Abel

by Zack Metcalfe

  Chapter – 27

   

  It was very early morning when I returned home, dependent on Jenna for support and direction. My family was still asleep, unaware that I had ever gone. For a while, Jenna and I just sat, watching the sunrise. She, like the others, wasn’t entirely with me. She was still transparent, drifting in and out of the awareness. Sometimes she seemed to forget me entirely, to go idle. That was the trend I saw amongst my newest companions. As I grew to know them, more of their attention and focus was in the here and now. Without my understanding, they existed in a place between past and present.

  As the sun began rising over the crest of distant lands, I couldn’t help but marvel at it. In a few hours it would be too hot for me to bear, so I enjoyed the sight while I could. The sun was bigger on Earth than Mars. There was a certain friendliness about it. I suppose, above all, its majesty helped me forget.

  Forget that my body was worsening and my throat was burning.

  Forget that my ship was gone.

  Forget that I failed my family and companions, as well as myself.

  Forget, above all, that I would die soon.

  It took me a long while, longer than I care to admit, before I realized Jenna was watching me, her eyes keenly focused on my face. I looked at her a little startled, and she drew back slightly in embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at length. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  I steadied myself before speaking. “What were you doing?”

  After a while she answered vaguely. “You’re malnourished…”

  I waited for more, but she just kept looking at her own knees.

  “I am,” I said. “Does it bother you?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t understand. You’re malnourished, so I can see your cheek bones.” She gained the courage to meet my gaze again. “I know those bones. They’re more distinguished than most…hard to miss.”

  Now I understood her curiosity, and was honestly quite excited. “You knew my ancestors?” I asked.

  She opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything as her eyes again looked at the jaw. “I’m not sure,” she said at last. “It’s difficult to tell from just your cheek bone.”

  “Do what you need to,” I urged, shuffling a little closer.

  She was hesitant, but I nodded to her reassuringly. After some time, her curiosity got the better of her. She brought her hands up and felt the bones of my sunken cheeks, then my forehead, then neck. She checked my fingers, my elbows. She had me breathe in strange ways while her hand was pressed against my chest. She kept her hand there for a very long time, then moved her ear closer. I became very conscious of my heartbeat when she did this.

  I wanted to know what she could learn from hearing my heartbeat. It seemed absurd to me that anything intelligible could be discovered. As if reading my mind, she explained her actions.

  “You may find this difficult to believe, but in my time, I was paid to give most children only the best of organs. So, as you could imagine, thousands of hearts that I’ve heard sounded identical, following the same strong rhythm. This is not that rhythm.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, as she sat back finally.

  “You know, Abel,” she said, “you are everything we labelled as imperfect. You’re the very embodiment of everything I was meant to remove.” As she spoke, her voice became shaky. I could see glistening tears forming in her eyes. “I s-stopped people like you from being b-born.” She took a moment, wiping her eyes and calming herself. She then gave a shaky smile that I found totally confusing. “You know what else?” she continued.

  I shook my head.

  “If it weren’t for me seeing you here, I think my past work would guilt me to no end. Not while you’re here, though. You’re my redemption.” She smiled at me again.

  “What…are you talking about? What does your work have to do with me?”

  “Abel,” she said softly, “You’re a descendant of the rejected children, or perhaps you are one of them. You were my rebellion…”

  There was a sound from the steps behind us, and Jenna vanished. I turned around to see my father walking up the steps, his eyes a little misty. He'd just woken up. When he saw me, he smiled with a small chuckle.

  “You couldn’t resist either,” he said, referring to the rising sun before us.

  Regaining my wits, I answered. “It helps me think.”

  My father sighed and sat down next to me, where Jenna had been only a moment ago.

  “If you need help thinking,” he continued, “that usually means something’s bothering you.”

  I looked to him, and he smiled sympathetically. Of course he was right. He was always right.

  I took a deep breath, pushing everything Jenna had told me aside for another time. “Do you remember,” I started, “back on Mars, when I was climbing on wreckage in the junkyards with Cain? I went too close to an edge. You caught me just before I fell…remember?”

  “Vividly,” he answered. “Though I’m surprised you remember. You were very small then."

  “We don’t have the luxury of forgetting lessons, especially ones so hard learned.”

  “True,” he said, smiling inwardly this time. “But go on. What about that day is important?”

  “Well…I guess I realized something about myself that day…”

  “And that was?”

  I dug deep into my emotions, trying to get at the raw answer.

  “I learned that…I wanted to die like that.”

  My father looked at me curiously. “By falling into a pile of sharp metal junk?”

