The Fall

by J. L. Wood

  – 25 –

  The Malick

  “Justin and Jessica started all of this. You are lucky we saved you,” Delilah yelled over the loud hum of the helicopter.

  Missy shifted in her seat as she thought of Don’s friends. “You kidnapped me,” she yelled. “We could have waited. We could have sorted it out!”

  Delilah shook her head. “There was no time! You should be thanking me and David. We saved you.”

  “No. You saved yourselves. I’m your fucking prize pig. Fuck you and fuck that fat bastard. Justin wasn’t a terrorist. I know, because Don chooses his friends wisely. You left them on purpose. You didn’t want to save him, and now you need to save me as a cover story!”

  Delilah unclipped her seatbelt and knelt near Missy. “I could throw your sassy little ass out of here, and no one would blink an eye. You are nothing. Nothing to anyone. You have no idea how deep into the soil my roots go.” The helicopter hit turbulence, and Delilah grabbed Missy’s leg. “Open that mouth of yours again, and you will find out. I have eyes on Earth. And I have eyes on Amity. This is your one and only warning. Justin was a terrorist. I saved you. Now thank me.”

  Missy shook her head in defiance.

  Delilah grabbed Missy’s face, sinking her nails into her cheek. “I said…thank me.”

  Missy jerked her head away. “Fuck you.”

  There was a pause. Missy could see the excitement in Delilah’s eyes. They were wild. Terrifying. David unbuckled himself from his seat and huffed over to Missy. He grabbed her by the hair while Delilah took off Missy’s seatbelt. Missy screamed for help as he dragged her to the closed door of the helicopter while Delilah opened it enough to fit Missy’s head. He slammed her head to the floor and pushed it just outside of the opening while she flailed her arms in the air, trying to get free.

  Missy’s heart raced as she saw the city beneath her. He hair whipped at her face and stung her. She tried to pull herself back in, but David applied his weight to her back, and she could hardly breathe. She felt as if she would snap in half.

  “Thank me!” Delilah yelled.

  David huffed. “Us.”

  “Thank us!”

  Missy felt sick. She shut her eyes. She had to play the part. She had to make it to the safe zone. This wasn’t worth dying for. She would strike when the time was right.

  “Thank you!” Missy yelled. “Thank you! Thank you!”

  David pulled Missy back and tossed her near her seat while Delilah closed the door. “See how easy that was?” he said. “It can be easy here on out, if you let it.”

  Missy scrambled to her seat and strapped herself back in. She watched as Delilah sat back in her seat and whispered something inaudible to David. He nodded. Don had never mentioned Delilah to Missy, although he was never comfortable talking about work. Sometimes a few things would slip when he had a few drinks, but it was usually about Kenny or some other guy that now worked for NASA with whom he would go on short discovery missions. She wished he had said something. Then she might have been prepared for this.

  “This is our last stop before the shuttle,” Delilah yelled.

  The helicopter slowly descended through a neighborhood of elaborate homes, mansions so large Missy couldn’t imagine what could be in each room. She envisioned a team of maids dusting every corner, even the crown molding along the ceiling and floorboards. A group of gardeners who trimmed the hedges and planted seasonal flowers while the woman of the house was free to clip the flowers for her extravagant vases.

  The helicopter touched ground, and unaware of the landing, Missy’s head jerked forward as the helicopter settled nearly on top of a rose garden, the flowers whipping back and forth, their once-perfect petals flying into the air.

  Delilah slid the large metal door of the helicopter open and hopped out, her thin stiletto heels hitting the pavement gracefully, as if she had done this a hundred times. Missy watched as she ran toward the large French doors of the house in long, steady strides, her long black hair flowing behind her, the curled ends bouncing as they hit against her back, resembling a romantic perfume commercial. Like the elegant woman in the magazine her mother told her was make believe. Don’t read those. They’re false expectations. Lies to women who need a nine-to-five. You could never be her. You wouldn’t want to. But Missy had. Missy always had. But not anymore. The persona in the magazine was a detriment to society, and Delilah was the root of all evil.

