The lower compartment displayed a number of syringes, IV apparatus, breathing masks, and innumerable containers of drugs, ranging from familiar-sounding ones such as opium, morphine, and barbiturates, to several whose names had meaning only for Nicole. “Wow, what a collection of opiates and anesthetics!” She turned to her mother. “This is what you were looking for. Everything you need for a painless, even pleasant death.”
“Really, dear?”
“Yes, really.” Nicole picked up a vial of thiopental and shook it. “Take five grams of this and you could walk out the door into the desert, smiling.”
They picked up vials at random and tried to read the information printed on them in the dim glow of the flashlight.
“I’m sorry I had to show you this,” said Larry. “Perhaps we won’t need it. I’m still hoping something will turn up.”
“Like Mr. Micawber,” remarked Jessica, eliciting a smile from Larry. He knew she had read David Copperfield in the early days just to have something to say to him.
Back in their warm circle upstairs, the group was silent. With two weeks left, death was staring them in the face. Larry’s suicide equipment had only made explicit what they all knew but had avoided thinking about until now.
“Before we break up this meeting, I have one question for all of you,” Larry said, breaking the long silence. “And I want you to give me an honest answer.”
Everyone nodded. Only Jessica suspected what was coming.
“I made several poor decisions in designing this place. Instead of dedicating each dome to a single function, I could’ve made each dome self-sufficient. Then, no matter where we were, we’d have all the basic facilities. I could’ve stored more diesel and installed a proper backup heating system, instead of dumping the problem on Jessica. I could’ve installed 3D printers to make replacement valves. I could’ve provided us with better winter clothing before we made that crazy helicopter trip here, and I could’ve come a week earlier to fetch you. I could’ve installed vibration testers to monitor the health of the bedrock below us. And I didn’t anticipate any of the failures—plants dying, air exchanger going kaput, the well cooling off suddenly. But my biggest error, as Jessica rightly pointed out early on, was not taking you all into my confidence when building the Shell. Had I used our collective wisdom, instead of relying on just my own, we might not be in the dire situation we are now. Perhaps, as Anna once suggested, we should’ve built an undersea habitat, or even moved into a nuclear submarine, rather than construct a shelter on land. So my question for you is this. Tell me honestly—did I made a mess of things?”
“Of course you made a mess of things, Larry,” said Jessica, “and I hate you for it!” This, with her arms around him, her cheek against his, and tears streaming down her face. The others looked suddenly bright-eyed, and Larry himself felt a pricking sensation in his eyes. If he didn’t control himself … but it was too late. He felt the tears well, and in a few seconds was sobbing his heart out. Everyone held each other close, their tears streaming unchecked. Ten years of shock and sacrifice and suffering sweetened by a few moments of domestic bliss while death tightened its implacable grip—it all flowed out at that moment.
Everyone knew it would be their last cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Preparations
The next two weeks raced by. Having accepted the inevitable, the Shellmates stopped checking the diesel level. Instead, they decided to enjoy their last few days as much as they could, with jokes, poetry, music, dancing, and cuddling. Finally, it was January 17 of Year Eleven, the day that the heating would stop for good around midnight. Exit Day, as Jessica termed it. That evening they held one last meeting.
“Should we do it now?” said Anna.
Jessica went to check the diesel level one last time. “Hold on, there’s something strange here,” she said a couple of minutes later.
“What, are we out of fuel already?” Larry cried.
“No, relax. Just the opposite. We seem to have another week’s worth left!”
“How’s that possible?” Larry said. “Did we count wrong?”
“No, we counted fine. We’re using fuel slower than we thought.”
Anna felt a surge of hope that died at once. Wasn’t it merely delaying the inevitable?
“Let’s go ahead with our plan,” she said. “Why drag it out?”
The family reflected for a few seconds.
“Oh, dear! It seems a pity to end it when we still have some fuel left,” said Elizabeth hesitantly. “Another week of life …”
“You, Nicole?” asked Larry.
