A Wilma's Tear

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space,

or so they say.

Nobody has seen the Wilmas cry a single tear,

or so they say.

Nobody knows where the Luma’s rest their head,

or so they say.

Or so they say.

I first learned the words to the somber melody in the Corgan's tongue, a language I didn’t comprehend. The meaning of the eerie lyrics was lost to me. A man imprisoned at the end of the hall sang them every day. His haunting voice would bellow past the stone walls and waft into every cell like a ghost searching for salvation. The prison would still, the weeping would stop, and goosebumps would cover my skin.

One day, two mangled face guards dragged the body of a lanky prisoner to the door of my cell. The barred gate slid aside with a whoosh. Without a word, the men threw the young girl onto the floor. She curled herself into a ball of limbs, wrapping her long tail around herself the way the umbilical cord wraps around a baby. I watched in silence as she sobbed. Her lilac skin flushed to mauve as she heaved until she couldn’t breathe. Then the stranger at the end of the hall began his ethereal lullaby as if to soothe the inconsolable cries that echoed all around us.

Slowly, the girl uncurled herself, revealing cheeks stained with tears and wide amber-colored eyes. I couldn’t help but stare. She lacked ears and eyebrows. Her black hair was braided into thousands of strands and decorated with beads and shells. The child was peculiar and beautiful. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen revolutions. An unfamiliar feeling caused my stomach to ache. She was a Talien, a member of the race I was here to advocate for. Now, we shared a prison cell.

After the song faded and silence thickened the air, the girl asked in a hoarse voice, “Is it true?”

My brow furrowed in confusion. Her accent made her words almost slur together.

“Is what true?” I asked.

“His song. He said that no one has seen a Wilma cry.”

My stomach cringed. “How do you know I am a Wilma?”

A queer grin lifted the corner of her berry-colored lips. She lifted a dainty finger and pointed to my neck. “Your markings. Your representatives were at The Great Emancipation.”

The sickening feeling in my abdomen grew. I lifted my collar to cover the collection of burgundy stripes and dots.

“You speak Corganian?” I asked, desperate to avoid answering her question.

She nodded her head as her tail flicked the tears off her face. She said, “All Talien in the Hudan Province are required to speak it. Those who refuse to comply have their tongues removed.”

A shiver slithered down my spine. As the girl went to speak again, the stranger’s sudden singing interrupted her. I was thankful for the distraction. The vowels and soft sounds of the pacifying song were so familiar I sang them under my breath.

The prisoner began singing louder until the building felt like a concert hall. Instead of stopping where he usually did, he started over, getting louder and louder with each verse. My stomach fluttered. Something wasn’t right. The man’s voice sounded urgent instead of soothing.

Underneath the frequency of the melody, I could hear the rhythmic thudding of boots hitting the stone floor. The hair on my arms stood up. The Talien girl tapped her tail in cadence with the footsteps and looked at me, silently asking if I heard it too. I nodded.

A hushed voice crackled through the air as a man whispered, “Nadua?”

Micco. The familiar sound of Micco’s voice brought a wave of simultaneous relief and uneasiness.

“Nadua? Where are you?”

I called back. “Here. I’m in cell C eleven.”

The sound of marching grew closer. My heartbeat filled my ears, my stomach churned. Micco appeared in front of the door, the dim lighting danced on his mercury-infused uniform. Without a word, he disengaged the door’s locking mechanism and pushed it open. A sad smile crept across his face. As he took a step inside, two Willmarian troops covered the entrance. I didn’t recognize either of them.

Panic caused the blood to drain from my face. “Is it just the three of you?”

Micco’s expression shifted from relieved, to confused, to disappointed. His brow finally settled on a neutral position before he said, “Alo is here too. He’s with the others.” Micco paused, and I could see he was contemplating saying something before he changed his mind. He continued. “We need to go. Now.”

As I looked around the cell for the last time, my eyes landed on the young girl. “Come on.” I whispered as I motioned for her to follow me.

Micco grabbed my upper arm and pulled me close enough so he could mutter into my ear. “She can’t come with us.”

I shook my arm free from his grasp and looked up into his authoritarian glare. “She’s a child. I’m not leaving her.”

The girl gingerly moved to my side, and she slid her hand into mine. Micco’s jaw clenched, he did an about-face and then walked out of the cell. As the Talien girl and I followed, one soldier handed me a hooded cloak. The other removed his and handed it to the girl.

