by Ann Christy
“Perfect, Lil. Turn it off for now,” Greg replied almost immediately.
Lillian picked up the cart and nestled it carefully into her side before taking off again. She wasn’t going to waste time and distance while they thought up all their answers. She’d been out over 50 minutes and that was close to being unprecedented for just the way out. The norm was somewhere around 30 to 40 minutes before the suit broke down enough that a runner had to return. Hers was holding up far better than she had ever expected.
“Did you think we wouldn’t notice you were running again?” Greg asked, the smirk evident in his voice.
“I don’t believe in wasting time. Plus, if I can get closer this contraption might make it all the way to the blue. Assuming I can’t, that is.” Her puffing breaths were giving her away. She really did need to lighten the load some. Lillian was sure she could make it all the way if she just lightened the load.
“We’ve got an answer on the distance and it is much too far for you to run. It’s a few more silo depths at least,” Greg said, breaking the pace she’d just settled into.
A few more silo depths was too much. He was right about that. She would already have to run back more than that and Lillian was aware enough to know that much would be beyond her. “Pig shit!” she hissed between breaths.
“Lil, go ahead and loose the cart. Point it directly to the left of your mark. The blue looks a little clearer in that direction.”
She stopped again and unseated the cart from her side, careful of the nuts and bolts, and laid it down aimed exactly as required. Her mark was there and getting clearer. It wasn’t entirely black now, more a brownish, and it didn’t look like a single thing anymore but rather a cluster of something she couldn’t make out. It was still too far in the distance to see much detail and she didn’t have time to puzzle it out.
The wheel on the bottle, with its grip friendly surface, turned easily and a thin stream of gas immediately shot out. She turned the wheel faster so as to not waste gas and held the little contraption steady so it wouldn’t take off. When it was open enough that she felt the tug of the machine, she let it go. It bounced away from her on those skinny oversize wheels. The bottle would last a while with just that small stream, but it was time for her to go.
“Cart is away. I’m turning back.” She took just a few steps when she remembered her mark. Reaching behind her she plucked the lowest marker ball from the holder and dropped it at her feet. Lillian spun on her heel to get the ball in her camera view for the control room and said, “Ha! Look at that…”
Her body came to a stop of its own accord. Not more than a hundred paces out, the little cart had fallen over on its side, one wheel still spinning. “Oh, no.”
Greg
“Lillian! Leave it be and start running. You’re going to run out of air at some point. Your suit isn’t the only thing that limits your time.” Greg slapped the console with the flat of his hand as she stood there, helmet pointed toward that pathetic excuse for a cart. Her eyes were wide above the mouthpiece but even in that ghostly reflection, he could see the wheels turning in her head.
Jeremy shoved him aside and growled into the microphone, “Lillian, I’m ordering you to resume your return to the silo at once. Acknowledge!”
Greg watched the screen and Lillian’s reflection. She wasn’t looking at the cart anymore, she was looking beyond it and her expression had changed. He looked beyond her to the distance, trying to see what she saw.
“Do you see it? My mark,” she said, her voice soft and raspy.
It was the softness in her voice that made everyone nearby cease their noise and look toward the screen. The historian cursed his old eyes and Greg tried to make sense of the jittery picture from her helmet. He reached over Jeremy and hit the switch. “Lillian, can you hold very still so I can see.”
Her hands came up and held her helmet. He heard her intake of breath and the slow exhalation, trying to be still. The wind had blown the blue into bloom ahead, the dust thinning from some distant wind up high. It only took that one short moment for him to see. “It’s trees.” He turned and shouted to the room, “It is trees. Her mark is really trees! I’m almost sure of it.”
Lillian’s head nodded and the view went back to jittering. Jeremy shoved Greg’s hand away and leaned into the microphone. “Lillian, turn around and come back now. That’s too far.”
There was indecision in her eyes, but she turned and looked back the way she had come. Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Then her gaze shifted up and she looked into the reflection of the cameras that she must have been able to see in her own helmet. It was like she was looking directly at Greg and he knew the question and the answer. Just like Lizbet, she needed to be free.
The race director was practically hugging the microphone, repeating his futile instructions over and over. But all that Lillian was doing was looking up into the reflected lens, waiting. Greg stepped behind Jeremy, grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the console. Two of the decontamination team nearby took in the scene and made to step forward, so he shouted into the microphone.
“Go!”
Before the two men grabbed him and dragged him back from the console, he was able to see the crinkle of her eyes as she smiled, turned and ran.
Lillian
It was like being given wings, that single word. She was only sorry they had wasted so much time before getting down to it. If she didn’t make it to the blue, she would blame protocol with her final breath. She was meant for this. She passed the defunct cart, kicked it upright with barely a pause and saw the gimbal inside swing. At least that would give them some camera footage before it fell over again. The transmitter would boost her fading signal, too.
Her aim was directly for her mark. The lake was to her right and she had nothing but sky above. She wished she had a way to turn off her helmet speakers. It seemed like she was being treated to a constant stream of threats of punishment alternated with people pleading with her to return. Long minutes of this eventually wore on her nerves even as the ground passed by beneath her feet.
