Abel

by Zack Metcalfe

  Chapter – 10

   

  My family and I all stood proudly around the pedestal created for the apple tree. It had a watering mechanism, its own light, and the best soil we could find for it. The transplant had been easy. I simply found a large, empty cylinder amongst all the ruins, used a digging tool to move the plant inside without disturbing the roots, and had my brother’s help to carry it back through the vents. We decided to leave it inside its container, but remove the lid.

  According to Mary, the many dozens of plant species I discovered in the ruined garden had been her work. The rest were at least based on her research. The family decided to leave them for now.

  “This was an amazing find, son,” my father said. “I haven’t seen an apple tree in over a decade!”

  My mother nodded. “It’s beautiful. What are the odds it would be growing on this ship? I wonder what else is out there.”

  I could feel the pressure building. I had to press on, to map the ship as best I could in the next two weeks. We were getting closer to Earth, but I wanted to know my ship as best I could. I had the right to know this ship.

  “Do you know how long it will take for apples to grow?” Cain asked my parents.

  “Oh, I have no idea,” my father said. “Dear?”

  My mother studied the plant, then nodded. “Years, I'd say. They're very slow growing fruit.”

  "Six years," Mary corrected, speaking plainly inside my head.

  I could see my brother’s disappointment.

  My sister didn’t seem to react at all. She stood with a small smile on her face. Her thoughts were always difficult to judge.

  Soon the family went their separate ways. Cain went to his telescope, and my parents began tending the garden. April went to the control deck, as she often did. Having nothing pressing to attend to, I followed her. When I entered the room, she was typing away on a panel. She seemed somewhat startled when I entered.

  “Hello,” I began.

  “Hey,” she answered, showing her weak smile again. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve…come to see how you’re doing. Just making sure you’re all right.”

  “Of course,” she said, turning back to her computer screen. “I’m fine.”

  "You don't sound convinced." She really didn't. Her head was hung slightly, and she I could tell she was forcing the smile.

  She looked back at me, then signed heavily.

  "I suppose I'm not," she admitted. "But really, it's nothing. Don't worry about me."

  "Nothing? Don't tell me it's nothing. Normally, you would have been overjoyed to see an apple tree. It would have been an incredible find on Mars, but I managed to found it in space somehow. Still, you didn't say a thing."

  "It really was a great find, Abel. Don't think I'm not happy about it. I'm just...being stupid."

  "That's what brothers are for," I said, "to deal with the stupid things. It's our specialty."

  I got a genuine smile out of her that time. I took her hand and helped her to one of the chairs, a bulky thing that didn't suit April at all. She sat down, setting her cane in her lap, looking at her knees. I knelt down in front of her.

  "Talk to me," I insisted. "What's wrong?"

  She smiled at me again.

  "Oh Abel, what's wrong?" She looked around the room, then waved one hand in the air. "It's all wrong. We're floating around on a spaceship, running out of food, water, air and power. We're heading to a planet that might be dead, because the planet we came from is definitely dead." She looked down at her hands, resting on her cane in her lap. "And I'm withering away. It's getting worse, Abel. It's getting scary." Her eyes were starting to water, so I placed a hand on her cheek.

  "Hey," I said. "Don't say that. Don't even think that. You're strong, and we're here for you. If you can't walk then I'll carry you the entire way. You know that."

  "You can't be there all the time, Abel."

  "Watch me."

  "No," she insisted. "You need to take care of yourself, and everyone else. You need to keep the ship working and keep finding things, like the tree..."

  "I will," I interrupted. "I'll find more things like the tree. I already found a room full of seeds just waiting to be planted when we reach Earth. When we're there I'll find soil, I'll find water, and I'll find a place for us to live. I'll just keep on finding things until we have a real chance, until we have a reason to be hopeful. And I'll carry you the whole damn way if I have to. Just stay with me, April. Alright? I need you to trust me, and don't let these feelings get the better of you."

  "I know, I know, it was just the tree..."

