Russell stood up and couldn’t resist giving him a hug. The boy let him, but didn’t return the hug like he used to, probably because he found it embarrassing. This stung Russell. Even his youngest child was starting to spread his wings. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to apologize to Courtney. The highest building on Earth was in Dubai, it was over half a mile high and as tall as our redwoods. I don’t know how many people lived and worked in there, but I reckon it was over ten thousand.”
Greg looked at his father with big, innocent eyes. “Ten thousand? You’re kidding me, Dad!”
Russell sat down again, as he noticed that the dizziness was returning. “No, Greg. There really were buildings that high.”
“And Courtney also said there were ships on Earth as big as redwood trees and that a thousand people could fit inside. But that’s impossible!”
Russell felt a wave sadness wash over him. There were so many things his children would never get to see. For his son, who had never seen the ocean or even a big lake, the stories of Earth must sound like tales of a mythical land. In a few generations, when the last photos had also faded, Earth would become a legend and eventually a myth. It wouldn’t surprise Russell if the name of their planet of origin was forgotten altogether one day.
“It’s true, Greg. There really were ships that could transport that many people.”
“Can’t we build a ship like that here?”
Russell laughed quietly at the thought of steering a cruise ship over the oceans of New California. “I’m afraid we don’t have enough people here for such a big ship.”
“Maybe we could build a little one.”
“The ocean is a long way away. It will probably take many more years until we have a settlement there and even longer until it would be worthwhile to build a ship.”
“Well, I’d like to see the ocean. So much water . . .” His voice became hushed with awe.
Russell laughed. “You will, son. Don’t worry. It might be a few more years until we’re able to go on another expedition to the ocean, but then you’ll be grown up and I’m sure you can come too.”
Greg wriggled free from his father’s grasp and ran to the door.
“Where are you going now?” asked Ellen, who was dragging the big table back in front of the hearth.
“I’m going to ask Dimitri if he feels like building a ship with me. Then we can take it with us in a few years when we go to the ocean. Can I, Mom?”
“Sure. Off you go.”
Greg tore open the door and almost knocked over Dr. Lindwall, who was standing in front of it with a roll of paper.
“Come in, Doc. We’re both here.”
The slim and wiry doctor stepped inside. He didn’t smile as he usually did in greeting.
“Sit down, Doctor,” said Ellen. She pulled a chair up to the table. Russell stood up with difficulty and sat down opposite Dr. Lindwall. “Something to drink? A coffee, perhaps?” he asked.
Lindwall shook his head. He looked very serious. Like somebody facing a very unpleasant task. Russell could feel fear welling up inside him. Of course this must have to do with his diagnosis. How bad could it be? Was it his heart? His father had died at the age of sixty of a heart attack. Russell had been on yet another mission at the time, and only found out afterwards, long after the funeral had already taken place. Perhaps it was something hereditary.
Ellen sat down at the table, tight-lipped. In the space of a few moments, the atmosphere had changed completely. A minute ago it had been a warm and cozy little home; now it had been transformed into a bitterly cold courtroom. And in a moment Russell would hear the verdict.
“I can see from your face that you haven’t come with good news. Be straight with me. How bad is it?”
Wordlessly, the doctor rolled out his papers and unfolded the X-ray of Russell’s thorax. Toward the top of the X-ray Russell could see the lungs. Dr. Lindwall pointed with his pen at a pale, almost circular spot to the side of the right lung. “That spot shouldn’t be there. And there are high levels of CEA and NSE in your blood.”
“NSE?”
“Neuron-Specific Enolase. A glycolytic enzyme. A high level of NSE is the main tumor marker of small-cell bronchial carcinoma.”
Ellen’s eyes became wide. Russell felt numb.
I have a tumor? Lung cancer? “Are you trying to tell me . . .” He couldn’t continue.
Lindwall looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Are you sure? Are there any other tests we can do?” asked Ellen.
Lindwall shook his head slowly. “I also found some abnormal cells under the microscope in his sputum. On Earth, we would double check with a CT scan and a bronchoscopy, but we don’t have a tomography machine, and a bronchoscopy wouldn’t help us here either.”
The doctor’s words reached Russell as if through a thick fog. All he could think was: I have cancer!
He had difficulty concentrating on what the doctor was saying. “How bad is it? Has it spread already?” He swallowed.
Lindwall spoke quietly. “I haven’t found any metastases, but small-cell carcinoma spreads very quickly. If you can feel the first symptoms, it usually means the cancer is already at an advanced stage.”
He took Russell’s hand. This was an unusual gesture for the doctor, who normally shied away from physical contact. “Do you really want to know the details? Over the years I’ve discovered it doesn’t necessarily help the patient, if they—”
Russell interrupted him brusquely. “It’s my body. I want to know what condition it’s in, even if I don’t like what I hear.”
Ellen was following the conversation open-mouthed.
The truth hadn’t sunk in yet.
But for him it had: he would die, and not some time, but soon. He pulled his hand out of the doctor’s, and folded his arms tightly in front of his chest.