Nicole sighed. “I’m in two minds. I do see Anna’s point. But I can’t disagree with Mum, either. Where there’s life …”
Larry nodded. “Perhaps then each of us should choose our own time to … call it quits?”
“Third possibility,” said Jessica. “Why don’t we go out with a bang?”
“With a bang? How?”
“Crank the heat and light up. Live warm, bright, and snug for couple of days. Then call it quits.”
“I love that idea!” cried Anna.
“It’s a great compromise,” Nicole said.
“I like it too,” said Elizabeth after a pause. “How about you, Larry?”
“It’s a terrific plan. In fact, let’s stop rationing food and water as well.”
“Deal.” Jessica beamed at the enthusiasm for her proposal. “Let’s end our existence as civilized humans, not as wannabe polar bears.”
“Yes, and don’t forget those two bottles of champagne!”
The next two days passed in riotous celebration as the Shellmates cherished their last moments of life on Earth. They woke up both days in high spirits and enjoyed each moment with songs and games and general silliness. At night, pleasantly exhausted, they cuddled tight and drifted off into sweet, dreamless sleep.
By the evening of the second day they had used up almost all their food and water. They had just enough fuel to keep them warm until about ten o’clock the following morning.
“Let’s do it at nine,” Jessica said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lamp
On the morning of January 20, the new Exit Day, Nicole was the first to open her eyes. She lay still for as long as she could, but then fidgeted and stretched and woke up the others as well. “Larry,” she complained. “You could’ve let us sleep a little longer. This is our last opportunity to sleep in.”
“But I didn’t wake you.”
“You turned the ceiling light on too early.”
Larry, who had been stretching and yawning, sat up bolt upright and stared at her. “What did you just say?” he said.
His tone was so sharp that it was Nicole’s turn to stare at him. “I said I was woken up by a lamp. That one.” The others stared at the point at the center of the dome she indicated. “You can’t see it now, with the other lights on.”
“But there’s no lamp up there.”
“Larry …” Jessica’s voice was so tight that the others stared at her. “Can I turn all lights off for a second?”
“Sure, but what for?”
Instead of replying Jessica sprang up, ran to the master switch, and flipped it off. The dome should have gone pitch dark but didn’t—what appeared to be a dim red lamp at the very center of the roof remained on.
“See?” said Nicole. “That’s the one. Odd that it didn’t go off.”
“But how could that be?” cried Anna. “Where’s that light coming from? What’s up there?”
Larry and Jessica looked at each other for several seconds. Then Larry heard himself speak, slowly and distinctly, in a voice he could barely recognize: “Up there, right in the center of the ceiling, is a circle made of glass that’s clear all the way to the outside.”
The silence stretched on and on. Everyone stared spellbound at the ceiling, afraid to blink lest the spell be broken.
It was Jessica who finally spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Sunlight!” sh
e said.
“Sunlight? Can it really be …?” whispered Nicole.
“I think it is. No, I’m bloody certain it is!” Larry’s voice rose to a jubilant shout.
Elizabeth’s eyes were already streaming. “Too bad I’ve said miracle so often before. Now I have no words left.”
Suddenly, everyone was hugging and kissing and weeping joyous tears, looking up every few seconds to stare incredulously at the reddish orb up above them.
“Anybody interested in a little spacewalk?” said Larry.
In minutes everyone was suited up and ready at the airlock, Jessica with a thermometer clipped to her suit. Having remained shut for ten years, the door’s electric mechanism had long stopped working from cold and disuse. With the girls helping him, Larry tried to open the door manually. They had to pull the handle with all their strength before the airlock would budge. It opened slowly, creakily, as a recovering invalid might resume activity after a severe illness and a long convalescence. But it finally gave in to their combined efforts. They stepped out into the open, a place they hadn’t set eyes on for ten long years, except for a few panic-stricken seconds after the Fracture.
And the sun was shining.
