her friend was stupid. "This is too bizarre. It's like one of those bad comic books when..." Her voice trailed off, a sick feeling churning in her gut. Comic books often showed some innocent bystander sucked into a vortex, transported across space and time as a result of the villain's manipulations. Usually the nameless slob died before the next page.
She glanced at her hero, wondering if he could possibly be the product of another planet or dimension. He looked human. She clenched her fists, ordering herself to stop being silly. She had not stepped into a comic book. She was simply disoriented.
"What day is it?"
"Forty-third day, Warming season, Thirteenth year of the Seef."
Her knees wobbled, but she persevered, determined to face the truth. "What..." She couldn't say it. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What planet?"
He hesitated only a second. "Urta."
Her knees went out. Her legs went out. In fact, her whole body and brain went out to lunch. She fell to the ground, landing hard on her tush.
She didn't see him move, but suddenly he was beside her, his large hands warm on her shoulders. Instinctively, she asked for the one thing that always made everything easier to handle.
"Chocolate?"
He deftly pressed the beef jerky into her hands.
She moaned, but decided anything was better than thinking. Grabbing the brown stick, she closed her eyes and bit.
She was wrong. There was something worse than facing reality. And she was chewing it.
Gagging, she spit it out on the ground, simultaneously reaching for his water bag to wash the taste out of her mouth.
"Ugh! What is that stuff?"
He opened his mouth, but she raised her hand to stop him. "No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Ugh." She took another swig. "Have you got any toothpaste?" At his blank look she tried again. "Something to clean your teeth?"
His eyes widened. "You clean your teeth?"
"No, I like foul breath, a brown smile, and pain when I chew. Of course I—" She cut off her words at his stunned expression. "You don't clean your teeth?" From his whitewash smile, she'd have guessed they were plastic coated.
"Of course I clean my teeth. I am a king." He sounded insulted. As her emotions seesawed between outrage and hysteria, he rooted through his pack and came up with a box of brown powder.
"What's that?"
"Tooth powder."
At her hesitant expression, he dipped his finger in the powder, rubbed it along his teeth, then spit. The stream of expectorant looked totally gross, but he offered it to her and flashed his poster boy smile. It was either try it or be totally rude to the man who had probably saved her life.
Difficult decision.
Finally, she imitated him and nearly gagged. It felt like rubbing sandpaper across her teeth and tasted about as appetizing. She spit, managing a weak smile.
"Vile?" he asked.
She nodded. They both drank some water.
Then he turned to her, his expression curious, if a little wary. "Where do you come from where tooth powder is not a chore?"
"Boston. The United States. And it's not powder, it's a..." She gave him a vapid smile as though she were in a commercial. "A minty, fresh gel." He looked at her like she was moldy spaghetti. She sighed. "Oh, never mind."
"I don't know about Bos-ton. Or the U—"
"United States. And what do you mean you don't know about it? Everybody knows about the U.S. Those we haven't annoyed are actively trying to terrorize us. There isn't a soul on the planet that doesn't know about us." She stopped talking, once again feeling sick to her stomach. "That's the problem, isn't it? I'm not on Earth anymore."
Her companion was silent, oddly accepting of her strange comments. "I don't know."
She stared at him. His sexy body was relaxed, his expression calm. Everything she wasn't. And that really annoyed her. Her fragile mental health broke, and she rounded on him in fury. "You don't know? Well, that does me a whole lot of good. I'm lost. I've got five bucks, no food, I'm talking to every
She glanced at her hero, wondering if he could possibly be the product of another planet or dimension. He looked human. She clenched her fists, ordering herself to stop being silly. She had not stepped into a comic book. She was simply disoriented.
"What day is it?"
"Forty-third day, Warming season, Thirteenth year of the Seef."
Her knees wobbled, but she persevered, determined to face the truth. "What..." She couldn't say it. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What planet?"
He hesitated only a second. "Urta."
Her knees went out. Her legs went out. In fact, her whole body and brain went out to lunch. She fell to the ground, landing hard on her tush.
She didn't see him move, but suddenly he was beside her, his large hands warm on her shoulders. Instinctively, she asked for the one thing that always made everything easier to handle.
"Chocolate?"
He deftly pressed the beef jerky into her hands.
She moaned, but decided anything was better than thinking. Grabbing the brown stick, she closed her eyes and bit.
She was wrong. There was something worse than facing reality. And she was chewing it.
Gagging, she spit it out on the ground, simultaneously reaching for his water bag to wash the taste out of her mouth.
"Ugh! What is that stuff?"
He opened his mouth, but she raised her hand to stop him. "No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Ugh." She took another swig. "Have you got any toothpaste?" At his blank look she tried again. "Something to clean your teeth?"
His eyes widened. "You clean your teeth?"
"No, I like foul breath, a brown smile, and pain when I chew. Of course I—" She cut off her words at his stunned expression. "You don't clean your teeth?" From his whitewash smile, she'd have guessed they were plastic coated.
"Of course I clean my teeth. I am a king." He sounded insulted. As her emotions seesawed between outrage and hysteria, he rooted through his pack and came up with a box of brown powder.
"What's that?"
"Tooth powder."
At her hesitant expression, he dipped his finger in the powder, rubbed it along his teeth, then spit. The stream of expectorant looked totally gross, but he offered it to her and flashed his poster boy smile. It was either try it or be totally rude to the man who had probably saved her life.
Difficult decision.
Finally, she imitated him and nearly gagged. It felt like rubbing sandpaper across her teeth and tasted about as appetizing. She spit, managing a weak smile.
"Vile?" he asked.
She nodded. They both drank some water.
Then he turned to her, his expression curious, if a little wary. "Where do you come from where tooth powder is not a chore?"
"Boston. The United States. And it's not powder, it's a..." She gave him a vapid smile as though she were in a commercial. "A minty, fresh gel." He looked at her like she was moldy spaghetti. She sighed. "Oh, never mind."
"I don't know about Bos-ton. Or the U—"
"United States. And what do you mean you don't know about it? Everybody knows about the U.S. Those we haven't annoyed are actively trying to terrorize us. There isn't a soul on the planet that doesn't know about us." She stopped talking, once again feeling sick to her stomach. "That's the problem, isn't it? I'm not on Earth anymore."
Her companion was silent, oddly accepting of her strange comments. "I don't know."
She stared at him. His sexy body was relaxed, his expression calm. Everything she wasn't. And that really annoyed her. Her fragile mental health broke, and she rounded on him in fury. "You don't know? Well, that does me a whole lot of good. I'm lost. I've got five bucks, no food, I'm talking to every
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