by CJ Birch
I look back through the shield. From this angle, everything on the other side is hazy. We’ve run half the circumference of the shield. I can see the avians crouched together through the clearing on the other side. Their bodies are vague forms moving through a fog. I can make out one avian laying the other down on the ground. He pulls something from his friend’s garments and stands, searching the forest until he sees me. A jolt of surprise stiffens his body as he spots me. That same jolt shoots through mine as he begins running in our direction.
“Ash? Whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it soon. There’s one more, and he’s heading for us.”
Ash is squeezing herself through several large bushes. She’s managed to jam half her body in, but we’ll never make it through before he gets here.
I begin searching the ground for anything to pry apart the branches. That’s when I spot a smooth metal sheet near the ground at Ash’s feet. I crouch and run my hand along the surface. It’s cool and almost silky beneath my fingers. At the bottom right is a triangle with a spiral etched into it. I circle the grooves with my finger. Nothing happens.
I look up. The avian is halfway around the shield.
I push my thumb into the spiral. It fits, sinking into the metal. A faint hum follows. My thumb is punctured. I yank my thumb back and examine it. Blood beads in a spiral formation.
I glance in the direction of the avian. He’s so close I can hear his grunts as he sprints toward us. His gaze isn’t on us, instead it’s focused on the ground. He must have figured out how to see the shield boundary.
The hum gets louder. In fact, it’s now more of a whine.
“Jordan.” Ash jerks herself free from the bushes and points at the base of the shield. There’s a distinct orange glow emanating from the circumference of the shield. It radiates up from the ground.
He’s less than a minute away.
The field is now shimmering. And expanding. Before I react, it moves and envelops me. It’s like stepping through a membrane. I hear the background noise in the jungle, the bird calls, wind in the trees, animal chatter, and the rush of the stream. And then I can’t. On this side of the shield, it’s deathly quiet. Everything is still. There’s no wind, no animal sounds. Nothing.
My skin tingles. I run my hand down my arm, but other than the strange sensation, nothing’s out of place. I turn, expecting to see Ash standing next to me, but she’s still on the other side of the divide.
I scream at Ash to move.
There’s a spark as Ash reaches out to touch the shield. She yanks her hand back, and screams something, but I can’t hear her. I point to the control unit on the ground and hold up my thumb, hoping she understands. I search the clearing on my side for a similar box to lift the shield. But there’s none, only dull, flat grass.
And then it’s too late.
The avian tackles her. My world stops. I’m paralyzed by the scene in front of me. Ash twists and pulls the gun from her side holster. I hope for one last shot, but its charge is dead. She doesn’t waste much time finding another use for it; she bashes the hard metal into his jaw. It’s enough to give her leverage to kick herself free. She scrambles to her feet, half crawling, half running and slams her foot into his face. He shakes his head, dazed.
We stare at each other through the invisible divide for only a second before she takes off toward the river. I’ve never seen her so terrified. She jumps into the river. And then she’s gone. Like the rock, she disappears with a quick splash into the snarling mass of brown rushing past.
I scream her name even though she can’t hear me. The avian stands. He takes one look at the river, decides it’s not worth it, and turns his attention to me. His eyes crawl from my scuffed boots, up my bruised and battered body, stopping at my dirt encrusted face. He looks puzzled and curious. He extends one of his clawed hands, but is quick to pull it back when the shield flares on contact.
It must work like the pyramid’s entrance, with blood. Although, for whatever reason, my blood can open this. Who would go to all this trouble to guard their secrets?
The avian paces in front of me. I’m not sure which of us is in the cage.
After several minutes, I sit with my legs crossed, and spend the next fifteen minutes planning. Priority number one is finding Ash. As soon as the avian leaves, I’ll search out another shield control. There must be one on this side, or how would people get out?
He spends those several minutes throwing various objects at the shield. Everything bounces off. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he cocks his head, listening to something in the distance. The avian takes one last glowering look at me, then turns and takes off the way he came.
I wait several more minutes to make sure he’s gone for good. I pick myself up and head off in search of a way out of this silent trap. I find a way out a good fifty meters in the direction we came. I’m worried I’ve wandered too far in case Ash manages to find her way back.
She’s a good swimmer. I’m concerned her luck has run out, but I have to believe she survived the river.
I trace my way back and follow the river downstream. The rushing water doesn’t abate. If anything, it gets rougher the further along I go. Twenty minutes later, I come to a stop. Ahead is a large rock face, the same cliff we came from. It is a solid mass, stretching up into the sky. The water smashes into it, splashing in an arc before continuing its destructive journey around the bend.
I hear my name, it’s faint and coming from the direction of the river. I run toward her voice. About ten meters from the cliff, Ash clings to a giant rock halfway between shores. The river careens past, collecting everything it passes.
I stop at the bank and sink to my knees. We lock eyes for several seconds. There’s no way she can swim to shore with the water rushing past this fast. She’s too close to the cliff. She’d smash against it. The rock is too far to reach out to from either side of the river. I watch, helpless, as branches and giant pieces of bark sweep past her. It gives me a chill, being this close to such dangerous water and not able to do anything about it. Even if I could swim, there’s nothing I could do for her from here.
