Offworld

by Robin Parrish

  "Chris, this is either the stupidest idea you've ever had, or ..." Trisha fretted. "I don't even see any lights on that boat. How will you be able to see where you're going?"

  Terry was already descending the rope.

  "It's our only option," Chris replied. "See if you can get the lighthouse to work. The light can guide us back here. Were close to the base. Terry and I will be back quick, or we wont be back at all."

  That was the wrong thing to say. Chris knew it immediately from the looks on all three faces.

  "Listen," he said, leaning in closer to the three of them staying behind. "We're getting out of here. Were going to make it through this. All of us. Help is already on its way back for the three of you, I promise, and-"

  Without warning, he blacked out and fell headfirst into the water.

  SEVEN

  Finding a foothold on the slippery cave walls was impossible, but that didn't stop Chris from trying.

  The readout on his arm showed that he had a little over twenty minutes of oxygen left in his suit. If he couldn'tget clear of this cave and send a signal back to the Habitat, he was dead. Any and all options were running out fast.

  Okay, so I won't be climbing out.

  He flicked on the flashlight attached to his arm andpointed it down the long, dark tunnel. First one way, then the other. Both directions looked virtually identical, the beam of light he cast swallowed entirely by the empty distance stretching out before him.

  Chris thought hard, trying to remember his overall orientation and location. He did his best to choose the tunnel direction that ran closest to the direction of the Habitat, even though their artificial Martian dwelling was several miles away. He figured, given a choice, he might as well walk twenty minutes closer to safety.

  But he was tired. He didn't realize how tired he was until he began the hike, and found that the tube ran roughly uphill at a slight incline. He was still in top shape, despite the physical degradation that his time on Mars had caused to his muscles and bones. He wondered if maybe it was his oxygen running low that was making him so fatigued. And he knew that by exerting himself, he was using up more oxygen than if he were to sit still and remain as calm as possible.

  But sitting still wasn't an option. Itfelt too much like surrendering.

  He walked in silence for ten minutes, trying his best to keep his breathing low while maintaining a steady pace. His heart sank as his wrist light flickered and died, plunging him into complete darkness.

  His .heart beginning to race, he reached outhis right arm and found purchase on the slick, curved wall of the cave. He used it as a guide, continuing now at a slower pace, but still moving forward.

  This was how he would die, he realized. Wandering. Alone in the dark.

  The thought ofsuffocating was frightening enough, no matter how much his training tried to suppress it. Butfor it to happen this way, in this lonely, dark place, with no one around to know of his passing, or maybe, just hold his hand as he fell into the long night ...

  Chris keyed the LED display on his arm and it briefly lit up. It wasn't enough to light the way ahead, it merely displayed the amount of'oxygen left in his suit. Five minutes left. Nowfour. Then without warning even the LED snapped off and Chris' despair was complete.

  Except.

  Except, for something new, off in the distance, that caught his eye.

  Something glowing.

  "Whoa there, Commander," Terry shouted, pulling him through the water toward where the jet ski was tethered. "You all right?"

  Chris was fully alert now, shaking off the effects of his latest memory. "Yeah. You can let go, I'm okay, I can swim."

  When they were straddling the watercraft, Terry spoke up again.

  "What happened back there?"

  "Nothing," Chris lied. `Just lost my grip on the rope."

  Terry muttered, "Looked to me like you weren't even holding the rope yet, but whatever ..

  `Just hold on," Chris shouted.

  Terry wrapped his arms around Chris' torso as Chris gunned the jet ski.

  Chris let his instincts guide him as he attempted to follow the coastline westward for a block or two. Their path was clogged and blocked at so many turns by so much debris that they had no choice but to pick their way through the surge.

  The endless rain was beginning to take its toll on his body; the heavy drops constantly hammering him were bringing about soreness and exhaustion. It made him wonder how Trisha was weathering it, considering what he knew about her. His eyes were burning and aching, his eyelids in a state of constant squinting to try to keep the water out and see in the darkness.

  Soon, something caught Chris' eye. A wrought iron gate surrounded on both sides by masonry stones, peeking out from beneath the high water. Beyond the open gate was an empty patch of land, though dozens of enormous and ancient trees dotted the landscape, each one dripping with long gray tendrils of Spanish moss that blew wildly as the wind abruptly picked up.

  The graveyard was much bigger than it had first appeared, and Chris decided it was a good place to cut through, hoping the walls would block off a fair amount of the more dangerous debris.

  "There!" Terry shouted, pointing over Chris' shoulder. The wind was blowing so powerfully he could barely hear him.

  Beyond the cemetery and on the other side of the street was the outer gate of Keesler Air Force Base.

  `All right, according to Owen's map, the airstrip is on the far side of the base, directly northwest of here," Chris said. "Hangars are adjacent, near the base's center."

  "I was kind of hoping the water would get shallower the more inland we went," Terry shouted in his ear.

  Chris looked ahead. No such luck. The water was easily twelve to fifteen feet high; that wouldn't do for getting a helicopter or anything else in the air. Anything they found would be submerged.

