I watch Vallon’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a calming breath before looking down his flat nose at me and responding. “It will take a year, but you won’t know it. You’ll be asleep, snoring away like you were the entire ride up here.”
“I do not snore.” The nerve of him.
“And yes, I’m sure you’ll puke your guts up. That’s why you’re sitting far away from me.” Vallon returns to his steady march toward the shuttle and I run to keep up. His legs must be longer than my whole body.
The closer we get, the bigger it gets. When we finally reach the rust-colored scaffolding attached to the side of the ship, I try really hard not to notice that the letters painted on its side, U.S.S. Utopia, are the height of a grown man. They still smell wet.
Before we load up, I search the area, looking for I don’t know what. Then, Mom’s voice comes to me, her insistence that I find Howie’s dad. He was supposed to fix everything and take care of us. But he’s not here. Nobody’s here. It’s just a vast open dead space.
Then, in the distance I see it, the unmistakable rise of a black wall, reaching for the sky. It’s another Wall of the Lost. Fliers and flowers and balloons litter the ground around it. Someone has piled them up along the perimeter, like multicolored snow banks. I resist the urge to run to it, type a quick message to… who? Mom and Dad? Would they want to hear from me? Howie’s family? So many dead and only a couple lines to memorialize the entire world. My world. The world I’ll never see again. The people I’m leaving to die on it. The people.
“Where are all the people?” I ask Vallon, remembering the crowds that rushed the gates at Cape Canaveral. Resisters and Truthers alike, warning us against leaving. They told us not to go. Told us not to send messages out into the universe. I suppose they were right. We screwed it all up. I wonder how many of them smiled, justified, as the Unity exploded with my baby brother inside it.
But now? Now there is only dust and trash swirling in the electric charged breeze. It’s eerily quiet as we begin to climb the scaffolding staircase. It’s so much worse than before, to be let alone with nothing but your regrets. Worse even, than watching them destroy each other in the holding pen. Mothers and fathers turning on their own children.
“Gone,” Vallon says matter-of-factly. Upon hearing my gasp, he stares down at me from the landing above. “The powers that be moved our launch up to… well, now. Nobody knows we’re leaving. Essential personnel only. Present company excluded.” Vallon chuckles at his own joke and continues up the twisting staircase.
I’m too winded to respond. By the time we reach the top of the scaffolding, my duffel bag is dragging behind me, thudding against each step. Vallon taps his fingers on the side of his bag, curling and uncurling his grip on the strap.
//Howie, I’m coming,// I try, one last time from Earth.
Still nothing.
Vallon yanks my bag away and carries it through the door in one hand, along with his. Show off. Blisters are already forming on my palms, which I shove into the pockets of my vest. Just as I duck inside the shuttle door, I feel Vallon’s breath on my ear. “Your boyfriend is dead.”
The door closes behind me with a soft whoosh.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fight or flight?
I choose both.
-Dayne
(Destiny’s Kiss, circa 2239)
“What? Shut up.” I glare at Vallon, fists and teeth clenched. “Take it back. You don't know anything. Take it back!”
“Just in time,” Marshall greets us at the door and pats Vallon on the back. “Secure those quickly and find your seat.” He gestures toward a far wall, lined with clear metal foot lockers. Above them is a padded section with tan straps hanging in tight intervals. Noticing that I haven't moved, Marshall puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gives me the slightest nudge.
“Take a seat, soldier.” Vallon sneers, pushing past us to secure the bags. I stumble toward the nearest row. They are hanging off the wall, more like a roller coaster than a space shuttle cockpit. That's when I notice row after row of thin panels, all wood, with similar seats leaning outward. They're full of people. Thousands. Young and old, all in drab greens and browns like me. Most stare straight in front of them. Others bow their heads as if in silent prayer. My hand plunges into my pants pocket. They're gone. I thought it wouldn’t matter, but it does. Oh, so much. I need my stones right now.
“Marsh—Sarge, Sir… my clothes.” I frantically pat my pockets, then all over. “The clothes I had on when I… my accident. Where are they?”
