Page 16 of Zinnia and the Zombie (Alien Abduction #26)
He began carefully removing the vegetation from the windows. The vines were stubborn, their tendrils having worked deep into the seams, but he was strong enough to make the task manageable. As the greenery fell away, more of the city revealed itself.
When he reached the far end of the windows in the main living space, he discovered a door mechanism concealed behind the vines. When he activated it, a section of the wall slid open with a soft hiss to reveal a small balcony overlooking the plaza below.
“Zinnia,” he called. “I’ve found something.”
She appeared at his side, wiping her hands on a piece of fabric. Her eyes widened as she took in the discovery.
“Oh, it’s perfect,” she breathed, stepping out onto the balcony. “We can eat out here.”
The air was warm, carrying the scent of growing things. Below, the fountains glimmered in the late afternoon sun. Avians soared between the buildings, their calls echoing across the empty city.
“It’s ready,” she said after a moment. “Let’s have our first proper meal in our new home.”
Our home. The words settled into him, unexpectedly weighty. He had not had a home since his ship, and before that, his quarters in the Zathix military compound. Neither had felt like this—like a beginning rather than a temporary shelter.
They sat cross-legged on the balcony, the meal spread between them on a decorative piece of fabric she’d found. The tubers had cooked to a creamy consistency, and the greens offered a pleasantly earthy alternative.
“Not bad for alien cuisine,” she said, licking her fingers with unabashed pleasure. “We can actually do this, can’t we? Live here, I mean.”
He nodded. “Yes. The garden provides food. The water system is functional. The building’s environmental controls still operate on the backup power. Shelter, sustenance, and security—the fundamentals of survival are present.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She looked at him directly, her gaze unwavering. “I meant us. Together. Building a life here.”
He set down the fruit he’d been eating, suddenly aware of the significance of this conversation.
“I want that,” he said simply. “But I will not lie to you, my Zinnia. A part of me still hopes to find a way to search for my people. To fulfill my duty to them.”
She nodded, her expression thoughtful rather than disappointed. “I understand that. And I think we should look for a way off this planet—not immediately, but eventually.” She reached across their makeshift picnic to touch his hand. “But whatever we find or don’t find, I want to be with you.”
“And I want to be with you. We will need to expand our exploration,” he added, already considering the options. “Map the city systematically. If I recall correctly, this civilization was capable of interstellar travel, so there should be spacecraft or communication devices we can salvage.”
The possibility stirred something in him—not quite hope, but its cautious precursor.
“We should also find some proper clothes,” she added practically. “And more medical supplies. Maybe tools for growing food if we want to expand beyond what’s in the garden.”
Her pragmatism pleased him. She wasn’t dwelling on what they’d lost but focusing on what they could build.
As the sun began to set, the city underwent a transformation. Lights—dim but distinctly artificial—began to appear throughout the sprawling metropolis. Not many, but enough to create constellations of life across the darkening landscape.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing. “Automatic lighting systems?”
“Perhaps,” he said, studying the pattern of illumination. “Or emergency power reserves activated by darkness. Either way, it suggests that significant infrastructure remains operational, despite the apparent abandonment.”
“Which means there might be more resources we can use.”
He nodded, eyes still scanning the horizon. “Exactly.”
They sat in companionable silence as darkness fell completely, watching the city’s ghost lights twinkle like earthbound stars. The air cooled slightly, and she moved closer to him, seeking his warmth. He automatically wrapped an arm around her shoulders automatically, drawing her against his side.
“You know,” she said after a while, her voice soft in the darkness, “when I was a kid, I used to dream about adventures. Discovering lost cities, exploring uncharted territories.” She laughed quietly. “I never imagined anything like this.”
“I spent my youth in military academies,” he replied, memories surfacing of strict routines and endless drills. “Adventure wasn’t encouraged. Discipline and duty were the watchwords of my education.”
“And now look at us,” she murmured. “A soldier and a florist setting up house in an abandoned alien city.”
“An unlikely pairing,” he agreed.
“But it works.” She turned to face him, her features softly illuminated by the distant lights of the dead city. “We work.”
She was right. They did work together, their strengths complementing each other in ways he wouldn’t have predicted. Her adaptability balanced his rigidity; his protective instincts complemented her nurturing nature.
“We should rest,” he said, conscious of how the day’s activities had taxed them both. “Tomorrow we can begin mapping the immediate area, establishing a perimeter.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, making no move to get up. “Or we could stay here a little longer. The night’s beautiful.”
He followed her gaze upward. The stars were unfamiliar to him—this world existed in a section of the galaxy he had never navigated—but the vastness of space remained the same.
Somewhere among those distant lights, the answers to his questions waited.
The fate of his people. The purpose of his survival.
“We can stay,” he conceded, settling more comfortably.
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Good. Because I’m not ready for this day to end yet.”
They sat together as the night deepened around them, the alien city spread below like a dark garden blooming with scattered lights. Plans for tomorrow could wait. Security assessments and resource allocation could wait. For now, this moment of quiet companionship was enough.
When Zinnia finally stirred beside him, he thought she would suggest they go inside. Instead, she turned to face him, her expression softened by darkness but unmistakably determined.
“All that planning for tomorrow,” she said, her voice a low murmur that sent a ripple of anticipation through him. “The mapping, the exploration—it’s important. But there’s only one future I’m interested in right now.” She rose to her feet, holding out her hand to him. “Take me to bed, Jaxx.”
He stood, taking her offered hand, feeling the delicate bones beneath her soft skin.
“With pleasure,” he replied, and lifted her into his arms.