Page 3 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

AND I THOUGHT THE JOB MARKET WAS TOUGH

JUSTINE

T here’s a deafening groan as metal tears. I whip my head around to see the back of the bus beginning to peel open like a frickin’ sardine can. Air rushes in with a whoosh, and my hair flies around my head like I’m sitting in front of a fan.

“Oh god…we’re falling! We’re really falling!” I hear myself shouting, my voice shrill with panic.

“From space? How is this possible?” Jacqui’s face is ashen as she braces against her seat.

All around us, the women react in varying degrees of terror. I swear one faints, her head rolling with each shudder of the bus.

“This can’t be happening!” Hannah slaps herself in the face. “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP NOW!”

“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” Mikaela mutters, her voice still holding that cynicism as if she really isn’t surprised. “I’m going to die wearing yellow sweatpants and granny panties.”

“Dios mío, por favor, no me dejes morir!” Someone’s praying from the back and I pray too. Because I can’t breathe. We’re in freefall, plummeting at terminal velocity through the thick atmosphere. The blistering heat of re-entry is already seeping in through the rupture, making the air scorching hot.

“The belts! Keep your belts on!” Erika shouts, and my gaze cuts to the two before us who aren’t strapped in. In the chaos, their bodies have shifted and only the driver’s seat is keeping them from moving.

She’s right. As much as I want to succumb to the blind panic, a small part of my brain is still rational enough to realize the seat belts are our only chance. If this bus doesn’t disintegrate from the friction, maybe we’ll survive the impact.

It’s a long shot, but I’ll take any chance I can get.

“You heard her!” I shout as loud as I can, struggling to project over the cacophony. “Everyone, hold on!”

Jacqui is openly sobbing now, her face contorted in terror, but she nods jerkily and holds on to her restraints with shaking hands. Around us, the other women follow suit in a frenzy, wailing and babbling prayers.

The blistering heat intensifies as we continue to plummet. I screw my eyes shut, pulling Jacqui close and holding her trembling body against mine.

This is it. This is how it all ends. Guess this takes “falling for a job scam” to a whole new level. I didn’t even get to file a W-2.

As the roar of re-entry becomes all-consuming, I open my mouth in a final, useless scream. Tears swell. My chest lurches with a sob. Oh God, we’re going to die.

“DEPLOYING DRAG CHUTES.”

We’re suddenly tugged, like being in an elevator suspended by a rubber band. And still, the crash shakes my teeth in my jaw. My whole body shudders, vibrations going through my entire frame even as I hold on to Jacqui. But then it stops.

Everything. Stops.

Breaths coming hard, I lift my head to look at Jacqui. Is it over? Is it done? Are we back now? Do I still get the ten grand if I admit I’m a pussy and quit on the first day?

“Fuck, Jus…FUCK!” It’s a harsh whisper but I can feel my sister’s relief.

I swallow hard, nodding at her. “We’re back. It’s done. It’s over.”

No sooner have I said that before there’s another groan. One that makes my heart shudder as we move again. We’re upside-down, the front of the bus being the thing that met the ground first and now the entire thing is tilting. With a groan like a creature wailing, the entire bus shifts to crash on its side. I hear cries of pain on the side it lands and as Jacqui and I dangle from what’s now the roof, everything goes silent again.

“Fuck this job. Not even for ten thousand am I doing that again,” Jacqui breathes.

For a moment, there is complete silence, and then whoops and cheers erupt from some of the women. But as I turn to look over my shoulder at the tear in the back of the bus, something strange skitters inside my chest.

Because what lies beyond is not the sunny Arizona sky I expected. It’s yellow. The sky. Is yellow.

“Shit, how are we going to get out?” Jacqui looks down. It’s not a far drop, but it will take some maneuvering.

“Oof!” Someone in the aisle seat behind Erika opens her restraints and promptly falls between the gap. “Ouch, that hurt,” she murmurs, and I recognize her as the woman with the birthmark covering part of her face.

