With Eyes Turned Skyward

by Gregory Stravinski

  But the sonic boom doesn’t.

  The sound-burst rocks the Artemis, sending the fire raging within the bulkheads blasting outwards. Time slows as the impact hits. The side of Cass’s face illuminates as she turns to look back at me. A white hot blast surges up from the Living Quarters, knocking aside the solid metal bulkhead. The explosion throws Cass into the railing before forcing her up over it.

  Stunned, I stare numbly at the empty space she used to be.

  There’s only one choice.

  I barely feel the arch of my boot connect with the railing as I sail over the side into the void below. The cold air rushes up to greet me. Plummeting head first, blood pumps past my ears faster than I can think. Cass falls below me, outlined by the white world in front of us. Her arms and legs splay out.

  Please just be unconscious.

  A form blocks the sun to my right. Glancing over, I see a uniformed man hurtling upside down beside me. My father appears unfazed by his rapid descent; his eyes staying trained on me. I keep my focus on Cass as he falls at the same speed. I flinch as a burning engine crashes past.

  He opens his mouth. “Sage. Whatever happens with all this,” he gestures around to the falling debris, “I just want to let you know that I’m proud of you.”

  I fold my arms in, increasing speed. Ice crystals form on my cheeks as I rocket towards the woman I love.

  He stays at my side. A smile creases his eyes. “I can’t say you’re the smartest,” he lets out a raspy laugh, “but damn, you’ve got some guts.”

  Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I keep my eyes fixed on Cass. My father floats out of my peripheral vision as I close the distance above her. A spatter of blood flies up, hitting the bridge of my nose. The splatter spreads, nearly blinding me. Reaching out, I wrap my arms around her stomach as we crash together. Somersaulting, I strain against the centrifugal force. Her parachute moves to buck me off. Momentum tears at me, but I’ve already locked my grip around her straps.

  She makes no movement.

  The ground fills my view. I whisper into her ear, “I’m sorry . . . but we have to try.”

  Slipping the chute off her back, I slide it onto my shoulders. Clipping it closed, I stare hard at the ground rushing up to engulf us.

  Holding her close, I whisper once more, “It was worth it.”

  The chute erupts from the pack as I pull the chord. My muscles knot as I squeeze Cass to my chest in our downward spiral. Warmth spreads over the tops of my arms as the chute catches the wind.

  Cass wrenches from my grip as gravity tears her away from me. I pull her back, readjusting my hold. We’re still going too fast. The chute was only meant for one person. Individual trees launch up from below. There’s nothing else left to do. I throw my legs under her, closing my eyes one last time. I hold breath as the horizon disappears behind oblivion.

  Impact.

  I open my eyes.

  Nothing but darkness stares back. My breaths come in, ragged and uneven. No breath I take gives me enough oxygen. Is my back broken? I slowly turn my neck to the side, testing it. My head moves, but nothing other than the blackness greets my sight. Moaning, I angle my head back down to my stomach.

  I forget to breathe.

  Figures rise in front of me. Faceless. Shrouded in white.

  Panic surges as I draw in less and less air. The white figures crane their blotchy heads, creeping closer. I pull my legs up to my chest, unable to muster the strength for any other kind of escape.

  A white outline, smaller than the rest, presses its way to the front of the figures. Approaching me, it reaches out. I hold my breath as the white appendage extends from the figure. It lands on my chest. On contact, there’s a warmth, an almost electric vibration. It pulses through my body.

  The pulse calms my panic. As more oxygen flows in, the figure in front of me sharpens. A wreath of hair defines from the rest of the apparition’s face. Small shoulders connect to neck. Features of the form begin etching themselves on its face, starting from the nose.

  “Pela?”

  My sister’s kind, green eyes do their best to puncture through the pale shroud around them. Her hand stays pressed to my chest. The touch is light, but power surges behind it. Another hand holds my sister’s shoulder. Following the arm, I find my mother’s face smiling down at me. She too, had green eyes. Darker though, and fuller, with more capacity to love than any of us had. And that’s what I feel now. My heart begins beating in time with the pulse surging through the wedge of figures in front of me. It’s a slower beat. The panic’s gone. The worry’s no longer relevant.

