The sound of growling and groaning follows, along with a thud and a sickening crunch that might be bone.
“AAannnh! Please, I’m sorry, I can explain!”
Oh, shit. That sounds suspiciously like—
“Vic?” I shout, incredulous at the sight of Kila dragging Vic by the ankles out of the brush. Mulch spills out of the garden bed as his wriggling body topples onto the concrete. “Holy shit. Kila, put him down.”
“He tried to run,” Kila says, keeping a tight grip on Vic’s ankle as the man rolls around on the sidewalk clutching his arm.
“He dislocated my shoulder,” whines Vic. I can tell from the way it dangles unnaturally that he must be correct. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“Be still,” Kila growls, then reaches over and shoves the arm back into the socket. Vic lets out a shrill whimper. “There. Now, care to tell us why you are hiding in the bushes outside Ella’s apartment?”
“I came to warn her! I’m trying to help, okay? I was going to catch her after work, but when I saw you were with her, I panicked. And you can see why! I knew from the second I first saw you that you were a psycho,” Vic grits out, now lifting a hand to his nose.
“Warn her of what?” Kila asks, crouching over the man threateningly.
“I think he broke my nose, too,” he says, turning towards me and dragging himself into a seated position.
“The wall broke your nose,” Kila says, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest. “If you had turned to face me like a warrior then you would not have smashed into the wall when I caught you.”
“Oh, stop it. Kila, give him some space,” I say. “What are you warning me about, Vic? I’m getting death threats. What more can you have to say? That’s why he’s here. He’s protecting me.”
“Oh, that’s why he’s here?” Vic sends me a disgusted glance. “Just admit it, you’re an alien fucker. You know, I really shouldn’t have wasted my time, thinking I was doing the right thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Shit or get off the pot, okay? Tell me what you know or get out of here. I don’t need to listen to your bullshit.”
“The crowd I was hanging with, they’re getting a little radical. My friend started going to this compound with these guys that think this genocide is all a hoax. And now you’re the poster girl for it. Do the math. I’ve seen what they do. They know your name! Tell me the truth, Ella. Does the KaKa planet even exist?”
“Kar’Kal,” Kila corrects. “I can tell you many things about it. Would you like to hear the traditional Kar’Kali method of torture? All you need is a simple blade and a long, long, time alone with your victim. I don’t have a blade with me this evening, so I’m disappointed I can’t provide a demonstration.”
Vic skitters all over and jumps to his feet. “Oh, so you’re one of the so-called survivors?”
“Are you going to tell me specifics?” I ask him. “So maybe we can do something about it?”
“Look, no one’s even seen these guys. Can’t you bring ‘em out in the world and have them talk about it? Do some public mourning? Make those people believe that it’s real,” he says.
“We do not mourn on Kar’Kal,” Kila tells him. “Death is inevitable. That is our way.”
“You know just as well as I do that seeing Kila and the other Kar’Kali is not going to convince crazy conspiracy theorists that what we say is true. If you tell me these people’s names or any information, then we can do something before they hurt people,” I try to reason with him.
Vic is shaking his head and backing away slowly.
“You think I cannot catch you?” Kila whispers with a mocking smirk.
“I shouldn’t even be here,” Vic says anxiously. “Just a warning. That’s all. They usually catch people at their own places.”
He turns and sprints across the parking lot. I tug on Kila’s sleeve. “Let him go,” I sigh.
“Why? I was not kidding about the torture technique. It is rather effective, and we could bring him up to your apartment and show him your big knives.”
“That’s not how we do things here on Earth,” I tell him.
He takes my hand and places an affectionate kiss on my palm. “Ah, disappointing. At least we can be assured, these people cannot catch you here without catching me as well.”
Chapter 19
KILA
The smell of Ella’s apartment is just as I remember it. I take a seat on her couch and simply bask in it, my head cushioned by a pile of her clothing that she must have left here. This time, she does not rush to remove her stray items from my sight. I hope this means that she feels more comfortable in my presence now. With her in my line of sight, safe and sound, I can relax if only for a moment. She is preparing a meal, which I know enjoys. She once told me it is her favorite part of the day. I watch her little ritual from my position in the seating area.
Her shoes were discarded by the door. Her sweater is next to go, and she flings it onto one of her stools. I see now why articles might begin to accumulate in her living area. The sight of her in her undershirt is much more appealing. She starts by opening a bottle of wine— her preferred drink, which she insists I partake in this evening. She lines up two glasses and fills them with a dark red liquid. Then, she ducks and bobs around, pulling out ingredients and items and her big chopping knife. I told her I don’t care what she makes, and that made her smile. I think she likes to surprise me.
The time that has passed since I’ve known her is beginning to feel like the only time in my lifespan that matters. Pakka might say that it is the hormones causing such a thought, but I have decided that I do not care.
After all, are we not a composite of inherited rituals and biological needs? How much of who I am have I truly chosen? The Kar’Kal Birth Center made me from seed and egg, gave me to a training unit, and taught me to kill Azza troops. Some unseen member of my genetic predecessors happened to possess a strong mind for calculations and gifted this trait to me. For that reason, they plucked me from the Domestics and shipped me to the research force. The luck of the draw put me in Pakka’s path. Then I ended up here, and the sights, sounds, and thoughts of this human female have changed me forever.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Ella calls across the room.
“Is this not the smallest United States coinage?” I ask. “Are my thoughts worth so little?”
“Wow, that Kar’Kali sense of humor… never gets old,” she snorts. “You’re not worried over what Vic said, are you? Drink a glass of wine and you’ll feel much better.”
As she tells me this, she is already pouring herself a second glass. The one intended for me sits on the bar top. I walk over and inspect it, giving it a sniff.
“It smells like the rotting bark of a thatha tree,” I say.
“Is that… good?”
I take a tentative sip, expecting it to taste like earth. It blooms on my tongue like a mixture of metal and berries, warming the inside of my mouth. “Strange,” is all I can think to say.
“Just wait until you taste it with the steak. It’s going to be amazing,” she promises.
I have learned not to doubt her in the realm of food and beverage.
***
When we are well and truly stuffed, and lying down hugging, or ‘cuddling’ as she calls it, I wonder which moments are deemed special enough to ritualistically confess my love to her. It feels special to be like this, but is that only because I have been kept from her side for so long? I decide the best course of action is to bring her to a dizzying climax just beforehand. After she reaches her pleasure, it will be a very special moment, and she’ll feel entirely relaxed.