“Incinerated. They, uh, weren’t salvageable.” Marshall shrugs.
My eyes burn. Incinerated. With my stone. Mom and Dad's stones. Gone. Just gone. I can’t bear to lose one more thing.
‘Your boyfriend's dead.’ Vallon’s cruel words echo through my head.
I look up from my empty hands to find him watching me. The heat from his stare melts the last of my resolve and tears spill down my cheek.
The soldier fastened to the wall in front of me, a boy barely my age, if that, blinks rapidly and looks away. As Marshall helps me into a chair, a stifled moan comes from the boy's direction. I did that. I couldn't keep it together and my weakness is infecting those around me.
Suddenly, the intercom in my headrest clicks on, sending my heart racing. President Theoda isn’t the voice I hear coming out of the speaker, and I take a breath. It’s just the launch sequence.
Launch sequence? My heart jackhammers again. A calm, steady male voice advises everyone to prepare their stations. The boy beside me wipes his nose on his sleeve and pushes random-looking buttons on a console that appears out of nowhere from between his legs. Where’s my console? Do I need a console? What buttons should I be pushing? I curse Vallon for not following Marshall’s orders. He didn’t waste a moment preparing me for this trip. Maybe he expected me to do just as I had done. Maybe he saw it in my eyes like I’ve seen in so many others before.
Marshall’s nowhere to be found. He lifted me up into my chair, closed the shoulder bars over me, and disappeared. I’m hyperventilating as I grope blindly around my seat for buttons, panels, switches, anything that says “Push Me Now to Survive Take-Off.”
A large shadow falls over me and I stop fidgeting with my ‘station’ long enough for my eyes to follow the form of the shadow’s owner. From military issue beige boots all the way up… I pass quickly over the round butt at eye level as the soldier climbs into the seat facing me. To the back of his head that towers over me. There’s a jagged scar that cuts a path almost all the way around it, and I dart my eyes away. That looks so painful.
The man on the intercom begins counting backward from twenty, and my panic returns. I still don’t have any buttons to push. I squirm all over the place in my seat, legs kicking wildly. One connects with the soldier across from me, now fastened in his own seat and punching his life-saving buttons.
“I’m sor—” Aw, figures.
Vallon’s arrogant snarl stares back at me. “Figures,” he huffs. “Only spot left in the whole ship and it’s here. Guess I get to enjoy watching a chaff like you lose his lunch on take-off.”
Ignoring him, I go back to freaking out. The man on the intercom continues his countdown, “16…15…”
“Better hurry. No code, no locks. Hate to see you get sucked out on take-off.” Vallon extends a long leg and with the toe of his boot, taps an invisible button in the space between my legs. A gray and black panel rises from below. “Type in your pin and hit the second blue square from the left.”
“Pin? I don’t have a pin.” The shrillness of my voice betrays my panic.
“Last four of your Serial Number.” Vallon points to his own chip and rolls his black eyes.
I type in 1 8 7 7 and hit the second blue square from the left. It flashes red.
The man on the intercom says, “11…10…”
A whimper catches in my throat and I try it again. 1 8 7 7, second blue square. Red flash. “It’s not working.” Mashing the code
again, I can’t help but leak a silent plea, //Oh Stone! Oh Stone!//
“…7…6…”
//Ah Stone!//
“Try 0 0 0 0.” The boy beside me, the one I made cry, whispers. He sounds older now, at least my age.
“…4…3…”
The console disappears just as the announcer says, “…1…0” and my heart is about to explode. I wince at my bad choice of words. If The Resistance had anything to do with the last shuttle explosion, the one that took Howie and Bit from me, I just jumped in the very next one without a thought.
The shuttle roars to life and every inch of it rattles in my ears. I grab the padded bars holding me down and tug the buckles as tight as they’ll go. It’s not enough. I need more. I need…
//Mom, Dad. I know you can’t hear me. Not really. But I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I will fix this. I love you. I will find Brooks and I will make this better.// By the time I finish my oath, I’m hyperventilating.
