TORMENT (11 page)

Mia met Austin’s eyes. “And what’s that?”

Austin forced a smile as he turned the security monitors off.
“Life.”

13

Paul Byers spun through the air, enjoying the lightness zero gravity provided his aging body. He’d been limber and fit once, with an athletic build and square jaw, but time and post traumatic stress syndrome had taken their toll. His body was still in fairly good shape for a man in his late fifties, but the heroics of his stint in Vietnam would never be repeated. His slower body was still capable of enduring some physical strain, but his mind had never been the same. It had taken him years to overcome the fear, anxiety and insomnia caused by surviving the war and saving his friends. He often envied the unconscious men he pulled from the jungle. They couldn’t remember what happened that day. Occasionally, he envied the few that didn’t make it.

Counseling had overcome his thoughts of suicide, but he never felt far from the brink. And now...now the feelings were bubbling to the surface once again. The stress of escaping the planet, surviving the destruction of civilization and his brother’s endless harping taxed his mental capacity to process, compartmentalize and block his emotions. Everyone called him a hero, but he was really just a tired old man who once again began to envy the dead. Their lives ended in a wink. His would drag on for who knew how long.

If not for the blessed lack of gravity distracting him from the full burden of his emotions, he’d already have cracked.

Paul drifted over the rows of chairs, pushing himself smoothly through the air. He’d told Mark that he needed time to think things through, but he really just didn’t want to hear any more preaching. He loved Mark. They were closer now than they ever had been. Disagreements over the war in Vietnam had caused a divide between the two long ago, but time and Mark’s joining the priesthood and learning the fine art of forgiveness had healed the wounds. Mark occasionally insisted they “talk God” and Paul usually didn’t mind. He knew his brother’s desire to “save” him was genuine and an honest expression of love, so he put up with it and sometimes even found it interesting. But now, in light of all that had happened, it drained what little psychological reserves Paul still clung to.

He watched the other survivors. The Secret Service man who’d been puking had finally run out of juice. The woman was now stroking his head.
Odd couple
, Paul thought.

The creepy Secret Service man still played with his gun. Paul didn’t like the looks of him. If Paul was headed toward the edge, that guy had dropped over the side when they reached orbit.

Pushing himself away from the Secret Service people, Paul watched Collins, apparently lost in thought. He moved toward Collins, hoping to probe him for information about the craft that had whisked them away from harm—and into space. But when he reached the wall and caught a profile of Collins’s face, he stopped. Collins looked further gone than the rest.

A whimper turned Paul around. In the corner of the room he saw Chang and Elizabeth. Where was Mia? He hadn’t seen her leave. Elizabeth was crying lightly as Chang did her best to distract her with an impromptu, low gravity game of patty-cake.

“C’mon Liz.
Hit my hands,” Chang said. “Do you know how to play patty-cake?”

Elizabeth shook her head, no.

Chang rolled her eyes and stood up, but her movement launched her off the floor. She hit her head on the ceiling and stayed there, floating above Elizabeth as Paul approached. “What seven year old girl doesn’t know how to play patty-cake?” Chang said to Paul.

“Apparently this one,” Paul said. He flashed a smile to Elizabeth and nearly felt his heart break as she smiled back and reached out to him. He took her hand and lifted her up. She floated to him and he wrapped his thick arms around her small body. Her blonde hair floated freely around her head, tickling his nose, making him smile.

“Will Auntie Mia be back soon?” she asked.

“I’m sure she will, honey,” Paul said. “I can stay with you until she gets back. Would that be good?”

Elizabeth nodded and held on tighter. In that moment Paul’s concerns and fears melted away, replaced by a sense of responsibility and purpose. He saw his own frailty as selfish indulgence and stuffed it away. This innocent child would need his strength. He might not be a hero any more, but he was a prime candidate for being a surrogate grandfather.

Elizabeth leaned back and looked into Paul’s eyes. The dark blue of her eyes pierced him as much as her question. “Are we going to die, Mr. Byers?”

Paul glanced out a nearby portal and saw the burning remnants of Earth. He looked away quickly and returned his gaze to her eyes. “Not a chance,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“He doesn’t,” Chang said from above. “He’s just trying to make us feel better.”

Paul looked up as Chang moved toward the wall and pulled
herself
down to the floor. “First, I’m not trying to make
you
feel better. Second, you’re not helping. So shut it or go hang out with the glee squad over there.” Paul motioned toward Garbarino, who looked up and shot a sarcastic smile at him.

Guess I said that too loud
, Paul thought.

Chang became upright on the floor again and pursed her lips. She sighed and looked down. “Sorry.
Just having a hard time.”

“Which is perfectly normal,” Paul said. “Just keep it to yourself for now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you want Mr. Byers to hold you, too?” Elizabeth
asked,
which got a chuckle from Chang. But the smile disappeared at the sound of a gun being cocked.

Paul turned around as Garbarino slid down from the chair he’d been sitting on and stood at the center of the room. “All right, listen up, people. You’ve done enough crying, puking and palling around. It’s time to get some shit squared away.”

