Hourglass

by Pauline C. Harris

  He shrugs again. “A few months.”

  A frown slithers across my face. “A few months?” I look around at a few other children nearby and I question them with my eyes. I see nods and few murmurs of approval.

  “That sounds about right,” another boy says.

  “But that’s impossible,” I say outright. “I’ve been gone for ten years.”

  “Ten years?” one of the children scoffs, and a few of them laugh.

  I’m silent as they all bounce this around amongst each other, and I see them begin to wander off. Apparently, I’m no longer holding their attention. They break off into smaller groups and slowly disappear from the clearing. Realizing I’m alone, I take in a shaky breath and stare down at my hands. My metal one seems brighter than normal, standing out to me because it’s the only thing that ties me back to Earth, to space, to the stars. And it’s also the reason I left this planet.

  I stare into trees where the children had vanished. How could they believe they’ve only been on the planet for a few months? I think back to when I was living here, straining my memory to give me more to work with, to give me the life I’ve forgotten. How long had I lived here? Or believed I lived here? I can’t remember. I can’t even remember my parents even though I know I must have had some. Especially after Andrew explained that they were colonists on the planet. It explains how I ended up here. But it still doesn’t explain everything.

  I glance around again, suddenly feeling uneasy. Why would Prince just park me in the middle of the camp without anyone to watch me? I had envisioned something so much more...dramatic. Being thrown into a cage, or locked in some underground dungeon. Prince freaks me out as it is, but in the last few minutes I’ve seen him he’s been...fine. My fear is coming from vague memories, from my dream, and from tales strewn by Andrew. Why isn’t Prince living up to all of those? The fact that he isn’t almost scares me more.

  Chapter Ten

  There’s a girl named Bella living at the camp and she’s easily one of the oldest children there. She looks to be about twelve or thirteen, but I know looks can be deceiving, so I don’t know anything for certain. She walks around the camp almost like she owns the place, like a queen, second in command behind Prince. I see the way she follows him around, not literally, but with her gaze and actions. She spends her day reading him with her pale blue eyes and seemingly carrying out whatever she thinks he’d want her to do.

  I watch her because I’d noticed that girls here in Prince’s camp are rare. She and Win seem to be the only ones. And then there’s me. She keeps throwing glances in my direction and then pretending that I don’t notice, that our eyes don’t meet, that she doesn’t look away in a fraction of a second.

  And although I study her to see the way she looks at Prince, to see the way she smiles, the way she acts around him, more importantly, I watch to see the way that Prince looks at her. With the other children, he treats them...oddly, I suppose. He’s nice sometimes, with the authority of a parent—giving them whatever they want, letting them do anything. But he’s also mean like a sibling, taunting, and glowering, and getting irritated for silly reasons. But not with Bella. He smiles at her in a different way. Like he’s actually amused, actually happy, actually likes her. And instead of busying herself with other things, running off and goofing around and being silly like the other children, Bella seems to like him back. They’re friends and I never thought Prince capable of having friends. I’m beginning to realize that nightmares and stories aren’t enough to base an opinion upon.

  I still haven’t seen my crew, and with each passing day, more and more dread forms in my stomach. I don’t know where he’s keeping them...but I know what he’s trying to do. And he’s succeeding. I’m angry and scared and he knows I’ll never try to leave without them. That must be the only reason I’m not locked up in a cage somewhere.

  “Captain Sprocket!” Prince suddenly calls out and I’m instantly on edge. “What makes you think that any other star, any other planet, would be as lovely,” he gestures his arms with a flourish, “as this one,” he sneers, coming to stand beside me where I stand in the doorway of the girl’s tent.

  I frown at him.

  He laughs. “Funny name, Sprocket,” he drawls. “Too bad it isn’t really yours.” His comment hits me in the stomach, something I hadn’t thought about, hadn’t realized, until now. I don’t even know my real name. Prince smiles smugly at me as he begins to walk off towards Bella. I narrow my eyes at him. I might not know my name, but apparently he does.

