by Tom Abrahams
Now he’d left her alone in a dark world. He had no way to talk to her, no way to know if she and their children were okay. The idea of never seeing them again was overwhelming. It was driving his efforts to get home, to survive what should have killed him.
As bad as it was in orbit, it could be far worse below. In space he had to worry about physics and chemistry and biology. Those were the forces acting against him unless he used them to his benefit. On Earth, he’d have to worry about people on the other end of a fulcrum; he’d need to protect his family from forces he couldn’t master with his wits alone. His journey might not truly begin until he landed. He hadn’t considered that until now. What a lousy time for the thought to fill his mind.
He was contemplating the rough road ahead when he felt a percussive explosion outside of the Soyuz. It sounded like somebody was clinging to the outside of the craft and was slamming it with a sledgehammer. The Soyuz was shaking from the force.
Had he miscalculated? Was he not on the right trajectory? Was he coming in too fast? Were the heat shields compromised?
An instant later there was another explosive shock to the craft and the Soyuz shook violently. The blows felt as if they were hitting all sides of the crew module.
Clayton’s teeth rattled. His heart pounded against his chest. He could feel the pulse in his ears as he frantically scanned the instrumentation for some sort of warning, some kind of alert.
There was nothing.
CHAPTER 17
SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2020, 7:31 PM CST
SPRING, TEXAS
As tough as the first part of the trip was for Rick and his group, the last fifty miles were uneventful. Sure, they’d taken twice as long as normal, but he was getting close to dropping off the first of his passengers. He was that much nearer to being home, and more importantly, his son was nearer to the arms of his mother.
He loved his son unequivocally. Kenny loved him too. Their male bonding time was good, but Kenny’s mom needed her son. After the divorce, after Rick left her emotionally ruined, Kenny had become her purpose.
She was a good mom before the divorce. She’d become a great mom after it. Rick knew Kenny sometimes rolled his eyes at his mother’s attentiveness or concern, but the kid loved it. Kenny needed her too.
Rick had stolen a part of both of them when he’d cheated on them. He’d had their unadulterated trust…until he didn’t. Rick had offered his ex primary custody without a fight. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have his son with him, it was that he knew his mother needed the boy. It was the least he could do for them after causing as much pain as he had.
Rick could only imagine how Karen was coping. No power, no phone, her son not home. Getting Kenny home to his mother was the most important thing he could do. Despite his occasional fantasies about Nikki, Rick truly was focused on getting his son home.
He knew Chris’s mother would be just as worried, especially with her husband, Clay, the astronaut, orbiting around the planet. He hadn’t talked about it with Chris. He didn’t want to worry the kid any more than he already was. It would be good to get the Shepard boy home too.
Rick weaved around a stalled Mazda SUV. “All right,” he said, “Mumphrey, we’re here in Spring. Tell me where to exit.”
Mumphrey was looking out the window. He didn’t say anything. His gaze was distant. His mouth was turned down into a vacant frown.
Rick repeated himself. “Mumphrey, we’re in Spring. What exit do I take?”
The old man blinked and smiled. “That’s the thing,” he said. “I probably should have told you sooner. I mean, I know I should have told you sooner.”
Rick glanced at Mumphrey in the rearview mirror. “Told me what?”
“I don’t live in Spring,” he said. “I mean, I used to live in Spring, right off the exit. But I don’t now.”
Rick checked his mirrors. There was no traffic in either direction. He slowed the Jeep to a stop, unfastened his seatbelt, and spun around to look Mumphrey in the eyes.
“What do you mean you don’t live in Spring? Where do you live?”
Mumphrey looked down at his lap. His hands were clasped together and he was nervously rubbing his thumbs across one another. “In the pop-up.”
“What?”
Mumphrey looked up at Rick, his eyes glistening. He swallowed hard. “I live in the pop-up. I go from camp to camp. Been doing it since I lost my home. Bank took it when I got sick.”
Nikki reached for Mumphrey’s hands. “I’m so sorry, Mumphrey. I had no idea.”
Rick softened his tone. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Mumphrey shrugged. His eyes welled. “I dunno. Haven’t you ever had a secret that was too embarrassing to tell? You know, like if you told someone, it would change what they thought of you?”
Rick glanced at his son and then back to Mumphrey. “I have. I get it.”
Mumphrey squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the tears down the sides of his face. “I live in the pop-up, but I keep moving. I was afraid if I stayed there by myself…”
“You don’t owe us an explanation,” Nikki said. “We’re in this together.” She looked over at Rick. “Right?”
“Of course,” said Rick. “You’ve been a big help with the boys. I’m glad you’re with us.”
Mumphrey swallowed hard and nodded. A grateful, crooked smile spread across his face. “Thank you.”
Rick turned back around and buckled himself into his seat. He planted his hands on the wheel and shifted into gear. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get these boys home.”
He accelerated and swerved around a stalled eighteen-wheeler. It was dark, which made the going even slower than it had been in the daylight. Rick’s neck ached. His shoulders were sore. But he felt good.
“So I guess you’re gonna tell me you don’t live in Galveston,” he said to Nikki.