  Lights in all quarters of the house began to flicker on once Delilah opened the front doors, giving Missy a glimpse inside. A large glass chandelier hung in the foyer, illuminating a large painting on the wall. Missy squinted to make it out but couldn’t; it was too far away, though she knew it must be expensive.

  Growing up in a poor family, a fancy meal to them was takeout from the local pizzeria. She was always ashamed, embarrassed to be going to school in ratty clothes and torn sneakers held together with duct tape. She always thought that if she hadn’t left home at seventeen with the help of financial aid to attend school, she would still be in that trailer on her parents’ lot, gutting fish with her father. She wanted more, but the more she had, it never felt like enough. Never enough things to fill the emptiness inside of her that only a life of deprivation could create. But as she looked at the house that was soon to be a distant memory, she realized none of it mattered. It had never mattered.

  The promises and wishes for things were senseless. They could be gone in an instant. It was all an illusion. Life was short, as Missy was finding out. Shorter than she ever knew. And although she was saved, if she could make it to Amity by not pissing Delilah off, by earning her trust somehow, there would be a stone of guilt left inside of her. Everyone she knew besides Don was a left-behind. Everyone was so caught up on advancing in the world, being a consumer, they never even noticed what was right in front of their faces. The people in charge had never planned to save everyone. The veil was lifted, but it was too late. The chosen had a future. The left-behinds had a countdown.

  After nearly twenty minutes, one of the French doors swung open, giving way to four people running toward the helicopter, their arms full of bags while also towing suitcases. Delilah struggled at the door, trying to pull all her luggage through, but the edges of some of the bags kept hitting the doorframe. The first two to enter the helicopter were two boys who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, followed by two women, one elderly and the other possibly in her thirties.

  One of the boys dropped his luggage and ran back to help Delilah. Missy stared at the boys and wondered how they would be able to enter the safe zone at their age.

  “They’re over fifteen,” Delilah said, out of breath.

  Missy looked away. She had to show she had been subdued. She had to keep her mouth shut. “It’s none of my business,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

  Delilah smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

  The boys settled on the floor, since there were not enough seats for them to have one of their own. “What about Daddy?” the youngest asked, staring up at Delilah, but instead of answering, she hit him on the back of his head.

  “No talking,” Delilah said as she looked up at David, who gave her an uncomfortable smile and rested his hand on her knee underneath her silky black dress. Missy cringed. She just needed to hold out. Wait until they got to Amity, then she could speak with Don. He would know what to do. He always did.

  The helicopter lifted, its blades stirring up dirt and sand from the circular driveway while the boys smiled in excitement. Missy looked at them from the corners of her eyes. They looked well, but as far as she knew, there were no uninfected children in Houston. Maybe they were like Lois. Or maybe Delilah kept them locked up and L8 never got to them. Either way, she was interested to see how they would be handled at the port.

  One of the boys smiled at Missy. She gave a brief smile in return until she saw Delilah scowling at them. Her smile faded, as did theirs.

  *

  The small spaceport for
Cadence Science was filled with people, and the line to the shuttle Missy needed to board stood in orderly fashion, waiting for the gates to open. It reminded her of a small organized airport, with large tinted windows overseeing the landing pad. There were six docks, three of them empty, which she attributed to those shuttles already having taken off.

  Since the line was long and boarding had yet to begin, she decided to get her first up-close view of a space shuttle. She almost gasped at its enormity. It sat horizontally on the tarmac, large and oval, its wings short but thick. A long bridge extended from the spaceport to a small door in the center of it. The door seemed so insignificant compared with the size of the rest of the ship. Beyond the Malick was a large, wide runway that stretched farther than the view allowed her to see.

  “She’s magnificent, isn’t she?” a voice whispered beside her.

  Caught off guard, Missy jumped.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the person continued. “I’m on the Symphony. Is this you?”

