me?”
“It’s not something we readily tell outlanders.” She snaked her arms around his waist and pressed her body to his backside.
John immediately remembered the incident at the schoolhouse. “Can you see them?”
“Of course. I’m a Surrealan.” She placed soft kisses along his spine.
John’s features tensed. It was not the same. He felt no need to press into her. Dena’s actions were not soothing, not arousing. He grew irritated.
“And you had no intentions of telling me?”
“Do not be angry. We are forbidden to speak about this with outlanders. I did not wish to keep a secret from you.”
John could not endure her touch any longer. He moved away from her. “But you did.”
He did not face Dena. He felt disgraced and disloyal by allowing her to touch him. It puzzled him. Why was he feeling loyalties toward a ghost?
“John, please understand, I was forbidden.”
“Goodnight, Dena.”
“John, please—”
“Goodnight,” he clipped. He did not see Dena’s eyes fill with tears.
John heard the door close. He went to the door and lowered the wooden lever onto the metal receiver, locking it. He returned to his bed and removed his pants, then threw them on the bed. He lowered into the hot bath.
Deep in his troubled thoughts, John did not notice his transformation. He sat in the tub for several hours staring into the blazing fire without really seeing it. He wondered how it had come to this.
He remembered saying goodnight to the night shift on Sea Base Ten. He had just finished taking a shower and was choosing a set of pajamas to put on when he heard the first blast. He grabbed a clean shirt and pants from his closet. As he was putting on his boots, his little brother Alan burst into his room shouting they were under attack.
It was the beginning of John’s nightmare. A nightmare he had yet to awake from six and a half months later. And until Bogdan returned, he would have to live amongst the dead. How was he going to do it? He sneezed.
John lowered into the tub. Only his head remained above the water. He could not stop thinking about the apparition. The ghost with the amazing kiss and burning touch was Jasira. He had guessed correctly; however, Jasira being dead had never entered his mind.
“I don’t know what’s worse. The war or the ghost.”
John lowered his head. He tried to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, the tub was not made for someone of his tall stature.
Will I ever sleep in a warm bed again? By the time John dozed off, dawn’s first light was filtering through his window.
.
Chapter 6
Tuesday, the 1st of December
John’s head broke the water’s surface. He was aching and in a fouler mood than before. He checked his wristguard for the time. He had to blink several times to adjust his focus to see the small numbers. It was six in the evening. He grabbed the soap bar and washed. After he rinsed off, he stepped out of the tub and dried his body. He reached for his clothes.
There was a knock. He glanced at the door. Should he answer? The cold was slowing down his transformation back to normal. The sunlight that filtered through the window was blinding him, for his pupils were still dilated; black covered most of his irises. His hands and feet were webbed. There were fins on the back of his calves and forearms. And his spine, from his middle-back to tailbone, was a glossy luminescent brown.
John gritted his teeth. What did it matter? Their secret was worse than his. He wrapped the towel around his waist and unlocked the door.
A young boy, around sixteen, stood in the corridor holding a large sack. His eyes grew at seeing John’s dark eyeballs; his gaze swooped over John’s body. He stepped back two steps, and stumbled over his words as he offered the sack to John. “These…these are your…your clothes you left in…uh…uh…Jasira’s houz.”
His words stirred negative emotions in John. John snatched the sack from the boy’s hand. The teenager bolted
“It’s not something we readily tell outlanders.” She snaked her arms around his waist and pressed her body to his backside.
John immediately remembered the incident at the schoolhouse. “Can you see them?”
“Of course. I’m a Surrealan.” She placed soft kisses along his spine.
John’s features tensed. It was not the same. He felt no need to press into her. Dena’s actions were not soothing, not arousing. He grew irritated.
“And you had no intentions of telling me?”
“Do not be angry. We are forbidden to speak about this with outlanders. I did not wish to keep a secret from you.”
John could not endure her touch any longer. He moved away from her. “But you did.”
He did not face Dena. He felt disgraced and disloyal by allowing her to touch him. It puzzled him. Why was he feeling loyalties toward a ghost?
“John, please understand, I was forbidden.”
“Goodnight, Dena.”
“John, please—”
“Goodnight,” he clipped. He did not see Dena’s eyes fill with tears.
John heard the door close. He went to the door and lowered the wooden lever onto the metal receiver, locking it. He returned to his bed and removed his pants, then threw them on the bed. He lowered into the hot bath.
Deep in his troubled thoughts, John did not notice his transformation. He sat in the tub for several hours staring into the blazing fire without really seeing it. He wondered how it had come to this.
He remembered saying goodnight to the night shift on Sea Base Ten. He had just finished taking a shower and was choosing a set of pajamas to put on when he heard the first blast. He grabbed a clean shirt and pants from his closet. As he was putting on his boots, his little brother Alan burst into his room shouting they were under attack.
It was the beginning of John’s nightmare. A nightmare he had yet to awake from six and a half months later. And until Bogdan returned, he would have to live amongst the dead. How was he going to do it? He sneezed.
John lowered into the tub. Only his head remained above the water. He could not stop thinking about the apparition. The ghost with the amazing kiss and burning touch was Jasira. He had guessed correctly; however, Jasira being dead had never entered his mind.
“I don’t know what’s worse. The war or the ghost.”
John lowered his head. He tried to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, the tub was not made for someone of his tall stature.
Will I ever sleep in a warm bed again? By the time John dozed off, dawn’s first light was filtering through his window.
.
Chapter 6
Tuesday, the 1st of December
John’s head broke the water’s surface. He was aching and in a fouler mood than before. He checked his wristguard for the time. He had to blink several times to adjust his focus to see the small numbers. It was six in the evening. He grabbed the soap bar and washed. After he rinsed off, he stepped out of the tub and dried his body. He reached for his clothes.
There was a knock. He glanced at the door. Should he answer? The cold was slowing down his transformation back to normal. The sunlight that filtered through the window was blinding him, for his pupils were still dilated; black covered most of his irises. His hands and feet were webbed. There were fins on the back of his calves and forearms. And his spine, from his middle-back to tailbone, was a glossy luminescent brown.
John gritted his teeth. What did it matter? Their secret was worse than his. He wrapped the towel around his waist and unlocked the door.
A young boy, around sixteen, stood in the corridor holding a large sack. His eyes grew at seeing John’s dark eyeballs; his gaze swooped over John’s body. He stepped back two steps, and stumbled over his words as he offered the sack to John. “These…these are your…your clothes you left in…uh…uh…Jasira’s houz.”
His words stirred negative emotions in John. John snatched the sack from the boy’s hand. The teenager bolted