Page 4 of Meteor Storm

I found a densely packed bar of something brown that smelled vaguely like jerky or bacon grease. There was a plastic pouch like an IV bag full of clear liquid, too. Lastly, there was a bag of little green squares that I really wanted to be gummies, but who was I kidding?

I tore open the pouch first and gave it a taste. When I realized it was just water, I started to gulp down the whole thing. Then I took a nibble of the dense bar to find that it tasted exactly how it smelled. It was like a packed brick of lard and dried meat without seasoning.

It tasted like shit, but I was so hungry, I didn’t care. I knew I needed the protein and the calories. Finally, I tasted the little green squares and was pleasantly surprised to find that they were somewhat sweet and refreshing, making the meat bar a little more tolerable.

Once I finished as much food as I could stomach and the whole pouch of water, I scooted back into my corner again, waiting. It felt like hours had passed, but I had no way of telling time. The silence and the bright walls were going to drive me crazy.

“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself, standing.

I didn’t care that I was naked at that point. I started pacing my cell just to stretch my legs and investigate the environment a little more. I ran my hands along the walls searching for weaknesses. Seams. Holes. Anything that would indicate that it opened up. Then I studied the mirror. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that someone or something was watching me. There was no other reason for a mirror in a cell like mine. Someone was on the other side of it.

My reflection looked thinner than I remembered. My olive skin was paler, too, which was a result of working on the Nexus with no sunlight to penetrate all their windows, which were just live feeds of the outside anyways. I used to have color in my skin. I was outdoorsy. Adventurous. I had one small tattoo on my hip of a cross. I wasn’t religious, but one of the old women that cared for me as a child was. I got it for her when she died.

The only other thing on my body that set me apart were the scars a few inches under my right breast. One where the bullet went in… another where they cut me open to save my life. A second entry scar sat lower on my abdomen, but that one went straight through… mostly.

I lightly ran my fingers over the raised flesh. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I was living my life on Earth. Now, hell if I knew where I was or how long I’d been gone. I had dark circles under my eyes and the brown hue of my eyes themselves looked so dull. Almost foggy. My hair was nearly the same shade of brown. It was hanging down just far enough to cover my breasts, but I’d never had the thickest hair in the world. It wasn’t doing as much as I would have liked.

Any bruising had turned yellow and faded, which meant it had been a little time since the freighter attack. There were some scabs on my shins. A gash near my hairline that should have had stitches, but instead, it seemed to have been closed by some sort of clear glue. When I touched it, it was smooth and a little numb.

Aggravated that I was being forced to stare at myself, I approached the mirror. I pressed my hands to the slick surface and peered into it, trying to see through the impenetrable reflection, but I got nothing.

“Hello?” I said. “Let me out of here.”

Stupid, I thought, shaking my head.

Of course they weren’t going to let me out.

Eventually, I found a way to vaguely tell time. If I had my Buddy, it would be easier, but I’d been stripped of everything, including that little portable aid.

Six meals. I counted six meals, all of them spaced out by hours. How many hours, I couldn’t tell. I was going crazy in that box. Once a day, a small hole would appear on the opposite side of the room and without anywhere else to deposit bodily waste, I used it as a toilet.

I hated it. It was humiliating, despite the deceiving solitude. It was dirty. I had nothing to clean up with.

The idea that I would never get out hadn’t escaped my thoughts. Maybe it was some sick social experiment to see how long it would take for me to lose my mind without the ability to tell time or manage my hygiene. Or maybe some alien race was out there staring back like it was some kind of zoo. Maybe I was in quarantine.

I eventually had my fingers buried in my hair and curled up in the corner trying to shield my eyes from the light that never went out. I heard the little slit in the door open and I heard the tray slide through, but I didn’t care. I was losing my appetite, especially for the bland meat bars.

When I didn’t touch the food, they seemed to notice, whoever they were. Finally, a sound other than my food being deposited got my attention. A mechanical whir echoed through the cell and the ceiling seemed to shift until it wasn’t a light but a big, glowing grate. I stared up at it, feeling defeated, when water suddenly spilled down on me like cold rain. I screamed, pressing myself to the wall. Not that it did any good.

I knew how to steady my breathing, slow my pulse, keep my voice level when everything around me was falling apart. But the scenarios I’d prepared for were Earthbound.

I knew I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I wasn’t even close.

So, when the water came on, my whole body locked tight with fear. Every muscle went rigid, every thought sharpened into something brittle and dangerous. Madness brushed at the edges of my mind and I hated how easily it found a foothold.

Soaked and shivering, I pressed my head to the wall and took deep, calming breaths, trying to get my rapid heartbeat under control.

One. Two. Three.

I counted them slowly, letting myself feel every ounce of air that passed through me.

Four. Five. Six.

The water was filling the room and an irrational voice in my head started to say they were trying to drown me. But why would they do that after going through the trouble of feeding me and keeping me alive?

Once I was finally able to get myself under control, I could start analyzing the situation. The water smelled sterile. Not as if it was filled with chemicals, but it did have a scent to it like it wasn’t just water. It was cleansing. I was embarrassed to see that the water coming off my body wasn’t clear. But that meant it was bathing me. I quickly took the opportunity to start scrubbing myself with my hands. I cleaned every inch of my body as fast as I could and then started combing my fingers through my hair when the water shut off.

It was better than nothing.