  Another hand rests on my mother’s shoulder. Further along the line, I find the creased face of my grandfather. I only ever saw him twice, but his signature fedora sits atop his head as he peers over his glasses. That much I remember. Behind him, another line of figures one person wider slowly shifts with oddly familiar features. I recognize them, but I’ve never met them before. Of that I’m sure.

  The triangle of specters spreads back into a dizzying horizon. Looking into the distance, I start losing my calm. I quickly turn back to my sister’s face. Focusing on it, I start settling myself once more. Her eyes never leave mine.

  A flash forces me to blink. When I open my eyes again, a young woman stands in front of me. Her hair’s long. Her freckles gone. Her eyes have become darker, like my mother’s. She’s beautiful.

  Before I can say anything, the six year old Pela flashes back. She slowly shakes her head. Ripples arch outward with each turn of her face.

  Are we underwater?

  Pela points up. As her finger reaches its apex, light catches it from above. Following the finger, I find a hole filled with an encompassing glow.

  I hold my breath.

  So this is it then? This is what it means to die?

  I flinch as the pungent odor of Burley tobacco hits my nostrils. When I glance back up into the light, a uniformed arm punches through, dispelling the golden halo around it. Clouds on a blue background float behind.

  My father pushes his head out over the edge, staring down at me. “It’s not quite time for that yet, son. Don’t be in such a rush,” he says, extending his arm as far as he can into the ether below. “C’mon now. We’ve got work to do.”

  I look back down into my sister’s eyes, searching for some sort of permission. Meeting once more, her smiling face nods back at me.

  I need to go.

  Pulling against the ripples, I plant a kiss on two figures before turning my hand to the figures in front of me. Starting from my sister, then my mother, all the way down the line, each defined face draws a smile. Mirroring them, I reach up for my father’s hand. He clasps it, pulling me up. Countless eyes follow my assent as I turn my own towards the circle sky. My father disappears behind the rim of the disc as my face breaks the plane.

  The clouded sky fills my vision, becoming three dimensional.

  In turn, my lungs fill with water.

  Panic reignites. Coughing the fluid upwards out of my mouth, I desperately draw air into my lungs. Some of the ejected slop splashes up, sitting in the crevice of my eye. I draw in ragged breaths, making no move to wipe it away as I focus on my breathing.

  “Good . . . morning.”

  I catch my breath, feeling the weight on my chest.

  “I thought I was alone out here,” the voice says.

  I follow the myriad of lines protruding from my back up into the tree above.

  It’s a tree; a real tree. Our black and gold chute, still fully deployed, drapes over the top of its canopy. The colors of it cut a stark contrast to the white of the snow around us. A shiver forces its way through my body. I try craning my neck down. The outline of Cass’s face peers up, spurring me to try pressing myself further upright. After an unsuccessful first attempt, I’m able to wedge my elbow under my body, using it as a base to hold the rest of my torso up.

  What greets me makes me wish I had stayed on my back; my femur breaks the skin at a terrifying angle. I fight
the waves of nausea crashing against my senses. A dark circle lassos around my vision. I push the edges back, but just barely. The bone prods through the skin not far from Cass’s head. Around us sits a halo of blood in the shallow water below; it’s impossible to tell whose.

  I try my best to keep my hands from shaking. Cass’s pale seafoam eyes study mine as they see what she can’t. She can’t know; I won’t let her know. I close my mouth, focusing back on those gorgeous eyes. Taking my free hand, I press it along the side of her pale face, blocking the view of my shattered leg.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” I say, smiling at her. It’s all I can do not to break down.

  “I was so scared,” she whispers, “I thought I was all alone.”

  I pull her head and shoulders close to me, holding her tight. “No. Never. I’m here,” I say, rocking us back and forth. “I’m here.”

  She closes her ocean eyes, pushing tears out the sides of both, nodding.

  We sit there for a while, rocking.

