Page 43 of January Bell

“That’s against the rules,” Ken says from outside, forgetting to do whatever it is that makes it so we can hear him clearly. But I can still make out the words.

And I grin at him.

“Well, you never told us the rules, did you? You just said that we had an hour to solve the puzzle according to the hourglass. Well, guess what, friend—the hourglass isn’t going to be an hour if I block it, is it?”

“That’s not fair,” Ken says.

“Well, what’s not fair is that you took over this whole damn operation from the people that were supposed to be running it. Whatever happened to them, by the way? I noticed we haven’t heard from them or about them since you did whatever you did. Maybe you want to tell your viewers that.”

“I’m going to block the sand!” I yell down to where Zan stands.

“I’m right here,” he says. “You don’t have to yell.”

He looks up at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “That is very brilliant of you, Lily.”

“Oh, well, thanks, Zan. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to do the puzzle, because I’m absolute shit at them while worms tear at your feet. Because I don’t think you can fit through here.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to show me your pretty little tits while I do it?”

“Absolutely not,” Ken’s voice booms inside the hourglass.

“Absolutely yes,” I tell Zan.

I tear at the neckline of the jumpsuit just enough so that I can reach in and grab out the pieces. “You’re going to have to figure out a way to⁠—”

Zan manages to stretch out a wing at an awkward angle, making a table of sorts where he can arrange the puzzle.

The sand is pounding on my back as I block its exit toward the bottom of the hourglass, and frankly, I don’t even care.

“We’re going to call it a weird hot stone spa treatment,” I tell him. “Best massage of my life.”

“When we get out of here, I’ll give you the best massage of your life,” Zan says very seriously.

“Accepted,” I tell him with a laugh.

I wiggle a little bit, trying to get the rest of the pieces out. Zan stacks them neatly, sandworms writhing around his upper thighs now.

I hadn’t realized how quickly it had risen, and while I’m grateful that he pushed me up into the other section, I’m terrified for him.

“You better not let them bite your cock,” I say. “That’s mine.”

He’s so concentrated on the puzzle that he doesn’t answer me, just continues to place pieces as I hand them down.

I don’t pull out my boobs because, for one, I don’t want our so-called intergalactic audience to see them, and for two, I don’t want to distract him. I want to get out of this fucking hourglass before the sandworms decide that Zan’s feet are worth chewing on. Or worse, his balls.

“I was just getting to know his balls, and was getting very attached to them very quickly. It would be a shame for the sandworms to eat them.”

“You realize you’re saying that out loud still.” Zan sighs.

“I think this heat is addling my brain,” I say. “I’ve been monologuing about your balls.”

“Yes, you have, and it’s very distracting.”

I clamp my mouth shut.

“But it is nice to have motivation to get out of here,” he adds. “Because I have a feeling that me and my balls are going to be very happy with whatever else you have planned for them.” He manages to say it with a straight face as I sand piles up around him.

My lower back shifts, trying to push it off to the side without getting buried in it, and I cough as some sand gets into my face.