Explore the Universe of 'The Last Planet'

Chapter 1

A crash from somewhere jolted Griffin awake. He flung his bare legs over the bed’s edge, wincing as he staggered to his feet. He shuffled to the window. Cold iron bars blocked his view of the night sky. He yanked at them, furious. “Not a captive, my ass,” he muttered, glaring at the stars scattered like shattered glass.

Luke’s words echoed in his head: You’re hurt, Griff. Rest.

Screw that. Max was keeping him prisoner here.

In the distance, a guy his age climbed onto one of those bizarre vehicles—wood-and-wicker contraptions, primitive as hell. It lurched upward, hauled by a whirring pulley system, then zipped off into the night with a faint zing. Backwards as this place was, Griffin wanted to hop on one with Luke, feel the wind whip past, and escape.

Earth. This was supposed to feel like home. It didn’t. He missed the sterile, recycled air of the Calypso. He missed the version of Luke who was his mate, not his nursemaid. They were supposed to be exploring the stars together.

Another crash from the room next door. A moan. Griffin walked to his door and shook it. Suddenly it flew open, and he stumbled back.

“Wow, you’re up?” Dimples bloomed on Luke’s cheeks. Sun-kissed and brawny, he was almost unrecognizable. Once lean and taut, he’d filled out into a muscular man practically overnight, and beside him Griffin felt pale and scrawny.

“Not much time to explain. When Max comes, tell him you’re the original.” Luke slipped inside and shut the door.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not a clone. Got it? Max doesn’t know what we are, and we need to keep it that way.”

“Who’s in the room next door? They were tapping on the wall last night.”

An uneasy look crossed Luke’s face. “Really? His name is Zenith.”

“Why does it matter if we’re clones? We’re no different from anyone else.”

“According to Max? We aren’t human.” Luke exhaled. “Anyway, a few more things. I told them we’re not boyfriends, we’re brothers, and—”

“What is he doing out of bed?” The door flew open again, cutting him off. Sayra glided into the room. Her red hair caught the light, freckles splattered across pale skin. She looked at Griffin like he was a problem to solve, not a person to help. Griffin hadn’t officially met her—he’d been too groggy—but he’d overheard her with Max and the others.

Luke clapped Griffin on the shoulder. “He’s looking ten times better. You’re right, Sayra. The pills are helping.”

Griffin hadn’t realized the pills were her idea. Somehow that made him feel less enthusiastic. “What are they for?”

“Seizures… psychosis,” Sayra said, her face grave.

“Psychosis?”

Luke shot her a warning look; something passed between them. “We don’t think you’re psycho, Griff. They just help calm down the electrical activity in your noggin.”

Somewhere on the disastrous journey to Earth, Griffin had passed out again. Nothing new. Apparently, his seizures were going to kill him eventually. The answers were supposed to be here on Earth. Were Sayra’s little brown pills it?

“How’s Rayn?” Griffin asked. “And the rest of the crew?”

Luke brushed it off. “Fine, fine. Rayn is Rayn.”

He continued, “Anyway, you’re awake, you’re not passing out, and you know who you are.”

“I forgot who I was?”

Luke nodded. “Eyes open, but nobody home. For two months.”

Griffin sighed. He’d lost weight. He felt tired. His memory was shot. A scar twisted like a vine up the side of Luke’s arm, and Luke seemed proud of it, keeping his sleeves rolled to show it off. Griffin had to admit—it was mad sexy.

A muffled shout—Max’s voice—echoed from the adjacent room, followed by a loud crash. Then a whimper. Griffin heard Max yell something about sassafras. Sayra clenched her jaw.

“What’s Max doing to that guy, and why?”

“He’s caused some trouble,” Luke started, but Sayra shot him a look and he shut up.

“And when do I get out of this dump? Or is Max and his goon gonna come in here and beat me too?” Griffin asked.

Luke dropped onto the mattress beside him, slinging a warm arm around his shoulders. “You’ll get out when Max says you’re strong enough.”

Griffin’s scowl faded as Luke’s warmth seeped into him. Luke smelled like sun-baked earth and clean soap, with a musky edge of sweat. If Sayra weren’t standing there, Griffin might have tackled him onto the bed—strength or no strength.

“You told me I’m not a prisoner. So prove it.”

“You aren’t a prisoner. You’re being kept here for your safety.” Everything Sayra said sounded patronizing.

“Sayra, why can’t he roam outside for a bit? Fresh air will do him good. And some exercise.” Luke poked Griffin in his bony ribs.

It tickled, but it also pissed him off. “Quit it.”