  Staring out into the distance, I push back a curl of her dark hair. “How do you do it?” I ask.

  Her eyes open again. “Do what?” she asks softly.

  I press back another strand. “You just fell fourteen thousand feet and your hair would still make a model jealous,” I say.

  She closes her eyes again, leaking one more tear down her cheek. She shudders, managing what could have been a laugh in another life. I try smiling as I lean over her, massaging her temple.

  Silence creeps back in.

  “You know . . . ”, she starts, “It’s kind of beautiful . . if you don’t let yourself think about it.”

  “What?” I say, looking down.

  Her eyes open once more, staring far past me, up into the sky. Following her gaze, I find the fixation. Above us, the Artemis falls toward earth, fully engulfed in flame. The giant hull spouts vibrant reds, oranges, and pinks, trading places with one another.

  Everything I know is crashing to the ground while everything I want leaks away through my arms.

  “Do you think any of our friends made it out alive?” she wonders.

  I stroke the side of her face. “We made it out, didn’t we?”

  I glance around us. Made it out to where?

  She nods into my chest.

  I pull her closer, the cold beginning to seep in. Even shock has its limits.

  “Hey Sage?” she whispers.

  “Yeah?” I say, fighting to bring a smile to my face.

  Her beautiful eyes stare up at me, ignoring the armageddon above. “Thanks for keeping me warm.”

  Cradling her head close to mine, I measure out a breath to keep my voice steady, “Always.”

  There’s no sound now but the water lapping lightly against our thighs. A light wind blows the strands of her brunette locks back over her face. The hair brushes a dilated iris. The rolling seafoam waves have ceased their cycle. Silence stares back, surrounding me. There is no audience to stay strong for anymore.

  I pull her to my chest, letting everything else go. When you’re sitting on the edge of the earth, no one else can see you cry. My wracking sobs echo off the snow drifts, releasing up into the endless horizon. No one will find us here. I raise my eyes to the sky. The darting planes above us have no interest in our fate, only self-preservation.

  Self-preservation.

  That’s all that’s really left at this point. With tears beginning to freeze to the side of my face, I try taking inventory of what I’ve been marooned with. A string of mucus stretches from my nose to the lapel of my jacket. I try wiping it away while I think. I have the chute from the Artemis, if I can untangle if from the branches above, but with my leg, that will be a near impossible task. I have the bag from the parachute. I have all of the clothes on my person. I have the body of the woman I love. I hold my breath . . . The woman I loved. There’s nothing here that would allow me to survive the night.

  And then I feel it. Pressing against my thigh. Barely distinguishable from the numbness of the surrounding water. Reaching down, I unclip my revolver from my leg. I pop open the chamber.

  One solidary bullet stares back up at me.

  Pressed in and ready to fire.

  I must have more. There’s got to be more. I rifle through all of my pockets. There’s not even lint.

  Fumbling with my breast pocket, I find the Admiral’s black token. It still betrays nothing about its nature. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I use every muscle fiber not to throw the black rectangle into the depths of the pool around us. Stuffing it back into my pocket, I feel a shell roll into place. Digging with my thumb and forefinger, I pull it from its hiding spot. A revolver round glints back at me, but it’s waterlogged and too bent to fire.

  I have one round.

  My eyes rise back up to the sky.

  One round is all I need.

  I put the revolver back down. A cold wind blows against my face. The bloodied water hugs my knees, lapping around Cass’s cheeks as it flees from the gust. Watching the tundra around me, I’m suddenly aware of the complete silence. I no longer hear the planes overhead. Crystals sparkle in the distance as the last of the sunlight hits the snow. Under other circumstances, this would have been a beautiful place, a calm place. One of my greatest fears, when I had the luxury of abstract phobias, was the fear of being alone, of being left behind. Devoid of people. I glance down at Cass.