As the five of us made our down the corridor, a gravity pulled on me, begging me to turn around. Over my shoulder, I saw the warped face of the Corganian man singing woefully at the end of the hall. His voice warmed as he watched me take in the only sense of comfort I had for months. His frail hands gripped the bars of his cell door as if he was reaching for me. My eyes burned briefly at the thought of leaving him.

A hand rested on my shoulder. With a lump in my throat, I turned to Micco and asked, “What about the other prisoners?”

He shook his head. “We can’t.” Without further explanation, he lifted my hood over my head and nudged me forward.

The stranger’s voice faded to a whisper as we turned the corner. I found myself nauseous as I realized that man had sung to cover up the sound of my rescuers and I didn’t even know his name.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” The young girl asked as she tugged on my sleeve.

Numbness flooded me as I looked down at her long face. I swallowed the last bits of emotion and asked, “What’s your name?”

She cocked her head before saying, “Aurelia.”

Micco shot a sharp shush in our direction. Aurelia contorted her face into a fictitious scowl and I tried to suppress my smile.

With another yank on my cloak, she summoned me down to her height. In my ear, she asked, “How do you know this guy? He’s kind of a swamp log.”

My insides fluttered. “Micco is my intended.” Aurelia’s gaze lacked understanding, so I clarified. “We’ve been selected to marry.”

Her upper lip curled, but before she could say anything, the sound of two Corganian guards caused our group to freeze. Micco and one of the other men grabbed Aurelia, and I and shoved us around the corner of a nearby corridor. The guard's laughter and conversation bounced off the walls, creating a disorienting cacophony of noises. My chest burned as I refused to take even a shallow breath as the guards grew closer. The two nameless soldiers ducked down the hall containing the guards.

Two popping sounds ricocheted around us before the thud of two bodies hit the ground. Each of the soldiers returned with an empty tranquilizer dart in hand. Micco gave them a nod, and we continued through the labyrinth of damp corridors.

As we approached a heavy, metal door, Micco pressed a button on his gauntlet. After a moment, the door creaked open. The two soldiers exited first, then Micco nudged Aurelia toward the exit, before getting in step behind me. He rested his hand on the small of my back, causing a wave of nausea to creep up my torso.

Dense, humid air encased me as I stepped outside. My hair clung to the sweat that covered my forehead and neck. Despite the uncomfortable heat, I filled my lungs with the fresh air and relished in the slight breeze that played with my cloak.

“Nadua, I’m so glad you’re okay.” A shadowy figure embraced me.

“Thank you, Alo,” I whispered into the crook of his neck.

When he pulled away, I noticed his eyes lacked their typical mischief. My gut churned. I looked at the other silhouettes that spotted my field of vision. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see the broken expressions that hallowed Cyrus and Otto’s faces.

“Where’s Lyra?”

No one answered my question. It hung in the air like a thick fog.

I asked again, “Where is Lyra?” My tone was shrill as searched for her in the shadows.

Alo stepped in front of me. His voice was barely audible as he said, “She’s dead.”

My knees lost their structure, and I crumpled onto the grass. Alo and Micco flanked each of my sides and returned me to my feet. The ground leaned beneath me and I felt stomach acid burn the back of my throat.

“What happened?”

As the words pushed past my lips, a red light radiated from Micco’s glove. “We need to go. We have less than two minutes before the next patrol comes to this side of the building.”

With Micco at the lead and Alo at the rear, the group rushed toward a line of trees in the distance. My mind played the last time I saw Lyra over and over. My blouse was ripped. She was standing in a hallway in the palace. She looked horrified. I couldn’t meet her eye.

The flashback was interrupted as fell forward. My shin throbbed as I looked back to see the shadow of a large stone. Alo helped me upright, but putting my weight on my right side was torturous. I bite back a yelp as he threw my arm over his shoulder and we hobbled behind the group.

“Alo, tell me what happened to Lyra.” My lungs ached from running as I spoke.

“When we get to camp.”

“No, now.” I tried to stop walking, but he dragged me forward, sending shooting pain up my body.

“Could you stop being so stubborn for five minutes, Nadua?” Despite his stern tone, I could hear the endearment.

Flashes of memories caused my head to spin and for a moment, I didn’t want to know the answer. We rushed through the darkness in silence. I focused on the sound of his breathing as we got closer to the woods.

As we approached the treeline, Alo stopped. I looked for the rest of the group, but there was nothing but a thick grove of bushes in front of us. He pulled aside what appeared to be a curtain that created the facade of foliage, revealing a blinding warm light that didn’t exist a moment ago. He motioned for me to enter.

A large tent full of cots and supplies was hidden behind the masking technology. Maps, notes, and pictures speckled one wall. My eyes were glued to the portrait of Lyra that was pinned next to mine.

