by Cross, Amy
“Elizabeth!”
“I'm staying,” I say, turning to him.
“What?”
“Someone has to go,” I tell him, barely able to believe that these words are coming out of my mouth. “If we leave now, this thing is going to launch empty and then maybe on the other end... maybe it'll all fall apart, if there's nobody there to help out. Maybe the A.I. won't be enough. She said we still have a role to play, right?”
“We can send him!” Thomas says, looking toward Carver's unconscious body. “Stick him on one of those tables, put a mask on him, and we're done!”
“I don't think he's the best person to guide the last survivors,” I reply. “I think -”
“One minute to launch,” the computer says. “Warning. Door activation commencing.”
“Help me!” I gasp, suddenly grabbing Carver's arms.
“What are you doing?” Thomas asks.
“I'm staying!” I tell him as I start dragging Carver toward the door. “Call me nuts, but I'd rather wake up alone than with this asshole next to me!”
Thomas takes Carver's legs, and we manage to get him out onto the bridge. We carry him all the way over to the entrance to the building, then we set him down and I rush back to the rocket. The door is still open and, as I step inside, I turn to say goodbye to Thomas. Before I can say anything, however, he shocks me by stepping through after me, joining me on the rocket.
“If you don't hurry,” I say, “you'll -”
“What the hell, right?” he replies, interrupting me as the door starts to close. “I'm not gonna let you go five hundred years out into space all by yourself. You're gonna need a wingman.”
“But -”
“Everyone's dead here, or dying,” he adds. “I could go out there and try to somehow get back to the farm, but I don't think I'd do very well there, not without Martha. I'd just be struggling to get by, and I'd be all alone, and I'm not sure that I'd have much of a chance. Going up in a rocket, though, is pretty cool. I mean, I always wanted to see the world.”
“You might not -”
“And there's this,” he says, before suddenly leaning close and kissing me.
I step back, shocked, bumping against the wall as the door shuts firmly next to us.
“I'm sorry,” Thomas stammers, “was that wrong?”
“No,” I reply, trying to act cool, “I just... we'll try that again later, okay? Right now, we -”
Suddenly a huge roaring sound fills the air all around us, and I look over at a monitor just in time to see that the engines have begun to fire properly. The entire rocket is shaking so violently, I'm worried it might be about to fall apart, but then again I guess maybe this is just how it feels to be on a rocket that's about to fire up into space. I look around, wondering what I'm supposed to do next, but all the computer screens seem to be flashing normally and I'm starting to think that the A.I. is managing to get things going just fine.
“I think,” I say finally, turning to Thomas as the roar gets louder, “we should probably sit on the -”
Before I can finish, I hear a scream and a banging sound, and I turn to see Maxwell Carver's face at the small window on the door. He's somehow managed to wake up, and he's desperately trying to get inside the rocket. I can just about hear his voice, although I can't make out any of the words, but he looks and sounds absolutely furious as the rocket shudders and finally begins to rise up from the heart of the facility.
“Here we go,” Thomas says, taking my hand in his.
“Shouldn't we at least sit down?” I gasp.
“There must be some kind of artificial gravity in here,” he replies. “Don't ask me, because I don't understand any of this.”
I don't push him away. In fact, I squeeze his hand tight as the rocket roars up through an opening and rises into the sky. Maxwell Carver is still clinging to the outside of the door, still screaming something that I absolutely can't hear, and I'm starting to think that it might be a little too late for him to hop off now. I steady myself against the side as the rocket shudders slightly, and when I look out the other window I see that we're already hundreds and hundreds of feet above the ground.
Philadelphia is spread out far below, although the city looks more like a war-zone. I can see further, too, but there's not much sign of life. I'm sure there are people down there, watching us as we race up into space, and I can only hope that somehow they manage to make things work.
“Good luck,” I whisper.
“He's still out there!” Thomas says, his voice filled with shock.
Turning, I see that – incredibly – Maxwell Carver is still clinging to the outside of the door, although his shouting seems to have become more of a long, terrified scream and his eyes are wide open. I keep telling myself that he has to fall away at any moment, but I have to give the guy credit for tenacity. He's clinging to this rocket as if it's all he cares about in the world, and I guess that might well be the case.
“He's not giving up,” Thomas points out.
I stare at Carver through the window. He's looking at me, still screaming, and then suddenly the rocket starts to tilt and Carver's grip finally fails. He lets out one final scream as he's plucked away from the door, and I rush forward and look out to make sure that he's finally gone. I can just about make out his body spinning away back toward the ground, although I hope he loses consciousness well before he lands.
Looking out the other window, I realize the blue of the sky is giving way to the darkness of space. I guess we're finally leaving the planet's atmosphere, and I can't help wondering whether I've made the right decision. With each second that passes, I start to see more and more stars, and finally the curve of the planet is extreme.