  "What about it?"

  She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "It's just that, if you found that on Mars, it would have been amazing. We would have planted it and waited for the fruit. Even if it never came, we would still be proud to have the tree. Now there is no Mars, and that tree won't grow apple for years. Do you really think we'll be around when that happens?"

  "I plan for us all to have a taste. Do you remember what the apples are like?"

  She laughed very softly.

  "No, I don't remember. We were very small." She wiped her eyes again. "When I saw the tree, and thought ahead a few years, I just couldn't think of any reason to celebrate."

  I reached forward and held her hands.

  "Now you listen to me," I said. "We're a resilient family. We're the only ones that survived Mars because we didn't give up. We built a ship, launched it into space, and aimed it at Earth. The story's not over yet, and I promise you, we still have a few miracles up our sleeves. I don't know what's left on Earth, but we'll find something. We will find something."

  She smiled down at me again, more tears building in her eyes.

  "You still promise to carry me?"

  I smiled back.

  "Yes, and if I get tired, Cain can just carry us both."

   

  __________

   

  I wandered down a dark hallway. It was one of the inner corridors, not far from my sister’s room. I had just put her to bed, and now walked aimlessly. My head was spinning, questions nagging at me. These questions quickly developed into a headache, and I groaned. Looking up, I saw Mary walking down the hall. She was a distance ahead of me.

  “Mary?” I called after her.

  She didn’t react to my voice, just continued walking.

  “Wait, Mary,” I said louder, jogging towards her. She turned a corner and vanished from sight.

  “Wait, I have a question!” I said, turning the corner after her. There was no one there. The hall stretched a long distance, but Mary was nowhere to be seen.

  I sighed in disappointment, slowly walking onward. She’d be back. I needed her to be.

  I had a question I needed answered, and Mary could help. It was a bizarre situation. The memories were in my head. Everything Mary Tanaka had ever experienced was nestled in my brain, but it was like trying to recall a fleeting memory from your early childhood. I knew the specific events that the pearls showed me. The rest was distant and confusing, so I needed to ask Mary.

  Aimlessness had its own appeal in this place. I’d spent years on this ship, but there were still new places to explore.

  I squeezed the pearls in my pocket, just to be sure they were there. I didn’t understand it at all. These pearls terrified me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to dispose of them. I couldn't eat or sleep like before. The pearls caused me to hallucinate even more vividly than before. Usually, I would ignore the ghosts in these halls. Now the ghosts had faces and voices.

  The halls were calm this evening. I was thankful. My bedroom door opened with a simple command, and automatically closed behind me. I found my power cell and flicked it on, moving to my bed. I was surprised to see it was occupied. Mary was lying on one side. Her eyes were closed. I was tired, and didn’t care if I had to share. Climbing into the unoccupied half of the bed, I took my share of the covers, and rested my head on the pillow.


  Mary stirred, and rolled over, her arm brushing my back. She was warm.

  I found the sensation bothersome. She inhaled sharply, then mumbled something I didn't understand.

  “What?” I asked quietly.

  After a long pause, she answered. “Oh…nothing.” She sounded very sleepy. She must have been clinging to a dream.

  I felt I had to ask my question. It nagged at me. I knew she may have been close to sleep, but that didn’t matter much to me. It was my bed.

  “Mary?" I asked. “What’s Earth like?”

  The air in the room seemed to stand skill for a moment. I could feel Mary stiffen.

  “What?” she asked, her voice fully awake now.

  “Earth,” I clarified. “When you last saw it. What was it like?”

  The stillness continued beyond the point of comfort. I could almost hear Mary's heartbeat. I rolled over slightly to see what was wrong, but she was staring at the ceiling.

  “Mary?” I asked.

  Her answer came several seconds later.

  “We…don’t speak of Earth,” she said. “I haven’t since I left.”

  “Well, we’re returning to Earth soon. I need to know what we're going to find.”

  “Back,” she stated.

  “Yes. We’re not far now.”