  Suddenly I notice Bella watching me, but instead of looking away when I meet her glance, she hesitantly comes forward. “You know,” she says. “He’s only joking with you.”

  I don’t respond. Usually I’m not this rude, but I truly don’t know what to say to that. Other than disagree, which I know will only result in her walking away.

  “He just has a...weird sense of humor.” She shrugs.

  “Kinda sick,” I correct her.

  Her smile drops a little. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks quietly.

  I turn to face her, realizing that all these children, even Bella, I probably knew when I lived here. It’s weird to think about when they’re all strangers to me now.

  “You were really little,” she says with a smile. “I don’t know how this happened,” she gestures to me. “You getting older than me...” She shakes her head with a puzzled frown. “But you, Win, and I were the only girls. Are the only girls.”

  I pause, biting my lip. “What do you think of Prince?” I ask, the words coming from my lip almost before I deem them acceptable. I’m surprised at how forward I sound. And Bella seems surprised too.

  She blinks. “Um...” She laughs and shrugs. “He’s great. He’s just Prince.”

  I nod slowly. “So you like him. You’re friends.”

  She nods.

  “What about the other kids?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I just want to hear it from her.

  Her smile falters a bit. “They...aren’t as close.” She shrugs, seeming uncomfortable. “I don’t know why, but they seem a little wary of him. They probably view him as a parent or something, that’s all. A parent, not a friend.”

  “Well I don’t think he was ever my friend,” I tell her. “Or ever will be.”

  She shakes her head with a smile, eagerness spilling from her like a leaking faucet. “Oh but you’ll like Prince. You were so young before, but now you’re almost the same age. He’s great, I promise. You’ll like him.”

  I suddenly feel guilty for baiting her like this. Her smile is so genuine and her eyes sparkle like she means every word that she’s saying. It’s rare to see sparkle like that, to see happiness and trust so pure that it shines.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever be friends,” I tell her. “You see...” I hold up my mechanical hand, watching as the sunlight dances across the black, shining and hot. Bella’s eyes widen a little like she hadn’t noticed it before now. Or maybe she’s just surprised I’m calling attention to it. “He’s the one who stole the real one. He’s the one who cut off my hand.”

  Bella blinks at me, her blue eyes somewhat narrowed like she’s not truly processing the information. “He did that to you?” she asks.

  I nod, knowing that our conversation is over now. Bella clearly has nothing to say to this. She thinks the world of Prince and I’ve just told her he’s a psychopath. She gives me an odd look, somewhere between wariness and disbelief, before nodding to me and then stepping away. I watch as she heads across the clearing, probably off to wherever Prince is.

  I dig my foot into the ground, making shapes in the dirt with the toe of my boot. I see other children milling around and I have to wonder what they do all day. I’ve been here three days and all I’ve done is sit around, have awkward chats with people, and eat when food is provided.

  “Are we allowed to leave the camp?” I ask one of the children closest to me. The boy turns in my direction and shrugs.

  “Yeah,�
�� he answers.

  “Am I?” I clarify, wondering if I’m actually a prisoner. Prince certainly isn’t treating me like one, and I’m confused as to what my status is, what I’m supposed to do.

  “Probably.” The boy runs off across the clearing after his friends.

  I trudge after them, in the same direction Bella went only minutes earlier, hoping to find Prince. Sure enough, he’s with Bella inside one of the tents, and they stop laughing when I enter. He looks at me expectantly and although he should seem like nothing more than a gangly teenage boy, he still scares me. He’s still stone cold and callous.

  “I’m allowed to leave the camp, right?” I ask, expecting him to disagree. I just want to know what he allows and doesn’t. I want to know what pushes his buttons.

  He stares at me for a split second too long before answering, “Yeah.” He laughs and shrugs. “It’s not like you can take off on your little ship.” His eyes darken. “Not without your crew.”