  They turned and followed a wide two-lane road that ran directly past the visitor's entrance. There was no need to stick to the roads, of course, with the water being so high, but Chris was finding that road areas were more easily traversable, with only a stray car here and there to circumnavigate; no unexpected structures rising up out of nowhere in the dark to block their path.

  They followed the road through what appeared to be a number of barracks on both sides of the street, until Chris spotted a road that seemed to break diagonally northwest.

  His thoughts drifting back to Trisha and the others, he poured on the speed.

  They'd just cleared the slight left turn when a vicious burst of wind blind-sided them, lifting the jet ski up off the water and sending both him and Terry airborne.

  "This generator's a piece of junk," Trisha decided.

  Owen gave a short nod, his hands working furiously over a second small backup he'd found in a supply closet. It had seen better days. "The light itself is state of the art, a thing of beauty. I imagine the lightkeepers never believed they'd have to make use of the generator. It looks like the light usually runs off the city grid"

  "Which is dead," Trisha added.

  They knelt inside the light room atop the lighthouse, hoping to put their heads together to get the light up and running. Even if it was frustrating work, Trisha had to admit she was glad for the chance to get out of the rain, however briefly. She sat back on her haunches, taking a deep breath and wiping the exhaustion out of her eyes.

  "If we do get it to work," Owen commented, "it's not going to shine for very long."

  "Then we have to pick our moment."

  "Hey," Mae called out.

  Owen ignored her, but Trisha looked up. Mae stood just outside the tiny window that allowed access to the exterior, sticking her head inside the light room. Trisha had nearly had it with the useless little girl. She was dead weight, and she was doing nothing but slowing them down at every turn. It was probably her fault they were stuck here to begin with.

  "Hey," Trisha echoed, without enthusiasm.

  "Something's wrong," said Mae.

  "Yeah?" Trisha rep
lied. "You think so?"

  The words had barely left Trisha's lips when she noticed that Mae's short, soaked hair was being blown up hard from behind-hard enough to nearly obscure her face.

  Trisha slowly stood and stuck her head out of the window. The wind had increased drastically, and it slammed into her, forcing her to squint. Just when the gust passed, another whipped up in its place, twice as hard as the last, knocking her back inside the light room.

  A flash of lightning illuminated the area, and standing high like a cylindrical tower three hundred yards from the lighthouse was a snaking black tornado. It coiled from the storm clouds straight down to the water, churning up debris of all shapes and sizes, and transforming the rain into a maelstrom.

  "Inside!" Trisha grabbed Mae by the jacket and yanked her through the window.

  Chris spun and bounced underwater, fighting and fighting to find the surface but barely able to tell which way was up. Finally, when all hope seemed past, his shoulder slammed into something rough and hard, and he pushed himself what he hoped was skyward. One desperate final heave let his face break the surface of the churning water but at the same time he heard a terrifying crack and felt something crush against his leg. He looked up; a large branch was breaking off from a tree and pointing down toward him. He guessed that the end of the branch was what was pinning his foot under the water.

  Chris strained to pull free, but the branch pinched his ankle snug. And now he noticed a searing pain in his shoulder from where he'd run into the tree. The water blew harder and came close to submerging his entire head. The tree branch's weight shifted in the wind, and he was plunged under.

  He fought to return to the surface, barely able to get his face out and gasp for a breath before going under again. He paddled with his one good arm and managed to break the water's surface.

  "Terry!" he screamed before the water took him again.

  His eyes bulged wide, but he couldn't get back above the water, no matter how hard he tried.

  A hand grabbed the back of his shirt from behind and gave a sharp tug. Just like that he was being hoisted free and up to the surface and its glorious oxygen.

  When his head broke the surface, he gasped deep and long. He shook off the pain he felt in his shoulder and looked around. Terry was treading water a couple of feet away, still holding onto the back of his shirt.

  "You okay?" Terry called out.

  "Yeah," he replied.

  "Your shoulder looks messed up"

  Chris glanced down at it. "It's dislocated."

  "We'll have to find some place solid to pop it back in."

  Chris looked around. The jet ski was gone. "There's a building over there...

  "Can you swim that far with one arm?" Terry asked.

  "I'll get there." Holding his bad arm limp against his chest, Chris kicked off the tree, pulling with every ounce of strength with his good arm, trying to keep up with Terry.

  Rain and water and wind slammed against the side of the lighthouse, causing the structure to tremble and sway. The tornado outside was like a slow-moving freight train, unstoppable and aimed exactly at them.

  Trisha, Owen, and Mae sat halfway down the tiny spiral stairwell, listening to the devastating sounds outside and hoping that their diminutive cast-iron refuge would be up to the challenge of keeping them safe until Terry and Chris returned. Of course, Chris and Terry would never approach the lighthouse as long as there was a tornado so close, so everything pivoted on what the twister did and how long it lasted.

  From the depths of the lighthouse came a terrible wrenching sound, and suddenly the stairwell surged with water as the lighthouse door pulled free. Trisha screamed despite herself, the water bubbling toward them. Twenty feet below and rising.

  Something hard slammed against the side of the lighthouse just a few feet above their heads, leaving a massive dent where the structure buckled inward several inches.