  Mary’s eyes widened, and she trembled ever so slightly.

  “Anything, Mary. Please,” I asked softly.

  She then became stern. “Anything? Fine. Earth…rejected us. She was dying, and she got rid of us…” Mary trailed off, shuttering slightly. “…Earthquakes.”

  “Earthquakes?” I asked, confused. “What are you…”

  Mary shook her head, and turned her back to me.

  After eyeing her for a few moments, I again rested my head on the pillow. Mary's words were strange. I did manage to get some sleep, but not until I gave serious thought to her statements.

  “Earthquakes,” I whispered. “Earth rejected us.”

   

  __________

   

  The room hadn’t seen life in decades. It was perfectly still, all dust long since settled, no noise or power. Then, one day, I fell from an overhead air vent. It wasn’t opened intentionally, and I wasn't prepared for the fall. I landed on my back, feeling the painful impact of the floor. My power cell rolled away from me, illuminating parts of a vast room.

  I had no idea where I was, and only a vague idea of how to return to the inner decks. This didn’t worry me. I would find my way back.

  With a moan of discomfort, I rolled to my side, and tried standing. It took the assistance of a chair I found within reach. Taking clumsy, cautious steps, I reached for my power cell. I fell to my knees after loosening my grip of the chair, feeling the sting of impact yet again.

  Grasping the cell, I forced myself to stand. With the help of my light, I made out the room. There were more computers than usual. Each station was unique from the others. The walls were lined with stations, chairs, labels, and so on. Everywhere I saw writing, on every surface, but I didn’t recognize any of the words. These letters were indeed familiar, but they had a bizarre quality. It was similar to Latin, like the words Mary had explained to me. This was original English, spoken by the first colonists on Martian soil. I came across it from time to time in the ship.

  This writing told me that my ship was ancient. This ship carried Terran survivors to the already colonized Mars. This ship carried my ancestors.

  I shuddered at the thought. I've never taken much pride in my heritage. How could I be expected to? I was raised with a Martian mother, and a Terran father who followed the Martian beliefs.

  I turned to view the whole room. Could one of my ancestors have stood on this deck? I couldn’t help but torture myself with the possibility. What would they think if they could see me now? What if they knew I would be their legacy?

  Pride or disappointment?

  There was something strange about the room. The classroom fashion of the stations was obvious, but everything was oriented towards a solid wall. On the wall was painted the symbol of the Terran fleet. Moving to the wall, I ran my hand across it slowly. It was freezing, even more so than the rest of the room. After some examination, I realized the symbol had never been painted over, meaning this room had never been used by the Martians who repurposed it. I turned away from the wall, looking to my left. I saw yet another computer station, small and humble. Moving to it, I opened a lower compartment and observed its mechanics.

  I found what I was looking for, the backup power generator. If main power were to fail, this generator would keep the station running. The generator was dependent on a power cell, which was dead. I pulled it out of place, putting my power cell in as a replacement. I smiled as the generator, and thus the station, began humming.

  I struggled back to my feet with one hand on the station, still in pain. I brushed a thick layer of dust off the controls, seeing them come to life one at a time. It was clear the generator would only supply this station with power. It was possible I could link this area of the ship with the main reactor, in time.

  I held my face very close to the controls. The small English symbols were very difficult to discern, and I couldn't hope to guess at their meanings. I sighed with disappointment. It would take time to understand any of this. I didn’t even know what this station was for.

  Shaking my head, I refocused my attention on the panel, almost immediately noticing a small series of glowing buttons in the top right corner. Their glow was somehow distinguished, different from any other controls. It took me a moment to realize where I had seen this glow before…

  “No,” I said, terror cutting through my voice. My hand shot into my pocket and pulled out the pearls, one of them glowing powerfully.

  “No!” I shouted, frantically trying to throw the pearls away.

  No matter how much I wanted to get rid of them, I couldn't.

  Everything became light, then dark, then quiet.

   

  Robert Peters