Other people release themselves and Jacqui does too, angling her body so her feet hit Hannah’s seat before she helps me down. Along with a few of the other women, we head toward the back where there’s the tear.

“Where are you going?” A woman with light brown hair asks. She’s in what would’ve been the window seat and she doesn’t look like she has any intent on moving.

“Going to find out what the fuck just happened and who’s responsible, of course.” Mikaela’s answer is exactly what comes to my mind first, but then I recall what I heard right as that green gas came down on us. That thing about transiting to some orbital station.

We stumble as we walk, legs feeling weaker than usual. But it’s not only that. It feels harder to lift my legs. Everything feels a bit…heavier. It’s even harder to breathe. Not too hard, but noticeable enough.

Must be the trauma from the crash.

The hole is just big enough for us to slip through one by one and when we finally do, I feel the heat immediately.

We’re in an oven.

The air is so dry it sucks the moisture from my lips in seconds. Squinting against the harsh light, I raise a hand to shield my eyes and take in our surroundings.

“What the actual fuck…” Jacqui whispers beside me.

“This is definitely not Arizona,” someone else whispers.

The landscape stretching before us is…different.

“What can you see?” someone shouts from inside the bus.

None of us on the outside speaks. I swallow down a lump in my throat.

“The ground is a tan, sandy color…” one of the other women that exited with us says.

“Probably because we’re staring at actual sand,” someone else says.

Sand.

Sand for as far as we can see.

Some parts of it are almost rust-like, some brown, but all sand. In the distance, rock formations rise like twisted fingers toward the pale yellow sky. No clouds. No blue. Just a vast expanse of yellow tinged with orange near the horizon.

And the sun.

Jacqui and I tilt our heads in unison as we look at the boiling star above us. I don’t know how her shades managed to remain on her head, but once again I wish I’d carried mine. They slip over her eyes as I pull my gaze away from the star before it blinds me.

“The sun is closer…” Jacqui murmurs, frowning. “Whiter too. Frickin’ blinding.”

Or maybe that’s not the sun at all…

But as I glance at the other women who’d exited the bus with us, I know not one of us wants to face that possibility just yet.

I turn in a slow circle, taking in the barren landscape. There are no plants. No shade. No animals. No road. No structures. Just miles of tan sand and those bizarre rock pillars in the distance.

“Jus…” Jacqui squints even as her brows furrow. She doesn’t even have to say anything else. I know exactly what she’s thinking. Where the fuck are we ?

My mouth opens, but I can’t form words. More women have climbed out after us, and one by one, they fall silent as they take in the sight before us.

“This isn’t Arizona,” Hannah states as she steps out into sunlight.

“No shit,” Mikaela responds, arms crossed now as she turns in a slow circle. “Unless Arizona got a hell of a makeover while we were asleep.”

Behind us stands what’s left of our transport. The “bus” is now a simple metal rectangle about the size of a shipping container, now dented and warped from impact. One end is completely crumpled, while the other—where we emerged—is torn open like a crushed soda can. Massive, partially melted drag chutes trail behind it like deflated balloons, their high-tech fabric still smoking from re-entry. Added to that, the exterior is scorched black in places and there are no windows, no wheels—just a plain metal box stamped with the EXA logo on the side.

“How—” I begin, but stop when I hear groaning from inside the container.

“We need help in here!” someone calls out. “There are people hurt!”

One woman, the young med-student, suddenly jerks to attention and hurries back inside the bus.

I turn to the others gathered outside. Shock is written across every face. Some are crying silently. Others look completely numb.

“Maybe we should wait inside until the Xyma come to pick us up.” I swallow hard, pushing back my heart which has been steadily rising up my throat. “No use waiting out here in the heat. I’m sure this…orientation caught us all off guard and they’ll be here to explain everything soon.”

That doesn’t even sound convincing to my ears. I catch Jacqui’s single raised eyebrow and give her a look that says, “yea I know, but what else am I supposed to say?”