  “No, no I don’t mean it like that,” I corrected hastily. “No. I mean in that way. And I don’t mean that I wanted to die like that. It's just how I should die. When Cain and I were running around in the wreckage, it was obvious something could easily go wrong. When we launched the ship from Mars, a million things could have gone wrong. We knew that. I knew I could so easily die then. When we tried landing the ship by the lake, we all knew the odds were slim everything would turn out.” I stopped, taking a very deep breath, then letting it go slowly. “I just didn’t expect this, dad. I couldn’t have imagined dying like this, slow, immobile, and no grand failure to mark it. Instead…I starve.”

  After a few moments’ silence, I hung my head down, squeezing my eyes shut, hiding the tear that fell.

  My father thought my words over, then smiled yet again. “Well then son…you have a strange way of defining defeat.”

  I looked up. He was watching the sun.

  “Now it’s your turn to remember,” he said to me. “Do you remember the day we decided to leave Mars? Do you remember what you said?”

  I shook my head. It was such a long time ago.

  “You turned to the night sky, pointed to this blue jewel and said, I will take us there! With as much confidence as I’ve ever heard from you. It took us years, Abel, but we did it. You did it. Because of your grand defeat, we are watching this beautiful sunrise on Earth. So don’t worry. Us dying could have no grander a mark to define it!” he threw his hands into the air, emphasizing the magnitude of his words. The look of sympathy returned when he saw the weak smile on my face. “Now, son,” he began again, “don’t look down at what you’ve done, and most certainly don’t give up on it. Us Orions still have some fight left in us.”

  My own smile widened.

  “All right dad. I won’t.”

   

  __________

   

  April was having great trouble eating. The spells of dizziness were growing worse and worse. For entire hours she would be barely conscious. She spent her days on the only bed, and there was always someone at her side. I, in the two days that passed, refused to be relieved of the post. My mother insisted that I get more rest, but that didn’t move me. I got plenty of rest. When I was tired, I fell asleep next to April, the bed being large enough for us both.

  When she was awake, I did my best to keep her t
hat way, but it was difficult. I feared for her, in the way only a brother could. She had always been there, learning the lessons of life alongside me. Our situations had always been different. She understood my weaknesses, and watched for them carefully. She always pulled me back to sanity. Likewise, I knew her vulnerabilities, and supported or protected her when she couldn’t do so herself. Now, I couldn’t hold up my end. She was wasting away, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  When she was awake, we mostly reminisced, recounting our entire lives for the joy of it. It was oddly comforting, to go back in time and replay those old scenes in our minds. It seemed to fend off the present, allowing us some peace. There were some good times, many of them in fact. In no way had my life been a waste, or even a continuous struggle. There were hardships, but also prosperity. To be honest, I couldn’t imagine my life without the difficulty. In such a life, I can’t see the point. What is there to strive for, and what is there to celebrate?

  April was asleep when Jenna came over to us. She looked gently upon April, then knelt next to the bed.

  “She doesn’t look well,” Jenna observed, putting a transparent hand on April’s forehead.

  “She hasn’t looked well in a very long time,” I said, sitting cross legged on my half of the bed, my back against the wall.

  “Becker’s muscular dystrophy,” Jenna said, looking April over more keenly.

  “What?” I asked, these words meaning nothing to me.

  “Her disease,” Jenna clarified. “She has muscular dystrophy, one of the many things I used to remove before birth. I’m pretty sure April was also in the case of rejects, her ancestors I mean.”

  “You know her disease?” I asked, leaning forward, as if viewing my sister’s body anew.

  “It’s very rare,” Jenna said. “I doubt anyone in the fleet would have been a carrier.”

  “Is there anything that can be done for her,” I asked, not expecting much.

  Jenna shook her head. “Maybe when she was a single cell…but not since.”

  I let my head hang, disappointed yet again. I stayed this way for a while, scorning fate. No matter where I searched, not even the potential for hope could be found, especially not here, at my sister’s withered side.

  Jenna thought for a moment, then she looked at me. “Abel?” she asked.

  “Yes?”

  “You said you were not actually related to any of your family by blood?”

  “That’s right,” I answered. “We all came together in the Martian Junkyards. What of it?”

  “I doubt you’re brother and sister, Abel, but I think there’s more relation here than you realize.”

  “Between April and I, you mean?” My heart leapt at the idea. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to believe it so badly.

  “I don’t know your history much better than yourself,” Jenna said. “But I’m confident there’s a connection.”

  “Really? What about the rest of my family?”