  Missy looked up at her visitor, a tall man with a stubbly beard. He wore jeans and a blazer, neatly dressed like the rest of the people at the spaceport. It made her feel uncomfortable in her torn jeans and fat-laced tennis shoes, her thin, nearly translucent T-shirt hanging off her shoulder, revealing a single bra strap. She felt underdressed and out of place. “Yeah…this is me,” she responded. “Hey, do you know how long the trip is to the safe zone?”

  The man looked out of the window, rubbing his stubble with his hand. “Well, I’m not entirely sure. I’ve been asking around, and the consensus is about six hours, including the time through the transport.” Before Missy could reply, the attendant for Dock 5 announced it was time for everyone to begin boarding. “That’s my cue,” the man said. “Have a safe journey.”

  Missy pulled the man’s arm to keep him from leaving. “Wait, what’s the transport?”

  The man shrugged. “I’m not really sure, sorry. I was told we would all be briefed on the shuttle, so maybe wait for that.”

  Missy released the man’s arm and watched him fall in line. How could he be so calm? How was everyone calm and collected but her? She was a ball of anger and confusion. She needed to find Don. Pulling her large suitcase behind her, she walked through the crowds, searching for his face. Everyone was a still, silent mannequin waiting for direction, making it easy to move through the groups. The spaceport was eerily quiet, save for a few whispers, and the solemnness helped ease her guilt of being there. No one was acting like they were being saved; it seemed almost as if it were one large wake. One long moment of silence for the left-behinds.

  “Now boarding the Malick,” the attendant called from the intercom. Missy’s stomach curled at the call. Don was nowhere to be found. Disturbing thoughts of his absence began to sink in as she made her way toward the back of the line. What if he missed the ship and became a left-behind? What if he’d never left the Southern Pinwheel Galaxy? Missy eventually decided that Don was most likely on another ship or he was already at the safe zone waiting for her. She had to believe that.

  She got out of the line and quickly studied the faces one last time. No Don. No Delilah. No David. No underage kids.

  Yeah, they must be somewhere else, she thought. A special entrance for the ship owners.

  Missy slowly inched forward with the line until she was at the gate. A guard with a rifle strapped to his side stood still, giving no direction. “Do I just…” Missy said.

  The guard looked down at Missy. “Hand on the reader.” To the right, in front of the guard, there was a small stand with a handprint outlined on the surface. Missy placed her hand palm down, and the scanner turned green.

  “How did you…?” Missy asked, confused.

  “Driver’s records. Keep moving,” the guard responded.

  “Wait, is Donald Wolf on this ship?”

  The guard pushed Missy forward. “Keep moving.”

  Missy scoffed and grabbed her luggage. “No need to be a jerk,” she muttered as she headed toward the Malick.

  The long corridor swayed slightly from the traffic. The view from the plastic windows reminded her that she was off the ground, and combined with the motion, she immediately began to feel sick. Missy clutched her stomach to try to settle it, but her fear of heights was taking over. But as she stepped into the shuttle, the sickness immediately dissipated, and the allure of the ship engulfed her. It was nothing like she had imagined.

  The interior was sleek and simple, not cluttered and clunky like the videos of ships she had seen Don in when he would infrequently replay clips from his voyages. The main room was small but fitted with couches and side tables, all bolted to the floor. She immediately thought of the lobby of a hotel. She was curious as to what one of the shuttle rooms looked like, imagining a fancy suite with a beautiful view and a nice bathroom with little soaps that she already decided she would take with her as souvenirs.

  As Missy continued to gaze around the room, Delilah called out to her.

  Missy’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t at Amity yet. Keep your cool, she told herself. Just play the part. Slowly, Missy approached Delilah. “Yeah?”

  Delilah scrolled through her electronic tablet with her finger until she found Missy’s seating arrangement. “Okay, Missy, you are on…” She paused for a moment and continued to scroll until her finger finally rested on a room. “You will be in section twelve. Just head down the hallway.”

  “Delilah,” Missy said, “is Don on this ship?”

