Where Nothing Ill Can Dwell

Chapter 12 - Ferdinand

Something in the air had changed.

I could've said it started when Miranda offered to give me a lesson in farming, even though I knew she'd been ordered not to speak to me.

Or when I'd held her in my arms and come within inches of kissing her.

Or that fact she'd run away when I mentioned Antonio.

All three things had heightened my curiosity. One more riddle to solve. One more clue about my captors. Her mother had definite ties to MILAN, and based on Miranda's reaction, possible ties to the CEO. Did Miranda and her mother know about the scandal from a few years ago? Were they part of it? Was this torture device around my neck all part of a mad scientist's experiment to crush my free will?

My thoughts darkened, and my movements roughened with agitation. Why was I wasting time tilling the ground when I should be looking for my father? If I'd survived the crash, there was a chance he had survived, too. And every second I spent under that crazy woman's control was a second I could've spent looking for him.

I wasn't ready to admit he was gone. Not yet.

But for every dark thought, I found a counterbalance in the acts of Miranda. Her mother wanted to turn me into a slave, to make me suffer under the control of an absolute dictator. Miranda proved to me there was still some good in this place. Her willingness to defy her mother for my well-being gave me hope that maybe if I followed her example—if I pretended to play along while subtly pushing back instead of the outright rebellion that had governed my life up until now—I could find the answers I sought and maybe even gain my freedom.

The shift in my attitude troubled me, but it wasn't until I'd finished the next row of weeds that I physically noticed a change in the air. The sky darkened as clouds rolled in overhead, carried by an ever-stiffening wind. The sun dimmed, yet the air crackled with energy. The hairs on my arms rose, and although I tried to bury my apprehension in my work, flashbacks of the solar storm yesterday continued to haunt me.

A gust of wind blew dust into my eyes and blasted my bare skin. I threw down the hoe and was in the process of zipping up my flight suit when Miranda emerged from the main building carrying a large plastic box in her hands. The gale whipped her skirts around her legs, slashed her long hair across her face, and tripped her steps.

I ran to her aid before she blew away. "Let me help."

"Thank you," she replied, giving me the container and pulling her hair out of her eyes.

It was heavier than I'd expected—and far heavier than I imagined someone as dainty as Miranda could carry. Once again, she managed to surprise me. I followed her into my living quarters and set the box down where she'd indicated.

"There's a storm coming," she stated, as though it wasn't obvious.

"No kidding?"

She laughed at my sarcasm and combed her fingers through her fiery, snarled curls. "They have a tendency to pop up out of nowhere here. Mom says it's because the atmosphere of this planet is unstable. But as soon as I heard the alarm, I gathered some supplies for you."

"Much appreciated." I opened the box and let out a low whistle. "Are you sure you weren't prepping me for some kind of siege?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder with another laugh and moved beside me, pulling out an archaic lantern and a pile of blankets. "The duration of storms here is as unpredictable as their occurrence. They can last hours or days. I just wanted to make sure you were covered for the worst case scenario."