The Final Six

by Alexandra Monir

  “Naomi!!”

  “Azizam!”

  Sam and my parents’ faces fill the screen, and as I gaze at them, it’s like taking my first real breath after days underwater. My eyes fill with tears as I forget everyone else in this room, forget everything but them.

  “It’s so good to see you,” I manage to choke out. “I miss you so much.”

  “Not as much as we miss you,” Mom says, placing her hand up to the screen.

  “How are you, sweetie?” Dad asks, and I notice he’s wearing the fuzzy green sweater I got him for Father’s Day. I’d give anything to be able to reach through the computer and hug him.

  “I—I’m okay. I can’t stand being away from you guys—it’s just as hard as I thought it would be. But luckily I made a couple of friends here, and that helps a little.”

  “Of course you did,” Sam says with a wistful smile.

  “That reminds me. We have something to show you,” Dad says, his voice rising in excitement. I hear him fumbling offscreen, and then he holds up a copy of Time magazine. “Incredible, right?”

  I suck in my breath. It’s us, the Twenty-Four, on the cover of the magazine—under a bold headline that reads, “The Teenagers Saving the Human Race.”

  “Wow,” I murmur. It’s surreal to see me and my teammates on the cover of a magazine—but more than pride, the sight fills me with fear. Fear that we’re leading on the public, lifting their hopes too high, when there’s no guarantee our story won’t end differently from the Athena disaster—or that Europa won’t turn out to be every bit as perilous as Earth.

  “They devoted the most space to you and Beckett Wolfe,” Sam adds, taking the magazine from Dad and flipping through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds an article up to the screen, a feature titled “The First Nephew and the Iranian-American Prodigy,” with a glossy photo of me and Beckett standing stiffly next to each other on arrival day.

  “Knowing how President Wolfe feels about immigrants, he must love all the attention on our heritage.” Dad laughs.

  “That’s true,” I say with a smile. Beckett is probably just as thrilled to have to share all his press with me. I know it’s petty, but I can’t help feeling a flicker of satisfaction at the annoyance this headline will cause him.

  “Enough about me, though. I’ve been dying to know how you guys are doing.” I peer closer at the three of them. “Sam, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. Going to all my appointments and taking my meds. You don’t need to worry, Sis,” he says with a wry grin.

  But as I study him through the screen, I feel a wave of anxiety. He looks even thinner than when I left, and there’s no hiding the weariness in his eyes.

  “Are you resting enough? Eating enough? I thought families of the Twenty-Four were supposed to get extra food—”

  “Yes to all three,” Sam says, chuckling. “I’m fine—but I can see space camp hasn’t changed you a bit.”

  I try to smile, to shake the feeling that his reassurance is just a put-on for my benefit.

  “We’re taking great care of him, sweetie. Don’t worry,” Mom says, wrapping her arm around Sam. I feel a pang in my chest at the sight of them, so close while I’m an impenetrable distance away.

  “What’s it like over there? Are you enjoying yourself at all?” Dad asks, looking at me hopefully.

  “Actually . . . yeah, sometimes. The training we’ve done so far is pretty incredible. It’s like we’re in Hogwarts for space, but instead of teaching us magic, they’re preparing us to get kicked off the planet.” I laugh. “I’ll have a ton of stories for you when I come home.”

  In the silence that falls, I can almost hear them all tweaking my sentence in their minds: “If you come home.”

  “So, did you open my letter?” Sam asks, trying to sound casual.

  I know the real question he’s asking: Do I plan to use the flash drive with the hacking software, and am I making progress on my true mission—to return to them, to stay on Earth? I have to assure him that I’m keeping my promise to come home, without giving myself away if Lark or anyone else overhears.

  “I did, and in answer to your question . . . I’m still figuring it out,” I reply. “But I will.”

  My parents are clearly confused, but before they can ask what we’re talking about, Lark signals for our attention.

  “Time to log off. It’s the next team’s turn at the computers.”

