The Vanished Specialist by K Webster & Nicole Blanchard

Author:K Webster & Nicole Blanchard [Webster, K & Blanchard, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-02T16:00:00+00:00

9

Emery

What can only be thunder, cracks and then booms and I shoot awake. The heavy weight of Calix’s arm falls with a thump in between us. The vacuuroom that had seemed so sturdy yesterday sways precariously in the howling wind. For a moment, my thoughts can’t quite catch up, my brain still languid with the aftereffects of the paralytic—toxica he’d called it—and the stupor of near-drugged sleep. Then, the lightning strikes again, closer, louder, and I stumble to my feet to the doors.

I peer through the small port-like window and the view on the other side causes my heart to drop to my feet. The storm that had seemed so far away the day before is right over us. It boils like an angry red-orange tornado, except it’s as wide as the horizon and threaded with violent bolts of lighting and I don’t even know what else.

We have to leave.

Now.

My knees cry out in protest as I throw myself to Calix’s side. “Calix, wake up. We have to go.”

He murmurs in his sleep and reaches an arm up to wrap around my waist. Then my words seem to sink in and his eyes snap open, dark and as stormy as the sky outside. His gaze flashes to the window and he’s on his feet so fast I come unbalanced and fall on my hands.

Cursing under his breath, or at least, I guess it’s cursing for morts, he tosses clothes in my direction. “You must dress. We’ll have to travel alongside the storm until we find a break or shelter.”

“We can’t stay here?” I ask, even as the structure whines violently. I dress in the minnasuit and then the zu-gear as quickly as possible. It’s not until I join him at the entrance that I realize I’m not out of breath. On any other day, the adrenaline, the panic and rushing around would have reduced me to a wheezing mess.

I don’t have time to give it any thought because an explosion of sound crashes right outside the door and I let out a screech of terror. “Calix?”

He’s dressed in his own gear and gestures for me to precede him through the door. Wind—harsh and unrelenting—assaults us hard, nearly knocking me off my own feet. Luckily, Calix is strong and is able to guide me to the vehicle. “Get on and wait for me.”

I shake my head, my gaze full of the growing storm. “No, let me help you.”

Calix tips my chin up with a clawed finger. “No, lilapetal. I want you where I can keep you safe. Stay here. I’ll be back.”

He waits until I’ve buckled myself in the dust-mobile, which I do without further protest because arguing will only take longer, then he jogs back to the structure. I take my eyes off him only to glance at the rumble of clouds. It had been so easy to forget the dangers that lurked outside of our little sanctuary while his hands were on me, so easy to lose myself in the mastery of his touch.

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