//When you blow chunks, aim that way. I’m sure our new friend is used to smelling like vomit, working in the kitchen,// Vallon chips as gravity multiplies exponentially, forcing the air from my lungs. Blue and orange stars twinkle before my eyes against shrinking pitch black. In my last conscious moment of weakness, I reach my hand out at the soldier beside me. To my relief, he takes it.
###
Things are calm around me as I come to. The boy has let go of my hand. Gravity has returned to normal, and I feel Vallon’s mind needling around in mine. I shut him out and glare at him. Not skipping a beat, he transmits, //You’re no fun.//
//You told me the wrong code!// I yell back. My head pounds behind my eyes.
//Nonsense. Four zeros? Why would I ever say to use that? Not very secure of them.// I can feel the smugness radiating off him.
//Why are you such an ass? What have I done to you?//
In response, Vallon turns his attention to the boy who saved me. “Good work, soldier. Quick on your feet. Much better than this guy, huh.” His emphasis on ‘guy’ sends fire to the pit of my stomach.
He’s trying to out me.
With my best attempt at a deep voice, I smile at the boy beside me, whose face is as white as I expect mine to be, “Thank you, uh… what’s your name?”
“Comier,” He extends a hand through our bars and I take it. Dark red bandages peek out from my jacket sleeve. He doesn’t seem to notice.
Vallon laughs. “Sweet, a cook. Make friends with this one, Rat, and you’ll get the best slop! Would hate to drag you all the way to paradise without a five star chef.” Then he winks and adds via transmission, //And uh, since Gliese is an ice planet, I can provide the life-saving body heat.//
I thank Comier for helping me, and give him my full attention. “How long have you been training for this trip?” I even flash a bright smile.
A red hot wave engulfs my mind, invading every thought. I push it away and hold eye contact with Comier. Somebody’s jealous.
“Sergeant brought me on after my parents died in the Glitch.” His chin wavers but he breathes through it.
//Seems to be a lot of that going around.// Vallon gets a jab in while I'm trying to act like I don't notice Comier losing composure. I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t gotten him started earlier. I want to reach out, comfort him, but I don’t. Stupid boys and their macho codes.
Comier continues his story of how the Glitch destroyed his life. It’s much the same as everyone else’s, including my own. He hasn’t been with the battalion long and as soon as we land, he’s looking for his mother’s family. Two uncles have already made the trip and he’s hoping they’ll take him in. As he continues, I avoid asking if he knew anyone aboard the Unity, afraid of having to respond with my own answer. I can’t talk about them yet, not even to a kind stranger. I nod in the appropriate places, but have a hard time walling off Vallon’s interruptions.
//You could learn a lot from this guy.// I allow my eyes to cut over to Vallon for a split second. I expect to catch him staring, but he’s pretending to flirt with a guy beside him. So I smile again at Comier and squeeze his hand, then add for Vallon, //Maybe take some lessons in chivalry… or at the very least, humanity.//
Vallon snorts, catching Comier off guard. He stops speaking and casts his eyes to the floor. Then he finishes with, “And, um, Sarge assigned me to the kitchen.” His pudgy cheeks redden.
Where will I be stationed? I don’t have any training, skills… muscles. Against my will, my eyes wander over Vallon’s thick arms. They have to be the size of one of my legs… or both given how little I’ve eaten in the past months.
The angry red shadows he’s pushed into my chip begin to change. A bright pinkish purple cloud wafts in and swirls itself around the foreboding crimson. With it, a soft violin plays in the recesses of my mind, growing louder and faster as I notice it. My fingers tap along with the dainty chords against the side of my metal harness.
//I’d ask you to dance, but uh… // Vallon’s throaty whisper sweeps the music away. All the colors vanish, even the blood red, and I’m left with empty black despair again.
//Howie is not dead!//
//Don’t pretend to care about that… boy.// I can hear Vallon’s hubris as if he were standing before me, dripping testosterone all over the floor. //Part of you knows I’m right.// With that, Vallon shoves the image of myself, in a bloody heap on the shower floor. I look so small, like a bird fallen from its nest.