“Two questions: what can we do, and how long do I still have?”
Lindwall raised his arms despondently. “On Earth I would have recommended a combination of chemotherapy with Cisplatin or Carboplatin, together with radiation therapy. But we have neither chemotherapeutic drugs nor radiology devices, so we can only treat the symptoms.”
“Can’t it be operated on?” asked Ellen. Her voice was suddenly high-pitched.
Lindwall shook his head. “Small-cell carcinoma is inoperable at this stage. It wouldn’t change the outcome. It would be impossible to remove all of the metastases, and the remaining ones would spread very fast.”
I want to know now, thought Russell. “How long have I got?”
Lindwall sighed, looked down at his feet for a moment and then raised his head. “Three months.”
Oh God! Three months! In less than a hundred days I’ll be dead!
Russell looked Ellen in the eyes. She stared back at him in disbelief.
“You should get your affairs in order and bid farewell to life.” The doctor’s words sounded funny. Perhaps doctors also found it hard to find the right words and therefore came out with clichés.
Three months! Jesus Christ! What can I do? There must be something we can do.
“And what happens next? I mean, what should I expect from now on?”
The doctor sighed. “For the next month you’ll feel a lot like you do now. We can fight against the general feeling of sickness with vitamin shots and anti-inflammatories, although you might feel a bit weaker and more tired.” He was obviously having trouble looking Russell in the eyes, because his own kept wandering around the room. “You might start to think and hope you’re getting better, but the tumor cells will metastasize fast. You’ll have more trouble breathing. You’ll feel out of breath more quickly. Depending on how soon the tumor starts to press against other organs, you may start to feel pain, and fluid will build up in your lungs. Metastases in the brain can affect your behavior. You might become depressed, perhaps even aggressive—up to a complete change in personality, so that even your family doesn’t recognize you anymore.”
My God! And that’s all coming up soon!
“Thanks, Doc, for being so honest. I appreciate it,” said Russell flatly.
Ellen started to sob.
The doctor pursed his lips, before continuing. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m terribly sorry. I can’t do anything to change the situation, but I’ll try to make it as bearable as I possibly can, I promise.”
Russell stood up. He wanted the doctor to leave so he could be alone with his wife.
Dr. Lindwall also stood up. “I’m here for you when you need me, please just let me know.”
Russell nodded curtly and closed the door behind him. As if drugged, he swayed over to his wife and sat down beside her. She was still sobbing as he took her in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder.
Three months! I’ve only got three months! He shook his head. In fact, I don’t even have three months. A month from now it’ll go rapidly downhill. I will die a wretched death. And my wife, my children, will have to sit at the sidelines and watch me deteriorate
Chapter 7
Eighteen years ago
“What? What is it?” asked Russell, as Katrina Cole stepped out of the infirmary and closed the door behind her.
“Calm down. She’s still in labor.”
Russell raised his arms helplessly. The contractions had started over twelve hours ago. This drama couldn’t go on for much longer. “How is she?”
“She’s doing fine. I’m more worried about you. Don’t you want to go home for an hour and lie down for a while? Have you even eaten anything today?”
Was she joking? How could he possibly swallow a single bite in this situation?
“Ellen has eaten,” said Katrina.
“Can I see her?”
Katrina shook her head. “It’s better if you wait out here.”
Russell just grunted. Katrina, who had been recruited by Dr. Lindwall as a nurse and who had taken on the role of midwife today, turned on her heel and disappeared back into the infirmary, leaving the hapless father outside the barrack.
Russell sighed and continued his pacing in front of the door.
“Stop walking around in a never-ending circle,” said Christian Holbrook, who was sitting on the stoop in front of the entrance to the infirmary. “If you carry on like that much longer, we’ll have to refill the ruts that you’ve produced with your endless pacing.”
“Put yourself in my situation! This waiting is driving me crazy.”
The sun was starting to set. Last night, Ellen had already been tossing to and fro in bed. Early in the morning she had started groaning at regular intervals, as the first contractions started. Russell had brought her to Dr. Lindwall, in the firm belief that she would give birth within minutes. He had been very much mistaken. Now the sun was sinking in the west beyond the forest of redwoods, and only individual rays penetrated the mile-high treetops to cast their light on the walls of the barrack, which they had finished building recently to house the infirmary.
“It can’t be normal to be taking this long,” said Russell.
“Can you please sit down?” asked Christian.
“For the hundredth time: No!”
The former astronaut grinned, but quickly forced a serious expression back on his face. Russell was well aware that his friend found his helplessness highly amusing. If only this would be over!
Marlene and Albert came around the corner of the barrack. Marlene was laughing, and gave Albert, who was nearly twenty years her senior, a playful slap on the chest, as if he’d just been telling a naughty joke. In her other hand she was holding various pieces of paper. She smiled when she saw Russell and walked up to him and Christian.
“Still nothing?” asked Marlene.
“Nope. We’ve been waiting here for hours.”
