Tomorrow We Rise

by Daniel P. Wilde

  “Give that back to me,” Nelise said angrily, almost under his breath.

  Carón barely heard the words, but could almost feel the anger in them. Good, he thought. Let him be angry; but he isn’t getting this part back.

  Nelise stepped forward and lunged toward Carón’s hand holding the opto-isolator. Carón jumped back, floating a little in the shallow gravity inside the tube.

  Nelise lunged again, and again Carón jumped back, but this time, he floated a little longer than before. Nelise was able to close the gap between them before Carón got both feet back on the floor of the tube.

  As Carón landed back on the floor, Nelise rushed at him, hitting Carón’s body hard and smashing him into the side of the tube. The force of the impact between Carón’s oxygen pack and the wall caused a small hairline crack to form in the clear wall, but neither man noticed. With their arms interlocked, Carón lifted his feet, placing them on the wall of the tube, and pushed back against Nelise, using the wall of the tube as a launching pad. The push from his feet cracked the tube further as the men tumbled to the ground several feet away. As he rose, Carón heard a quiet hissing sound and turned back toward the wall.

  With Carón’s upper body turned away from Nelise, Nelise reached out, grabbed the hose connection on the back of Carón’s suit and pulled. The angry, deliberate tug on the oxygen tube affixed to Carón’s suit was more than the suit was built to withstand. The hose ripped loose and began to whip back and forth behind Carón as the oxygen flowed rapidly from the tank on his back.

  Nelise’s anger had completely taken hold of him. Carón was already off-balance from the pull on his oxygen tube when Nelise shoved him again, causing him to fall to the floor of the tube. Carón struggled to turn himself over, to face his attacker. Just as he completed the awkward turn, Nelise raised his foot and sent it crashing down on Carón’s face, cracking the face plate of his helmet. Nelise raised his foot for another blow but was stopped short by a fierce hissing sound coming from the wall of the tube. It was then that he finally realized what he had done. He watched in horror as the wall of the tube split open, sucking everything around them toward the widening hole, including the tube’s remaining oxygen.

  Guilt swept over Nelise in nauseating waves as he watched the gentle suction—caused by the discrepancy between the air pressure of the tube and the moon’s atmosphere—begin to pull Carón across the floor toward the hole. He was already struggling for breath. Nelise reached out toward Carón, but couldn’t reach him. The oxygen in Carón’s tank was probably already gone, and the oxygen remaining in his helmet was rapidly seeping from the cracked face plate.

  At the same time, the fissure in the wall of the tube continued to grow and both men, along with their equipment and the pods around them were sucked toward the hole.

  As Carón slid ever faster toward the widening cleft in the tube’s wall, he struggled to regain control of the hose that was swinging wildly from the back of his suit. His panic further expended the precious air left in his suit. As he neared the edge of the hole, a pod flew toward the hole, striking Carón in the head, finally shattering his cracked faceplate and breaking his jaw.

  Carón was pulled out of the tube and into the darkness, his face crumpling and his vision fading. He gasped his last breath as he floated away on the air rapidly flowing from the tube. In moments, Carón was dead. His body slowly drifted back to the surface of the moon 40 or 50 meters from the tube.

  Nelise continued to struggle for any kind of security inside the tube that was rapidly losing air. As he watched Carón float away, a realization of what had happened dawned. He vomited in his helmet. The violent heaving caused him to lose his balance and his tenuous grasp on the small equipment consul next to him. He slid to the edge of the hole, unable to stop his movement. Just as he was pulled from the tube, he reached out and grasped the edge of the hole with his left hand. Pulling his right hand up, he grabbed the other side of the hole, attempting to secure himself within the fragile opening. It was then, holding on so tightly that his fingers began to throb, that he understood the full implications of his angry acts. He knew he had murdered another human being.