Wasting her breath ticked her off, but there was no help for it so she said, “I’m going no matter what. Acting all up-top about it won’t change anything. You can either help me do this or shut up.”
The noise ceased immediately but she didn’t know if it was from shock at her words or because they had really heard her. The next voice she heard was Zara’s.
“Lillian, if you turn around right now, you might make it back. We’re getting Leo now. We’re going to suit him up and get him outside with a rescue bag to meet you.”
Lillian’s reply came out in short bursts with breathing in between. She was getting tired and the ground was changing character so she had to watch her feet. “No. Zara, don’t. You’ll increase the risk if you have two out. I’m keeping on. I know I can make it.”
And she was sure. For whatever reason, she was certain in her heart that this was the right thing to do. Lillian had no idea what might be beyond that blue, the border of which had started to grow as she came closer until it loomed above and ahead of her like a promise. What before had been something that looked like a band too short to be of use now stretched high into the sky. And the brown that joined it was diffuse and wispy. It wasn’t just a gap, it was a welcoming wide swath that beckoned her forward.
A quick stumble drew her eyes back where they should be; in front of her and near the ground. The character of the ground was changing rapidly and she needed to focus on it. The same sort of tumbled concrete she had found before stretched out as far as she could see left and right. Though broken and buckled now, it looked like it had once been a path wide enough for a couple of dozen people to walk down without touching each other. Piles of sandy dirt covered depressed chunks while other parts looked folded up onto each other. Shards of metal stuck up from the ground on the other side of the path at regular intervals, black with corrosion and broken into sharp edges.
Lillian slowed to a quick wa
lk over the jumbles of strange concrete, if that is what it was. Near the top, one of the folded pieces crumbled under her feet and only a quick hop to a lower level spared her suited leg a nasty surprise. Zara must have noted the action because she came through with a harsh admonition to be careful.
“Greg.” She didn’t have enough breath for sentences anymore, but she was sure that Zara would get the drift. The last reply had used up too much of whatever breath she had to spare and she needed to conserve for a while, just until she had her wind back.
“I’m sorry, Lillian. He’s still here, but they won’t let him near the mic at the moment. He can hear and see you.” There was a pause and the increasingly crackly line went dead a moment, then, “He says he knows you were right and he’ll let your mom know, whatever that means.”
Lillian smiled, inadvertently changing the track her sweat was taking down her face and being rewarded by a stinging in her eyes. She blinked it away and answered between pants, “Tell Greg I’m always right.” It took five breaths to get it out, but it was worth it when she heard his chuckle faintly through the open mic. The crackling increased so she stopped at the next pile of folded and jumbled path and propped up one of the camera balls. Its transmitter would help boost her signal even further out. The green light came on when she clicked.
“Camera.” It was all she needed to say. Her helmet told the story.
“We have it. Very clear and it’s nice to have something that doesn’t bounce.” Zara sounded like she wanted to avoid the topic of the moment, namely that she wasn’t coming back, that she was most probably about to die. Instead, she was keeping it light and that was okay with Lillian.
The end of the lake had fallen behind her, but there was something new in its place. A wide channel of clear water meandered in the same direction she was running. She saw the point where it went into the lake, a wide fan of the gray water swirling into the lake. That water was coming from somewhere and it wasn’t black, wasn’t covered by dust and looked so good she wanted to jump in for a wash. That was a stupid thought, but the inside of her skinsuit was so soaked in sweat she wanted to rip it off and wring it out.
“See water,” she breathed.
“We see it Lillian.
The air was changing outside and the ground along with it. Another line of broken posts lay just ahead and now she saw what looked like the remains of chain link exactly like that used in supply to close the cages where they kept the small parts in Supply. It was so familiar and yet so strange to see out here. There was a gap through the curled and sprung links so she shifted her aim for it. The wind was shifting and growing stronger again, blowing sheets of loose dirt across her path. For every bit it blew into the air though, more was blown out of the way and the blue changed to a shade so clear and beautiful, she almost stopped just to look at it. It was so close.
Beyond the broken posts, over a short rise in the land, she could see the top of her mark. What appeared black and then brown now looked brown and green. She still couldn’t see the ground, the rises ahead and behind her put her into a depression that left only the dirt and the sky. The chattering through the helmet was getting louder and less ordered. They could see it, too.
Tumbled rocks and shreds of metal littered the ground. Lillian hopped through the cracks but she was so tired it was a burden just to keep lifting her feet. She’d been running for almost an hour and a half, longer than her whole run outside should have been. She felt the rip rather than heard it when she lifted her foot over the last bit of twisted wire. It was reflex that made her bend, scramble for a squeeze bottle in her pocket and feel for the hole.
A wide gash marked her outer suit, but did it go through the fused second and third layer? Did it penetrate the skin suit? Her fingers were too clumsy to find it and she could feel nothing. A long squeeze of the chemical repellent into the hole produced no sensation of wetness or stinging. She would have felt that had it touched her skin. Still, saturating the gap with repellent and dealing with blisters was better than dying.
