Burn Out

by Kristi Helvig

  Britta pointed at the hatch door. “These containers are for emergency evacuations in space. You have several days’ worth of air in there and the container emits an emergency signal—like a beacon. Since we’re already on the ground, you’ll just be right outside there.” She gestured toward the hatch. A thoughtful look crossed her face before she shrugged. “I think these things hold up in the storms. I’ve never tested it out myself.”

  She shoved me hard again, and forced me to step into the box. “Don’t take this personally. I mean, you’re not my favorite person in the world, but it’s not like I’m killing you or anything. You’re just helping me out.”

  “Remind me how this helps you again.”

  Britta rolled her eyes. “Duh. My goal is to survive. When the Consulate gets my message about where to find you—their precious gun operator—they’ll rescue you, which will distract them. Meanwhile, we’ll be in the shelter, finding the guns. Then we’ll take them and run for it. Even if they saw our ship, they wouldn’t shoot us down with the weapons on it, or they’d lose everything. Kale can escape them.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder, pressing hard to make me sit. “The others won’t be upset with me, because I’m going to tell them that right before we took off, you ran away to turn yourself in to the Consulate.”

  I had to stall for more time. Even if she didn’t shoot me, being stuck in a small box seemed like it wouldn’t turn out so well. I shook my head, trying to sound cocky. “So, is this where I point out the flaws in your grand plan because one, the others know I wouldn’t go out into the night storms on my own, and two, do you really think the Consulate won’t find you?”

  “They’ll believe what I tell them. Besides, with you out of the way, maybe we can get out of here a little faster. Now lie down. I only have a few minutes.” She pointed the gun at me and pushed me down, which wasn’t difficult since I couldn’t offer much resistance.

  I flopped down, sucking in my breath as my ribs stretched with the movement. The metal of the box grated against my skin. At least I wasn’t going to be floating around space in this contraption. I wiggled my hands underneath me but they could barely move under the weight of my body. The box was so small that the sides pressed against my shoulders. Good thing you’re skinny and packed light.

  Britta pressed the button near my head. “I’d say I’ll miss you, but I’d be lying.”

  I would have said something back, if the door hadn’t clamped shut over my head, inches from my face. Sweat beaded on my lip. Despite the oxygen supply, I couldn’t catch my breath. My rib situation wasn’t helping matters either. I hoped the Consulate would find me quickly, because I didn’t want to experience what several days in this box felt like.

  A tiny window was positioned in the center of the box, above my face. I saw Britta move out of view in the direction of the hatch door. I realized the box must be soundproof because I heard nothing in my silent prison save for my own shallow breathing. I stared at the lights on the ceiling and hoped the window was sunproof, or I’d soon be staring straight at it. Getting rescued by the Consulate was looking better and better.

  I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself by taking deep breaths. Inhale 1-2-3-4. Exhale 1-2-3-4. I tried to find my happy place, but that place involved my sister—and her charred body often surfaced in the midst of the memories and chased the good ones away. I squeezed my eyes tighter and attempted to relax.

  A vision of my sister appeared. I saw the back of her flowered shirt and her light golden hair flying behind her as I chased her down the hallway. No gray T-shirts for her. My dad paid a truckload for it too, but it was so worth it to see her smile. Her love of flowers extended to her wardrobe, as if by wearing them they weren’t truly gone from the world. Her innocent laughter rang out as she raced to the table in the front room, which counted as “base” in our game. If she got there before I tagged her, she was safe. I ran harder, my hand reaching out to grasp the pink rosebud shirt. My fingers stretched and came close, yet touched only empty space.

  The popping sound from above startled me. Had I already been evacuated into the desert and discovered by the Consulate? My eyes flew open. No, the lid of my container had been opened, and I was still in the same storage room. I sat up and looked straight ahead toward the hatch door. Britta was slumped on the ground in front of it.

  “Are you okay?” James’ deep voice tickled my ear.