“Max wants to ask him some questions first,” Sayra said. She’d done this before—speaking to Luke about Griffin as if he weren’t even there.

A zing vibrated through the room, and through the window Griffin watched one of the wicker pods descend.

“Have you ridden one of those yet?” Griffin asked.

“Of course. Zip lines. You’ll dig them.” Luke grinned, showing off a trail of three tattoos on his arm. “My flying badges. I get my fourth today.”

Griffin wasn’t surprised. Luke had built an entire life here without him.

Sayra shook a finger at him. “Your brother is a long way from getting anywhere near a zip line. And speaking of which… I need to get him his medicine. Come on, Luke.”

Luke stood, eager to please. Since when was he on such a tight leash?

“Luke, can you stay a minute?” Griffin asked. “Please.”

Luke glanced at Sayra like he needed permission. What the hell was going on?

Sayra didn’t look pleased. Her narrow eyebrows dove into a frown so steep it looked ready to crash into her eyeballs. But she nodded and left.

 

<<>>

 

“Yeah, I told Sayra we’re brothers. They aren’t fond of guys like us here.”

“Guys like us? Give me a break. What’s her deal?”

Luke shrugged. “Sayra is Max’s daughter. She’s been a big help to me, to us. It’s bad enough we’re clones, but gay clones? Max would sacrifice us at the next full moon for sure.”

“Seriously? They sacrifice people?”

Luke swallowed and nodded.

“For being gay?” the words tasted sour in Griffin’s mouth

Luke shook his head, blushing. “No, not so far. At least not as far as I know. They battle up in the zip lines…everyone who’s been sacrificed kinda wanted to be sacrificed. It can be an honor…or a punishment.”

Griffin’s eyebrows raised at that. “Uh, okay.”

Luke rushed to continue. “It’s complicated. You’ll understand more once you understand how things work here.”

“I don’t think I want to understand.”

Luke scratched the back of his neck. “We’d be dead if not for him. Max is going to talk to you soon. I’ll make sure I’m here. Just remember what I told you. Not a word about being a clone.”

“Or gay.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’re brothers? Wait, but we don’t look alike.

Luke chewed his lip. “From another mother.”

“Gotcha.” He couldn’t help chuckling at that.

“So, which would be worse for him to find out? That I’m a clone or gay?”

“Griffin, please don’t be difficult. Just trust me, okay?” Luke’s eyes flicked toward the door, listening for footsteps.

Chapter 2

Sayra caught up and threaded her fingers through Luke’s. Above them, a rider on a zip line waved as he soared past, and Luke managed a half-hearted wave in return. The riders were always busy, still trying to repair the damage the Calypso had inflicted on three transmission stations during the crash. A familiar knot tightened in Luke’s stomach. It was a debt Max never let him forget.

He finally voiced the question weighing on him. “How do I help Griffin fit in here?”

Sayra squeezed his hand. “You two are very different, aren’t you? You fit right in almost from the start.”

As she spoke, the first drops of evening rain began to fall, stirred by the wind sweeping down from the western mountains. They hurried the last few steps to their small dwelling just as the drizzle turned into a steady downpour.

Inside, a fire crackled in the hearth, chasing away the dampness. Sayra moved briskly through the room, lighting candles that pushed back the gloom. Luke watched the candlelight flicker. No tech. That was Max’s strictest rule, and it was going to be the hardest adjustment for Griffin. No screens, no interfaces—just stone, fire, and sacred ritual.

Shadows danced across the stone walls, flickering over intricate murals of myths and arcane Mayan symbols carved by hand generations ago. After finishing with the candles, Sayra settled by the fire, bent over a small iron bowl. She began mixing charcoal and a dark indigo powder—the herbs for Griffin.

“Griffin is stubborn. That’s one thing I… love about my… brother. But it might make things more difficult.”

“We need to find Griffin a girlfriend. I have someone in mind. That will calm him.”

Luke chuckled. “Griffin isn’t the type to fall for a girl.”

Sayra smiled. “All men fall. It’s just a matter of finding the right one.”

Luke fell silent. They were different in that way too. His attractions were far more flexible—a truth he wasn’t sure how to break to Griffin. His feelings for Sayra were… complicated. And necessary. A pang of guilt stabbed his gut, but he pushed it away, focusing instead on the problem of Griffin. Trouble didn’t just find Griffin; he courted it. How could Luke make him see the need to fit in here—that this place, this Eden, was their only option?

Outside, the rain stopped, and the air filled with the sound of crickets.

