Shadow Of The Past Trilogy ∞ THE DISPLACED

76 ∞ no moon

[Last scene rated PG-15.]

Day Seventeen ∞ Sunday evening

THEY WAITED. Atlas took a swig of water and wandered around the ship, surveying the contingent that held them under guard. Danny watched Mickmi as the shadows grew longer, the canopy above the shield dome throwing irregular spots of light on the ground. She didn't move after Selina's body disappeared. She just stood there like a statue, hands folded, her face lifted toward the sun in the west.

—Mickmi.

She didn't react, didn't move. He approached and stepped in front of her on the other side of the litter.

—Mi... "Queen Lepantra." He waited for her to lower her gaze to meet his. "I..." He hesitated, conscious of Apocalypse's men watching their every move, listening to their every word. "Perhaps you should rest your legs a while."

She regarded him, her face still. But then there was a slight shift, just a hint of a smile in her eyes. He swung his hand toward the ship, and she dipped her head, a faint movement in response. He followed her back to the ship. She paused next to the ramp, then turned around and looked across the encampment.

"You should sit. And you should eat while you have the chance. You haven't had much since we left Vegas." He dug into the plastic bag as she shook her head.

"I am not hungry."

"Eat it anyway. Besides, you're not going to let it spoil, making me have wasted my money on buying it for you, are you?" He proffered the wrapped roll to her.

There was the smile again. She gestured at the ramp behind her, and it came to life as a section of it bent into a concavity. She sat in it, back straight, and took the chimichanga from him.

Danny shook his head in fascination as the rest of the ramp rose and leveled into a horizontal surface with its end forming a foot to prop it on the ground. It was now a perfect bench.

"Your ship's amazing," he said. "How does it do that? I mean, what kind of material is—" He broke off as he spotted one of the armed men outside the shield talk into his comms. Everything they were doing was being reported back to Apocalypse.

She took a bite of the chimichanga, taking her time to chew. "Feel its skin," she said after a while.

"Its skin?"

She nodded once. He stepped to the hull and touched it. Small ripples left his fingers tingling.

"Fully."

He pressed his palm against the surface. It felt alive, crawling disconcertingly against his skin. Waves of ripples flowed outward on the smooth surface before the pattern reversed on itself, returning to him. He stared at it, then pulled back his hand. His palm looked normal.

"Atlas," she said as Atlas came around the ramp bench.

Atlas strode to the ship and slapped his hand on the hull, watching the effects.

"You are registered," Mickmi said so only they could hear. "You must be able to exit or access sustenance while I am not here. We know not how long it will take... Or—"

"I'm not letting you go alone." Danny wasn't about to let her say it. He wasn't even going to let the possibility of the thought enter the picture—her ending up like Selina.

"Look around you, kid. You really think we have a fucking say here?" Atlas strode to take up his position beyond the end of the bench, shaking his head.