She laughed. “No,” she said. “I do. I’m living on the beach at the moment.”
“At the moment?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m a nomad. I can’t ever stay in one place too long. I get bored. I think it’s from spending the first eighteen years of my life in one spot. Now that I’m free to roam, I do.”
“So you’re not from Texas?”
“Nope.”
“No hint?”
“I’m not from Texas.”
Rick flipped on the high beams, avoided a collision between two pickup trucks and glanced over at Nikki for a split second. Then it hit him. “Nikki’s not your real name, is it?”
Nikki didn’t say anything. Rick could sense her shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
He pressed. “I bet your dad wasn’t a cop either.”
“My dad was a cop,” she said. “That’s the truth.”
They rode for a half hour in silence with the boys and Mumphrey asleep in the backseat. It was cold in the Jeep, with the temperature having dropped and the back window blown out.
They were getting close to downtown Houston. It was odd. There was no evidence of the tall towers that hugged the eastern edge of the interstate. It was too dark. There was no moon. The skyscrapers that dotted the center of the nation’s third-largest city were powerless, just like everything else.
Rick finally broke the silence. “I guess I could just Google you,” he said. “I mean, I could if my phone worked.”
Nikki was staring out the window into the darkness. Her forehead was leaning against the glass.
“What would I Google, though?” he wondered aloud, trying to bait her. “Deep Six Nikki? Nikki UFC? Shut Down Valve?”
“Shut Off Valve,” she said without turning her head.
“What?”
Nikki turned and rolled her eyes. “It’s the Shut OFF Valve,” she said. “Why would it be the shut down valve? There’s no such thing.”
The interstate curved south around downtown. The unlit skyline was to their left now.
“What’s with the attitude?” Rick asked. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”<
br />
“You’re prying.”
“Prying?”
“I told you I don’t put down roots,” she said. “I don’t discuss my private stuff. Not with anybody.”
“You have to make an exception.”
“Why?”
“You’ve saved my life twice,” he said, smiling. “I have to know who to thank in my will. If I don’t know your real name, the trustee is going to keep the riches for himself.”
“Don’t you have an ex who gets everything?”
“She already got everything,” he said. “Deservedly so.”
“So if you’re a bad guy, why would I want to let you in?”
“I didn’t say I was a bad guy.”
Nikki turned back to the window. “Riiiight.”
Rick enjoyed the banter with Nikki. She was a challenge. She was smart. She could also murder him with her bare hands if she was so inclined. There was also something dishonest about her. He liked that too.
It wasn’t just that she had a pseudonym and wouldn’t divulge her real name. It wasn’t that she kept everything close to the vest and was borderline misleading about who she was and where she’d been. Sure, that was part of it, but there was something more.
It took a poser to know one. That was it. Rick could see through her because he saw himself in her. There was a good person in there somewhere, someone who wanted to do good but was always battling demons who’d have her slide toward the unethical or immoral. It was something only damaged people could see in one another.
The undamaged wouldn’t see it, or if they did, they’d spend all of their energy trying to change it. There was no winning. Rick’s ex was a good woman bent on changing him from the very beginning. She was attracted to his dark side, to his pliable view of the world. With that came the risk.
“I’m no more a bad person than you. I think we’re the same, actually,” he said and immediately regretted his choice of words. “Wait,” he said, stopping Nikki before she could answer. “I didn’t mean it that way. That sounded like a villain talking to a superhero at the end of a really bad movie.”
Nikki folded her arms across her chest. “I was gonna say—”
Rick raised a finger to silence her. “Hang on. What I’m saying is I think you hide things for the same reason I hid things. There’s something you’re battling within yourself.”
Nikki laughed the kind of chuckle that told Rick he’d dug the hole deeper. “Okay,” she said. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me except what I’ve chosen to tell you. So don’t presume anything and stop with the deep psychoanalysis. It’s all crap and it’s unattractive.”
Rick gripped both hands tightly on the wheel at ten o’clock and two o’clock. He fixed his eyes to the high beams illuminating the road and checked the speedometer. He was doing fifty. It was a little fast for the conditions, but he wanted to get the boys home. Chris first, he decided as he whizzed past the south loop. He knew Gulfgate Mall was to the right, although he couldn’t see it. Beyond the triangular beam of the lights was darkness.
It reminded Rick of looking out the window of an airplane on a clear night. He could always tell when they were hugging a coastline. The dots of yellow and white lights would end at the shore, giving way to the never-ending blackness of the ocean. It always freaked him out, thinking about the vastness of the sea. It made him think about crashing, about surviving alone in the cold, wet dark.
As he drove south, he wasn’t worried about the cold or the water. The dark, however, sent a chill along his spine he felt in his legs and arms.
“I don’t pretend to know you,” he said to Nikki without turning to look at her. “I hardly know myself, despite a lot of crap-filled psychoanalysis.”
He changed lanes. The Jeep rumbled and stuttered when he accelerated again. The gas gauge showed a quarter of a tank. It was enough for now.