But only in a manner of speaking. All they could see around them was an orange glow, as would have appeared in the pre-Shroud era on a cloudy, foggy day. But it was enough for them to see around them, to feast their eyes on the desert they had last seen years ago. To the west, things didn’t seem very different from what they remembered. But to the east, stretching out as far as the eye could see, was a crevasse of such gigantic proportions that the Grand Canyon would have been a mere gully in comparison. Precariously perched on its near edge was the broken shell of Central, next to which stood Entry, their pathetic, insignificant dwelling. It was only then that the full realization hit home of how close to the brink they had lived for the past year.
Cautiously approaching the edge, they peered down, but could see no bottom. Looking ahead, only the sharper eyes of the girls could discern the farther edge of the canyon, which they reckoned to be couple of kilometers away. Miraculously, the Eco and Food domes still stood there. Slowly, the group retreated from the yawning pit and reassembled near the Entry dome.
“The temperature is minus 50. I can’t believe it!” Larry said, glancing at a thermometer he was carrying. “It’s almost 80 degrees warmer than it was.” His voice, coming through the audio system built into their suit helmets, brimmed with excitement.
“We stopped checking years ago,” Jessica said.
“It must have started warming the past few days, hence the extra diesel,” Anna said.
“Now that the sun is out it’ll keep getting warmer, won’t it?” asked Elizabeth
“It should,” said Larry. “But we can’t tell how much or how fast.”
“Right,” said Jessica. “So let’s not put on our T-shirts yet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Desert
Back inside, divested of their suits, the group sat in a close circle. Everyone looked expectantly at the others, waiting for someone to speak. It was Anna who finally voiced the collective sentiment.
“Today gets my vote for being the craziest, merriest, loveliest day ever!”
Everyone started speaking at once. Waves of hope, joy, gratitude, relief, and disbelief flowed from them. It was only much later that Larry struck the business note.
“Dear team, it looks like we may not die today after all. But our troubles aren’t over yet.”
The mood grew sober.
“Right,” said Jessica. “Minus 50 is bloody cold, and we’re out of fuel here.”
“What are our options?” Nicole asked after a pause.
“Stay here or head to town,” said Larry. “In either case, we should set out immediately to find fuel. Where to look, I’m not sure.”
“What was that place, that little village to the west? It’s been so many years that I don’t even remember its name now,” said Elizabeth.
“Wallabin?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Perhaps we could try the filling station there?”
“But Wallabin’s thirty kilometers away! How do we get there?”
“We sure can’t walk that far,” Jessica said.
“Didn’t you have a truck parked in a garage nearby?” Nicole asked Larry.
Larry made a face. “Yes, but it’s on the other side of the chasm. Right next to Eco.”
“Scratch that idea, then.”
“What about the helicopter we flew in?”
Larry grunted. “Yes, the chopper is perhaps our best bet.”
Jessica laughed incredulously. “Seriously? You want to fly that bird? It’s been sitting out in the open for ten years.”
“It’s worth a try. It got damaged on landing but might still fly.”
“That’s insane! With cold and dust and rust and fuel evaporation—”
Larry dismissed her objections. “Dust can’t get into the engine. There’s zero moisture in the air, so no rust. And in the cold fuel will freeze, not evaporate.”
“But how will the engine start? It’s almost as cold as when we flew in, and it stalled then.”
“We’ll have to figure out some way to start it. Once it starts, it’ll fly.” Larry tried to sound confident.
Jessica shook her head. “Okay, but how far will it take us? The fuel tank was nearly empty even then.”
Larry was silent.
“Didn’t we have some octane here?” said Anna. “Couldn’t we use that?”
“All gone,” said Jessica. “Burned along with diesel. And what’s left in the tank can’t take us ten kilometers, let alone thirty. What do we do? Walk?”
Larry had no answer, and the family’s elation gave way to the grim realization that they weren’t out of the woods yet. A twenty-kilometer walk in sub-Arctic weather would be borderline suicidal. At the very least, they could expect to lose some fingers or toes to frostbite. And how would they get the pump at the filling station to work when the fuel was frozen solid?