Luckily for me, these women actually listen and most begin filing back into the bus muttering about this being really messed up and out of the blue. The moment I step back inside, my shoulders sag with the relief from the shade. Some women who still have places to sit do so, but I head toward the front where there’s a small huddled group.

As I get closer, I see the woman who said she was a nurse—Alex—working on the woman who’d hit her head. The woman isn’t moving, and for a moment, my breath stills in my chest.

“Is she…”

Alex glances my way. “I’m pretty sure she has a concussion.” Her chest rises and falls, her hands moving with practiced ease as she checks the woman’s pupils with her phone’s flashlight, before feeling for the pulse at her neck. “She’s responsive to pain stimuli but not fully conscious. I need something to stabilize her neck, and something to monitor her vitals. Does anyone have a first aid kit? Or at least some clean cloth we can use as bandages?”

Beside her, the med student is working on the other injured woman, who definitely has a broken arm.

I have to do something to help them. “First aid kit,” I say. “I’ll find you one.”

Alex looks up and meets my gaze. She gives me an appreciative nod before placing her attention on the unconscious woman again.

Turning, I face the length of the not-really-a-bus again. I’m moving before I even give it proper thought, gaze scanning the gray interior.

“A first-aid kit?” I hear Jacqui hiss behind me. “Where the hell are you going to find that?”

I don’t know. The walls of this thing are completely smooth. But when it was just a bus, the manuals and earbuds had come out of the walls themselves. Reaching between a woman who is leaning on the edge of a seat, I pound my fist against the side of the bus. Nothing. I continue moving down, doing the same thing.

“Anyone have any sort of first aid kit?” I say loudly as I make my way down. Behind me, Jacqui sighs and begins bracing herself up to reach the seats above us. She pounds on the other side of the bus, doing the same checks I am.

“Not first aid, but I have some wet wipes!” someone shouts.

“Great, anything can help. Bring it to Alex at the front, please.” I’m almost at the back of what was our bus before I hit a panel with my fist and wince.

“Let me try,” Mikaela says from behind me. Before I can react, she steps forward and slams her fist into the panel with enough force to knock a bitch out. There’s a mechanical click and the panel slides open, revealing a compartment filled with emergency supplies.

I startle, eyes widening.

“Muay Thai,” she smirks, shaking out her hand. “And that panel had a different sound when you knocked on it.”

The panel falls to the floor with a dull clang.

“Damn—Nice punch,” I tell Mikaela as I crouch.

She shrugs, but I catch the slight upturn of her lips. “Finally, something from my resume that’s actually useful.”

As if on cue, a mechanical whirring sound comes from the now-open section of the bus wall. A thin layer slides back, revealing several identical metal cases.

Jacqui crouches beside me, gaze flicking to mine. One metal case is about the size of a large suitcase, with the EXA logo emblazoned on top. With Jacqui’s help, I tug the heavy thing out, placing it on the floor between us. My fingers hover over the latch.

“Should we open it?”

“What choice do we have?” Jacqui says. “Maybe it’s emergency supplies. Better yet, a beacon.”

With a deep breath, I kneel beside the case and flip the latches. The lid springs open automatically, revealing neatly packed contents: several sealed packets labeled “HYDRATION” in English beneath an alien script. There’s also some clothing items in vacuum-sealed bags and what appears to be a small toolset.

“We should open the others. Take inventory,” Erika says, already pulling out another one. “Maybe there’s enough for all of us.”

Some of the other women look on, peering but not seemingly interested in what we’re doing. Others have drifted back outside, marveling at the landscape we’ve managed to find ourselves on.

That leaves just the four of us checking the cases—me, Jacqui, Mikaela and Erika.

“You’re right,” I tell her, already opening another one. “We need to take inventory. This one contains similar items, but also includes a small medical kit.”

I hand the first aid kit to Mikaela, who grabs it and hurries back down the aisle to the nurse and the little infirmary at the front of the bus.

“Hydration packets, food packets, emergency blankets…” Erika trails off. “They planned for us to be here.”

I stop searching the case before me to look at her. “Well…maybe not here exactly.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to alarm the other women around us. “I think something went wrong.”