A small tree sails down the river. Its roots are still fresh, twisting out from the trunk in all directions. The branches collect smaller debris as it races through the rapids. One of the claw-like limbs snags her arm. She loses her grip on the rock and spirals back into the current. My heart constricts. She flails and thrashes, disappearing under the water for five heart-stopping seconds. She reappears several meters closer to the cliff face. She smashes into a smaller rock and clings to it.
Whatever I’m going to do, I need to do it fast.
I search the undergrowth for a branch that’s long enough to reach her. There’s nothing that long or straight laying about. I stomp into the forest, kicking at fallen leaves and decomposing soil. It shoots a musty smell into the air. I grab on to one of the vines to keep myself from slipping and that’s when I have an idea.
I yank at the vine until it comes loose. There’s a lot of it. I drag it out toward the river. The tiny barbs coating the outside dig into my hands. I double-check that Ash is still in one piece, then begin wrapping one end of the vine around the base of a tree on the riverbank. The other end I tie in a loose slipknot noose.
I drag the whole thing closer and call out to Ash, “I’m going to throw you this end. Grab on to it and I’ll pull you in.”
She doesn’t say anything, only nods. Her skin is deathly pale, accentuating her freckles which stand out like constellations.
I coil up a good section of the vine and whip it as hard as I can. It lands a few feet to the right of her. It’s in reach, but she doesn’t try for it. I pull the vine back in and try again. This time, she lifts her hand to grab for it, but immediately clutches the rock again.
She shakes her head. “I can’t let go. The current’s too strong. It’ll sweep me away.”
I examine the lasso, wondering if I can throw it to land around her body. But if I aim wrong or throw it
too hard, I could dislodge her.
And then I get another idea. It’s crazy. I watch as another tree shoots past. Sometimes we need a little crazy.
I untie the end with the noose and wrap it around my waist. I secure it with several hard knots, but the entire time I’m shaking my head wondering how it came to this. What is it about Ash that makes insane plans seem possible? I once thought working three shifts was crazy. And yet, in the past week, I’ve done more questionable things than I’ve done in my whole life combined. Hell, in the past hour, I’ve jumped off a cliff and am now about to jump into a ferocious river of death with nothing more than a vine tied around my waist.
I yell, “Ash, I’m going to jump and grab you and then haul us back.”
“No. You can’t even swim, what if the vine comes loose?” She shakes her head. “Stay on shore. We’ll figure something else out.”
I take a deep breath, back up to get a good run, then jump. The snarling blackness looms up and captures me, stealing my breath. Goddamn, it’s cold. I miscalculate and shoot past Ash at blinding speed. The vine snaps taut. I choke as the pressure squeezes all the breath out of me. I swallow a mouthful of water and sputter. Fear like I’ve never known seizes me. The enormity of my situation hits home. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I pull myself back to shore and climb up the slippery bank. It takes several minutes before I catch my breath.
When I look back at Ash, hanging on with everything she’s got, I know I’ll try again. It’s worth the risk. She’s worth it.
This time I begin further upstream, compensating for the quick current. When I jump into the cold river, it’s not such a shock this time. As I whip past, I manage to seize Ash’s waist. I can only hope the vine holds when it snaps tight. She clings to my back as I haul us in.
We’re both panting by the time we make it back to shore. Ash stretches out on her back and stares up at the sky above. Her chest heaves with each giant breath she takes.
“Promise me you’ll never do that again.” She turns toward me. Her eyes are the deepest green I’ve ever seen. Darker than the moss coating the rocks along this valley.
“What? Save your life?”
She turns on her side with her back to me and I can’t gauge her mood.
We spend the next half an hour getting our breath back and drying out before heading back toward the shield. This time I insist Ash goes first. But we both have no problem crossing.
Ash still hasn’t said anything since the river. It makes the creepy stillness inside the shield all the more unsettling. I can’t tell if she’s still stunned or she’s angry at me for saving her. I know now’s not the time to broach the subject.
Ash stops short and I almost crash into her.
“Holy shit,” Ash says.
Up ahead is a squat white ship with the word Roebuck stenciled along the side.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Holy shit.” Ash circles the spacecraft. It’s white and cone shaped with red streaks running the length, like racing stripes. Each side has a different insignia, representing the three nations that funded the expedition. NASA, ISRO, and CSA. Nations that haven’t existed for over a hundred years. It looks in pristine condition, except for one long scorch mark down the side.
I look up. Even though it’s invisible, you can almost see a shimmer as the sun tries to penetrate the field. It barely filters through, giving the surrounding vegetation a death mask.
The ship sits in a small clearing. The trees surrounding it are all misshapen, growing at odd angles. There isn’t much green here. If the sun doesn’t filter through, then I suspect the rain can’t either. The eerie quiet makes it all the more desolate.
We appear to be alone, but someone has to be maintaining the shield. I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin.
