After Earth (6 page)

I think it looks cool, but I figure it's not a good sign. I tell my dad, and he explains, “Your suit's made of smart fabric. It has motion sensors. I'm tracking a life-form moving near you from the west.”

Tensing, I whisper, “Ursa?”

“Negative. It's smaller. Bio-signs read only a meter and a half long.” He says that like it's no big deal, but I freeze.

“
I'm
a meter and a half long!” If the smart fabric thinks this thing is a threat, who am I to disagree? I want to run, but my dad starts rattling off instructions.

“It's closing rapidly from the west. Do not move. Relax. Try to give me visual. Creatures on this planet have evolved from the ones we have on record because of radiation bursts. It's at fifty meters, forty, thirty . . .”

My breath comes ragged and fast. I better stop recording and get ready to fight. More later—I hope.

//////// ENTRY 8

W
ell, I survived. Not without some damage. But we'll get to that.

My dad told me the thing was slowing down. “Twenty . . .” While he paused, I hoped that the thing had changed direction. But then he resumed counting. “Ten . . .”

I prepped myself as best I could, holding my cutlass out in front of me. But as I listened to plants snapping beneath the approaching creature's feet, it got harder and harder not to completely freak out.

“It's right there, Kitai,” my dad said quietly.

“I don't see it! I don't see anything,” I said in a panicked whisper.

“Relax, Cadet. Recognize your power.” His words calmed me somehow, though I didn't really understand what he meant.

Slowly, an animal that reminded me of the baboons I'd seen in pictures appeared. Primates other than humans hadn't done well on Nova Prime, so I had never seen one up close before. Its face was strangely human, but it walked on four feet.

 

 

“It's fine, Kitai,” my dad said, watching the primate on the video feed. “Be still. Let it pass. Do not startle it.”

But I doubted he could see the way it was looking at me, the threat I saw in its eyes. I didn't think I could just wait for it to go away. It seemed like it was looking for a fight.

I picked up a nearby rock and brandished it at the baboon. Now I was razor-focused on the beast, blocking out all other sights and sounds.

“Back up!” I shouted. The creature screeched in response, but didn't move away. I waved the rock at it again, more threateningly this time.

“Don't do anything!” my dad ordered, but I didn't listen—couldn't listen. He wasn't out here—he didn't see how dangerous this beast was. “Kitai, no!”

“Get out of here!” I yelled as loud as I could, hoping to scare the thing away.

I heard my dad cry, “Kitai, stop!” but it was too late. I had already released the rock, which just barely hit the baboon. I wasn't trying to hurt it—I just wanted it to get away from me.

“You are creating this situation,” Dad said. “Be still.” I knew he could see my vitals skyrocketing, but I thought my way had worked.

Then a bunch of baboons burst out of the brush, their bloodcurdling war cries echoing through the forest. “Cadet, get control of yourself!” my dad shouted. “Listen to my instructions!”

With the creatures surrounding me, I tapped a pattern on the cutlass's handle. The fibers at its ends retracted into the handle and disappeared. I stared at it in shock. That wasn't at all what I had wanted. Looking up, I saw the baboons closing in. Panicked, I tapped out another pattern. The handle separated to form two batons. That would do. I swung them all around me to fend off the beasts. But they jumped out of range, then advanced again.

“To your rear, Cadet!” my dad shouted. “Out to your rear!”

Glancing behind me, I saw the opening my dad had seen and made a break for it. I attached the cutlass to my back and ran as fast as I could. The baboons chased me while I darted through the forest. Good thing I'm fast. I leapt from rock to rock and sprinted through the dense forest, outrunning them.

But then they swung into the trees and started gaining on me. That was one technique I couldn't match. They grabbed large pinecones from the trees and hurled them down at me. More of them were joining the chase every second. I counted ten, then twenty, then fifty of the creatures, all swinging and jumping through the trees, all throwing things at me. Somehow I managed to dodge everything they threw. Guess baboons don't have great aim. But eventually, one of them was bound to get in a lucky shot. A giant pinecone struck me square in the back, and I stumbled before turning the motion into a forward roll and springing back to my feet.

“Cross the river, Cadet!” my dad called over the noise of the chase. “I repeat, cross the river!”

I stopped short when I reached the bank of a raging river. The water was rougher than I had expected, but with the creatures screeching close behind me, I had no choice. I dove in.