  I startled, a strangled cry escaping my throat.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just trying to save you,” he said, grasping my arm to guide me to my feet. I swayed a little, and he gripped me more firmly. I turned to thank him but my voice failed me. We stared at each other longer than necessary. My pulse started racing as fast as it had a few minutes ago when I thought I was going to die. Great. Two things I could count on for tachycardia: fear of death and James.

  “Thanks, I’m okay,” I finally managed. I didn’t realize how heavily I was leaning on him until my foot caught on the edge of the container, and I started to tumble, helpless due to the handcuffs.

  His arms wrapped around me and he caught me to him before I could fall. He was impossibly strong. Our faces were an inch apart and my body pressed against him. My heart felt like it was beating out of my chest, and I was certain he could feel it through his shirt. Was it me or did his breathing seem faster too? His hand moved around to the small of my back and a shiver went up my spine. But then he pressed gently on my arm to push me back to a standing position. Touching my back had only been to get leverage.

  “Guess I should have taken these off first,” he said. “Gotta find the electronic key.” He pushed a few buttons on his com device and the cuffs expanded and fell to the floor. He sounded embarrassed.

  “It’s okay,” I said, struggling to sound normal. An awkward silence filled the room. I rubbed at the raw skin on my wrists, trying to think of something to say. “So, about Britta. Is she …”

  “No.” He showed me the setting on his gun. “I tranquilized her. I wondered what was taking so long. Knowing Britta, I thought maybe she’d done something stupid. Which she did.”

  James tucked the gun into his waistband and removed a slim tele-com device from his pocket. He called Kale in the cockpit to inform him what had happened.

  I cringed as I stepped toward the door, a sharp stabbing pain running through my ribs. James put an arm around my shoulder. He’s only touching you because you’re hurt—it means nothing.

  “Maybe a pain tab wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he said softly.

  The idea was beyond tempting. Just a little something to ease the discomfort. Plus, if the med was all it was cracked up to be, it would do more than dull my physical symptoms; maybe it would take the edge off the wrenching pain I’d felt a moment ago when I’d opened my eyes to find my sister was gone—again. But that pain was all I had. It was the only emotion I was really comfortable with, aside from anger. After the numbness that set in for a year after she died, the pain was a welcome change. It helped me realize I was still alive. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

  James sighed beside me. “Everyone needs help once in a while.”

  I gestured at my rib cage. “I believe I did let you help me with this.”

  “Only because you were unconscious.”

  I smiled.

  “We better get to the main hatch.” He jerked his head in Britta’s direction as he helped me into the hallway. “Kale can figure out what to do with her.”

  “She’s a piece of work. I can’t believe you and her—” I clamped my mouth shut.

  “Can’t believe we what?” He faced me and looked genuinely confused.

  I gulped. “I thought that you two … you know, used to … go out or something.”

  Shock crossed his face. “Hell, no. What gave you that idea?”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks. “I heard her say that you needed your space and I assumed …” I stopped, realizing how lame I sounded.

  I felt his eyes on me as we walke
d toward the front of the ship. He had to notice the scorching blush across my face, and his silence made it worse. After another small eternity, he said, “I like my space … from everyone. It’s not specific to Britta, although space from her is a bonus.” Before I could ask anything, he rushed on, “You had a sister too, right? Markus told me.”

  I remembered the photograph from the drawer. Where was he going with this? I played dumb. “Yeah, I did. You mean you have a sister too?”

  “Had.” He looked straight ahead while he talked. “Then you would understand how losing people can change you.”

  I wanted to ask more but we reached the main door and found Markus waiting for us.

  “Where’s Britta?” Markus asked.

  James and I exchanged glances. James explained about Britta as the ship rumbled beneath us and lifted into the air. Looking out the window, I watched as we rose over the ridge, almost skimming the ground. The boulders near the shelter door were visible, and thankfully, the Consulate ship was nowhere in sight.