I find Ash, her hand pressed against the side below the CSA insignia, peering up in wonder. As soon as she spots me, her face falls.
“What is it?”
She drops her hand. “Nothing.”
I can’t resist either, the impulse to touch is too great. I run my fingers along the surface. It’s not smooth like I would have expected. Minuscule stippling covers everything. “From Earth.” It’s such an obvious statement, but I can’t help the awe that creeps into my voice. The last time this ship was touching ground was somewhere on Earth. And now it’s here.
Before I can come up with a plan of action, I hear a pop and a swish from the other side of the ship.
“I figured out how to open it. Dead simple. You’d think they’d have some sort of locking mechanism in place.”
I follow Ash’s voice, circling the spacecraft, until I reach the other side. Ash has already climbed two of the five steps and is peering into the darkness.
“Be careful. We don’t know how it got here. Anything could be inside.”
She’s takes one more step up, then pauses. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her uncertain. She turns back to me and descends the steps.
“You’re right.” She stands to the side, looking expectant, like she’s waiting for me to give an order. “We should be more cautious.”
I’m stunned. I’m not sure where this newfound restraint is coming from, but it’s weirding me out. “Are you okay?” I’m worried she hit her head on a rock when she jumped into the river. From here, she looks fine. There’s only minor bruising, which could have come from any number of things, but no open cuts or wounds.
“Do you want to wait a bit? See if anything comes out?” She motions toward the door.
Screw that. I want to see what’s inside. But I’m not going in blind and unarmed. I search the ground around our feet and the landing gear of the ship. It’s sunk into the soft earth. And judging by the amount of vegetation around the base, I’d say it’s been here for a long time.
The ground is strewn with rocks and grass, but no weapons. I venture toward the trees and find a fallen branch. I use the ground as leverage to ram my foot through the center. A nice sharp piece splinters off. I stomp on it again and break off another piece, which I hand to Ash.
“Let’s stay alert. If there are people in there, they’ve been watching us for a while now.” I grip the jagged branch. “I don’t want anything to take us by surprise.”
Ash grabs the handrail to mount the stairs, then stops and turns to me. “Can I go first?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ash doesn’t answer. She gazes off into the distance, her mind somewhere else. I give her whatever time she needs. It’s obvious something’s bothering her.
Finally, she says, “I used to have pretty good instincts. Or I thought I did.” She shrugs. “Now I’m not so sure.” She looks like her world has been upended.
“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.” I cup her cheek. Her eyes, when they look up into mine, are sullen.
“I’m not doing us much good here, am I? All I’ve done is get us into one mess after the other. My stupidity has almost gotten you killed, not once, but twice now.” She sighs. The sound is so loud it almost echoes. “And then I started thinking.” She hesitates, like she doesn’t want to admit the next part. A few seconds go by. She looks away before she says, “It’s always like that. I’m always like that. I thought it was initiative.” She pulls my hand away from her face. “All those things my father said. Every time he lectured me, I shrugged it off because I knew best. But what if I don’t?” This last bit, spoken into her chest, is so quiet. “What if I’ve been remembering everything wrong? Not for the past couple of months. Not because of the mind knot, but because of me?”
“None of us knows what to do all the time, including your father. Is this about the last communique he sent you?”
She frowns, not sure what I’m talking about. And then realization hits. “No. I didn’t watch it. I didn’t want to hear another lecture.”
“I’m not always right either. In fact, most of the time, I don’t know what to do.” I shrug. “But you suck it up be
cause it’s part of the job.”
“But you always seem to know what to do.”
“That’s probably why I’m in charge. I’m good at guessing.” I motion toward the ship. “So let’s go find out what’s inside.”
I don’t mention the memory gaps. I don’t want to show how worried I am. What if she’s right and there’s some lasting condition because of what Sarka did on Europa? It’s hard for me to say because I never knew her before then. So we’ll have to wait. I’ll have
Dr. Prashad examine her when we get back to the ship. If we get back.
As soon as we enter, the lights switch on. Much of the ship is motion activated. I decide to start us from the bottom of the ship and work our way up. The first few decks are cargo holds, still packed with everything they’d need for the flight. It isn’t until we make it to the fifth deck that we encounter anything of interest. And it’s possibly the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen.
“Are they alive?” Ash asks.
We’re standing in what must be their common space. But it’s tiny as all get out. Portholes the size of our heads puncture the walls. Dust motes dance in the light streaming in.
In the middle of the round, open space are two coffin-like pods. They are hooked up to several machines. Inside the pods are two humanoids, one male and one female. Most likely they are part of the crew of the ship. They’re naked with several tubes attached at key locations in their necks, chests, and thighs.
I check the readout. There are no vital signs. “Long dead.” The only thing the pods are doing is keeping the bodies from decomposing. In fact, half the energy of the craft is being used to keep these pods active. If we’re going to launch this ship, we’ll have to redirect that energy to the engines and guidance systems.
There’s only two of them, but the Mars mission ship had a crew compliment of five. Are the others on other decks?
