I Hope You Get This Message

by Farah Naz Rishi

  Leyla had left with no intention of ever seeing him again. It’s what she had wanted.

  “So it’s true, then.” Adeem’s voice shook. “It was Leyla’s idea. All of it. Leaving us, changing her number, making it impossible to find her. She didn’t even tell us you broke up, didn’t even tell . . .”

  He blinked hard. “Leyla really wanted to cut us out for good, didn’t she? Was it really better that way?”

  “I didn’t say that. It’s not like that.”

  Pain quivered down Adeem’s veins like a viscous, inky-black thing that made his skin itch. “Even me, huh? Even now?”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Sheriff Beeson returned, carrying a manila folder than looked unusually small in his ruddy hand. He waved it toward Priti.

  “I . . .” Priti sighed. “I’m going to get this crap over with, but . . .” She stared at Adeem with an expression that bore into him so deeply, he wanted to pull Cate in front of him as a shield. But to his surprise, Priti suddenly tossed him her car keys; he fumbled but caught them before eyeing her with suspicion.

  As she passed him, following Sheriff Beeson, she gently squeezed Adeem’s shoulder.

  “Wait.” He spun to face her, jangling the keys out in front of him. “What’s this for?”

  She paused. Her shoulders slumped. “So you can get answers,” she said. “I told her I’d give her the space she needed, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you now.”

  Priti shut her eyes for a beat and nodded, as if reassuring herself before continuing. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we hurt you. Leyla had her reasons, and I respected them. I hope you can, too.”

  Adeem swallowed. Priti seemed smaller somehow. Younger. Adeem had always felt Leyla and Priti were so much older and wiser than he was; a six-year gap was not nothing, and somehow, those years made them less prone to making mistakes. Less vulnerable. And maybe that was too unfair an expectation. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he would have done in Priti’s situation. She was older, sure, but she was human. She didn’t mean to hurt him. She’d only wanted to do right by the person she had loved. At the end of the day—at the end of the world, even—that was all anyone could ever do.

  “There’s still no excuse for leaving without saying goodbye. Unless Leyla’s actually an Almaen spy,” he grumbled.

  “Be kind, Adi. Life’s too exhausting as it is to hold on to anger so tightly.”

  He didn’t correct the nickname. “Whatever. I’ll stay mad at my sister for as long as I very well please.”

  “That you will,” said Priti, chuckling weakly. “Do me a little favor when you do finally see her, please? Tell her—just, tell her I said hi.”

  “Tell her yourself.”

  Priti took a step back and smiled.

  “Maybe one day,” she said softly, before following a patient Sheriff Beeson down the hall, disappearing behind a line of cabinets.

  She was gone. Adeem squeezed the car keys in his fist, savoring the pinch of metal against his palm, and breath came roiling out of him all at once. But he couldn’t shake off all the residual anger he’d suppressed for so long. He thought he heard Cate say something like Earth to Adeem? beside him, but he couldn’t be sure; blood thudded far too loudly between his ears, and her voice was too muffled, too distant, as if she were underwater.

  Leyla. Dammit, Leyla. Why hadn’t she waited? If she’d waited just a few more hours that night, they’d all have calmed down. Their parents could be old-fashioned sometimes, he knew that, but he also knew they’d have accepted her. The worst part about her coming out wasn’t that she was gay, but that she’d left. They missed her. That’s all that mattered, all that ever mattered. Especially now.

  And yet, even with the world ending, she still wanted to leave Adeem alone in the dark. Did it make any sense?

  So what about the radio message? Did she actually want to see Adeem one last time? He’d been sure it was her way of reaching out, of telling him she wanted to see him again. But hope was a funny thing. It made him hear exactly what he wanted, and not what the message actually had been: her final goodbye. Her idea of the goodbye that she owed him.

  Well, fuck that.

  Priti could respect Leyla’s wishes, but he was tired of letting his big sister get what she wanted.

  He was going to find her.

  And punch her in her selfish face.