  April stirred, and as before, Jenna vanished.

  She didn’t wake right away. Instead her stirring ended in a sigh, and she became silent once again. It was strangely heartbreaking, the way she lay curled up in the fetal position, both hands under her head, dreaming things I hoped were peaceful. It was heartbreaking because I feared she would leave me any moment. I believed she would pass in her sleep. Her heartbeat and her small breaths were so faint, they could stop without me noticing. Often I checked just to make sure.

  On this world, where starvation was the most immediate threat, my sister would be first.

  She stirred again, body readjusting so delicately. Smiling in spite of myself, I placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it gently. Human contact had a calming effect on me. It held true for her as well. I stayed like this for a while, leaning my head against the wall, feeling its cold solid surface through my filthy hair.

  No sooner had I closed my eyes than I heard a murmur. I looked to my sister, from whom the noise had come. She was still asleep from what I could see, but I was certain she had said something, audible or no. Leaning closer, I waited, and sure enough, it came again. Her words weren’t clear enough to make out, if they were words at all. Still I listened, and still her lips moved, as if to talk to someone. Once again I leaned back and smiled, watching her lovingly. Talking in her sleep. It was something she'd done since we were children. Hearing her dreams used to be fun. Now it relieved me to hear anything from her.

  I needed sleep. It had been too long. I let tiredness take hold, and slowly I began to drift, only just beginning to see the fireflies dancing across my vision. I'd given up understanding them. I only wanted to watch them. They flashed in their usual pattern, ranging from a weak blue to a fiery red. I was interrupted, pulled from the promise of sleep by a single word from my sister’s lips.

  “Abel,” she said.

  My eyes burst open, and I looked down at her in surprise. Still, she lay sleeping peacefully, with both hands under her head. She was, by all appearances, still dreaming.

  “Abel,” she repeated.

  I soon realized what her dream was. She was speaking to me. I waited, not realizing that I was holding my breath. If anything were to follow, I wouldn’t dare miss it.

  “If you…” she said, followed by more mumbling.

  I was motionless, my lungs burning, asking for air, but I persevered until the rest was uttered.

  “If you promise,” she said, “I’ll believe you.” There was a short pause before she finished. “I’ll believe that we’ll make it…if you promise.”

  My heart sank. I could feel it again, the sting of failure. I relived the moment when she and I had spoken days earlier. There was the feeling of helplessness, of defeat. Again I leaned against the wall, looking up at the ceiling miserably. Within only a few seconds, my face contorted, and I began to cry. Holding my eyes closed, I sobbed quietly, my throat quickly growing sore. I then put my face against my crossed legs and continued, my fingers now running through my hair.

  I lost track of time, letting out all I'd held back. As soon as I could bear it, I sat up, wiped my eyes, then looked down at my sister. I could see her chest still rising and falling, a bittersweet sight. I wished for nothing more than to preserve it, to protect that spark of life.

  …And so I would.

  The thought came to me before I could stop it, before I could dismiss it. The misery vanished from my face. I watched the precious up and down rhythm of my sister’s chest again, then my eyes moved to that of my brother. Then to my mother and father, and back to April. I felt the rush I had felt all those years ago, on the day I pointed at Earth and declared it my destination. I felt the rush that meant I could do anything.

  Nodding slowly to myself, I leaned over my sister yet again, putting my lips close to her ear. In a voice calm but firm, I gave her my conviction.

  “…I promise.”

   

  __________

   

  If there were ever a more fiercely determined time in my life, I didn’t remember it. My family and I achieved a great many impossible things. In those times, we had an end goal in mind, and were endeavouring to reach it. Not now. Now I had to think of a goal and a means of reaching it simultaneously. What end goal could exist now? Everything we brought with us was destroyed, save the few scraps of food, jugs of water, and a single defiant apple tree.

  And still I tried.

  I passed the chance of another night’s sleep to follow another ill venture. This night, my venture was into my own insanity. I was not timid, but possessed. I was on the upper level of our structure, the gaps in the walls giving me a spectacle of stars and sand.

  I wouldn’t look.

  I couldn’t look.

  I couldn’t risk being captured in the beauty. My thoughts had to remain on track.

  This was why I refused sleep so diligently. Anyone else may reason that a fresh start could clear my mind, allowing me to start anew. This couldn’t happen, not now. I had a rare, burning desir
e in me to succeed. I couldn’t risk, even for a moment, letting it go. This burning desire was hinting and teasing me with the answer to all my problems. It was lingering there, just beyond my gaze, the way to save my family. If I was taken by beauty, by dreams, even by reason, the first flicker of hope I'd seen since we arrived on Earth could escape me.

