Thrum

Images assault me as I flee. The ghosts of my crew. Lily’s skin peeling off. Dorian’s eyes. The throbbing room that was his brain. I stumble through the corridors of this living ship, and it is no longer red and wet and bleeding, but still unbearably loud. The ship won’t let me go, doesn’t want me to go.

Thrum, thrum, thrum.

Dorian’s words hang heavy over me. The repeated, prolonged exposure. How long have I been here? Days, months, years? It feels like days, but I know now that everything I’ve seen, even what I’ve felt, has been changed, warped, marred by this ship.

Not a ship.

A lifeform. Dorian himself.

If I’ve been eaten, I think, am I now in the act of being absorbed into this thing’s bloodstream? Will I ever be able to, with a simple physical act, extract myself from the stomach, climb up the esophagus, and fall out of the gaping maw? Or am I here forever? Fleeing in circles, back to where I started until I forget myself altogether…

Footsteps echo behind me — Dorian? Or my mind playing tricks?

I glance over my shoulder and see him. He’s the shadow that haunts me, the hell-black gaze that holds me. Even so, I hesitate.

No, Ami, I plead with myself. Get out. Go.

So I keep running. My lungs and muscles burn. The corridor is endless. I need to get to the docking bay. If I can just get to the docking bay…

Thrum, thrum, thrum.

A memory: I’m disembarking from Pioneer. Mahdi, Lily, and Vasilissa flank me as we descend the ramp into the docking bay. I gaze around me, taking it in, the vastness, the newness. My crew, my friends, vibrate with excitement. We’re here, we made it. And someone’s waiting to greet us: a man with pale skin and dark hair, with eyes as black as night.

The memory fades as quickly as it came. No, not a memory. A wish, a dream. A fantasy. My crew alive, all of us together.

His footsteps grow louder behind me.

“Leave me alone,” I gasp, and push myself to keep running, though now it’s more like a limping jog. My side aches, my lungs scream for air, and my heart is about to burst.

I come to a new corridor. I turn left, thoughtless, knowing I’m lost. Praying that I come to the docking bay. Praying Pioneer is still here, that I haven’t imagined her, too.

Another memory: Vasilissa perching cross-legged on a bed. The room is small, orange-lit, and a pothos sits on the table in the corner. A viewscreen on the far wall shows a swathe of starlit space. I’m slouched across from her on the bed, head resting on my hand.

“This place,” she says, her face twisting. “It’s not normal.”

I huff. “Of course it’s not. It’s an alien ship. What did you expect?”

Vasilissa leans toward me, her voice lowered, and there’s fear in her eyes now, an intensity of emotion that chills my heart. “Don’t you feel it?” she whispers. “You’re different here. The way you look at him… and the way he looks at you. Something’s happening to you, MiMi.”

I sit back, defensive. “Don’t call me that.”

Vasilissa’s eyebrows draw together, a line of concern forming between them. “Sorry,” she says, not really meaning it. “But the others and I were talking, and we think it’s best if you—”

The memory ends and I falter, my steps slowing.

No, not a memory. Vasilissa was never on the ship; it’s another fantasy. But I don’t want it, this isn’t what I dream of. The ship is showing me things to keep me here, to frighten me into returning to its arms, so it can chew me up and swallow me whole.

My pace picks up again. His footsteps do too, and the endless hum never stops. It is my constant passenger, whispering horrors in my ear.

When the corridor opens up, and at last, the docking bay comes into view, I nearly fall to my knees and weep. My legs shake, my skull about to fracture from the ship’s hum. But Dorian is catching up to me. I hear him coming, the clang of shoes against metal.

Get away, I have to get away.

And there she is, my escape: Pioneer. Docked and waiting.

I gather the last of my strength, preparing to make one last sprint to my ship, to freedom.

“Wait.” Dorian’s voice reaches out and holds me hostage.

He wants to keep me here, he wants all of me, my body, my mind, my soul. He wants to hurt me, to own me.

I hesitate.

“Ami, you can’t leave.”

I turn to face him, and he’s gorgeous as a painting, Dorian Gray in the flesh, while I’m sweat-streaked and gasping, every muscle in my body screaming from exertion. “Let me go,” I sob. “Let me go.”

“I can’t,” he says, and as he nears, I see the swirls of red in his eyes, the smoky nebulae. He is the thrum, and the thrum is Dorian. “No matter how many times you try…”

I turn and sprint to Pioneer. My muscles threaten to tear, my heart to burst, my mind to crush under the weight of the thrum. Stay, stay, stay, it urges. But I resist. I reach my ship’s hull and she is cool metal, real, and solid.

I press my palm to the control panel, and with a low whoosh of air, the ramp begins to descend. Escape is within my grasp.

And when I look to see if Dorian has followed me, a strange heaviness settles in my gut. He hasn’t. He stands just inside the docking bay, watching me. Why is he letting me leave? Why isn’t he trying to stop me?

It doesn’t matter. I never want to see him again. I won’t. I’d rather die slowly in the coffin of Pioneer than give in to him.

I make my way up the ramp, and my body nearly gives out. Even adrenaline can’t keep me going forever. But I’m here. I’m almost free.

But once I’m safely inside Pioneer, the door sealed closed behind me, Dorian’s voice caresses my brain. I hear him as clearly as if he’s standing right next to me, soft lips brushing my cheek.

No matter how many times you try to go, you always come back.