Erika’s throat moves, but she doesn’t reply. The look in her eyes, though, it tells me I’m dead on.

“Search the cases,” Jacqui whispers. “We need to find a beacon.” Her gaze slides to mine and I can read the anxiety but also that quiet strength I’ve always admired in my sister. The same strength that kept me going after our mother died and Jacqui didn’t speak a word out loud for months. I give her a silent nod, neither us nor Erika saying anything more on the subject until Tina appears, face buried in the manual. She almost falls over Jacqui in her intense concentration.

“Oof! Sorry!” She rights herself. “It says here that all research locations are equipped with ‘basic human survival necessities, accessible once found.’ Whatever that means.” Her gaze then falls to the cases before us. “Oh. Guess…guess you found them. There’s something else I found too.”

Something curdles in my chest. “What?”

“It’s—it’s here. In the fine print.” She points to a section of text so small I have to squint to see it.

“‘The Earth-Xyma Alliance Environmental Adaptation Research Program includes off-world testing in controlled biospheres replicating Xyma habitation zones,’” she reads. “‘Participants may be relocated via standard Xyma transportation protocols to other world testing sites for the duration of the research period.’”

“‘Other world’ testing sites?” Jacqui repeats. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Tina, let me see that,” Erika says, taking the manual. She skims the text, her expression growing darker. “Oh my God. There’s more. ‘Relocation may include standard cryogenic suspension for interplanetary transit. All medical side effects of such procedures are covered under the EXA health protocol.’”

“We signed up for this?” The cheery lady, Pam, suddenly appears. Her smile seems frozen on her face; her perpetual optimism finally cracking. “I don’t remember agreeing to leave Earth.”

“That’s because they buried it in the fine print,” Mikaela returns, gaze shifting to the cases before us. “Classic corporate bullshit. Except instead of stealing our data, they stole our whole fucking bodies.”

I run my hands through my hair—my bun is all but dislodged anyway. Turning from the group, my gaze travels over the vast expanse of sand I can see through the crack in the metal before us.

“But why? Why would they take us to…wherever this is? And then just drop us here?” someone else asks.

“Survival program, lady.” Someone else says. “They never said how and as far as I see it, this is exactly what we signed up for.”

That makes everyone go silent.

I hold Jacqui’s gaze, not really sure what I’m supposed to feel.

“The recording,” Jacqui whispers. “Before we landed. It said something about a payload being compromised. Engine failing.”

“They dumped us,” Erika whispers back. When my gaze shifts back at her, she’s clenching her teeth. “Something went wrong with their transport, and they jettisoned us to save the main ship.”

“Like fucking cargo,” Jacqui spits.

I shake my head. It can’t have been that. I refuse to believe. Closing my eyes, I try to keep my rising panic at bay. “Okay. Okay. Let’s think this through. They wouldn’t just abandon us completely.”

“Maybe they’re watching us. Who the fuck knows?” Jacqui throws her hands up.

“That would mean they planned for us to be here.” Mikaela crouches, pushing a few of the items in the case before us.

Jacqui scoffs. “Are you kidding? You think they meant to crash-land us in a desert with a sun that’s got a raging boner? This wasn’t planned.”

“Actually…” Tina adjusts her glasses, still studying the manual. “The pamphlet does mention ‘simulated emergency scenarios’ as part of the adaptation testing. It says, ‘Participants will encounter various survival situations designed to test human adaptability in Xyma-compatible environments.’”

Some of the women exchange hopeful glances.

“See?” Pam claps her hands together, her optimism returning. “This is all part of the test! We’re supposed to be here!”

“Then why did that automated voice say the payload was compromised?” Jacqui crosses her arms. “Why say the engine was failing? That sounded like a real emergency to me, not a simulation.”

“I didn’t hear that,” someone else speaks up.

“I did.” Erika stands. “And that crash wasn’t controlled. People are seriously hurt.”