  Two Days Until the End of Deliberations

  TRANSCRIPT

  EXCERPT FROM TRIAL

  ARBITER: We must bring our deliberations to an end by Earth’s next sunrise. But I must remind you that although we approach the deadline for the Anathogen release, the gravity of this discussion remains.

  SCION 12: The sooner we can bring this discussion to a conclusion, the sooner we can begin preparations. Our planet’s core is cooling at unprecedented levels; our magnetic field is failing. Time is of the essence.

  SCION 6: Then by all means, let us expedite the process by getting to the true question, the one no one dares mention.

  ARBITER: Get to it, then.

  SCION 6: The true question here is regarding potential. Humanity is a biologically and socially dysfunctional species. They have failed to genetically adapt to the pressures of a globalized society. It is encoded in their DNA to be hereditarily myopic.

  SCION 13: That is wholly speculation.

  SCION 9: I agree with Scion 6. Even with the knowledge of another sentient species with whom they share the galaxy, the subjects of Project Epoch have continuously proven to be a selfish species intent on their own annihilation. The reality is that the earliest iterations of their species would likely not have survived but for our own interference.

  SCION 2: Irrelevant, Scion 9. You bring up a negative claim. My concern is, following this unprecedented rate, how do we know humans will not continue to degrade the composition of their planet’s atmosphere if left to their own devices, or worse? This deliberation is about not only the potential loss of an entire species, Almaen and human alike, but the potential loss of not one but two of the rarest planetary systems in the galaxy as a result of our final decision.

  SCION 6: Almaens can restore equilibrium on planet Earth. Humans will invariably destroy it. It is as pragmatic an argument as any.

  ARBITER: Is everyone in agreement? Or can evidence be provided for an alternative conclusion?

  25

  Cate

  “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Adeem stared ahead and gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “A little too late to complain now.”

  Cate’s heart kept drumming impatiently. She couldn’t lean back, instead settling for the edge of the passenger car seat, sitting on her hands to keep them still. They’d been on the road for most of the night, and the tug on Cate’s conscience was becoming unbearable. Even if she was grateful Adeem had finally decided to see their journey through.

  Earlier, when she’d watched Adeem sidle into the driver’s seat of Priti’s Honda Civic in the Clark County Sheriff’s Office parking lot, she’d been conflicted. Eleven hours stood between her and Roswell—just eleven hours between her and her dad, if she could find him—but a small part of her wanted to grab Adeem by the hem of his hoodie, drag him out, and tell him it was wrong to leave Priti all by herself, even if time was slipping between her fingers like sand.

  Whatever grudges Adeem might have against Priti, it didn’t feel right.

  “Come on,” Adeem had said impatiently, avoiding her eyes. “Do you want to get to Roswell or not?” With a click, he fastened his seat belt, locked in his decision.

  Cate had stood rooted in front of the hood, tugging nervously at an oily lock of her still unfamiliarly short hair. She wondered what the chances were of Adeem driving away without her. She wondered how long she could cling to the hood of the car if he did try to drive away.

  “Come on,” he’d pressed. “If we’re doing this, it has to be now.”

  “But what about her? We’re really just ditc
hing her like this?”

  “She said it was fine. And besides, what better place for Priti to stay safe than a police station?”

  Cate had rolled her eyes. Adeem was being ridiculous, not to mention he didn’t even have his driver’s license anymore after Alice and Ty had stolen his wallet. It was kind, too kind, for Priti to give them this chance—it felt wrong actually taking it.

  And yet . . . her legs had moved on their own.

  The worst part was the car itself: Priti’s car had been meticulously vacuumed, was completely scratch-free and stainless inside and out; it was an older model, but one that was so clearly loved. Cate could have taken it for a rental car if it weren’t for the sandwich bags thrown haphazardly on top of the dashboard, filled with snacks like dry Corn Pops, chocolate pudding, and clementines, the easy-to-peel kind. There was even a first aid kit and a couple hurriedly folded T-shirts on the back seat that filled the car with the smell of flowery detergent. Unopened water bottles claimed every available cup holder, and a folded phone charger sat next to the gearshift. Priti had even managed to get her hands on a spare gas can, the bright red container peeking from beneath the back seat.