  My stomach plummets. We can’t be done so soon—and I can’t fathom the thought of only ever seeing my family like this, in painfully short bursts through a computer monitor.

  “I love you guys,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

  “We love you more, azizam,” Dad says gruffly, and I can tell he’s getting choked up. Mom’s eyes are watery as she blows kisses through the screen, and Sam gives me the goofy secret hand signal we made up in elementary school. I thought he’d forgotten it, and I laugh through my tears.

  “Love you, Sis. I really miss you.”

  And then the screen turns black, its emptiness leaving me with renewed resolve.

  I have to set a plan in motion.

  Eleven

  LEO

  THERE’S A BANGING AT MY DOOR, A SHOUTING THAT PIERCES through my dreams. I wake with a start, blinking at the clock beside me as it flashes 3:30. Did I imagine the noise? What could be going on at this hour?

  But then I hear a familiar voice cry out for help, and I throw the covers off me. I step into the first pair of pants I can find and open the door.

  It’s Naomi. As soon as she sees me, her face crumples.

  “Suki’s in trouble,” she gasps. “Everything was fine, I thought she was getting better, and then—then—”

  Asher joins us in the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Something’s happened to Suki,” I tell him. “Let’s go.”

  The three of us run down the dark corridor to the girls’ wing, a few bleary-eyed finalists peeking their heads out of their rooms at the sound of the commotion, until we’re standing at the door to Naomi and Suki’s room. I can hear a strangled sound coming from inside, and Naomi hesitates before opening the door.

  “I—I should prepare you. It’s really bad—”

  “It’s okay,” Asher tells her. “I was in the military, and Leo . . .” His voice trails off, but I know where his sentence leads. Leo’s whole family died. He can handle a sick teammate.

  “Come on,” I tell Naomi. She gulps and opens the door—and my whole body tenses in panic.

  A wild animal is convulsing on the bed, shaking and foaming at the mouth. Her head snaps in our direction as we enter, and she opens her mouth to speak, to yell—but all that comes out are garbled sounds. The effort seems to agitate her more, and now she’s rattling the bedframe with her shaking, her skin turning a bluish-gray hue. This isn’t Suki—it can’t be.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Naomi stares at the bed in terror. “At first I thought it was a seizure, but it’s only getting worse. I wanted to take her to the medic, but I can’t lift her by myself, and you’re not supposed to move someone when they’re having a seizure—if that’s even what this is.” She breaks off, shaking her head helplessly, and I turn to Asher.

  “Go get help, okay? Try and make it back as fast as you can.” I sound far stronger than I feel, and Asher nods, looking relieved to have something to do. As he races out of the room, I take a few tentative steps toward Suki.

  “It’s—it’s going to be okay,” I stammer, though I know she’s not listening. She’s too far gone. “Help is coming, and—”

  In the space of a breath, Suki reaches up and seizes both my wrists. Her force catches me off guard, and I shout out as she presses her fingernails into my skin.

  “What’s she doing?” Naomi cries.

  “I—don’t know—how did she—get—so strong?” I choke out.

  “Tā hái h
uózhe.” Suki stares at me with frantic eyes and repeats the phrase in a distorted voice. “Tā hái huózhe.”

  “It’s Mandarin,” Naomi pants. “Please tell me you understand Mandarin.”

  I shake my head.

  “Tā hái huózhe,” Suki says again, this time in a whisper. And then she drops my wrists—and her body turns limp.

  “No!” Naomi screams, running to her side. I drop my head in my hands, dreading the moment that I know is coming. I can’t see another dead body, not another person—

  “She’s breathing!” Naomi holds two fingers against her pulse, and relief floods through me. There’s still a chance.

  Footsteps come pounding toward us, and the door flies open. As Asher returns with Lark and Dr. Takumi in tow, Suki’s body jerks forward, her convulsing recurring more violently than before. She pounds her head against the wall as she thrashes, still crying out the unfamiliar phrase, “Tā hái huózhe.” I can see tears in her eyes, and I turn to Dr. Takumi and Lark in desperation.