  My expression hardens but I force myself to smile before exiting the tent. Out in the clearing I feel a little freer. Especially with the knowledge that I can go wherever I want without Prince hunting me down and dragging me back. Although I can’t be sure he won’t be watching me. I glance around, trying to remember where exactly I had entered the camp with Prince three days earlier. I spot the area and then begin to backtrack.

  As I leave the camp, I can’t help but feel a little...okay. Which is a whole lot better than I’ve felt since...well, since Dad died. And instead of making me smile, or causing my heart to lift, it only worries me more. Because whatever spell Prince has on these children, whatever makes them like him, or forget simple things like how long they’ve lived here...maybe that’s happening to me too. And I can’t let it.

  I wander through the woods, following our tracks back to where I met Win and Prince, and then back the way I came from Andrew’s home. I know I’m not going there. If Prince actually has people following me, or is following me himself, I don’t want to give away Andrew’s hideout. I don’t know much about their history and although it seems like Prince just banished Andrew away in the hopes of never seeing him again, I don’t think he’d like the idea of Prince knowing where he lives.

  So instead, I’m heading toward the old camp. The one Andrew showed me the other day. The abandoned one, the one our parents built, the one we came from. Because however much I try to act like they don’t exist, there are holes in my mind—gaping chasms waiting for me to trip and stumble into. Chasms that need fixing. And right now I’m running low on ideas on how to seal them up.

  I still don’t truly understand why our parents would have left. I suppose thinking your children have all died in some tragic accident would give you worries about any planet...but we’re all still here. All of us. And although I understand why they would leave, it hurts a little.

  It takes me about a half hour to make it back down the path and finally stumble into the clearing littered with dirty tents and old equipment. I scan the area just like I did the first time, looking for something to catch my eye. I sigh, putting my hands on my hips.

  I don’t even know why I came here. What was I expecting to find? A sign telling me everything I’ve forgotten and everything I need to remember. I grit my teeth together and try not to scream, or kick, or cry, or something. I hate this planet. Everything it did to me, and everything it’s still doing to me.

  I take a few steps forward, walking through the debris of the camp. I lean down to inspect another radio, similar to the one I had seen the last time I was here. I pick it up again, but this time I don’t see it as “something my parents may have owned” but what it truly is. I frown. A radio. An old one. I turn it over, trying to figure out its manufacturer, or a date somewhere. I hadn’t noticed before, but now that I look around, comparing this radio to other equipment scattered throughout the area, I see how truly ancient they all look. And I don’t mean decades. My frown deepens, as I inspect it further, because what I’m thinking can’t be true. It’s so ridiculously impossible that I want to laugh, but I can’t because everything is pointing to that one conclusion.

  That everything in this clearing is hundreds of years old.

  I strain my memory back to when Andrew has brought me here. Is it possible that he could have been mistaken? That maybe this was a camp left over from earlier colonists? Because there’s no way our parents could have lived here, that we could have lived here. I walk faster through the clearing now, kicking over old buckets and canisters, prodding at tents. I see old electronic devices with smashed in screens and some other things that look like medical equipment. I lean down and begin sifting through the piles of junk. Everything is the same. Old. Too old. Way, way too old, for any of what Andrew said to be possible.

  My foot slips out from under me, and my elbow hits the ground as I grit my teeth. I rub dirt off my arm and am just about to get up, when I see something flashing at me from the ground. A light. Blue. I glance down and it takes me a few moments to register what I’m seeing. One of the devices—square with a black screen—is blinking at me. It’s on. It’s working. It’s alive.

  I slowly reach for it and hesitantly brush my fingers against the metal, as if it will jump out and attack me on any provocation. My hand slides around the cool glass and I lift it up as I stand. The screen shimmers to life and my eyes widen as a list appears before my eyes, shining up at me like stars and suns.