From the shore, all fifty baboons continued throwing branches and pinecones after me, the water exploding around me with their projectiles. I was a strong swimmer, but bobbing in and out of the water to dodge their attacks was wearing me out fast. I gulped water, then burst back to the surface. I looked back, trying to see whether they were gaining on me, but there was water in my eyes and I couldn't get a clear view.

“Cadet, they are no longer in pursuit,” my dad said.

Although I heard his words, they didn't sink in. Reaching the other side of the river, I scrambled out of the water and fled.

I noticed that my lifesuit had turned back to a rust color, but I wasn't convinced that everything was okay. “I say again, they are not following you,” my dad repeated.

I didn't believe him. I ran as fast as I could, every noise in the trees driving me to go even faster and farther, certain that the beasts were closing in on me. “Cadet, you are not being followed!” he insisted. “Kitai, you are running from nothing!”

Reaching a clearing, I slowed to pull out the cutlass. I executed a 360-degree turn, bracing myself to fight off whatever came at me.

“Put my cutlass away,” my dad ordered. “Take a knee, Cadet.”

I finally obeyed, dropping to one knee, panting. My eyes were wide, darting frantically around the clearing; I was terrified that another attack was coming.

“If you want to die today, that's fine. But you are not going to kill me today. You are not out here by yourself. Everything you do affects me. I see right now that you do not have the intelligence to think for yourself, so I will be your brain. You
do not
think.” I wanted to nod, but I felt foggy, frozen in place. He was right. I couldn't think. It would be a relief not to have to.

“Kitai, I need you to do a physical assessment,” my dad said. I registered the concern in his voice and thought that was nice until he said, “I'm showing rapid blood contamination. Are you cut?”

I'd been fighting, running, swimming—but I hadn't been cut. I would've remembered that. Curled in on myself, I noticed that my lifesuit had turned white. I didn't know what white meant.

“Kitai, I need you to do a physical evaluation! Are you bleeding?” His stern voice broke through my shock.

Slowly I started doing an assessment, but when I tried to stand, I staggered, off balance.

“Kitai?” my dad asked, the concern there again.

“I'm dizzy,” I said. The words didn't sound right to me. My lips felt swollen.

“Check yourself,” he insisted. I looked down at my hands and saw a giant leech-like parasite attached to my left hand. I ripped it off, disgusted, and flung it away. But it tore my skin as I did, and a nasty rash bloomed where the thing had been.

“Open your med kit, Kitai.” My dad's voice was ultra-calm.

I reached for my backpack, but I was so tired, and it was just out of reach. Gathering all my strength, I scooted forward and managed to loop my finger around it. “I can't stand up,” I muttered. My fingers felt thick, and I fumbled with the med kit before finally managing to open it.

“You have to administer the antitoxin in sequence,” my dad said, his tones smooth and comforting. “Inject yourself with the clear liquid first.” I nodded, staring at the syringe, but couldn't remember how to use it. “Do it now!” he shouted when I paused too long, breaking his calm to get my attention.

It worked. I popped the protective cap off the first hypodermic needle. My hands shook, but that wasn't my biggest problem. “Dad,” I said. “I can't see.”

“The poison is affecting your nervous system,” he explained. “Relax. Stay even.”

I didn't see how relaxing would help when I was going blind. I fumbled with the needle, my eyes swelling shut. I knew I couldn't afford to panic, but I couldn't help it. “Dad, please come help me,” I cried out like a little kid. I knew it was impossible, but it was also impossible for me to save myself. “I can't see! Please come help me!”

“Stay even!” he insisted. “Inject yourself directly into the heart with the first stage now!”

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed the needle into my chest and pressed the plunger down.

“Now the second stage,” Dad said. “Hurry.”

Fumbling blindly, I searched the med kit for the next needle.

“Your left, to your left!” Dad called. I was grateful that the video feed was still working.

After what felt like way too long, I found the second hypodermic. My eyes were completely swollen shut now, my hands shaking, but I managed to remove the needle's cap by feel. I stuck the needle in, but my thumb wouldn't move to press the plunger down. “I can't feel my hands! I can't . . .”

Darkness rolled over me in waves, but I fought to stay conscious. As I fell to my knees, I heard my dad say, “Press it into the ground! Kitai, roll over on it and press it into the ground!”

With the very last of my strength, I threw myself forward and felt the medicine burn into my chest as the plunger hit the ground. I slumped over and lay limp in the grass, barely conscious and unable to move.

“Great work, Cadet. Now you're going to have to lie there.” That I could do. “The parasite that stung you has a paralyzing agent in its venom. You're just going to have to lie there for a little bit while the antitoxin does its job.”