  Guilt flared inside Cate to add another layer of pain in her stomach. Everything in this car, Priti had intended for them. Maybe giving them her car, giving them this chance, had been her plan from the start. Cate silently thanked her.

  That had been almost nine hours ago.

  Though the moon had swelled to almost full as the night had passed, its light had done little to fade the desert stars, which had seemed to be watching them like millions of cold, pale eyes. Though daylight would soon hide them, the reality was that they were being watched, that there was life above them, planning. Studying. Judging. The thought made Cate’s skin prickle.

  Now they were due to pass through Albuquerque by sunrise, and as they soared down Route 66, the twilight sky—a bruised haze of intermingling blacks and blues and purpled edges—was beginning to brighten by the minute. It was painfully quiet. The quiet held an unnatural stillness that frightened her, like the world was holding its breath, suspended in air before its inevitable fall. Maybe Adeem felt it, too, because he reached over to turn on the radio. But most of the channels were dead. Adeem frantically tapped his finger against the channel-changer button until Cate slapped his hand away, telling him to focus on the road. Then, sound: a barely functioning AM news channel. The reporter’s voice was half-drowned in the scrape of static.

  “The question on everyone’s minds has begun to pivot from ‘how’ to ‘when.’ I’m talking, of course, about the Message and forthcoming deadline,” the reporter began. Adeem let out a sharp breath of air.

  “The intercepted September thirteenth missive from the newly discovered planet scientists have dubbed Alma warned that they would give Earth seven days, but as the deadline approaches, scientists are in disagreement over precisely when that judgment is due to be delivered. The consensus has landed on the September twenty-first sunrise, GMT. However, others argue that, similar to the Y2K scare of 2000, we will receive our answer at midnight, the twentieth, and still others believe Alma has its own clock and thus we cannot possibly calculate the exact moment of the message’s arrival. Joining us in the studio right now is Jim Horace from the United States Naval Observatory . . .”

  Cate dug her fingernails into her car seat. They were down to less than forty-eight hours. Was Mom listening to the news? Was she waiting to hear from Cate, to hear that she’d found Dad and delivered the letter? She clutched her blackbird key chain, running her fingers against the carved grooves of its wings.

  “Your phone’s done,” Adeem said suddenly. The two of them had agreed to take turns charging their phones with Priti’s extra charger, because charged phones with no service were probably still better than dead ones. Adeem yanked her phone off the plug. His own phone, now fully charged, sat on top of the dashboard.

  Cate snatched her phone from Adeem’s clammy fingers. Still no service. It was stupid to expect anything else. Before her phone had died, she’d had, at best, a bar or two. Cell towers must have been blinking out, one by one, every hour. Still, she checked her texts; it was bad enough she couldn’t reach Mom, but getting no word from Ivy, too? Certifiable torture. Her fight with Ivy felt so stupid now. Ivy had only ever been worried for her, and yet Cate had gotten so defensive.

  All she could do now was pray Mom and Ivy were safe.

  Sweat pooled in the palms of Cate’s hands as she squeezed her phone and typed out another message to her mom: Love you. I’ll see you soon.

  Seconds, then minutes passed. She imagined her message floating in the air among hundreds of thousands of other frantic messages, all going nowhere. Her chest ached with every moment of silence. When a tiny red exclamation point appeared on her screen, confirming the message couldn’t be sent, Cate put down her phone. The whole world was turning into a dead zone.

  With less than two days to hunt her dad down, and still no cell phone service, how was she even supposed to find him? Her head hurt the more she thought about it.

  She wanted to roll down the window, but she’d only get a mouthful of dirt. She’d do anything to feel the San Francisco sunlight on her skin, just one more time.

  As she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the car window, she pulled out her bucket list from a pocket inside her wallet. Even seeing Ivy’s handwriting right now was a balm.

  Adeem noticed her movements. “What are you doing?”

  “Need a pen,” she said, unfolding the paper. “Should probably add ‘grand theft auto’ to my bucket list.”