  Another minute and we touched down. The winds remained still and the first cracks of sunlight punched through the darkness. Dark red streaks of light permeated the sky, relentless in their assault on the night. The bright orb blazed open like the eye of an angry demon. It would overtake the night, day by day, piece by piece, until there was no more dark. Someday soon it would be everlasting daylight, all day, every day. Blazing light with no reprieve, until it swallowed the Earth and burned out completely. Only then would it be eternal night.

  The ship landed less than twenty feet from the shelter door. We moved quickly in the cold. I carried the lightest bag due to my injury. I pressed my thumb to the door lock and it clicked open. Kale and Markus carried a bound and still-unconscious Britta to the shelter, then ran back to the ship for a few more supplies. I would have been fine with leaving her for the Consulate, but Kale thought they’d kill her. It figures they’d decide now was the time to get all ethical.

  I stood watch atop the ladder. As James returned with his final load, Markus and Kale ran toward me with their bags. Their heads jerked up to the sky in unison. I turned around to see the giant Consulate ship rising from the east. It was heading right for us.

  “Run!” I screamed. I pulled my gun from my waistband. I had to close the door or they’d kill us all. The ship’s guns began firing as Markus reached the door. I moved to the side as he jumped straight down to the floor of the shelter.

  Kale followed close behind but the ship bore down fast. The laser pulses came closer to me and I screamed for Kale to jump. He did.

  The ship fired and hit the large boulder by the door, which sent shards of rock flying. A piece of it hit Kale as he fell through the hatch door. I shot at the ship and grazed one of its wings. A small plume of smoke billowed out, yet it remained airborne.

  “Hannibal!” Kale screamed as he fell down the entryway, landing with a hard thud at the bottom of the ladder. After firing one last shot at the ship, I scrambled inside and pulled the door closed behind me. The groan of the lock sliding into place echoed through the shelter.

  James was already at Kale’s side by the time I reached the bottom rung. Markus hobbled over, having sprained an ankle in his own jump. “How bad is he?” I asked James.

  “He’s just fine, thanks,” Kale responded. His leg bled profusely from a large gash on the back of his calf.

  “At least we have the supplies with us,” said James. “Tora, can you hand me that bag?”

  I tossed him the bag, glad that I wasn’t the one whose leg looked like it had been turned inside out. At least there wasn’t as much blood with my injury. I didn’t do so well with blood. James worked quickly to stem the flow. To my eyes, it looked less like a laser wound and more like his leg had been gutted. Kale didn’t refuse the pain meds like I had, but my wound hadn’t looked like his. James pulled a small, shiny disk from the bag. When he turned it on, a triangle of red light emanated from it.

  Markus leaned closer to get a better look but James put his arm up to stop him. “I wouldn’t get too close to this if I were you.” He aimed the red light at the back of Kale’s leg, moving it slowly up and down the sliced open area. Even with the painkillers, Kale grunted in agony. The device was piecing his leg back together.

  I gasped. I’d never seen anything like this before. Then again, my father specialized in weaponry, not medicine. “Wow,” I said. “It’s like energetic stitches.”

  “You’d think it’d be less painful than the regular kind,” Kale said through gritted teeth.

  James looked apologetic. “No, but the beam also sterilizes the area. Stops infection, which is the worst that could happen in a case like this. This way, you won’t lose the leg.”

  Kale’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t considered that prospect. James worked so methodically and calmly that I realized how lucky we were to have a medic like him around. I only hoped we wouldn’t need him again anytime soon. As great as the laser stitching contraption might be, I had no desire to have it focused on any of my body parts.

  James finished bandaging Kale’s leg. “You need to stay off it as much as possible. Try to get some rest for a few hours. Markus, I’ll check out your ankle in a sec.”

  “Thanks, I’m thinking I owe you my life,” said Kale.

  “Then I guess we’re even.”

  James owed Kale his life. I so needed to find out the details of that story. Markus and James helped Kale to his feet. Kale put an arm around each of their shoulders, and they started to move him to the couch. That was when the bomb hit.