//////// ENTRY 9

I
lay there forever. I felt like I was drifting but I also felt very, very heavy. It seemed like the world was getting darker and colder with each passing moment. I thought death might feel like that.

“Kitai.” My dad's voice seemed to be coming from far away. Then I remembered, he
was
far away, alone on a ruined ship just like I was alone in this empty clearing. I thought about answering, but my lips wouldn't move. Or maybe I just drifted off again before I could try.

“Kitai, it's time to get up.” I thought I heard some fear in his voice now, but that was impossible. The great Cypher Raige is one of only seven humans in history to be completely free of fear. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe in the dream, my dad loved me so much that his worry for me was greater than his unbreakable, inhuman composure. Something howled around me—maybe the wind, maybe a wolf. Nothing I could do, either way.

“Kitai, I want you to blink your eyes.” I just wanted to sleep, but he wouldn't leave me alone. “Son, I need you to please blink your eyes.”

That was strange. He hadn't called me “son” in years. I had to know if I had imagined it, so I fluttered my eyes open. “Hey, Dad,” I said, my voice raspy and throat dry. “That sucked.”

“That is correct.” I wondered if I had just heard my dad attempt a joke. Not at all what I expected from him. But then he continued drily delivering the facts, and I figured things were back to normal. “The temperature is dropping five degrees every ten minutes,” Dad told me. “You've got twelve kilometers to the hot spot.” No time for a heartfelt reunion, then. Back to business.

Struggling to my feet, I began gathering up my gear. When I finally had everything, my dad said, “Let's see that ten kilometers in fifty minutes that you spoke about earlier, Cadet.”

Of course, that was my speed when I was feeling good. Now I felt terrible, still recovering from the leech's poison, but I had no choice but to try. If I couldn't get to the hot spot in time, I would freeze—simple as that.

“Sir, yes sir,” I said, my voice still weak and raspy. Setting my naviband, I followed its bearings to the north. I sprinted unevenly over the icy terrain. I saw animals scrambling underground to avoid the deep freeze. Then it started to snow, and I drew in a breath as the tiny ice crystals brushed my bare head and cheeks.

When my dad asked for an update, I told him, “Ten mikes out. Good. All good.” I ran steadily, though it took everything I had to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other as the cold seeped into my body. “Five mikes out,” I reported, feeling pretty proud of myself for shaking off the poisoning and running through the freezing air.

I arrived at an elevated volcanic area where steam rose from the ground. Lush trees lay tipped over with the weight of overripe fruit, the sickly sweet scent of rot filling the air.

“Hot Spot One arrival,” I announced. “H plus forty-eight minutes!”

Outside the geothermal zone, I saw that the entire forest was covered in ice. Coughing, I said, “Sir. I made it. I'm here.”

It took him longer to answer than I would've expected, and I wondered again if everything was okay back on the ship. But when he replied, he sounded as in control as ever. “Make sure you have everything. Take your next inhaler. Your oxygen extraction is bottoming.”

I opened the med kit to do as he said, but what I saw was beyond belief. Terrifying. Life-threatening.

Two of the five remaining vials were broken. I didn't know if I had crushed them in my fight with the baboons, or maybe when I fell over after the leech poisoned me, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I didn't have enough breathing fluid left to complete my mission. Technically, that meant the mission should be over, right now. I hid the kit from my dad, not wanting him to know we were doomed. I would find some way to make it work—I had to. Both our lives depended on it.

“Use the next dose of breathing fluid,” my dad insisted.

As another coughing fit threatened to overtake me, I realized that he was right—I was already struggling to breathe. But I wasn't going to let him see the trouble I was in, not if I could help it. “I'm good, Dad. I don't need it right now.”

If I could hold out just a little bit longer with each vial, maybe I could stretch them out enough to make it to the ship's tail. There were probably med kits there, where I could get more breathing fluid for the trip back. I tried not to think about how much worse the crash had probably been for the tail section of the ship, how there might not be any usable med kits left.

I expected my dad to argue, but he just said, “Okay.”

It felt like my chest was being crushed, and I kind of wished he would yell at me to take the next vial until I had no other choice. Then it wouldn't be my fault if I ran out before completing my mission.

Except that it would be, of course, since I was the one who had somehow shattered the vials. And I would die just as surely if I ran out of oxygen a little farther down the road as I would if I did it right now. I struggled to draw in a breath, coughing and wheezing as I did. The coughs built, racking my whole body.