  The guilt and anguish over the act was too much for Nelise to bear. He released his right hand from the edge of the cracked tube wall and reached into his tool belt, grabbing a pair of wire cutters. Reaching around behind his own back, he cut through the hose that kept him fed with life-sustaining air. Then he let go completely and floated away on the air pouring through the tube’s hole. He too, would soon be dead.

  When the others learned of the tragedy later that day, they searched for the bodies. They found both within 100 meters of the tube. The destruction of the tube and the suits was incomprehensible. What they did know, however, was that two more of the few remaining humans were now dead.

  October 12, 2093—International Lunar Space Station

  In the time the group had been on the moon, Mike had devoted a good portion of his energy to hacking into the systems that would allow him to see Earth, real-time. He had just done it. The remaining 16 people on the moon had gathered for the big unveiling. It was time to see what Cain was up to.

  “Bring it up Mike,” Shift said excitedly.

  Within moments, seven monitors lit up at the front of the computer bay in the International Station. Each monitor depicted a distinct location where they had run into Cain. The hope was that he might still be at some of his old haunts. He wasn’t, but it didn’t take long to find the Skins.

  “What’s going on?” Anta asked. “They’re spread out all over the place. What happened to the huge hordes that kept attacking us?”

  The Skins were wandering in small groups, never more than five or six together. They appeared aimless and confused, and tired.

  “Look how they’re staggering around,” Street said.

  “They’re like a bunch of old folks,” Marilyn added.

  “Mike, can you zoom in on any of them—let us see their faces?” Shift asked.

  Mike zoomed in on a group of three Skins, one male and two female, near Atlanta. The faces of the Skins were shocking. They looked like they were 80 or 90 years old. Perhaps they actually were.

  “Find some more,” Shift said. “Maybe these three were just old when they turned.”

  Mike zoomed in on a group of four Skins not more than three kilometers from the first group. They also appeared to be elderly, with sagging tissue structure and tired gaits. A few more views of different groups in the area confirmed that the Skins were definitely aging. Without the bald heads and nakedness, the small group of moon-dwellers would not have even known they were looking at Skins.

  “Are they dying?” Suvan asked quietly—hopefully.

  “They sure look like they are darling,” Neirioui replied.

  “I think you’re right Suvan,” John said. “They look like they’re dying all right. Maybe whatever it was that turned them into freaks in the first place continued to advance their mutation. Look at this group over here. Mike, zoom in here.”

  The next view detailed a woman lying next to a park bench, apparently unable to get up. Next to her, another bald and barely-clothed old woman was bending over the first. As they watched, the second woman laid her head down on the first’s stomach and began to lick the skin. Then she raised her head slightly and took a bite.

  “Ugh, they’re eating each other now!” Street exclaimed.

  They watched in disbelief as the second woman began to feast on her partner. After three or four minutes, the second woman lost her balance and fell over, landing hard on her back. The two women, one now partially devoured, laid near each other as the breath slowly left their lungs for the last time.

  The group sensed the moment of the Skins’ deaths, only eight or nine minutes later. They appeared to die almost simultaneously; and, just as soon as the life had left their bodies, their skin began to shrivel and loosen.

  “What just happened?” Jonas finally asked. “Have any of you seen that be
fore?”

  “No,” Shift replied, “that was new.”

  Jon Porter, quiet up until now, asked, “Are they all dying? Can we go home?”

  Nobody responded for fear that their hopes might be dashed by speaking them aloud.

  October 15—Near Juneau, Alaska

  “Marcus, have you seen this?” Lin Zheng asked.

  “What are you looking at?” Marcus Dorian asked in return as he walked over to the small work station where Lin was sitting.

  “Look what’s happening to the monsters in Anchorage,” Lin replied.

  “It looks like they’re dying. Is that real-time?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah, it’s real-time.”