  That’s why I would not eat, sleep, or drink until my answer was found, or until death separated me from it. As my family slept, I punched the wall out of earshot. I kicked at the loose sand and hurled the free stones. They would vanish into the dark desert, making no sound when they impacted the earth. Often I would clutch my head, as if to dig into it for the answers. I flung myself this way and that, the moments of light headedness inspirational. I was gentle, but persistent.

  I'd never met a madman, and had no idea how they may be distinguished. I had always been like this, and my parents were determined to believe in my uniqueness. So, if I were a madman, then a madman is what I am. I couldn't imagine the geniuses who invented space travel, who built reactors or who modified genes exercising their minds any differently. Did they all sit patiently at their desks and ponder until the answers came? I don’t think so. I think they were like me, going to unlikely places where the rational world didn’t intrude. I imagined them like this, throwing their mind into the impossible and the insane. I imagined pure brilliance as something that comes in spite of what you know.

  My inspiration came in just such a ridiculous way. While kicking at loose dirt, I slipped. I don’t know what sent me to the world of sleep. I believe my wariness joined hands with my disorientation to drag me down. Either way, I don’t remember hitting the ground, only the weightlessness of the fall.

  In those depths of slumber I saw what was familiar. Again the fireflies crossed my vision, innocent at first sight, but clearly meaningful in their motions. I watched them intently, standing in an expanse of darkness. Above they moved, flashing urgently to me. As they grew distant, I followed them, running with whatever speed I had. They turned, descending towards me in an arc, continuing their pattern of flashing. Passing only a short distance from my face, they scattered, again flying away from me.

  “What are you trying to say,” I asked, chasing them again. “What’s so important?”

  Once again they turned back to me, descending on the arc with the same pattern.

  “What?” I asked again, watching them scatter once they had passed me. Again they started climbing for another pass, and I grew angry.

  “What are you trying to say!?” I demanded. “Just tell me!”

  Again they began descending, lights flashing, meaning unknown.

  “What is it!?” I screamed. “What i…” I was stopped mid sentence.

  I saw it...

  It was my ship! The fireflies fell and arced, mimicking my vessel as it went crashing to Earth. Before I knew it, I was in the emergency pod again, soaring away from my ship, its engines firing helplessly at random intervals. The fireflies' individual burst of light showed that random pattern.

  …Except it wasn’t random.

  I had it…

   

  __________

   

  My eyes burst open.

  …I remembered.

  Rushing to my feet, I looked about wildly, not sure what to do. I resolved to ascend with all haste. I dashed to the stairs and climbed, my thoughts racing.

  I remembered, just before the ship crashed, my declaration that I could save it, that I could save the ship. I had forbidden myself to know if it had been possible. Thanks to the fireflies, the answer was forced in front of my eyes.

  Yes, I could have saved the ship.

  In fact, I succeeded.

  It wasn’t delirium that took me in those final moments on the ship. It wasn’t a hysteria that gripped me, that convinced me I could land the ship. No. What gripped me was brilliance. I saw it now, the words and numbers I typed into the computer Robert had dragged me away from. In those racing seconds of horror, I had given the engines an order they didn’t understand and weren’t built to perform. It was a pattern capable of levelling the ship, capable of slowing it down…capable of landing it. I didn’t need confirmation. The fireflies were all I needed. I knew, as the fireflies knew, that my idea had worked.

  I climbed and climbed, growing very tired, but refusing to slow for any reason. I moved up levels and over stairs. Eventually I reached the top, panting and coughing. I stood as straight as I could, and I looked to the east, the towering mountains absolutely dwarfing the City of Ghosts. On the other side of its majesty was my ship, my home, the part of myself I intended to reclaim. Not only that, but there were medicines, seeds, foods, water, promising soil, and thus hope.

  I had done some amazing things in my life, Impossible things. I resurrected and tamed a beast of metal in the Martian junkyards, fighting to eat and drink my entire life. I travelled through an empty expanse between entire worlds, forcing the nuclear heart of my machines to continue beating. I survived a fall from orbit, then the desert of an alien planet. Even in the absence of hope, I managed to bring my metal beast to life again, if only in my mind. I knew in that moment, overlooking the City of Ghosts in the dead of night, that I would be damned before being stopped by a mountain of any height.

  With a smile curling my lips, I raised my right hand and pointed a finger firmly at the passage made by the lowest peak before me. I spoke quietly, but confidently.

  “I will take us there…”