in the sky.

Rook could hardly hear the shots over the sound filling the night, could only stand there gaping, watching his lover shriek and curse. "Stevie!"

He didn't respond, didn't acknowledge Rook in any way.

"Stevie, what are you doing? What's going on?"

Stevie whirled, almost slamming the barrel of the gun into Rook's chest. His eyes were wide and wild, and even in the rain Rook could tell he was crying. "They're leaving. Don't you get it? Don't you fucking understand? They're leaving. All of them. They're taking everything."

Rook grabbed the gun before Stevie could jam it under his chin and accidentally blow his head off. He tried to grab Stevie's arm to comfort or restrain him, but Stevie violently jerked free and collapsed to his knees, only supported by the rifle. Rook stared at the sky, trying to make some sense of what was happening. He watched one of the trails until he understood its shape. "It's a ship," he said, slowly. The sound was its engines.

"It's a ship," Stevie repeated, his voice quiet and hollow now. Rook could barely hear him, had to rely on the motion of his lips, lit by the glow from the ships' trails.

"They're all ships. Why are there so many?" Rook tried to count them but had to give up. There were too many. They were large, too, larger than the modified cargo ship that had brought him and the other prisoners here, many times larger than the smaller transport ships used for delivering miners and supplies. He felt slow and stupid, desperately trying to reach whatever conclusion Stevie had already come to.

"They're taking everything. They're abandoning this god-forsaken rock to the monsters."

"That's good, isn't it?" Rook knelt beside Stevie, not caring that the bottoms of his coveralls were quickly soaked with mud. He rested a hand on Stevie's shoulder, lightly. "It means we get to leave."

Stevie made a derisive sound that ended with a sob.

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