Bo and the Beast (Book #1) (Completed)

7. Captive

The robot tossed her into a cell with enough force that she stumbled to the ground, crumpling over her injured leg. Her breath vanished from her lungs as the pain brought sunbursts to her eyes. She didn't have time to nurse the wound, however, because the robot was already closing the cell door. Bo struggled to her feet, scuffling forward and hoping that she could get there fast enough to slip out. But the sound of metal clanging against metal echoed in the room long before her palms slapped against the cold bars. The robot stared at her through the circular lens, and Bo wondered if she could somehow damage it with just a punch.

Before she could make up her mind what to do, the alien's massive form filled her vision. His chest was at her eye level, but now half-hidden in shadows once again. As she watched, his glowing hands slowly closed the lock on the cell door, and turned a key in the innards. Panic flared in Bo's chest as the alien pocketed the key.

"You can't keep us here!" she shouted, hating the edge of hysteria that tinted her words.

"Come, Madame. We have work to do elsewhere," the alien said, ignoring Bo completely.

Bo screamed, kicking the cell door with her good leg, but nothing drew the alien's attention. He walked toward the room door as casually as if he was strolling to bed. Bo glared at his back, wanting to take in every detail about it so that she would know exactly where to hurt him the most when she got out. She'd know where each weak point was, and how to cause the most pain there. Her eyes scanned his back and then down his arms. They paused on his left hand, which held something that flashed white in the darkness. It took her a while to see that it was the slip of paper he had used while analyzing her face earlier. She could see nothing beyond its color until the robot caught up to its master, and its blinking green light lit the paper in a garish glow.

That was when Bo's blood ran cold. She saw her own face, smiling back at herself. Her hair was combed for once, and tied in the back with a large ribbon. She even saw a flash of a blue dress, something she hadn't worn in a long time. This was a photo her father had taken of her with a rare artifact found while scavenging a few years ago. There had only been enough film to take two pictures, and her father had kept it a secret from the others so that he could use it on his daughters. He kept the photos in his pocket at all times, lucky charms to bring him back alive. The shock of seeing it in the alien's hand rendered her speechless, and she could only stare as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

The room stood completely silent. Bo stared into the shadows, shaking as she thought of her dopey smiling face in that photo. That version of her was unaware of what looked down at her, pawed at her skin, traced her features. Bo wanted to somehow warn her picture-self to stop smiling; to glare, to scowl, to do anything that would get them both away from this alien.

With no immediate threat in the vicinity, Bo's strength leeched from her body. Her muscles turned to water, and her good leg gave out underneath her. She crashed to the ground, kicking up dried fragments of straw and dust. Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes, but she knew she would never cry. That was something she had kicked out of herself years ago. Leaders didn't cry. And while her dad was still in this prison cell, it meant she had to still be that leader.

Her eyes swiveled to the cells two down from hers, where her dad stared back at her. She attempted a smile, but knew it was more of a grimace.

"Don't worry, Dad. We'll get out," she said.

Her dad didn't respond like he normally would, with a confident nod or a plan of action. Instead, his eyes were stretched large and quivering. His arm, somehow damaged, dangled at his side, while he clutched to the bars between them with the other. His voice, when he spoke, was strained and frail— like an old man nearing his end.

"Darling, Bo. You shouldn't have let him see your face. You shouldn't have let him know it was you."

"What? What does that mean?" He shook his head, turning away from her. "Dad! Why did he have my picture? What's happening!" Nothing she said got through to him. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, curling up in a ball amongst the straw, with his back toward her. No matter how many times she yelled his name, he didn't even twitch.

Bo growled in frustration and slumped with her back against the one solid wall in the cell. She knew better than to try and talk to her dad when he got like this. Every so often, when life got too much for him to bear, he would retreat into himself, disappearing from their world into his mind. She wouldn't be getting any sense out of him for a while yet.

In the meantime, her knee hurt like the flipping devil. She gingerly laid it out flat, hissing at the pain. She finally had to deal with it, even though she didn't want to look at the damage. Gritting her teeth, she stripped her crimson jacket off and tied it around her leg tight enough to make her wince. Her knee pulsed with each heartbeat, but at least it mostly stopped her blood loss. With imminent danger out of the way, Bo leaned her head back and closed her eyes. It wasn't going to be a restful night, but she might be able to catch a few minutes of sleep that could sharpen her mind for the next day.

She rested her hand on the holster that still contained one of her handguns. Her captor hadn't noticed it or the one she'd shoved into her dad's cell, and that was at least one advantage she had in her favor. Now she only had to wait and see what the alien would do with her. Should it be death, she would meet it with both fists and a good deal of anger.