  Marcus, Lin and two other members of their staff had wisely fled the International Weather Service Headquarters in Miami, Florida in mid-February when it looked like things might take a turn for the worse. They were part of the team that successfully deployed a hurricane-busting device that dispersed Hurricane Miguel in the Gulf of Mexico, only to have the Mexican Lunar Spaceship, Gortari II, blown from the sky by a Cuban missile during its return from the moon. The Gortari II explosion, amidst the dispersing hurricane, spread parts of the space craft, its occupants and AE carried by one or more of its passengers, across Central AM and the southeastern United States.

  Marcus knew that there was danger in remaining so close to the destruction of Gortari II after it flew into the hurricane they had just dispersed. But his death wasn’t part of the plan. Over the next few days, they had hacked into, and then studied reports in a classified database set up by the IIA about the spread of Anthrax E—the “Anthrax E Database”. There was much that he hadn’t been told.

  By February 10, the disease was spreading rapidly through Central AM and was gaining traction in Florida. Having access to the IIA database, Marcus and Lin knew what had occurred in El-Alamein and on the moon. A few days earlier, knowing that danger was near, Marcus had asked certain members of his staff, including Lin, whether they would leave with him to move to a more secure facility to continue their work. Lin and two other members of his staff agreed to go with him, each having no family to keep them tied down.

  Unfortunately, in late February, while they were hiding out in an empty cabin in northern Montana, someone discovered their access to the database and shut them down. Since then, most of what they learned was what the news had reported—until the news stopped reporting. Marcus had learned a little from one other contact, which he did not share with Lin.

  On March 5, the two members of Marcus’ staff were out foraging for supplies in a nearby town when they were accosted by a man who begged for help, coughing and choking on his own blood. Fearing infection, they had informed Marcus and Lin that they would not be returning, and pleaded with Marcus and Lin to leave Montana.

  In sorrow, Marcus and Lin had packed their bags again and headed northwest. There were travel restrictions in place, but those restrictions didn’t stop them from heading to Alaska. Marcus had explained that, of all places they could reach fairly quickly, the area around Juneau may be the only safest place. The prevailing winds came from the sea, rather than from land due to the high mountains on the coast. And motorized access to the town was primarily by air and water. The only road into Juneau had been constructed just a few years earlier, and was difficult to navigate much of the year. If they could get to Juneau, Marcus believed they could actually be safe. So they drove the lone road through the mountains looking for some kind of safe haven.

  When they arrived in Juneau, it was not to be. The plague had reached the town. Avoiding contact with all humans, and praying they had not already been exposed, Marcus and Lin sought refuge in a modern hunting cabin high in the mountains northeast of town. It was equipped with all of the devices they would need for survival—and very good locks and ventilation systems. So, they shut and sealed the doors and had not opened them since.

  Then the news from all over the world ceased. The internet continued to feed bits and pieces of information, but it was unreliable. Then that stopped too. Now, the only access they had to the outside world, as far as Lin knew, was the link Lin had established with the old USCAN system two months ago. But even that was shaky. The only feeds they received reliably were from just down the mountain in Juneau and one feed from a few hundred miles north in Anchorage.

  What they saw before them now was an image vastly different than what they had observed when they first hooked up to USCAN.

  “So, if these guys are dying, can we get out of here?” Marcus asked, mostly to himself. Then louder, to Lin, “When was the last time you tried to connect to that IIA database?”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Let’s try it again,” Marcus suggested. He had become quite concerned for their future prospects when the communications system he had been secretly using to communicate with his contact had begun to experience problems. It was inoperable most of the time and he had not received any communication in weeks.

  Lin quickly and expertly entered numbers and letters in sequences Marcus couldn’t understand. She was using a rather old computer system, not the fancy ones they had at Headquarters before they left. But it seemed to be doing the job. Sequences and arrays of digits were flying across the screen as Lin performed her magic.

  Finally, after about two minutes of confusion, the IIA logo appeared on the screen.

  “Well, we’re there,” Lin said. “Let’s see if we can get in.”

