Reaching out my hand, I gently move her brown hair aside to look at her face. She’s a volunteer. She is a Water woman.

I close my eyes to steady my headache. I know for certain she will be killed if she lets me die. I am safe next to her unless she wants death. All I can hope for is that she has been treated well enough in this place that she does not want to end her life with mine.

CHAPTER 4

VOLUNTEER 4711

My hunger pains wake me. I can tell by the shade of pink in the sky it’s about midday. I get up. I check on my patient and see he’s still sleeping. I touch his head because he looks hot, and I realize he actually is hot. I wonder if his head wound is infected and if he has a fever. Silvers and all the other aliens have the same body temperature as me, I think. Or I assumed so.

His sharp blue eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me in confusion.

“You are safe.”

He looks like he’s going to try and talk, but I don’t want him to cough again, so I put my fingers on his silver-colored lips, which surprises him, but he doesn’t say anything.

“No talk,” I say.

He just stares at me.

“Stay,” I say. Then I walk out and close the door behind me. I go straight to the pantry and get some food. A Silver female farmer comes in and joins me.

“How’s the male?” she asks.

“He lives.”

“You feed him this,” she says, handing me special food I’ve never seen before.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Best food. Food for him. He is special. This is doctor’s food.”

“I am hungry,” I say, hoping since he’s getting good food, I can have the plain alien oatmeal I’m usually given.

“No food for you until he is gone.”

I leave the pantry with the better food in a simple bowl and with a wooden spoon. I have a supply of juice in my room that I can give him.

I enter my room. “Food for you,” I say.

He doesn’t speak but watches me as I cross the room and pour him some juice.

I pull up a chair next to the bed and help him sit up. I can see he’s in a lot of pain. I don’t know what to do but try and settle him. Once I think he’s comfortable or as comfortable as he’s going to get, I offer him the juice. “Can you?”

He reaches out his large grey hands but then pulls them back. “You do it.”

I don’t question his request for longer than half a second. My life depends on his living. I lift the ceramic cup to his lips, and his cobalt eyes don’t leave my face as I concentrate on hydrating him and not spilling the juice everywhere.

I show him the food when he has drunk half the juice in the cup. “Eat?”