  Owen's eyes met Trisha's. They both knew what the other was thinking. They'd spent too much time together over the last three years not to. There was a mixture of suppressed fear, focusing hard to hold it together and remain professional. Trisha didn't even look at Mae.

  The thunderous twister approached right outside, and the lighthouse shook down to its foundation. It was as if Paul Bunyan was standing out there, grasping the lighthouse with both of his hands and shaking it back and forth, trying to rip it free.

  The light room above rattled and whined, threatening to tear itself from the rest of the tower and fly away into the ocean.

  The large, rectangular building greeted them with locked doors and windows, but Chris spotted an outdoor fire escape that could lead them to the roof if they could find a way to bring down the extension ladder.

  Chris, exhausted and straining to see in the dark, did his best to tread water as Terry climbed onto a floating dumpster and jumped up high enough to grab the first landing of the fire escape. He pulled himself up and swung over the railing, then quickly extended the ladder so Chris could reach it. With great difficulty Chris worked his way slowly up the ladder, rung by rung with his one good arm, grinding his teeth the whole way.

  Another landing and another ladder and they were on the roof. It was slightly angled, yet the pitch helped them to keep their balance as they faced into the wind.

  Chris all but collapsed, rolling over onto his back. He didn't care that the rain and the wind scoured every square inch of his body. He was merely grateful for the rest.

  Terry stood over him, and without a word reached down and grasped Chris' bad arm in both hands. He placed his foot into the crook of Chris' other arm for leverage, and Chris braced himself. Terry pulled and twisted at once, while Chris let out an agonized scream loud enough to be heard above the roar of the storm.

  "You'll need to go easy on that for a few days, you know," Terry remarked.

  "I'll worry about it later," Chris said, sitting up, painfully and slowly rising to his feet. "We've got to get to the hangars." He looked out to the northeast, trying to see the elusive buildings and hoping they weren't so far away that he couldn't.

  "Chris, you're in no condition to swim with that arm. All due respect ... you barely made it here."

  Chris faced him. "You remember what I said about questioning my orders?"

  "Yeah.

  "Then why are you arguing? Let's go, the storm's only getting worse."

  At last, the heavy sounds of the tornado began to recede, and Trisha and Owen took that as their cue to return up the stairs and get the big light working.

  All of the windows in the light room had been broken out by the vicious wind. The two of them took a moment to stop and survey the area outside, waiting for lightning strikes to give them a brief flash of insight into the state of things. Fortunately there was no sign of the tornado; it appeared to have dissipated.

  Satisfied, they knelt and returned to their work on the damaged generator. Trisha took a moment to attempt contacting Chris and Terry through her earpiece, but all she heard was static. The storm was causing too much interference.

  "What if they didn't make it?" Mae asked, looking up from just below the top of the spiral stairs.

  Trisha's gaze whipped toward Mae, anger warming her drenched skin. "Questioning the capabilities of me or my people is something I don't want to hear coming from your mouth ever again," Trisha said. "Christopher Burke is not in the habit of failing. At anything. They're already on their way back."

  It felt like hours had passed when their slog through the water finally led them to the nearest hangar, some three hundred feet away. Like everything else they saw, it proved impossible to enter from the ground. The water had crested even higher, high enough to let them easily reach a fire escape this time.

  The tiny balcony led to a side door well above the water, which Chris blasted open with Terry's pistol. It was dark inside, but their eyes were already attuned to the dark. They walked out onto a catwalk that looked down upon the interior of the hangar. There, they found a singl
e modified C-130 resting peacefully in the rising water.

  Chris slumped over, leaning on the catwalk's railing. "Well," he panted, still tired from the swim, "that's one down."

  Terry put a hand out. "Chris, please. The other hangars are very close by. I can check them all and be back here in ten or fifteen minutes. Come on, let me do this. You can take a few minutes to give that shoulder a rest."

  The idea of sitting idly by and letting someone else do his task for him raged against everything he was made of, but Chris was too tired and feeling too much pain to argue.

  `All right," he said, pulling out the pistol and placing it in the dripping wet hand of his companion. "Don't forget the people that are waiting on us. Be quick."

  When Terry had gone back outside, out of sight, Chris allowed himself to land on the catwalk with a thud loud enough to echo throughout the gigantic hangar. He doubled over a bit, working hard to catch his breath, and cradling his bad shoulder with his other arm. Despite Terry's warnings not to, and his own training telling him not to, the only way he'd been able to make it here was by using his bad arm to swim. It was in agony now, a searing fire that knifed through his shoulder and down his whole arm.

  He looked down at the hangar below, taking in more of its details. It was much like every other aircraft hangar he'd ever been inside of. Plenty of supplies, tools, workstations, electronic equipment. Of course, it was nothing compared to the caverns and high-tech gadgetry of NASA's spacecraft hangars, several of which would dwarf this place.

  Chris half-expected to hear the clicking of mouse feet scurrying across the catwalk, or maybe feel the soft brushing of mosquitoes on his skin. But there was nothing. Just dead silence set apart from the overwhelming storm outside. His thoughts wandered.

  No insects. No animals. No people.

  Why the animals? The people I could see being abducted somehow, but what's the point of taking all the animals away?