Micco and the other soldiers were shedding their combat uniforms as Otto, Cyrus, and Aurelia sat at the table. Alo plopped me onto the nearest cot and retrieved a medical kit. I pulled up my pant leg to reveal a large gash and a swollen bruise.

Aurelia rushed to my side and wrapped herself around my arm.

She whispered, “Why is your blood that color? And are all Wilma’s so tall?”

Her childlike curiosity lifted the corner of my mouth. Micco raised an eyebrow in my direction as I began bandaging my injury. I ignored him as I focused on cleaning the indigo-colored blood that trickled down my skin.

As Micco cleared his throat, a holographic map filled the center of the room. He said, “We have less than twelve hours until our extraction team will arrive at this location.” He pointed to a marked clearing deeper in the woods. “We’ll rest here for a few hours and start heading that way before the first sun rises. By the time the twin suns have broken past the horizon, we’ll be on our way home.”

My stomach dropped. “No.” The word fell out of my mouth.

“No?” Micco lifted his chin and furrowed his brow. Annoyance riddled his tone.

I stood from the cot and limped to close the distance between us. My inhibition dissolved with each step and I could feel my cheeks flush with frustration. I said, “Before I was arrested, we were planning on meeting with a group who’s been smuggling Talien’s out of the Hudan Province. I’m going to join them.”

Micco grabbed me by the shoulders, digging his fingertips into my flesh as he said, “No, you’re not. You’re coming back.”

My bones broiled. “No. I’m not.”

His eyes flashed with rage. “What about your duty to the colony, Nadua?”

I pushed my words through clenched teeth. “I don’t give a shit about the Colony.”

He released my arms and took a step backward. His face contorted with disbelief.

As he searched for a response, I let every once of bitterness in my body roll off my tongue. “You have no idea what these people have been through.” I took a deep breath to soothe the tightness in my throat before I continued. “Do you know what they do to prisoners like me? What they do to the Taliens who are caught trying to escape? When I was first detained, they locked me and an elderly Talien woman in a cell with nothing but a canteen of water. There were no windows. No food. Nothing. For five days. They call it Deprivation. She died, Micco, and for three days I sat there staring at the decaying corpse of a woman whose only crime was attempting to escape slavery so she could see her grandchildren again. So no, I do not care about my duty to the Colony.”

The eyes of everyone in the tent bore into me. I didn’t need to look around to feel their penetrating gazes. The sound of Aurelia sniffling was the only thing that disrupted the deafening silence. Micco stared at me blankly as if the words I had just spoken carried no weight. His lack of emotion or reply caused my skin to burn. My hands trembled by my side and the sickly taste of metal filled my mouth as I bit down on the inside of my lip.

After an eternity, he spat his words at me. “We risked our lives to save you. I had to beg to even get this operation sanctioned.”

I scoffed at the arrogance that filled his tone. Micco rolled his shoulders back and clenched his fist. Before he could take a step toward me, Alo stepped in between us and pointed for me to go outside.

The curtain closed behind me with a crack as I walked back out into the darkness. Alo wasn’t far behind me.

“What is wrong with you?” Alo asked as he shook his head.

Desperation engulfed me. “What happened to Lyra?”

Alo stopped fidgeting and even in the darkness, I could see the dismay in his eyes. After a moment, he said, “They killed her.”

The world stopped moving. My ears rang. All I could think about was the tapestry in the palace. The image of war that was weaved by millions of threads. And Lyra.

He whispered to me the way one does when coaxing a wounded animal. “Nadua… I don’t know what happened to you that day and I hope you tell me when you’re ready, but you can’t go. You need to come home.”

My head shook back and forth so fast that my vision blurred. “I have to. I need to get Aurelia to safety.”

“She’ll be safe in the Colo-”

I cut him off, “No. Alo, I’m not going.”

He nodded. After a moment, he said, “Let me get you some supplies.”

I paced in front of the false shrubbery until the sliver of warm light lit up the ground. As Alo handed me a pack, Aurelia grabbed my hand.

“Be safe,” he whispered.

Aurelia and I walked deeper into the woods. On the map, there was a river we would have crossed before getting to the extraction site. My plan was to follow the river away from the Hudan Province.

My thought of logistics was interrupted by Aurelia swinging my hand back and forth. I looked down at her petite frame as she simultaneously looked up at me.

“So, is it true? Do Wilma’s never cry? You never answered me earlier.” Her fire-filled eyes were wide and her tail snapped back and forth, smacking the leaves on the forest floor.

“I’m not sure.” I lied.