I look down at the oceans and continents, and at that moment I suddenly remember Natalie's last words. When she died all those months ago, she was hearing voices, and she tried to let me know what they were telling her. I don't remember everything she said, but her very last words are ringing in my memory now:
“When you rise, Elizabeth, I'll be watching you from down here, and I'll be waving at you. Remember that. When you rise, I'll be smiling and waving.”
At the time, I thought she was just talking nonsense. To be honest, that's probably still true. But now, as I look down at the planet, I can't help wondering whether somehow she had some inkling of what was going to happen. Whether, in some weird way, we all had a destiny right from the start.
Chapter Eighteen
Thomas
“I think we should probably get over to those two beds,” I say after a few minutes of silence. “Those scanners over there seem to be trying to catch our attention.”
Elizabeth stares out the window for a moment longer, at the world as it falls further and further away, and then she turns to me.
“That one, in particular,” I add, nodding toward a screen that shows two flashing green human figures.
I look at the other screens too, as I try to figure out exactly what's happening, but the truth is that I don't have a clue. The systems here on the ship are clearly way too complex for anyone to just work it all out through guessing, so I guess I just have to hope that the computer system is up to the job.
“Will crew-members please now prepare for sleep,” the computer's voice says suddenly, as if to back me up. “Crew-members report to stasis positions.”
“Sure,” Elizabeth says, clearly a little stunned as we head over to the two beds. She's still holding my hand, although she lets go as she reaches her bed and looks up at the mask that's still hanging from the wall.
“I don't quite get how it's going to work,” I tell her, “but apparently the idea is that we'll go to sleep for however many hundreds of years it takes for us to get to where we're going. I sure hope the guys who built this thing knew what they were doing, 'cause right now it all sounds a little to sci-fi to be true.”
“They got us this far,” she points out, “so I guess it's worth a shot.”
She climbs onto the bed,
and then I go over and get onto mine. I have a million questions rushing through my mind, so many in fact that I don't even know where to begin asking them. This whole situation still feels completely surreal, and I'm half expecting to suddenly wake up and find that it was all a dream. I'm just Thomas Edgewater from Oklahoma, I'm not anyone special, so how come I'm sitting here right now at the top of a rocket?
“Do you think this was destiny?” Elizabeth asks suddenly.
Turning to her, I see that she's waiting for an answer, although I'm really not sure what to say.
“When I look back over everything that happened during the past year,” she continues, “I feel like there were too many coincidences. Too many moments when I really should have died. There were other things, too, little moments that almost seem unbelievable. I know this might sound insane, but I'm starting to feel like maybe there was some kind of guiding hand that made sure we got to this point.”
“Maybe,” I say cautiously. “Or maybe two people had to end up on this rocket, even if it didn't matter which two people. And whoever they were, they'd always feel like it was their destiny, because they were convinced that they'd be the ones whose coincidences all lined up in a row. How many people were there before this started? Seven or eight billion? Maybe it's just sheer luck that we happened to be the ones who muddled through and ended up here.”
“True,” she replies. “Someone else once suggested that to me.” She pauses. “I'm sorry about your sister.”
“I'm sorry about your father,” I tell her.
“Do you think we'll really make it?” she asks, as the ship's rumbling sound begins to soften a little. “I mean, it kinda seems like a long shot.”
“We've made it this far,” I point out, “and the -”
“Prepare for stasis,” the computer says suddenly, and a soft bluish light starts flashing above the two beds.
“Are you scared?” Elizabeth asks.
“No,” I reply instantly, before looking over at the window and seeing nothing ahead but the vastness of space and about a million stars. “Well, yeah, kinda,” I continue, as the ceiling starts whirring and my mask comes down toward my face. “Are we really going to just be on these beds for hundreds and hundreds of years, not moving at all, just like we're in some kind of really deep sleep? Won't we get sores? What will we dream about for that long? Won't we need to eat?” I turn to her. “What about the bathroom?”
“I think stasis is very different to sleeping,” she says, before pulling the mask closer to her face. “I think we have to trust that they know what they're doing.”
I open my mouth to ask her some more questions, but suddenly the computerized voice starts speaking again.
“You will now begin to enter stasis,” it tells us, as I copy Elizabeth and start breathing through the mask. “The process is completely painless and non-invasive. When you awaken, the ship will have already begun its approach to Proxima Stone One, and you will be informed of all matters that require your attention. Please relax and breathe deeply, and allow yourself to drift into a restful sleep.”
I glance over at Elizabeth, and I see that she's flat on her back with her eyes closed. I guess she's finding it a little easier to slip into unconsciousness, or maybe she's just decided to accept the inevitable. I lean back and take a deep breath from the mask, and I try to tell myself that I made the right choice. Sure, I could have tried to run, but now – at best – I'd be outside the Project Atherius complex, and for all I know the fighting's still raging. I'd be facing a long trek back to the farm, and then a huge task if I actually tried to get the place running.
Without Martha.