“I’ll be honest with you, Nikki,” he said, despite believing that whenever someone said that, they were lying. “I don’t really care what your real name is. Your childhood, good or bad, doesn’t matter to me. I’m interested in getting my kid home to his mom. I’m concerned about what’s gonna happen when I run out of gas or if what little food I have in my refrigerator is halfway to spoiling.”
Rick changed lanes again and rolled past Broadway, the exit for Hobby Airport. He was less than ten minutes from the South Beltway and maybe fifteen or twenty from his exit. The yellow high beams cut a path along the concrete highway. He’d driven this interstate countless times, but it was a foreign trip right now. It was the darkness, the fear that at any moment another nut job would stop them or attack them or worse.
“That’s pretty harsh,” said Nikki.
Rick glanced at her. “What is?”
“What you said.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Look, Nikki,” Rick said. “I think you’re attractive. I think you’re smart. Normally I’d be relentless. Truth is, I don’t have the energy for it.”
He drew his right hand from the wheel and wagged his finger between himself and Nikki. “This sexual tension, or whatever it is between us—”
“It’s not sexual tension.”
“Whatever it is, I can’t do it. It’s stupid. The world is dark. There’s no power. We’ve almost died three times today.”
“You’ve almost died.”
He rolled his eyes and corrected himself. “I’ve almost died three times.”
He checked the gas gauge again. It hadn’t moved. His speed was steady.
Nikki tugged on the seatbelt across her chest. She turned toward Rick and put her hand on his leg.
“I appreciate the honesty,” she said, “and I’m sorry for saying you were full of crap. I just don’t like talking about myself. It’s a me problem.”
“I like a girl who can admit her faults.”
Nikki turned back toward the window with a roll of her eyes. “Of course you do.”
Rick steered through the darkness, driving in silence until he found his exit and slowed onto the ramp. He instinctively flipped the turn signal before realizing he didn’t need it.
He looked over and Nikki’s eyes were closed. Her head bounced against the window as the Jeep navigated the rough-hewn feeder road. Rick couldn’t be sure what time it was, but he knew it was late. Without a moon, he couldn’t accurately guess the time, but he figured it was close to nine o’clock.
He turned off the feeder road and rolled through the obstacle course on Bay Area Boulevard. For the first time since the truck stop, he saw groups of people gathered together. Some were on street corners, others in parking lots. He’d only catch a glimpse of them in the ambient light of the high beams. He could feel the people watching him as he passed. Rick wondered how many working cars or trucks had driven the road since the event the night before.
He turned off Bay Area Boulevard onto a less traveled street. He was only a few minutes from Chris’s house. Finally.
“Hey, guys,” he said to everyone in the Jeep. “It’s time to wake up. We’re almost there.” He rolled to a stop at an intersection. Just beyond the spray of the headlights were the shadowy outlines of a group of people. They were walking toward him.
From the backseat, Kenny sat up straight and mumbled groggily, “Are we home?”
Rick smiled at his son in the rearview mirror. “Getting there.”
“Did I sleep?” asked Nikki.
Rick kept his foot on the brake, anxious to see who was approaching his Jeep. He could see their basketball shoes, the low sling of their jeans. “For a minute,” he said to Nikki.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Chris. “Why are we stopped?”
“No reason,” said Rick, his attention on the group of teens waving their hands at him. They were alternately shielding their eyes and motioning for him to move toward them. One of them, the one in the front, had a shaved head. Another had a mop of dark hair covering his eyes. His pants were baggy and loo
se fitting.
“Looks like they want something,” said Mumphrey. He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t give it to ’em. I’d keep moving. I don’t like the look of ’em.”
Rick lifted his foot from the brake and pressed the accelerator, turning the wheel to the right. He watched them as he picked up speed and then shifted to the side-view mirror once he’d completed the turn.
The boys had picked up speed. They weren’t walking. They were running. They were yelling at him. He couldn’t understand what they were saying over the rev of the Jeep’s engine.
“Punks,” he muttered and then turned his attention to Chris. “I turn up here, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rick turned into Chris’s neighborhood, which was only two and a half miles from his ex’s house. He’d be quick at the Shepards’ house. His ex would be worried until the second he put Kenny into her arms.
As Rick turned onto the main street that looped around Chris’s neighborhood, groups of people appeared from the dark like ghosts. They looked like families. They were carrying bags and boxes. Some of them were carrying their sleeping children. They eyed the Jeep like zombies. Rick punched the accelerator to speed past them.
“They look like refugees you see on the Discovery Channel,” said Mumphrey. “You know, the ones forced from their homes and they take what they have and they keep walking to another country? I was watching this documentary about it…”
Rick tuned Mumphrey out and found Chris’s street. He turned right and drove to the house at the end of the street, rolled into the driveway, and shut off the ignition.
Nikki wrinkled her nose. “Anyone else smell smoke?” she asked, interrupting Mumphrey’s description of the Syrian refugee crisis. “Like a forest fire?”
“I smell it,” said Mumphrey. “Definitely.”
Rick swung open his door. The air was bitter and sour. Something had burned. It was more than that, though. There was the odor of something else, something foul. He couldn’t place it.
