Bleak Page 16

  “Exactly.”

  “Hold on.” Nate pulled forth his pack and reached inside. “I want to write this down.”

  “There’s no need. You’re welcome to review the data. We were able to retrieve a lot of it from an observatory in former Virginia. On the edge of the verboten zone. It was one of the few intact.”

  Curt asked. “Why do you call it that?”

  “You would too,” Quinn replied. “I didn’t want to call it the forbidden zone, because we all made those bad Planet of the Apes jokes when we got here.”

  “So it’s not because of some odd reason, or a way to control people?” Rey asked.

  “No, it’s not. It’s to keep them alive,” Quinn said. “It’s calmed down a lot since we arrived here. But at first it was nature’s fury at its best. Tidal waves that crashed in, bizarre snow storms, earthquakes, you name it. It’s very dangerous there. I’ll show you a map. Pretty much Baltimore is on the edge of that zone. It has a lot to do with the ocean.”

  “It was the planet, though?” Nate asked. “That was the determination. When?”

  Quinn nodded. “When you left, things had been falling apart for a few years. Gradually getting worse, continents drifting faster, volcanic eruptions, well, you know the story. No one knew why. I mean, the sun was thought to be the main culprit, or the moon for that matter. Then about five years after your disappearance it was discovered that the planet was pretty much coming in directly behind our moon. When we left, they estimated it would be about two hundred years or so before it was close. There was a fear that it might strike the moon. It didn’t … obviously. When we got here and saw it, we suspected, but hadn’t confirmed at first that it was pulled into the same rotation as the moon.”

  “That’s my theory,” Nate said.

  “We confirmed that at the observatory. We’ve been here twenty-five years; we have had a lot of time to explore.”

  Finch lifted his hand slightly, alerting them he was going to speak. “You weren’t on Earth when it fell apart?”

  “No.” Quinn shook his head. “That doesn’t mean we don’t know what happened. People survived, the story was passed from generation to generation. Documents kept. You don’t see other survivors, we’re scattered about. Hundreds of miles apart. What we know … the planet pushed the moon back, it disrupted our tides and rotation. Natural disasters were worse than we experienced. The United States was the first to absorb the wave. They relied heavily on information from the UK. At one point, this entire area was under water. There were portions of the United States that didn’t get touched, however. Colorado, Utah, and Wyoming never went under. Eventually Europe went under, but it wasn’t before they were able to save about one percent of their population. They moved the ships and subs south and out of the former Atlantic region, because that portion is hell.”

  “We’ve learned,” Finch said.

  “We’ve taken the Genesis up many times to explore and take pictures.”

  “How long?” Curt asked. “How long ago? Has to be hundreds of years, right?”

  Quinn pursed his lips. “You would think. Timetable tells us that Xbruxus looped into the final orbit about fifty years after we left. That final event happened ninety-two years ago. Sadly, you have been gone one hundred and sixty-seven years.”

  Finch, Nate, and Curt all sat back taking in the news.

  Rey widened her eyes. “That means the ARCs got off the ground.”

  “We have yet to be able to confirm that. From what we read, the earth pretty much went into peril within a decade of our launch. If they did, they aren’t here yet.” Quinn looked up when Dana approached holding a long silver case, two feet wide, ten inches deep. It was dirty and in some parts rusted.

  “Heavy,” she said.

  “Thank you, Dana.” Quinn pushed the box to the center of the table. “This belongs to all of you. We were given this when we left, in hopes that we would find you in the new world, the Noah. No one ever gave up hope that you were alive.”

  Finch ran his hand over the box. “What’s in it?”

  “I don’t know. I never opened it. It’s yours.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Finch questioned. “The one Genesis worked, did you ever think to go back through the Androski? Go back right away and tell them?”

  Quinn smiled sadly. “That’s impossible. The wormhole, as I said, doesn’t have a control, there’s no knowing where you’ll end up. Look at us, we left after you and got here first. Our scientist estimated it’s a million to one shot of even coming close to the same time. A hundred years is a blink of an eye. So, no, we never tried.”

  Finch placed his hands flat on the case, smoothing them over it in wonder while absorbing the information he had received.