  “What’s happening to her?”

  “And what’s she saying?” Naomi demands from behind me. “Can you understand her?”

  Lark’s face drains of color as she takes in the scene. She turns to Dr. Takumi, who doesn’t say a word either. He simply steps forward, his presence in the middle of the dorm room only adding to the heightened sense of fear—and he reaches for Suki. I hold my breath as he lifts her off the bed and she shrieks, her head whipping back and forth, her hands clawing at the air. Still managing to maintain his composure, Dr. Takumi reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a syringe.

  “What are you do—” But before Naomi can get out her question, Dr. Takumi plunges the needle into Suki’s skin. And everything turns quiet.

  “This light sedative should do the trick,” he says, tightening his grip around Suki. He moves toward the door, and Naomi jumps in front of him.

  “Where you taking her? What’s happening?”

  “I’m afraid she’s had an adverse reaction to the RRB,” he says coolly. “I’m taking her to the larger medical facility at Johnson Space Center. We’ll keep you updated as necessary.”

  The four of us watch as Dr. Takumi carries her away, until all that’s left of Suki is the stench of fear. Lark sighs heavily.

  “I’m sorry you all had to see that. When the body rejects a vaccine, it can on occasion cause catatonic symptoms that are frightening to witness. But you can trust that Dr. Takumi is getting Suki the best care possible.”

  “If the RRB is so risky—” Naomi starts, but Lark cuts her off.

  “For the vast majority of you, it isn’t. Suki is the only one of the Twenty-Four to exhibit any symptoms.”

  So far, my mind adds. Could one of us be next?

  “I know it’ll be hard to sleep after this,” she acknowledges. “But we have another busy day tomorrow, and you’ll want to be well rested.”

  “Wait.” Naomi looks at her in disbelief. “So no matter what happens to Suki, tomorrow is business as usual?”

  “That’s how it works in our field,” Lark says. “At NASA, I trained with the crew of the Athena, and I saw some of my closest friends die. I was devastated, but I still had to show up to work. Our goals at NASA remained the same: to push the boundaries of space and find a new home for human life. That doesn’t change when something bad happens.” She moves toward the door. “And there’s no reason to believe that anything irreparable happened tonight. If I know Dr. Takumi, he won’t spare any expense to make sure Suki returns to her old self.”

  “Let’s hope,” Naomi murmurs under her breath.

  “On that note,” Lark continues, “I suggest we go back to our rooms and at least try to get some sleep.”

  “You guys go ahead,” I tell them. “I’ll be just a few more minutes.”

  Lark gives me a sideways look, but she doesn’t try to stop me.

  “Just don’t make it much longer.”

  “Goodnight, Naomi. I—I hope you’ll be okay,” Asher says, his eyes flicking back to Suki’s empty bed before following Lark out of the room. And then it’s just the two of us.

  I watch as Naomi crosses to her side of the room, decorated with photos and posters where Suki’s is bare. She sinks to the floor, leaning against her bedframe with her head pressed to her knees.

  “This is all my fault,” she says dully. “I suspected something was wrong twenty-four hours ago. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I could have prevented this.”

  “You don’t know that,” I say, clearing a space next to her on the floor. “Plus, it seemed like she was getting better. I thought she was over the worst of it when I saw her at dinner. How were you to know something like this would happen?”

  “I shouldn’t have let her get another injection,” she continues, through gritted teeth. “Maybe she was getting better, but the second shot is what did it.”

  “This isn’t your fault.” I rest my hand on her arm. “You didn’t create the RRB, and you didn’t force her to take it. You tried to get her help and she refused. As someone who knows a thing or two about guilt . . .” I take a deep breath. “You have to let it go.”

  She is quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Her eyes roam back to Suki’s empty bed. “There’s no way I’m going to sleep tonight.”

  “I can . . . stay here with you. For as long as you want.”