  “Ah yes, the infamous bucket list. Didn’t expect you to actually have a physical list.” He smirked. “Also, for the record, we didn’t steal Priti’s car. She offered it willingly.”

  “Yeah, well, it sure didn’t feel like she had much of a choice, the way you were glaring daggers at her.” She opened the glove compartment with a click and shuffled through some papers: Priti’s car insurance, a car manual, receipts from auto repair shops. She began emptying the compartment, searching. She had to pass the time somehow to keep herself from imploding, and working on her bucket list, on all the things she still had left to do, was strangely comforting. Before, the idea of a bucket list had made her feel empty and unfilled, but now, it lit a fire inside her.

  “So? What else’s on your list there?” asked Adeem.

  “Finding Dad,” she read. “Petting puppies, as you remember. Also sneaking out to a party, seeing the world—nothing too exciting. Yet.”

  “Wait, what’s the one you skipped?” He peered over her shoulder for a moment. “Did that one say kiss someone for real? You loser. As opposed to, what, kissing someone falsely?”

  “Shut up and drive,” she muttered, blushing as Adeem laughed. She briefly wondered if Adeem had ever kissed someone. He was probably more likely to kiss his radio.

  She finally found a pen, hidden inside a small green hardcover book in the back of the glove compartment. “Bingo. Now I can add ‘Kick Adeem in the balls’ to my list, too.”

  Adeem’s laughter abruptly died.

  “What? I wasn’t serious. At least, not entirely—”

  “That book.”

  The way he said it made Cate suddenly feel nervous. She examined the book as though it were made of glass. The words Classical Urdu Poetry in small, gold calligraphy adorned the deep green cover. She opened to a random page and skimmed. “‘If nothing else, we have at least dared to dream of dawn, / That which we’d never glimpsed, to that place our gaze has gone.’

  “It’s beautiful,” Cate uttered.

  “That book is my sister’s,” Adeem said incredulously. “But why does Priti have it?”

  “Maybe Priti bought a copy of her own?”

  “No, there’s no way. My dad got it from Pakistan for her as a gift. It’s not easy to get. See that tea stain on the front?” He gestured toward a faded brown blotch at the curled bottom pages of the book. “That’s Leyla�
�s, all right.”

  Cate gently laid the book on her lap. “Maybe Leyla lent it to Priti?”

  “But Priti and Leyla broke up,” said Adeem, shaking his head, “and if Leyla actually let Priti borrow it, the first thing Leyla would want is her book back. That thing is precious to her; it’s the only thing she took from home when she left.”

  “Unless they didn’t break up? Or,” she added softly, “they still love each other.” After watching Priti talk about Adeem’s sister, Cate was convinced Priti still had feelings. And if that book was so precious to Leyla, then what if she’d left it behind as an excuse?

  “I don’t know.” Adeem’s voice was thick. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Cate opened her mouth to ask what he meant when a blur of color on the road, barely noticeable in the nighttime darkness, distracted her. “Watch out!” she screamed.

  With a string of curses, Adeem slammed the brakes and swerved the car; they nearly careened into a crowd of people standing by a roadside gas station. They tore through patches of shrubs and bumps in the sand before coming to a halt.

  “What the hell was that?” Adeem asked, breathing hard.

  Cate tasted hot metallic liquid in her mouth; she had bitten her tongue. Her blood was pumping too fast. She threw open the door and hopped out of the car. As she took a couple calming breaths, she looked to her surroundings, or at least, to what she could see in the dark. A couple signposts along the way had warned them they were about to pass through some big national forest; a dark line of trees in the near distance cast a jagged shadow against the ink-stained sky. At the edge of the forest, where they were now, sat a run-down truck stop, and twenty or thirty people were filed in some semblance of a line to use it. But the truck stop didn’t appear open; it only had a machine to fill tires, which had been smashed in, and two gas pumps with bright yellow Out of Order signs plastered on the side. As for the attached mini-mart—too small to be called anything but a hut, really—it was a mess of broken windows illuminated by a single flickering streetlamp.