When she stuck her leg out forward, trying to see into the gap and squeezing more of the liquid into her suit, she heard the clamor of many voices, all of them calling out instructions she didn’t need. The last of the liquid came out in a splatter and she tossed it away. She fumbled for another roll of tape in another pocket and started frantically wrapping the leg, squeezing the gap closed and running the tape out and around as fast as she could.
Time had just caught up with her and fear made her teeth chatter. It was one thing to be so sure and keep running and entirely another when the inevitable happened. Lillian got to her feet, her legs like rubber and her lungs aflame and looked back. There was nothing to be seen that far away but the heavier haze of dust. Was she too far to be with her father when she joined him out here? Would he find her this far away?
Turning back toward the blue, which covered the entirety of the sky ahead of her, the dust lingering far above like a thin film that couldn’t even block out the blue above her anymore, she decided there was only one direction she could go. She stepped forward once, twice and then ran again.
The stinging started not on her leg, but on her back within moments. It was like fire racing up her spine and she couldn’t stop the sound that came out along with her gasps. It burned. But she was closer, just one more rise and she would see what ground rested under those immense trees.
“Greg,” she wheezed. It was the only word she could say.
Greg
“Don’t be an asshole!” Greg exclaimed, wrenching an arm away from the medic and making one full step toward the console and those around it before he was grabbed again. “It’s too late to do anything. All you’re doing is punishing her with this. Let me talk to her.”
Zara, standing next to Jeremy, laid a hand on his arm and the look she gave him was a pleading one. Greg knew it cost her to do that and she was doing it for him. Jeremy nodded but didn’t look happy about it. He cast a dark look at Greg over his shoulder but stepped to the side.
“Let him go.”
Greg pulled his arm away with far more force than he needed and raced toward the console, leaning into the microphone like it would somehow put him nearer to her.
“I’m here, Lil. You can do it. Don’t give up.”
“Burns,” she said on an exhale.
Next to him, Zara clamped a hand over her mouth and squeezed Greg’s arm with the other. He nodded, both of them understanding what that meant. Everyone in the room did, but in this Jeremy did his job and motioned for silence, ejecting a few of the decontamination team that were openly weeping and making too much noise.
Greg looked at the shadow of her face. Even only in that reflected image, he saw the redness of her face, the sweat pouring off of her and the pale circles around her eyes that said she was nearing the point at which she could no longer shed heat. Her amber eyes were bloodshot, but still focused on the task at hand.
“You’re almost at the rise. You can still do this. Dig deep!” It felt wrong and stupid to tell her to keep going when all he wanted was to go get her and bring her back. But it was all he could do for her so he would do it.
The rise ahead of her was steep but looked sturdy, the rocky soil anchored by ages. Even without a camera he would have known when she hit the slope by the grunts of effort. Her gloves gripped the dirt and pulled, making up for the fatigue of her legs. She was no longer being careful.
“Lillian, watch your gloves. Watch for rocks.”
She grunted but said nothing. Greg didn’t think she could have. Near the top she began to squeal in distress between gasps and one of her eyes squeezed shut.
“Lillian, just a little more. Then you can rest.” He said it gently, trying to keep her calm. How he was going to see her through to this end he didn’t know. It was a horrible end and she had nothing to make it easier.
As she crested the top, all his former thoughts left him like they had never been there. The slope down the other side of the little ridg
e was gentle and long. A border of dead and half dead plant life told him there was still more running for Lillian before it was safe. But beyond that desiccated borderland lay everything they had ever been promised and secretly believed would never come.
Green ground covering, like newly sprouted plots of grain, stretched for as far as the eye could see. Bright swatches of color interrupted the carpet and all of it was bound by a forest of trees he could scarcely believe existed. Thick and tall, they crowded together and stretched out forever. What really caught his eye, his brain making the connections faster than he could articulate them, was the water.
The stream of water Lillian had been running alongside veered left, almost into her path if she continued on, and it was as clear as what came out of a faucet. In the two seconds it took him too process all of this, Lillian had found her feet and was squealing in pain. Her face had been red before but now that was joined by a streak of fiery red tracing up her cheek.
“Lillian, the mask! Grab it. Keep running. Go for the water.”
She seemed to understand him then. She slammed her face forward and groaned as the mask made contact with the inflamed tissue of her cheek, but she seemed to have gotten hold of it. His amazement was almost complete when she started to run after a few short, clumsy steps, her speed almost what it had been before.
In the reflection of her face, he saw her trying to open her eye, but when she did, it had gone beyond bloodshot to bloody. Many runners had survived a little topical exposure, but keeping it out of the body was the rubicon between surviving and not surviving. She needed to immerse herself and she needed to do it fast.
Lillian
All she wanted was to make it stop. It felt like fire was dancing up her neck and across her cheek. And her eye pained her most of all. Trying to run with only one eye open was throwing her off, making her feel like she was tilting even when her legs told her she wasn’t. When she opened it against the pain, all she saw was a cloudy mist instead of what she saw with her other eye. It wasn’t much, but the tilting stopped and that was enough.