I understood why they said Earth could no longer support human life. We couldn't breathe here without supplementing the oxygen supply. All these plants and animals had somehow adapted, but it seemed like a fair bet that humans would have just died out when our air supply tanked before we ever had a chance to evolve. I had never thought about breathing before—who does, when we do it automatically, every moment of our lives? But now it was all I could think about, and despite my efforts to conceal my pain, I doubled over. I stared at the vials, knowing that I could end my suffering now, but the thought that these few extra moments might make a difference in whether or not I survived kept me from doing it.

Finally, I couldn't hold out any longer. I pulled out the second vial of breathing fluid and inhaled it. Soon my labored breathing eased enough for me to say, “Second dose of breathing fluid complete.”

“Count off remaining so you can keep track.” Maybe I imagined it, but I thought he sounded satisfied. As if he sat there, quiet, to teach me some kind of lesson. I couldn't tell him that I was low on breathing fluid. He would never let me keep going, and I knew I couldn't stop.

So I choked out a lie. “Four vials remain, sir.” He didn't call me on it.

I ducked into the musty hollow of a rotting tree, wanting to hide from a cluster of strange creatures. It was a good thing too, because I'd only just taken cover when the sky burst open, pouring down the hardest rain I'd ever seen. The tree offered some shelter, but not enough to completely protect me from the rain's stray splashes and spatters.

Shivering and exhausted, I looked up at the giant leaves above me and saw a bee caught in a spiderweb. It tried to escape, making the gossamer thread that held it tremble. A spider bigger than my fist rushed down the web and started further entangling its prey.

I wasn't scared of much, but I was scared of spiders, and I almost looked away right then. But the bee was still fighting, and I hoped it would win.

When the bee stopped struggling, the spider seemed unable to find it, blind as an Ursa without fear to guide it. I watched as the spider went in for the kill, its venomous fangs bared—but then the bee snapped to life once more, stinging the spider again and again. It was wild, and savage—and amazing. The spider made its sluggish way to the center of its web to die, while the bee, still tethered by the web, gave up trying to escape and died too. Maybe it was just because I was tired and lonely, but the whole thing struck me as such a tragic waste. Was that what we were doing as we battled the Ursa—killing them, maybe, but also destroying ourselves? It all seemed so pointless all of a sudden.

“Dad?” I called over my comm unit. “Dad?”

“I'm here.” It sounded like I had woken him up, but he snapped quickly to attention.

I could tell he thought something was wrong, and I felt bad for worrying him just because I was miserable and bored. But since he was up now, I figured I might as well say what I had only now worked up the courage to ask. “How'd you do it? How'd you first ghost?”

I wanted to know so I could do it myself, of course. But I also thought that understanding this about him might give me a key to understanding
him
.

I expected him to tell me this was no time for stories, that I needed to focus on surviving and if I made it, maybe he would tell me. But he started talking right away, as if he'd been waiting for me to ask. It was probably pretty lonely back on the ship too. I hadn't thought of that before now—I'd been so focused on my own loneliness.

“I went out for a run. Alone. Something we're never supposed to do. Ursa de-camos right in front of me. I go for my cutlass. Ursa shoots its pincer right through my shoulder.” The way he was talking, it seemed like he was still there, facing the Ursa. I wondered how often he relived that moment. Maybe constantly.

“Next thing I know, we're over the cliff. Falling thirty meters, straight down into the river. We settle on the bottom. It's on top of me, but it's not moving. And I realize, it's trying to drown me. I'm thinking I'm gonna die.
I'm gonna die.
I can't believe this is how I'm gonna die. I can see my blood bubbling up, mixing with the sunlight shining through the water, and I think,
wow, that's really pretty.
And everything slows down, and I think,
I wonder if an Ursa can hold its breath longer than a human?
I look around and I see its pincer through my shoulder and I decide I don't want that in there anymore. So I pull it out and it lets me go, and more than that, I can tell it can't find me. It doesn't even know where to look. And it dawned on me: fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination. Causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity, Kitai. Now do not misunderstand me: danger is very real. But fear is a choice. We are all telling ourselves a story, and that day mine changed.”

It was an amazing story, but at the same time, it sounded like something I might actually be able to do. I thought it was time to change my story too. Maybe, like the Primus would say, this whole crash had a reason. Maybe this is my time to step up and become a real Raige.

I couldn't fall asleep. I couldn't stop thinking about what he had said. I wondered why he'd never told me before.

I keep talking, though, quietly so as not to disturb my animal friends.