  I have no idea what this is, or what it’s for. I’ve never used anything this primitive. But as my eyes scan the list I slowly realize that they’re names. A list of names. But of who, I have no idea. It must be the colonists who owned this camp. I look around again, suddenly feeling a little weird. Here I am standing in the remains of a camp created by people who lived hundreds of years ago. Suddenly my curiosity spikes as I realize that this log must contain dates. Birth dates, death dates, mission dates, anything. I click on a random name in the list and a photo as well as a multitude of other information floods the screen. I scan the data, ready to open more files to find out more, when something at the bottom of the screen catches my eye. A name. My heart skips a beat like it’s just as distracted as I am and tripped. The screen reads: offspring.

  Judith.

  I stare at it for a long moment. I shake my head. The name is similar to mine, but it’s not mine. I watch it longer as if it’s going to get up and open the folder itself. I tap the name before my brain can tell me not to.

  And this time my heart tumbles and doesn’t get up.

  The name is Judith Sanders and there’s a picture of a little girl. I blink my eyes, trying to find something about her, anything about her that doesn’t look like me. I’m searching for loopholes in a fact that’s so tight it’s squeezing the life out of me. I scan the words splayed out beside the picture—deceased is typed in red above everything else. I look downwards, toward the bottom and see a button to tap. The text reads something about a birth certificate. I’m not breathing as I brush the screen, the file bursting open, my eyes scanning the page faster than they can read. But then they land on something. The numbers I was looking for. It shows the date I supposedly died. But what’s more important, is the day I was born.

  The record device slips through my fingers like warm ice and falls to the ground at my feet, blinking up at me four little numbers my brain is refusing to take in. Nothing else on the certificate matters. Not my name, not my parents, not where I was born, not the month or the day. But the year.

  Now I know what Andrew said I had forgotten. Now I know why he had old pictures in his home, I know why pieces are starting to fall together and I’m dumbfounded that I hadn’t realized it sooner. That with an ageless planet, it was so obvious.

  We’re not children. Not really. Because we’ve been on this planet for hundreds of years.

  * * * *

  My mind fumbles for something to think. Anything at all. I just need words, or opinions, or ideas flowing through my head, but nothing comes. It’s like my brain
has been stabbed with a shot of Novocain and is slowly going numb.

  I stand still for a moment that seems like years before slowly reaching down and picking the records back up. I see Win’s name beside mine and when I go to check hers I’m shocked all over again that her birthdate is still so ridiculously far into the past that I don’t even have a clue what it was like. I guess I was hoping that those four little numbers parading as my birth year were wrong. That maybe since this old ancient piece of equipment has been sitting here for so long, that my certificate had an error. I go back to the main list of people and slowly click through them, finding the children and checking their birthdate. And all of them, every single one, has a year within five years of mine. However much I want to close my eyes and forget I ever saw this, this record isn’t lying. We’re all much older than we thought we were. So much older. So much older I can’t even remember the time frame we were supposed to have lived in. I think back to my year, calculating when I would have been a teenager, a young adult, a parent, a grandparent. I realize I know practically nothing about the era. Other than the vague facts you see in a history textbook. I don’t know the real things. Like what life was really like, what you did for entertainment, things like that.

  I glare down at the record, partially blaming it for this fact, as if it had anything to do with it. Part of me wishes I’d never found out, never ventured to this clearing in search of the answers that would only haunt me.

  This is what Andrew had told me I’d forgotten. And I wish I hadn’t remembered.

  I turn around, glancing at the trees and shrubbery. It’s something about this planet, about Prince. I’d known he could keep himself and the children young. His whole point was to have companions. Children companions.

  But for some reason, no one notices the passage of time. No one realizes how long they’ve truly been here. Not even me, I realize. When thinking back to my time on the planet, I thought I had only been here a few months—the same amount of time the children still here believe. I’d been living on this planet, playing Prince’s games, and being a child, for hundreds of years. And I never even noticed.