  Delilah returned her eyes to the tablet. “Don’s dead.”

  “He’s…he’s what?” she stammered, clutching her rose-gold locket. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  “It never came up. Now do you understand why we left the terrorists behind?”

  Missy scowled. “You’re lying. Did you leave him behind too? What did you do to him?”

  Delilah looked around the room. There was a queue waiting at the entrance of the ship for their seat assignments. She pulled Missy in close. “Keep your voice down,” she demanded. “I thought we were on the same page, but clearly we are not.”

  Missy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. She forced herself to remain in control. She was so close to Amity. “No, we are. I’m just so confused. I’m so sorry, Delilah. But please, what happened to Don?”

  Delilah raised her left eyebrow. “What happened is those terrorists went on a rogue mission and left Donald Wolf behind. The aliens destroyed him. That is why I made Jessica and Justin left-behinds. Now they can sit on Earth thinking about what they did.”

  “I see. You got…you got justice for Don.”

  “I did.”

  “I owe you.”

  “You do. Now head to your room.”

  Missy grabbed the handle to her luggage. She hesitated for a moment, then headed off toward her room. She knew not to trust Delilah but felt there was some truth in what she said. Something did happen to Don, she just didn’t know what. Part of her wanted to run out of the ship. To become a left-behind. If Don was out there, she wanted to be out there too. But if he was still in space, there was still a chance he would find her, that he would make it to the safe zone. She hoped that was true.

  He doesn’t give up, she thought. He’s not dead. He can’t be. Jessica would have told me.

  Section twelve was small, around half the size of her home office, with two rows of bunk beds facing each other and a large closet at the end of the room. She was immediately disappointed with her living quarters because it resembled a room on a submarine—cramped, with no privacy. Her new roommates were already settled in their beds with a small plastic pane raised, reminding her of a crib. One of her new roommates lowered the plastic barrier, and Missy recognized him as one of the boys from the helicopter.

  “You can put your luggage in the closet back there,” the boy said, pointing at the closet, “but make sure you lock it. If you don’t, everything will come crashing out at takeoff. Trust me, you’ll get in trouble.”
<
br />   Missy pulled the lock back on the built-in closet and raised her heavy luggage, supporting it with her knee until she could finally push it in on top of the other travelers’ belongings. She then closed the doors by pushing her weight against it and pulled the lock back down. She noticed one empty cot with the shield down and assumed it must be hers.

  “Kinda cramped in here,” Missy said to the boy, crawling into the bed on top of a sleeping bag. There was a small rectangular window on the boy’s side of the wall with the shield drawn. “I see you have a window. Lucky you. I’m Missy, by the way.”

  The boy laughed. “I’m Damion. We can switch if you want.”

  Missy shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll probably mostly sleep. But I’m glad to have someone I know keep me company. What do you know about the safe zone?”

  “Amity?” Damion replied. “My mom said this ship is going to take us there. We’ll stay until we’re told it’s safe to go home. My mom said there’s apartments, a movie theater, everything. It’s like a mini space city!”

  “Is it now?” Missy said with a smile. “Sounds exciting. And are there schools there? I’m a teacher, so of course, that’s the first thing I have to ask.”

  Damion leaned forward, his eyes shining with excitement. “Yes, there’s school. I’m in the science program at mine. Mom said it’s there too. I won the science fair two years in a row.”

  “Wow,” Missy said. “You sound smart. What grade are you in?”

  Damion’s smile faded. He paused. “Ninth.”

  “Awesome. I teach kindergarten. You look a little young for high school. Did you skip a grade?”

  Damion turned his head to Missy. “I’m fifteen,” he replied before pulling the plastic barrier up.

  – 26 –

  Welkin

  Amy ran through the empty corridor toward the Welkin shuttle, her hands full of papers clutched tightly against her chest. Her leather satchel swung back and forth as she took long strides toward the ship’s door. She’d already missed the takeoff of the Malick, and she was close to missing this one as well. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she yelled, out of breath.