Mind Over Psyche by Karina L. Fabian Read Free Book Online Page B

preferred it to getting up and looking out the window. Through it, he had seen a hallway-sized branch that grew out of the side of the building, “blossoming” out into a low-walled platform that looked past the compound walls. In the dusty area below it, human-enough-looking aliens wearing thick, skin-hugging red outfits practiced sword-fighting skills with a seriousness that said it was no SCA get-together. Even now, he heard grunts and the occasional yelp, but no commands, no words at all, not in any language, and that struck Joshua as the most alien thing of all.
    I am not going crazy , he told himself again. Still, the psychiatric part of his mind warned him that if he didn’t do something, he might fall into d epression.
    What could he do? Panic? He’d already done that, throwing himself against the leaf-like curtain, which was now as solid as any door back home. He’d pounded on it and shouted until his fists were sore and his throat raw. He didn’t know if anyone had noticed, though once he’d calmed down, a warrior had come with food and two pitchers of water. With signs, he told him one was for was hing only.
    What could he do, cry? He’d done that, too, as soon as the warrior had left him alone. It had released his stress, but otherwise don e no good.
    Pray? He’d never prayed so hard in his life, starting with desperate pleas, gradually moving toward familiar prayers he’d learned in years of Catholic religious education—Our Father, Morning Offering, every mystery of the rosary. It had calmed him some, and he had begun to sing some of the prayers, comforting himself with the music, moving on to other hymns, then popular songs. He stopped when he found himself singing one Rique had written for Chipotle. Would he ever see his friends again? And what if he did get back, but too late for their audition?
    He’d reverted back to prayer before finally falling into an exhausted sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but he woke lethargic and depressed and hungry. Food waited for him on the table along with a jug of water and a basin of wash water, but he hesitated to eat or drink. He had put his hands into the wash water and it had frothed like peroxide. Could he trust the food? He checked his watch, idly glanced at the angle of light coming in from the windows. This planet’s days were a couple of hours longer than Earth’s, he figured. He’d already been missing for twenty- six hours.
    Where was Deryl? he wondered again. He shivered as he remembered his fiancée arguing with the chief psychiatrist. What if Sachiko was right and Deryl’s meds were too high? What if he’s OD’d?
    He was going to throw up thinking about it. He had to do something.
    He could try one thing, ridiculous as it seemed. He shut his eyes and thought as hard as he could: Deryl? Where are you? Can yo u hear me?
    â€œYou don’t have to shout.”
    Joshua yelped and sat up. At the door stood Deryl, his long blond hair a little disheveled, his blue eyes a little wild, but otherwise healthy and whole. Joshua froze, torn between the desire to hug his friend in relief and the urge to throttle him for getting him into this mess.
    â€œOh, thank God!” Deryl exclaimed. “You need a shave!”
    Joshua blinked. Then he laughed, short barks that grew into whooping gales until he hunched over, clutching his side.
    â€œJoshua?”
    â€œA shave?” Joshua managed to burst out. The psychologist part of him warned that he was bordering on hysteria, but he didn’t care. It felt so good to laugh! “Thank God I need a shave?”
    A smile quirked Deryl’s lips, but he spoke earnestly. “You don’t understand. When I woke up, here, I thought—I thought I’d really go ne crazy—”
    â€œYeah? Join the club!”
    â€œWell… they said your behavior has been kind of erratic…”
    Suddenly, Joshua realized