I kick at him, but my legs aren’t long enough. //Wait til we get off this ship!//
//Why wait?// Vallon slams his foot on some invisible spot below my seat and the metal bars holding me against the wall click. And rise.
I thrust my arms in the air, desperately trying to pull them back down, secure myself to the ship once more. But it’s no use. The mechanical whir continues its climb up, and away from me.
And I fall.
PART TWO
CHAPTER SIX
If you want the world to be saved
Don’t stand around
Waiting for the other guy to do it
- excerpt from Rise Up, the Children of the Rebellion manifesto
Or… float?
Just before my head slams into the floor, I’m rising, lighter than air.
I’d like to think that I’m graceful in my recovery, like a majestic eagle soaring through the clouds. But I feel more like a spastic baby bird who’s been unceremoniously kicked out of the nest. I know I look like said bird, too, from the sounds coming out of Vallon… and Comier. Et tu, Comier?
I have no idea how to control my body, but I will myself toward Vallon’s throat. A chorus of laughs erupts through our section as everyone stops to watch the freak, swimming in mid-air. I’m ashamed to say I’m even holding my breath.
My foot catches on something hard and I use the momentum to propel myself forward, straight at Vallon. The red mist he pushed into my chip is nothing compared to the red I see now. For one moment, as I hurl closer to his face, I see a flicker of shock wash over him. He hits a button to his left and slips away, a mere second before my hands can wrap around his neck.
As Vallon glides effortlessly through the corridor, he chips, //Come along, Rat. Time to show you around your new home.//
Livid, I rush to catch up. The wall straps are perfect handles for me to guide myself forward, almost in time with his movements. I feel like a monkey, swinging through the trees, and the thought stops me cold. Like my Buddhist Monkey, swinging through our tree.
//Why do you say Howie’s dead?// I transmit to Vallon, refusing to move an inch until he answers me.
Something in my ethereal voice must catch him off guard, because he stops, too. Then he turns and glides back to me, not stopping until our noses touch. He places his hand, a hot, rough hand, in the tan strap with mine. Over mine. “Look around you, kid.” He waves the other in the air at nothing in particular. Then he yanks on the strap holding both of us to the wall, and it detaches. “These ships were slapped together in a hurry
, and they’ll come apart just as fast. You think your little boyfriend stood a chance?”
Peeling the handle from my grip, he holds me by the waist to maneuver my body where he wants it. This doesn’t feel the same as when Howie held me. This is menacing and I want him off me. But he’s so much bigger than I am, I know I can’t do a thing about it. So does he.
My legs hover over the floor and my hand, still clutched in his, grasps for the wall. He doesn’t release me.
By sheer force of will, because I don’t actually see him move, he closes the space between us until there is none. One hand on mine and the other still on my waist, the violins begin to play in my mind again. His breath is hotter than his skin, and smells of man. The same musk I had assumed was his cologne. It’s… him. “I believe you promised me a dance.”
For a moment, I can’t pull away. I can’t breathe. I don’t… want to.
“No, I promise you an ass whipping!” I jerk a knee upward. He’s too fast, and blocks it with his own. The smirk on his face widens, until my head connects with it. While he’s grabbing at his nose, I hurl myself backward with the nearest strap, praying to Stone it doesn’t break.
He’s on me too fast, growling and clawing like a wild animal. It doesn’t take long for him to overpower me, and scoop me up in a bear hug. Drops of his blood roll down the back of my neck. Others float in the air around my face, dancing with the stars blurring my vision.
The last thing I hear before the darkness takes me is him. //We all lost friends in the explosion, Rat. Get over yourself before you get someone else killed!//
//Not my friend… my… brother… He was helping my little brother.//
The stars blink out and air rushes back into my lungs. I lean against the wall, gasping. I’m aware of all the eyes on me, and the tears on my cheeks, the numb blank spot as the hot tears roll down my scar.
Exodus Page 4