  She smiles slightly. “Thank you. I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

  I smile back, something stirring in my chest as I look at her.

  “I need a distraction.” Naomi sighs, leaning her head back against the bed. She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “You know where I always wanted to go, before the floods?”

  “Where?”

  “Italy,” she says. “I had this dream folder at home, where I’d store photos and articles of places I wanted to go, things I wanted to do. I pictured taking this victory trip with my brother one day, when he was all better. The plan was to spend three weeks going between Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi Coast, seeing all the landmarks and tasting all the regional dishes along the way.” Her smile fades. “It would have been amazing.”

  “I wish you could have seen it too,” I say quietly. “Maybe, if things had been different . . . we would have met there instead.”

  “Yeah.” She is silent for a moment, and then she asks, “Will you tell me about it? Rome?”

  A fist closes around my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve let myself remember what it was really like—when the Colosseum and the Spanish Steps stood on dry land. When my family was alive. But the images are already rushing to my mind, and I hear myself start to speak.

  “Maybe everyone thinks their city is the center of the world, but Rome really was. We had history right in our backyard—the Gladiators’ stadium, Vatican City. We had Michelangelo, Fellini. But even with all the history, somehow it never felt old. The city was filled with loud, pulsing life. Everywhere you went, there were people of all ages in cafés and restaurants, out in the nightclubs, cheering in the streets for the football teams on game day. I loved the noise.”

  “Sounds awesome,” Naomi says, closing her eyes. I can tell her body is relaxing, her tight shoulders loosening, and I continue.

  “Even though it was technically a big city, there was a closeness among the locals. My neighbors were all involved in each other’s lives. If I went out with a girl once, Mrs. Conti next door would ask about her for weeks afterward.” I laugh. “My family’s pensione hosted a regular Sunday lunch for the locals and hotel guests. We stuffed ourselves with six courses of food, and then my mother would sit at the piano and everyone would sing the classic Italian songs—the songs we all knew by heart. Sometimes we’d be there for hours. Angelica had an amazing voice. The rest of us were just loud, but she could really sing.”

  Naomi shifts a little closer to me, as I feel some part of myself leaving this room—returning home, bringing my family back to life. I look down at t
he Danieli signet ring on my finger, tracing the cursive letter D with my thumb.

  “It was paradise. And . . . I guess I’m lucky I got to experience it, before it was all gone.”

  “It sounds like heaven.” Naomi rests her head on my shoulder. We stay like that for minutes or hours—time seems to disappear—until the sound of her soft breathing lets me know she’s managed to fall asleep.

  As gently as I can, I lift her into my arms and onto the bed. She stirs but doesn’t wake, and I pull the covers up around her.

  “Goodnight, Naomi,” I whisper.

  I look at her one last time. Her expression is so peaceful as she sleeps, as though the trauma we witnessed with Suki never happened.

  I step out of the room, feeling my way through the dark back to the boys’ dorm. All the while, her face remains imprinted in my mind.

  I wake up a zombie the next morning, half delirious from barely any sleep. Asher and I get ready in a hurry, both of us anxious to see if, by some miracle, Suki will be waiting for us at our team table for breakfast. But when we walk into the cafeteria, we find her seat empty. Lark and Dr. Takumi are missing, too.

  “I guess she’s still getting treatment,” I tell Asher. “God, I hope she’s okay.”

  I lock eyes with Naomi across the room, and I am suddenly wide awake. Asher and I slide into our seats, with me beside her.

  “Hey,” I say, giving her a small smile. “How are you doing?”

  “Hi. I’m . . .” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just want to find out what happened to my roommate.”

  As if on cue, Lark dashes into the cafeteria, followed by Dr. Takumi at a slower pace. Before Lark even makes it to her seat, Naomi, Asher, and I pounce on her with questions, while Katerina and Beckett listen curiously, the two of them still in the dark about Suki.

  “Dr. Takumi will explain everything” is all Lark says. But from the look on her face, I have the sinking feeling that it’s not good news.