“Or,” said Jessica, and everyone turned to her eagerly.
“Or what?” Anna saw the gleam in her sister’s eye. “Tell us!”
“Fly the chopper across the chasm to the truck. That’s just two kilometers. Then drive the truck to town.”
A stunned silence ensued. This obvious solution hadn’t occurred to anyone else. Then, wordlessly, they hugged her, one by one.
✽ ✽ ✽
It was just past noon when the team suited up and left, giving them about eight hours of what passed for daylight. They carried near-empty fuel cans and the last of their provisions to the helicopter and thus completed a round trip they had started ten years ago. Conditions were eerily similar—the same dim light, the temperature just a shade warmer. But the mood of the walkers couldn’t have been more different. Then they had been on the verge of panic; now, despite their cumbersome suits, they walked with eager anticipation.
When they reached the helicopter, Larry measured the fuel level by inserting a stiff wire into the tank and subtracting for tank thickness. He reckoned they had enough to get them to the other side of the chasm and back. As he feared, the fuel was frozen.
“Damn!” Larry growled. “This is supposed to be a special cold-weather fuel …”
“We need to thaw it before we can fly the chopper?” Anna asked.
“Yes, but how?”
“Light a fire under the tank,” said Jessica.
Anna let out an incredulous guffaw, but Larry looked at Jessica for a second to see if she was joking, saw she wasn’t, and nodded. “We still have a few liters of diesel left in our cans. We can pour it on the ground under the tank and light it up.”
Nicole gasped. “What if the tank explodes?”
“It’s too cold for that. Anyway, we have no choice. Empty out your can, Jessica.”
But the moment the diesel hit the ground, it froze solid and wouldn’t light up either.
“We shoul
d burn it straight from the can, not pour it on the ground,” Anna said. “You know, cut off the top half of the can first.”
Larry agreed. “But even that might not be enough. The air is still too cold.”
Then Nicole came up with a suggestion. “How about using the oxygen tanks we have back in the Shell? The ones near the heaters?”
“Excellent idea!” Larry said after a moment’s consideration. “Yes, let’s try that. You all stay here and think warm, positive thoughts while I fetch a couple of cylinders.”
Larry set off at a trot and returned a few minutes later from his errand. Anna and Jessica, meanwhile, had just sliced open a diesel can and were stirring it to keep it from freezing. They slid it under the tank.
“Won’t the oxygen cool as it comes out of the cylinder, though?” Larry asked Jessica as he tore the seal from a cylinder.
“It’ll still be warmer than the air. Besides, diesel burns better in oxygen.”
And so it proved. Encouraged by a blast of pure oxygen, the small pool of diesel in the can caught fire almost immediately and sent its flames shooting up against the tank. After a few minutes, Larry dipped the wire into the tank and confirmed that the fuel had melted.
“Okay, I’m going to try the engine now,” he said. “If it starts, get in at once!”
Warmed by the fire beneath and now fueled by liquid aviation gasoline flowing into it, the engine came alive. Slowly and reluctantly, it spluttered into life. Larry and his passengers were soon airborne.
The short flight over the chasm was both thrilling and terrifying. Looking straight down into its abyss, they could faintly discern the bottom several kilometers below them. A few spots on the rock floor where the magma had broken through glowed yellow. I’m going to hike down there someday, Larry promised himself. He would have loved to take the chopper down to have a closer look but couldn’t risk it with the fuel they had and an engine that might stall at any moment.
All too soon, they had landed on the other side near the garage. They broke open the door and found Larry’s truck standing inside, alone and desolate on the frozen ground. With great exertion, they shifted it into neutral and pushed it into the open. It too refused to start until it got a few minutes of the direct-fire treatment. How did I ever manage without the Millers, Larry wondered. He used an oxygen cylinder to press the gas pedal all the way down. With the heaters on at full blast, the interior took about forty minutes to turn toasty warm. Spacesuits quickly came off, allowing for another round of embraces, but accompanied by laughter and excitement now rather than tears.
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