Garbarino seemed oblivious to the fact that he was waving his weapon around in his hand as he spoke. Or maybe it was his silent way of saying, “Don’t even bother arguing.” Either way, it made Paul nervous. He looked toward the four hatches that entered the room. All were firmly closed. Where were Mia and Austin?

“So gather round,” Garbarino said, “and I’ll fill you in on how things are going to work around here.”

“S’cuse me, son, but I think I’m still in charge,” Collins said as he turned away from the window.

“Really?”
Garbarino asked. “Because it looks to me that all you’re good for right now is feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I am the President of the United States of—”

“Nothing!”
Garbarino shouted.

“Joseph, don’t,” Vanderwarf said.

“What’s the problem, Erin?” Garbarino said. “You know it’s true. I doubt even half of us in here even voted for him, anyway. It’s a whole new ball game folks, and if you don’t fall in line, you’re off the team. Understand?”

Garbarino met Paul’s eyes and locked on to him.
Perhaps seeing him as competition for alpha male—leader of the pack.
Paul had seen similar behavior during the war—men forming pacts with each other, rearranging the chain of command when their lives were at risk. Paul also knew not to argue with the man. Not now. Not until someone took that gun away.

“Understand?” Garbarino said, casually bringing the gun around toward Paul...and Elizabeth.

Paul put Elizabeth down and raised his open palms to shoulder height. “I understand perfectly,” he said. “You’re the boss.”

14

Mia watched as Austin showed her the basic controls for the escape pod. Luckily, the designers had thought to include a touch-screen, user friendly interface. Their forethought made operating the very complex systems easy enough for anyone accustomed to using an ATM. Diagnostics, flight control, temperature—everything could be controlled from this single room. Austin had a working knowledge of how the system was supposed to work, though he’d only trained on it once. But he worked through the tiered options like an old pro, learning as he went and trying to give Mia the impression he knew the system inside and out. She saw through his charade, but decided not to say anything. Paying attention seemed the better option.

“So,” Austin said, “Here is the food and water supply indicator. Plug in the number of people on board and it calculates how long the supplies will last. How many do we have on board?”

Mia counted on her fingers. “Ten. I think.”

Austin typed in ten and hit enter. The screen displayed three different answers based on different ration options.
Five years, seven years and ten years.

“Ten years...” Mia said. She couldn’t imagine spending ten years living in orbit. Not to mention that ten years in zero gravity would leave them too weak to live on Earth again. Their legs would break beneath them as their bones thinned and muscles faded to nothing; zero-gravity living provided very little in the way of a workout. “How long will that—” Mia motioned to the view of Earth, “—last?”

Austin shook his head. “They only way to learn the effect of worldwide fallout is to have a worldwide nuclear war, so we’ll be the first to know. Typical fallout settles on the ground within about two weeks. But this...this is something different. I think we somehow changed the fundamental makeup of the planet. I’m not sure the planet can recover from this.”

“So we’ll die up here?” Mia asked, keeping her eyes on the roiling Earth atmosphere. “In ten years?”

Austin shook his head. “Air won’t last more than six, and that’s assuming the scrubbers never fail.”

They stared in silence at the view. Mia knew that in the weeks to come they would all become accustomed to the sight of their dead planet. In years its role in the sky would become as mundane as the moon’s. A dead world they could never again visit.

“What happens...
”
Mia started, “if you reduce the crew number to one?”

Tom closed his eyes and sighed, then plugged the number change in to the computer. He sat back as the results displayed on the screen. “Seventy years.”

“What about two people?”

Austin typed the new number.
“Thirty-five.
What are you thinking?”

“There are no stasis chambers or any sci-fi stuff like that on board, right? We can’t just sleep through this?”

Austin shook his head, no.

“Then we need to decide, everyone lives for six more years...” Mia looked at the floor dreading the cold, Spock-like suggestion. But it made sense. “Or seven of us die now and maybe the two survivors live long enough to return to the surface and repopulate the planet.”

“Adam and Eve?”

Mia nodded. “Something
like
that.”

“So who’s the lucky man?” The edge in Austin’s voice revealed his dislike for the idea.

“I didn’t say I would be the woman,” Mia said.

“Your math did. You said seven would have to die now. That leaves three. Elizabeth. You and...?”

Mia’s shoulders sank as she sighed. “It was just an idea.”
One that would once again put her in the arms of another man.
Guilt twisted her insides. No matter how long she lived, or if they ever returned to Earth, she would have to carry the guilt of what she had done until she died.

Austin nodded slowly. “Unfortunately, if things don’t change down there in the next few weeks...it’s probably a good idea.”

Mia turned to him and looked in his eyes. He was serious. The idea, at first logical and clean, became messy with thoughts of how the others might be convinced of its validity...or even if they would have to be convinced. Could she murder the others to save the human race? Could she live with
that
for the rest of her life, too? Her thoughts turned to the lessons taught to her in Sunday school during the few years her parents had gone to church. God had supposedly destroyed the world once, leaving only a few survivors. “Noah,” she said.