Page 92 of Evan and the Alpha

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Sobek

The ship crash-lands in the wee hours of the morning. Neither of the suns are up; the world is dark, for the moon has set himself to slumbering. Only the stars bear witness to the crash itself, perhaps one or two kroakka who were unable to sleep.

I myself am jolted from uneasy dreams by the crunch and squeal of metal, the roar of the engines, the horrible creaking and banging. The very ground shudders and shakes, as if in agony. My bed rocks with it, and I look at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time there was an earthquake.

We haven’t had earthquakes in many, many years.

I spring from bed. I meet Yafir in the hallway, his golden eyes wide and worried in the darkness. “What’s going on?” he asks. He has Rex clutched to his chest; the child is terrified, clinging and whimpering.

“I am unsure,” I reply, then rush to the doorway. I step out into the cool of the nighttime air, squinting in the darkness. To the west, away from the city, the night is even inkier. It takes a moment, but I realize it’s an enormous plume of black smoke. Then the wind brings me the scent of fuel and fire.

Yafir steps closer. “They’ve crashed,” I tell him.

“Who?” He looks at me sharply. “Evan?”

I nod. “The whole metal bird,” I tell him. “At least, that’s what it looks like from here.”

“What’s going on?” Vince asks as he approaches, tugging on what the sun spirits call a t-shirt.

“The ship has crashed,” I inform him calmly.

He shoulders by Yafir. “Oh, shit, really?” He peers toward the western horizon. His squinting makes it plain that he can’t see as well as Yafir or I can.

“Yes,” I reply, but before the word is out of my mouth, Vince is running down the stairs.

I glance at Yafir, who shakes his head.

“Come on!” Vince hollers from the bottom of the staircase. “They could be hurt! We gotta get them out of there—the whole ship could go up!”

I’m not quite sure what he means by the ship going up—taking off again? That seems unlikely, given that the crumpled bow is buried deep in the sand—but the thought that Evan might be there and hurt spurs me into action. I hurry down the stairs, only to nearly collapse at the bottom.

The last three days have sapped my strength, much faster than I thought being separated from my mate ever would. I see now how strength and ability is fickle and fleeting; we may be stronger one day, but weak enough to be struck down on the morrow.

Vince catches me as I stumble; he grunts as he braces my greater weight. A few snouts appear in windows as neighbors light candles, then look to the commotion outside.

Yafir traipses down the stairs behind us. “Are you all right?” he asks me.

I stand up and wave Vince away. “Fine. Never better.”

Yafir gives me an irritated look, one that says I shouldn’t bother with bravado and lies. He sees the truth anyway.

He shifts his gaze to Vince. “What do you mean, the ship could go up?” He hesitates, then asks, “Surely, it cannot take off again?”

Vince gives us a bloodless laugh, the kind that has no humor—only fear. “I mean,” he says, his voice strangled, “it could blow up. The smoke—that’s fire, and the whole thing is full of fuel, which is … highly flammable. If the fuel tanks are leaking and the fire gets there—the whole thing could go up as a fireball.”

“Oh.” Yafir’s eyes are very wide. I don’t blame him; sun spirit technology is amazing but dangerous.

“We gotta hurry,” Vince says, then turns to one of the windows, nearly bumping another kroakka alpha in the snout. “Can you help?” Vince asks. “Please—my brothers are on that ship. My parents too. They could be hurt.”

The other alpha growls a little—something likewhat’s in it for me?—and I have half a mind to bite his nose off and tell him that what’s in it for him is that I won’t disembowel him for not helping me save my mate from an inferno.

I refrain; Yafir lands a hand on my shoulder and steers me toward the open street.

As we hurry toward the shipwreck, I hear Vince saying, “We can pay.”

Oh, the sun spirit is in for a nasty surprise, I think, but his words pique interest. News that the sun spirits can pay travels like wildfire through the city, and before long, there’s a good crowd of kroakka heading toward the wreck. Some of them are bringing buckets of water, although Vince tells me this may not help with the fire. Others have spears or other implements to assist in opening doors or cutting ropes. Still others bring nothing at all but curious eyes and wagging tongues—gossips, spectators who are eager to watch tragedy unfold so they can tell the story later, but they are much less inclined toraise a finger to help.