“Well, the baby obviously doesn’t feel like leaving the comfort of his mother’s womb yet.”
“Ha! Little Jimmy just doesn’t feel like catching sight of his Dad’s ugly mug,” said Albert with a grin. Russell stuck his tongue out at him.
“Why aren’t you in there with Ellen?” asked Marlene.
Russell started to reply, but Christian butted in. “Lindwall threw him out, after he’d paced round his wife hysterically once too often.”
Marlene laughed. “Well, you’ve obviously found a task that elite soldier Russell Harris isn’t up to.”
Albert grasped Russell’s shoulders with both hands. “He can deal with guerillas, Islamists and aliens. But the arrival of a little baby has put him out of commission.”
Russell extracted himself from Albert’s grasp. “I hate not being able to do anything.” He hopped nervously from one leg to the other. He knew he was making a fool of himself in front of his friends, but he had never felt this helpless in his entire life.
“Leave the work to others for once,” said Marlene. “Doc Lindwall is an excellent physician and I’m sure Katrina is being an excellent midwife.”
“What makes you so sure? She’s never been present at a birth before.”
From inside the barrack he heard a protracted groan that turned into a loud scream.
I can’t bear this anymore!
Russell turned around and headed toward the infirmary door, but Marlene held him back. “Russell, Russell. Stay here. It’s totally normal, calm down!”
Normal! The scream hadn’t sounded normal at all!
But Marlene was right. Even if he went in now, there was nothing he could do. He forced himself to stay calm.
“Okay. You’re right,” he said. “So distract me. Tell me some news. What were you talking about? He pointed at the papers in Marlene’s hand.
“The final plans for the workshop,” said Albert. “We need a big stone oven with an air duct. It needs to be hot enough that we can smelt metals to produce tools and spare parts. The machines that we’ve got here won’t last forever.”
We’re going to start building next week. Then we should be finished by harvest time,” said Marlene.
“We should also talk about extending the infirmary,” said Christian.
“Yes, the barrack we built is too small.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say this, but who cares. Your baby will have some playmates pretty soon,” she said, looking at Russell.
“You mean . . .? Who?”
“Ben. He and Drew are expecting a girl. They’re in the third month already.”
Russell bit his lip: he knew Ben would rather bring up his daughter in solitary confinement than let her play with his son. Most of the colonists who had been brought here from Russell’s Planet had come to terms with their situation, and reconciled themselves with Russell. Some, like Eliot and Donald, still threw insults at Russell when they crossed paths. But Ben hated him. Not that he insulted Russell or threatened him with violence—they had to work too closely together to plan the colony for that to be an option. But in his eyes he recognized only deep contempt. When he was standing opposite him, the feeling of antipathy was like an electric current that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Russell hoped their relationship would improve at some point, but he had the feeling it would take a long time.
“Rhonda is also pregnant,” said Christian.
Marlene blinked in astonishment. “Rhonda? I didn’t know that. With Dr. Cashmore?”
Christian nodded. “They want to get married next month.”
“Now I get it,” said Marlene.
“What do you get?” asked Russell.
“A few days ago, Cashmore asked me if I could conduct a ceremony. But I didn’t have any time and asked him to come back to me in a week. I didn’t know it was about a wedding, or I wouldn’t ha
ve brushed him off in such a hurry.”
Ellen screamed again. Russell could hear Lindwall saying something to her, but didn’t catch his words.
When is this ever going to end?
“I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some more babies on the way soon—judging by the noise coming from Ernie and Andrea’s tent nearly every night,” said Albert, whose hut was next to Ernie Lawrence’s. “Sometimes they wake me up at night.”
“Then find someone with whom you can give Ernie and Andrea a run for their money!” said Russell.
Marlene blushed. He didn’t know that she found these kinds of conversations embarrassing. He wanted to make a pointed remark, but Christian had already changed the subject.
“Should we be concerned, in the long run, about incest or genetic depletion?”
“No, not if we’re careful our children don’t get together with close relatives,” said Marlene. “I talked about it with Jenny. We are forty adults. It’s cutting it close, but there should be sufficient genetic variation. She told me about Kiwis, these flightless birds in New Zealand. Apparently there were only five left in existence, but after their habitats were officially protected, they started to recover and now there are well over a thousand of them. We’re passing through a genetic bottleneck, but we’ll survive. The best thing we can do is to have as many children as possible.”
“Well, Russell’s making a good start,” said Albert.
“Yeah, yeah, but it wasn’t planned.” They no longer had any contraceptives. The doctor’s small supply had been used up after just a few weeks. To start, they hadn’t wanted any children, but Ellen had got muddled up counting the days of her cycle—not a particularly reliable method in the first place. So when Lindwall had broken the news that Ellen was pregnant, they had been surprised but happy. And now Russell wanted to finally see his son!
As if on command, the door of the infirmary opened. Katrina had blood on her apron, but she was smiling mischievously. She held the door open and made an inviting gesture with her head.
Russell hesitated. “You mean . . . ?”
Transport 2_The Flood Page 6