“Maybe it’s more extreme than we expected,” one woman suggests. “You know, like those hardcore reality shows where they drop people in the wilderness?”

Erika shakes her head. “No reality show would risk killing contestants. That woman with the head injury could have died.”

“Maybe the Xyma don’t see it that way,” Tina says quietly. She flips another page in the manual.

“What do you mean?” I ask, a chill running down my spine despite the oppressive heat.

Tina shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. They’re aliens. Maybe the Xyma view risk differently than we do. They have longer lifespans, more advanced medicine. Maybe what seems dangerous to us is just…data collection to them.”

“And that’s exactly what we signed up for.” Mikaela’s shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh.

“Data collection.” Jacqui gestures at the barren landscape. “There’s nothing out here but sand and rocks.”

“Which means we should stay with the transport,” I stand, gaze shifting over the interior of the bus. “If this is a test, they’ll be monitoring us, right? And if it’s not—if something really did go wrong—then staying with the wreckage makes it easier for rescue to find us.”

“If anybody’s coming to rescue us,” Mikaela mutters.

“The container still has shade,” Erika points out. “And we don’t know what’s out there or how far we’d need to go to find shelter.”

Several nods of agreement follow her words.

“We should check if there’s a beacon or communication device in these cases,” Jacqui says, returning to the supplies. “Something to contact the EXA, find out what’s happening.”

As we continue searching through the cases, a heated debate breaks out among the group. Some women, led by Pam, insist this is all part of the test—that we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, and our response is being evaluated. Others, like Erika and Mikaela, are convinced we’ve been abandoned and need to focus solely on survival.

“Look at it logically,” Tina says, pushing her glasses up her nose. “If this is a test, staying with the transport and using the supplies methodically makes sense. If it’s a real emergency and we were jettisoned, then we still need to conserve energy and resources until we can signal for help.”

“She’s right,” Erika says. “Either way, our first priority is to organize what we have and establish some kind of shelter.”

I nod, grateful for their level-headedness. “We also need to take inventory of the supplies and ration them. We don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

“What about that beacon?” Jacqui’s voice rises a tad and I know that internally, she’s absolutely freaking the hell out. “Shouldn’t there be some kind of emergency signal we can activate?”

We all turn back to the cases with renewed purpose, unpacking each one and cataloging the contents. The heat is oppressive. It’s like the sun out there is alive and is focusing solely on us. Even inside the bus, it feels like I’m being cooked.

After nearly an hour of searching, Mikaela holds up a small device from one of the cases. “I think I found something!”

We gather around as she shows us a flat, rectangular object about the size of a paperback book. It has a screen on one side and several buttons marked with unfamiliar symbols.

“Is that it? A beacon?” Jacqui’s hopefulness is catching.

“I don’t know.” Mikaela turns the device over in her hand. “It was in a compartment labeled ‘EMERGENCY’ in both English and what I’m guessing is Xyma script.”

Tina takes it gently, examining the device. “There’s no clear instruction for how to use it. Maybe it’s in the manual somewhere…” She begins flipping through the manual again.

“Try pressing the largest button,” I suggest. “That’s usually the power button, right?”

Mikaela hesitates, then presses the prominent red button in the center. The screen flickers to life, displaying a series of alien characters that scroll rapidly across the display.

“What does it say?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.

“I have no idea,” she responds. “It’s all in Xyma.”

Suddenly, the device emits a series of high-pitched beeps and a small light on its top edge begins to pulse with a steady rhythm.

“I think you activated it,” Erika says, watching the light blink. “That has to be a distress signal.”

Jacqui grins, throws her hands up and releases a loud “Whoo!” Taking a deep breath, she places her hands on her hips. “Okay, so what now?”

Mikaela meets my gaze before shifting her focus to Erika. Erika shrugs. The fact is…we don’t know. None of us do. When we all turn our attention to Tina, she pushes her glasses up her nose and shrugs.

“The manual doesn’t say anything about that.”

I release a breath as I stare out at the desert beyond. “What now?” My eyes narrow. “We wait.”