  Quinn had answered a lot of questions that Finch had on his mind. He was certain he’d have more as time moved on. The next big question was what was in the case. For that answer, Finch would wait until his entire team was together.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Quinn provided them a ride back to their camp, cautioning them to move farther west. The drive back was a quiet one, with the occasional gripe from Ben who reiterated he was still angry.

  Nate found it funny. Not so much Ben’s pain, but Curt’s ability to push Ben’s buttons. He kept telling Ben, “You have to see the humor in this, right? Everything is happening to you. Wait, unless it’s Rey who’s your bad luck charm.”

  “Hey, now,” she said. “I resent that.”

  Nate paid close attention to everyone’s demeanor. Sandra was less talkative claiming she had to take in all the information that was given to her. It fazed Ben less than it fazed Nate.

  Finch was quiet, the case rested on his lap and his hands stayed upon the surface. As if he were protecting the case with his life.

  The driver, Westerman, was first generation New Earth and about eighteen years old. He knew a better way around the slope, at least the steep side. There was no way Ben could walk it, and he declined staying in their hospital.

  However, Westerman took the offer to stay the night at the Omni. It was too dark and dangerous to drive back alone.

  Once they arrived, it was an unspoken agreement the case would be opened.

  Finch was silent when he did. Inside was what looked like a tablet in a case, set in a docking port. Curt immediately put the port in the Omni, but after two hours, the tablet wouldn’t charge.

  It was dead from years of non-use.

  Ben didn’t let it go, he took the tablet and assured the others he would make it work.

  Inside the case was a letter from the president thanking them for their service and wishing them well in their new land. There were mementos and pictures from their lives that had been in their homes. Items they wouldn’t have thought to bring for a short trip.

  Newspaper clippings, a few new books, and different things that Tom Waite, the gentleman from NASA, believed they would miss.

  They sat around the campfire, looking at the items. Westerman sat back, looking like a third wheel.

  “I think we all need to talk,” Finch said. “When Ben comes back out …”

  “I got it,” Ben yelled from the Omni. “Guys, come on. It’s a video message. I got it.”

  Without hesitation they all raced inside to the Omni.

  It was an occasion which called for a drink, and even Finch indulged, sipping his, standing in the back watching.

  Ben was unable to start the tablet, but rigged it to the ship’s computer system.

  There was sadness mixed with laughter as the individual messages were played for them.

  Nate’s message was first; it was his military friends, guys that he had stayed in contact with and ones who helped him through the loss of his family.

  “You are so lucky,” the one said. “Hope you find a nice alien woman.”

  They laughed.

  The team laughed.

  “Seriously though, take care, bud.”

  When an older man along with a group of ni
ne men squished into the screen, everyone was surprised the message came for Nate.

  Curt gave him a friendly shove. “You never mentioned you had friends?”

  “That’s my softball team. We’ve been playing since high school. The older guy is my uncle.”

  They delivered their messages.

  Curt’s message was from a slew of women.

  Rey’s brother and his family all spoke of how they missed her and loved her, how proud they were of her and hoped she found happiness.

  Sandra shed more tears than most as a woman came on screen. It was her girlfriend. The woman joked at first about Sandra having to be a new ‘Eve’ in the new world, then delivered a heartfelt message.

  They all wanted to watch their messages again, but Rey needed air. She’d have plenty of time to watch them later. With her drink in hand, she stepped outside and saw Finch standing by the fire.

  It was then she realized there was no message for Finch.

  While everyone else always threw out there they had ‘no one left,’ that wasn’t entirely true. They did: friends, distant family, significant others.

  “Hey.” Rey approached him.

  “Hey. How was …” He cleared his throat. “Getting those messages?”

  “It was nice.”

  He nodded.

  “Finch … I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t have a message.”

  He looked at her. “I’m happy for you all. Just … it took the messages for me to realize I was really alone in the world.” He cleared his throat. “I’m used to it.”

  “You said before we went into the Omni we needed to talk.”

  “Yeah, we do.” He looked beyond her to the Omni. “And when everyone comes out, we are going to do just that.”

  <><><><>

  They all sat around the fire, and Finch walked to each person, handing them a small square, blank piece of paper and pen.

  “What’s this?” Curt asked.