  Either the Consulate ship was no longer afraid I’d use the weapons or they thought breaking out their own bombs first would blow the shelter door off pretty quickly. A sonic boom rattled the entire shelter. Britta moaned, as if she was fighting her way back to consciousness—in her typical whiny fashion. A cup fell off the table, skittering across the floor. The W.A.R. machine moved several inches from its station but remained intact. Markus stumbled, almost bringing down Kale and James with him. He braced his hand against the wall to steady himself, a slew of curse words streaming from his mouth.

  I grabbed onto the chair in front of me for support. The vibrations of the bomb continued to resonate through my weak ribs. I looked skyward at the hatch door. This was some serious stuff they were dropping on us. If that door didn’t hold, I wouldn’t have to worry about fending off Kale and keeping him away from the guns. I’d be too dead to care.

  Chapter ELEVEN

  A HALF AN HOUR WENT BY WITHOUT ANY NEW BLASTS. KALE had fallen into a heavy sleep thanks to the meds and we’d moved him to my sister’s sleep chamber. I’d tucked James’ shirt into my satchel where it wouldn’t be discovered. Markus suggested everyone try to get a little shut-eye, and despite the fear of bombs overhead, I’d barely made it to my sleep pad before drifting off. I didn’t know when I’d get the chance to rest again, so I had to make this nap count.

  Markus, James, and I sat in the study, while Britta’s whining could be heard all the way from the front room. She was demanding to be released from her restraints. I sat as far from Markus on the bench as I could, while James sat across from us.

  “Can’t we tranquilize her again? Maybe use some duct tape?” I begged James. He chuckled, which meant he thought I was kidding.

  “How’s the ankle holding up?” James asked Markus. He’d wrapped it and said the sprain seemed minor.

  “It’s holding I guess—just hurts like hell. I gotta say I’m a little worried though.” Markus pointed upward where the Consulate was likely preparing a new attack. “We’re all injured to some degree, except for you.” He nodded at James. “It’s only a matter of time before they get down here.”

  All I knew for sure about the door was that my father had it made special for the shelter. It looked and felt like some sort of super-metal, but I’d been so young at the time. I only recalled him telling me it would keep us safe. Though it had proven to be quite bomb-resistant, Markus was right. No matter how
strong the door might be, it couldn’t hold up forever. If the Consulate managed to either successfully bomb or otherwise compromise the door, they’d get down here. If they got down here, we’d all be toast. Unless …

  Markus seemed to read my thoughts. “Look, I know your feelings about the weapons. You’re the only one that can use them, so maybe it would be a good idea to get a bigger gun to use against those burners.”

  Several of the guns in containment could take out any Consulate jerk who tried to get down here. Others could take down their whole burner ship. One in particular would take out pretty much everything. The problem?

  As soon as I opened up my secret room, it would lose the secret part. Nothing would stop Markus or Kale from taking the whole arsenal. I didn’t know what good it would do them, but maybe they’d guessed it was possible for the Consulate to reprogram the guns. Hell, I worried about that myself. So maybe Kale thought they could still bargain with them. The power of the bombs coming down told me the Consulate was done bargaining.

  “I don’t know, Markus. Not that I don’t trust you and all, but, well, I don’t.”

  Britta’s screeching started again, a high-pitched whine about her discomfort. I smiled sweetly at Markus, “Can you go deal with her, please?”

  Markus stood. “Fine.” He looked at James on the way out. “Can you please talk some sense into her while I’m gone?”

  I steeled myself for the lecture about why I should bring out the big guns, so to speak. James watched me, not saying anything. He was no Markus, I’d give him that. I didn’t want to talk about the guns anyway. I wanted to talk more about his sister and ask about the picture. Since I couldn’t ask him that, I wasn’t going to say anything. If he wanted silence, fine. I was done being the conversation starter.

  My silence lasted two whole minutes. I totally broke first. “Why aren’t you trying to convince me to get the guns?”

  James glanced toward the hallway, like he didn’t want to be overheard. “Because I’m not sure that you should. I don’t think you can trust them.”