“Ready?” Sayra’s wooden stool scraped across the floor as she placed it in front of him. Luke sat on the edge of her narrow bed, and when he turned, he could see the night sky through her window.

He grinned. “Will this one hurt as bad as the others?”

Sayra smiled. “Of course, silly. That’s part of the experience.” Her green eyes, flecked with gold, held a confidence he worried he’d never possess. “Take off your shirt.”

He did as she asked. She lifted the garment, held it to her face, and wrinkled her nose. “Pew. This needs a wash.” She tossed it toward a wicker basket, and it landed with a soft thud.

On her bedside table lay a white cloth, a small bottle of ointment, a wooden mallet, and a long, primitive-looking needle carved from bone.

She traced the line of his scar all the way up to his jaw, then leaned in and kissed him. “I’m proud of you. Most people take years to make fourth. You ride well.”

She uncorked the ointment, and a pungent herbal smell filled his nose as she rubbed it liberally onto his left arm. He flexed his bicep out of nervous habit.

“Impressive,” she murmured, “but there’s no need for that. Move, and I’ll mess it up.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“Don’t look so frightened. I’m quite certain your accident with the machete while clearing the crash site hurt more.” Her smile softened, turning sad. “Do you ever wish Griffin hadn’t woken? It might have been easier.”

“What? No! Never.” The thought horrified him. “He’s just… struggling. He thinks this is a cult.”

Sayra’s smile didn’t waver. She lifted the bone needle, dipping the point into the dark indigo ink. “This is not a cult.” She placed the tip against his bare skin and raised the mallet. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

She began tapping. Tap. Tap. Gentle at first, then harder. He winced, the sting sharper than he expected.

“How long will this take?”

“I was hoping for one evening. But we can divide it over several days if it’s too much.”

“No. Let’s just finish it.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a chore,” she chided, her tapping growing more confident. “This is an honor. Max specifically asked that I give you the ajaw.”

Luke knew the symbol: a sun with four rays, flanked by two smaller circles—the moons, perhaps. Several other men in Eden wore the same mark. As she continued, the sharp pain faded into a dull, rhythmic thrum.

“I’m… actually kind of enjoying this.” He felt his body relaxing.

“It can be addictive.” Tattoos coiled up her own forearm. “Pain can bring pleasure. Life is funny that way.” She hummed quietly, and hypnotized by the fire’s warmth and the steady tap, tap, tap of the mallet, Luke’s tongue loosened.

“I love him,” he whispered, the words feeling loud in the small room. “I love Griffin.” It felt good to say it aloud.

Sayra nodded, never pausing her work. “You’re a good brother. You’ve been through a lot together. When my mother entered the temple, I felt lost for a long time. Max helped me see her sacrifice was a good thing. Don’t take too much on yourself. Griffin will find his way… or he won’t. You have your own place now. With me. Us. And what we’re doing is important. We don’t yet know what Griffin’s place is, but I guarantee you Max will find it for him. Galia is single and around his age. I’ll speak with Max about it. They’d get along well.”

Galia—morose, quiet, moving like a shadow. Luke couldn’t picture it. He didn’t want to.

“Stop looking so worried. You found your place. Griffin will too,” Sayra said without the slightest uncertainty.

“Rayn didn’t.”

“Rayn was a silly twat who fell in love with a monk,” she said sharply.

“Rayn had a girlfriend on Sian,” he reminded her.

“Sian sounds as morally decrepit as SolCity,” she scoffed. “She clearly fell for Bodhi. They wouldn’t have run off together otherwise.”

“Maybe.” He missed Rayn. And if even half the rumors of the dangers beyond Max’s compound were true, he feared for her life.

“I will find Griffin a girl,” Sayra said, leaning closer to examine her work. “Men need women to shepherd them, or they wander off like silly goats.”

“He’s not one of the barn animals,” Luke muttered. “He’s my brother. And you need to think of him as your brother too.” His eyes flashed.

She paused and met his gaze. “Okay.” Then she tightened the skin on his arm. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Well, I’ll offer a piece of advice. My mother had a rather singular view of the world too. She entered the temple.”

“Max… sacrificed her?”

“No. She went into the temple on her own.”

“And you never saw her again?”

“Eden’s maze. It’s tunnels wind forever into the belly of the earth.” She added more ink, her focus absolute. “Never tell Max I told you this, but I believe my poor mother went mad. I was young; I don’t remember all of it. Fights with Max, tears… she took to wandering up to the highest temple ramparts. Said it was for the view. Then one night, someone saw her climb the temple and slip inside.”

Sayra blinked, and a single tear traced a path down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her free hand, picked up the needle, and continued her work.