  A few moments later, the image changed and the database appeared on the screen. The last post to the database was dated July 16, 2093, almost three months earlier. That particular post was from some colonists on the moon looking for help starting or operating a ship.

  “Nice work Lin! Now, let’s go back to February and read from where we left off.”

  “Good idea.”

  Lin and Marcus read into the night.

  October 28, 2093—International Lunar Space Station

  “Shift, come here please,” Anta called out from the bedroom of their tiny apartment in the United States colony.

  “What’s up babe?” Shift asked as he walked from the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

  “Sit down. We need to talk.”

  “Uhhh, okay.”

  Shift, uneasy at the tone in Anta’s voice, sat near her on the bed, but not close enough that their bodies were touching. Anta, sensing Shift’s hesitation, scooted closer until their thighs and shoulders were touching. Then she whispered in his ear in a way that sent tingles up and down his spine.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Shift jumped up from the bed, his towel loosening and dropping to the floor at his ankles. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I heard you. Are you sure?”

  “Yes Shift, I’m sure. Marilyn checked me out this morning.”

  Anta let Shift stand there, naked, in silence for several moments before finally speaking again.

  “Shift, hello. Are you there?”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m here. Hold on.”

  Shift reached down, grabbed the towel, and pulled it back up, wrapping it around the lower half of his body and tucking the corner in at the waist. All the while, he continued to stare at nothing in particular, not speaking.

  “Well, what do you think about that?” Anta asked.

  “I think . . . well, I think . . .” Then a smile broke the corners of his mouth. The smile turned into a grin and within moments, laughter erupted from deep inside his body.

  “Anta! This is absolutely wonderful! I am so happy! When are you due?”

  “Mid-July.”

  “Are you happy?” Shift asked, more cautiously.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then let’s celebrate! Can we tell everyone? Let’s have a party!”

  Shift was so excited by the news, after it finally sank in, that he could hardly contain himself. He couldn’t stop moving. His towel fell off again and Anta quickly reached her foot over and kicked it
away from him. When Shift realized what she had done, he walked over and sat back down on the bed. This time, he wasn’t nervous, and they did much more than just talk.

  October 29—International Lunar Space Station

  The news of Anta’s pregnancy was like a shot of adrenaline to the small group of survivors hiding on the moon. After the deaths of Carón and Nelise almost six weeks earlier, many of them had begun to wonder whether life could possibly continue, whether or not they ever made it back home. Now, they had come to life with the news of Anta’s pregnancy.

  But there was fear among them, although unspoken. Anta’s blood was tainted, or so they believed. Could a human baby be healthy within her womb, or any womb for that matter? Would the baby live? And if so, what would he or she be like? Would he be sick, with AE? Would she be immune as a result of Anta’ inoculation? Nobody talked of it, but each person thought on it. Ultimately, Marilyn could run tests on the fetus, but the baby wouldn’t be exposed to air, or the AE in the air, until it was born. Nothing would be completely known until then. Nevertheless, their spirits were high.

  A great feast ensued, albeit with processed food from the wall units of the various apartments. The only exception was fish from the pond in the park. Jon and Street had spent a couple of hours catching several fish, probably rainbow trout by the looks of them. They were cooked to perfection for the celebration.

  The party continued into the night. Many of them drank wine for the first time in many months. A couple of them became intoxicated. But nobody cared. It was time to celebrate, and they did.

  “John, let me help you get home,” Shift said as John stumbled toward the exit to the great hall.

  “Nah, I’m preeeetty good.” John’s slurred speech told Shift everything he needed to know about how “good” John was. His old friend was practically an alcoholic in college. Shift had seen him this way many times. Too often, John’s drunkenness led to physical altercations and run-ins with the law. This time, there was no law, and it seemed unlikely an altercation would break out among the group celebrating Shift’s and Anta’s impending parenthood. But Shift didn’t want to take any chances. He would see his old friend back to his apartment.