Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Doing my best to control my breathing, I scanned the hut for details I’d missed, a little too afraid of what I’d see to face my companion. Off in a far corner, a rabdog with wild eyes nursed a litter of squiggling pups. I swallowed a manic laugh. Did Momma serve as sentry in case the unchained man tried to drag himself away?
A quiet growl drew my focus to the edge of my bed, and I scrambled as far as the fetter allowed. A pup! It curled up there, its head lifted, its teeth bared and eyes flashing with red. It looked much smaller than the other babies. Still! How sharp were those fangs?
It watched me with an accusing glare, but it didn’t lunge at me. When I failed to lash out, it lowered its head, as if all its vigor had drained. Was it hurt? Why wasn’t it eating with its siblings?
Did I dare pick it up to set it on the floor?
“The little nugget won’t hurt you,” my companion rasped, his voice hoarse. Probably from screaming, “He’s not strong enough. Mom rejected him, so the others rejected him, too. Without food or affection, he’s only growing weaker.”
Not a sob story for the baby!
Finally I gathered the courage to face the poor, abused man at my side. The sight of him did exactly what I’d anticipated, and I cringed. Something inside me broke.
“What’s your name?” I asked. “How long have you been here?”
He offered a desolate smile. “I’m Earl Smith. Came from Oklahoma City a few months ago. Woke up from a tornado already bound in chains. Lost a leg to the cannibals only a few days later. Since I’m an otherworlder, I’m saved for special occasions.” Bitterness tinged his voice.
The same fate awaiting me. Breathe. “I’m Moriah Shaker from Kansas.”
Tears of joy welled as if I’d granted his fondest wish. “Well, Kansas. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t think I’d see a fellow American ever again.”
“Me, either. And the pleasure is mine, Oklahoma.”
He gave me another smile, this one pure happiness.
With every fiber of my being, I longed to reach out and pat him, to share the comfort of contact. But the metal links wouldn’t allow it. Then he did the reaching, and I followed suit, stretching as far as possible. The tips of our fingers brushed. A mewl escaped each of us. How much he reminded me of my father.
“Have you learned of a way home?” Earl croaked.
“I’m told there’s a portal in the City of Lux, and it’s able to transport us back to our world.”
Hope brightened his features. “I miss my Brenda something fierce. Would do anything to see her again.” His lids slid shut for a beat, and the corners of his mouth lifted. Imagining their reunion? “The canteen really is filled with milk, by the way. It’s from a goat. Well, this world’s version of a goat. It’ll give you energy but will also sweeten your meat. A catch twenty-two.”
The puppy reared up again, giving a fiercer growl as I shifted the bulk of my weight to the blankets. His eyes flashed a brighter red. The ferocity in his expression said, I will shred you! But again, the fuzzball didn’t lash out. Either he lacked the fortitude or the defenses, but either way, he heaped coals of fires on a sense of loneliness. Without my father, I had no one, and it sucked. How it must suck for this dude as well. Even a hideous rabdog deserved a little compassion.
Trembling but determined to show him a moment of friendliness, I stretched an arm toward him. His growls increased in volume, and his entire body tensed. The second I made contact, he jumped, as if preparing to attack. I didn’t pull away. No, I stroked the ridges of his spine. Gentle, so gentle. His fur was softer than I’d anticipated.
The longer I petted him, the more my hand heated. The warmth didn’t come from him but inside me; it wasn’t unpleasant and didn’t strike me as a warning. Rather, it thawed my coldest recesses. Soon the little guy’s growls faded, as did the red in his eyes, and he just kind of slumped onto the blankets, too exhausted to put up a fight. And maybe too content to care?
He needed affection as much as nourishment, I realized. But nourishment first. Right now, I had (almost) goat’s milk. That would have to do.
I uncorked the top of the canteen, cupped a hand, and poured some of the thick, white liquid into the bowl of my palm. When I offered the beverage to the little guy, he sniffed, perked up, then stuck out his tongue. With a tail wag, he popped to his feet and lapped the liquid as fast as possible. I poured more, and he drank. More still. He consumed every drop. He gave another growl as soon as I ceased serving.