I can't help thinking back to the moment when she lost her grip on the bridge, or when she chose to let go. I still don't quite know what to think about that, but I guess it doesn't matter now. But if that's the case, why am I reliving her final moment over and over again like this, and why do I feel as if I should have done more to save her? She saved me so many times, and I failed her. At the same time, I remember the look in her eyes as she began to fall, and I'm starting to realize that she didn't look angry at all, or even sad. Instead, she almost looked like she was at peace, like she was glad that she no longer had to fight.
“I miss you,” I say out loud, keeping my voice low so that Elizabeth won't hear. “I hope I see you again one day. And Joe. And Mom and Dad.”
Today is day three-six-five.
Exactly one year ago, the world was on the brink of this catastrophe. I was probably getting ready for bed, with no idea of what was to come. If someone had told me then, that I'd end up strapped inside a rocket heading off into space, with some random girl I didn't know when all of this started, I'd just have laughed. It would have seemed impossible. Now here I am, starting to feel more and more sleepy, drifting away into a sleep that I know might end up lasting forever.
“Good night,” Elizabeth whispers from over on her table.
“Yeah,” I try to reply, although I can barely get any words out at all, “good...”
And I'm off, slipping away. This doesn't feel quite the same as regular sleep, but in some ways it actually feels better. I close my eyes and feel the bed shuddering beneath me, as the rocket's massive engines continue to push us relentlessly through space on our long journey to a new home. It's as if I'm sinking down into my own mind, and after a moment I realize I can smell freshly-cut grass. The smell reminds me of being back at the farm, and a moment later I swear I actually hear the sound of Dad yelling at Joe. I know I can't really hear that, of course, but I'm relieved at the thought that maybe I'm about to dream of my old life.
Sure enough, a moment later I find myself staring out across one of the fields. I know I'm dreaming, but I don't care; all that matters is that right now I'm back where I belong, and I can feel familiar dirt beneath my feet.
Hearing Dad's voice again, I turn and look over my shoulder, and a moment later I hear Joe too. I can't help smiling as I set off to find them. My heart is racing, and I still know that this isn't real, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that it feels real. Coming up around the back of the barn, I stop dead in my tracks as soon as I see Joe's truck parked out front of the house.
Day 146,365
Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth
The first thing I notice is the hum, load and roaring, radiating through a vast darkness that I only just noticed. This feels a little like waking up, but it's not exactly the same. For one thing, everything feels very still, and there's no sense of a rush; for another, I can't shake the sensation that something feels very different, that the air's kinda sterile and clean. A moment later, realizing that my eyes are still shut, I decide that I should open them soon, but it still takes a few more seconds before I can get that command from my brain all the way to my face.
I open my eyes.
I'm on my side, looking over at an empty bed just a few feet away. A mask is hanging down from the ceiling, and I slowly start to realize that everything around me seems to be shuddering slightly. This place seems familiar, but I can't quite work out how I could have been here before, but then I remember fighting with someone over by the hatch on the far wall, and other memories start seeping slowly into my mind. I'm on a ship, I was fired off into space, and I was with -
“Are you okay?”
Startled, I sit up and turn, and my head immediately slams into something hard. I let out a gasp of pain, and I hear another gasp from someone nearby, and I'm shocked to see Thomas taking a step back from me.
“Sorry!” he says, rubbing his forehead. “I was just leaning over to check that you were awake.”
Before I can ask what he means, I look around and remember everything. We were about to go to sleep, but did that really happen? I feel as if I only climbed onto this bed about five minutes ago, and when I look down at my hands and wiggle my fingers it's as if nothing has changed.
“There was a bit of an emergency right at the end,” Thomas tells me, “when the sy
stem began the process of starting to bring us round. The computer woke me up three days early to help out, because your life support system had developed a fault.”
“What kind of fault?” I ask.
“Look up.”
I look up, and I'm shocked to see that the vent above my bed has been blackened all over.
“It caught fire,” Thomas explains. “Slightly. It actually wasn't that hard for me to put it out, but the computer wouldn't have managed on its own. One of those little things that could have quickly got out of control. There was all this black and white ash-like stuff falling down right onto your face.”
“Onto my -”
Before I can finish, I remember the feathers, and I understand what must have happened. When I went into stasis, I began to dream about my old life. I dreamed everything all over again, over and over, in exact, precise detail. Nothing changed, with one exception: I occasionally saw and felt feathers falling. Looking up at the vent again, I realize that those 'feathers' must have been my dream's way of interpreting the sensation of ash falling onto my face.
“Did you dream it all again too?” Thomas asks. “I did. I think I dreamed every single moment all over again, in total detail.”
I turn to him, and then I nod.
“I relived it again and again,” he continues. “It was actually kinda freaky, but I guess the brain does weird things when you're in stasis. Nothing actually changed, it was all exactly the way it really happened. I just lived through it over and over. I saw everyone again. My brother and sister. My parents. Riley, Katrina. Melissa and Katie. Everyone.”