  “I said we needed to talk,” Finch said. “This is your vote.” He held up a square. “We got here. We found out where we are. We haven’t talked about what we’re going to do. Quinn invited us to live in his village. Set up camp there until we have housing. Integrate ourselves. Or we can find our own place to set up.”

  “Is that what we’re voting on?” Nate asked.

  Finch shook his head. “What we do, where we set up, is all contingent on what you vote to do. We came here as a team and we’ll make the decision as one. I want you to vote whether we stay, or we take our chances and go back through the Androski.”

  Ben stared at his square. “I didn’t think it was an option. I thought that was your call.”

  “It’s not.”

  “It’s a wormhole,” Nate said. “You heard Quinn, chances are we won’t go back to our own time.”

  “We could end up in the middle of everything,” Rey said. “Or thousands of years in the past. It’s a crap shoot.”

  “But there’s a chance we will, or maybe even might come close. The NOAA did, right?” Finch said. “We need to all agree that whatever the majority decides is what we will do. Agree?”

  He watched as they all nodded.

  “Wait. Wait.” Curt held up his hand. “There are six of us. What if it’s a tie?”

  Finch bent down and lifted a tin cup. “In here are two slips of paper. One says stay, the other says go home.” He walked the cup over to Westerman, who sat by his own tent. He handed it to him.

  “What? Me?” Westerman asked.

  “You’ll reach in and grab the deciding vote,” Finch told him.

  Westerman took the cup.

  “Okay,” Finch returned over to the fire. “Vote.”

  <><><><>

  It was quiet except for the crackling of the fire. There was a sense of nervousness within the group as Finch lifted each sheet of paper, unfolded it and read the anonymous vote.

  “Go.” Finch pulled the next one. “Go … stay.” He pulled another. “Go.” Another. “Stay.” He reached inside for the final vote. He opened it, raised his eyes and then read it, “Stay.”

  “Tie,” Curt sighed out. “How did I not see that one coming?”

  “Again,” Finch said as he stood. “We are all in agreement that we do whatever is pulled from the cup?” When he got their agreement he walked over to Westerman. “Please pull one.”

  Westerman shook the cup and reached inside. He removed the vote and handed it to Finch.

  Finch opened it.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “I’d like to officially announce,” Ben said, “there isn’t a part of my body that doesn’t hurt.” He sat in his seat on the flight deck then reached up for a control. He paused. “I can’t.”

  “I got this.” Finch intercepted and turned on the screens. “You’re good.” He took his pilot’s seat.

  Curt came from the back of the Omni. “Everything is secure,” he announced. “Is Ben still complaining?”

  Everyone grumbled a, “Yes.”

  “Man, and we gave you a couple days of rest.” Curt checked the belts on Rey’s chair along with Nate’s. “Hope you aren’t like this the whole trip.” He gave a pat to Ben’s back as he took his seat.

  “Ow.”

  Curt looked back at him.

  “Seriously, everything hurts. You guys weren’t target practice.”

  Westerman leaned from his chair into the aisle. “Hey, guys, I’m really glad you let me tag along.”

  “No problem, son. Glad to have you,” Finch told him.

  Even though the tiebreak vote determined they would stay, it didn’t mean they couldn’t utilize the Omni. The ship was fully charged, and like Quinn and the Genesis, the crew of the Omni were going to see the earth. They would orbit the planet, landing where they could, capturing images and seeing with their own eyes the changes that had occurred.

  There was a sense of peace amongst them on the decision to stay. They would do their best to make a new life. They weren’t sure if they would join Quinn and the others, but if they didn’t, they would keep close.

  Until then, they were going to finish their original mission and explore the new earth. They would do so completely without the constraints of a two-week time limit. See each land, each sea, find civilizations of generations that had defied the odds of extinction.

  It was new and exciting, dangerous and a little scary. While it was their home, it was alien to them.

  Despite the survival of humankind, Earth had been cleansed, reborn and the crew of Omni-4, like the earth, had been given a fresh start.

  One they would take, one step, one day, and one flight at a time.

  It was time to go.

  “Let’s do this,” Finch said as he fired up the engines.

  About the Author

  Jacqueline Druga is a native of Pittsburgh, PA. Her works include genres of all types but she favours post-apocalypse and apocalypse writing.

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  Twitter: @gojake

  Website: www.jacquelinedruga.com

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