  Well . . . at least I don’t have to die alone.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly. The fresh air comes in. Days of summer flash onto the back of my eyes, afternoons spent chasing friends. When I looked over the railing into the abyss below, I recall musing about how I was going to make my way. I remember seeing Fall for the first time. While we were docked at a port towards the top of the Appalachian Spine, an actual tree was shedding leaves of all different colors. I knew there were only so many, but as I watched, it seemed like an infinite number of them fell from it that morning. It wasn’t so different from the tree we’re sitting under right now. At least I’ll be laid to rest next to a relic of the Old World. Maybe I’ll get to see it.

  I pick the revolver back up. It’s much heavier than I remember. I let the weight of it roll the barrel sideways, finding the grip. The muzzle grazes my head as I wrap my finger around the trigger. Maybe you were right Olan; maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you.

  I clench my teeth, pulling the tension on the trigger.

  A low growl nearly stops my heart for me.

  My eyes snap open, finding a pair of yellow ones. A large marsh lion crouches twenty feet away from the end of Cass’s boots. His beige and white coloring betrays him against the pool of water, but otherwise he blends perfectly with the tundra around us. His eyes aren’t fixed on me though. His tongue glides back and forth over his bottom incisors, panting. The cat’s face is sopping wet and the rest of his fur clings to his body. Despite the coiled muscles underneath his skin, it looks like he hasn’t eaten in a while. His golden eyes bore into Cass’s body as she lies against my rising chest.

  He wants a meal.

  “You’re not getting her,” I say.

  The words reverberate off the landscape as I lower the revolver from my head. The lion closes its mouth, a string of spittle slipping out of side of its lip. It arches its head, sniffing the air.

  “This one was supposed to be for me,”, I spit out, clutching Cass close.

  Using the last of my strength, I raise the revolver, drawing it level with the marsh lion’s head. It crouches lower, pulling its lips back. Its teeth push forward as its muscles coil tightly.

  Blinking back tears, I keep the gun trained on his head. He’s really no different than me: broken, hungry, and transformed by terrible circumstance.

  “One day, we’ll all be as rare as you,” I say, “but you’re not getting her.”

  The marsh lion sways his hind legs side to side. His white tipped tail flicks at the air, preparing to spring. I look down the barrel into his golden eyes. We’re out of time.

&nbs
p; I pull the slack on the trigger.

  Water explodes around the crouched animal.

  I flinch, firing my shot wide. Panicked, the mountain lion runs from one side to another, chased by fire raining from above. Flicking his tail once more, he cuts into woods behind us, water erupting behind him. The rounds snap off tree limbs, following him into the forest, finding their muted homes in the dirt below.

  The pool of water begins pushing out from the center. Small waves get larger as they lap against my chest. I look up, finding the source. A red and black Helios glides down from above, blocking the sun. I start shaking as a tear escapes, rolling the rest of the way down my cheek. Reaching down, I do my best to keep Cass’s head above the water. The Helios pushes the rest of the waves to the side, coming to hover above what’s left of the pond. A young man fully clad in a winter uniform jumps out from the gunner’s seat.

  He can’t be older than his mid-twenties, with blue eyes and brown hair. It’s a little long for Air Corps standards, but gunners and auxiliary crew can usually get away with it.

  “Excuse me sir! Excuse me! We’ve got you now. You’re gonna to be ok!” he yells above the engines.

  I fight to focus on his face. It’s eerie; he’s shorter, and his eyes are a different color, but it feels as though I’m staring at a younger version of myself.

  He reaches out a gloved hand. “We won’t be needing that any more, right?”

  Confused, I look at the sagging barrel of the revolver still pointing in his direction. Slowly I shake my head, struggling to push myself up to press it into his hand. I can’t move that far. Comprehension washes over his face, taking in the dark red bubbling around us.

  “Doc!” he yells back into the cabin, “Doc, we need your help out here!”

  “I’m a little busy right now!” a voice answers back.

  It’s familiar. Worry scores into the face of the young man.

  “Doc, there’s two of them. If we don’t bump priorities, they won’t make it!” he yells.

  A face emerges from the cabin’s shade. Chet’s weathered features are immediately recognizable, but his trademark smile is nowhere to be found.