Offworld (9 page)

Mae was throwing two large black garbage bags that were undoubtedly stuffed with her possessions into the bed of the pickup truck.

Noticing that they were watching her, she said, "Y'all done yet?
Gotta potty."

Chris sighed. Under different circumstances, he might have found
this comical.

"Looks like she's coming with us," Terry said with a lopsided grin,
and returned to the driver's seat of the truck.

"We're headed for Houston," Chris informed her. He felt she
should know.

" 'Kay," she said without a trace of concern.

Half an hour later, the two cars pulled to a stop in a housing
development located in an Orlando suburb called Aloma. Chris and
Trisha were in front in the SUV; the pickup trailed them.

Chris turned the key to the off position and the vehicle quieted.
Like everywhere else, the housing development proved disturbingly
serene. A child's swing blew in the breeze in a nearby front yard,
the creaking of its rusted chains the only sound any of them could
hear.

Chris' thoughts were centered on the multitude of strange things
taking place around them. The evidence was mounting that something very unnatural had happened to Earth's populace, and could
still be happening. Then there was the void he'd seen twice. Plus
that strange light was shining so bright near Houston. And now there
was the girl named Mae.

"Take as long as you need," Chris said, not meeting Trisha's eyes
out of respect. He cared about Trisha enough to mean the words as
he said them, yet he still felt distracted and agitated. He wanted to be
in Houston. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

A simple but heartfelt nod was her way of saying thanks, and she
exited the car, walked up the short, paved driveway, and approached
the front door of Paul's house. The house didn't look much different
than any of the other houses in the development; the lawn showed
signs of two-plus months of neglect, and there were bits of trash and
debris here and there, deposited by the wind. But otherwise it was a
perfectly reasonable, modest little home, offering no clues as to what
Trisha might find inside. The driveway was missing a car, but that
didn't mean anything; Paul had likely been at work just like everyone
else when he'd disappeared. They'd already established from the NASA
security videos that it happened in the late afternoon.

Chris watched as Trisha knelt and rooted around in a clump of
soil just beside the door until she retrieved a key. She used it to enter
the house.

A burst of static filled his ear. "Hey, Chris?" said Terry's voice
through the radio.

"Yeah," he replied.

"We, uh ... We may have a slight problem."

Chris was absently watching the house, seeing only the drapes
covering the windows, and wondering what Trisha was seeing right
now on the other side of those curtains. "What's that?"

"You know, um, Mae?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think I recall the kooky homeless
girl we picked up half an hour ago. Please tell me she didn't potty'
in the back of the truck."

"No, she didn't. But she's ... sorta gone."

Chris spun in his seat and looked into the cab of the truck. It was
empty. Mae had been riding in the truck bed beside her bags of stuff,
but now only the bags remained. "Sorta gone where?"

"That would be the problem' part," said Terry slowly.

"You didn't see her leave?"

"We were watching Trisha go in the house!" Terry replied, defensive. "But Mae left all her stuff in the truck, so I don't think she's gone
gone. Maybe she just needed to stretch her legs or something."

Chris shook his head. The world was empty, and Houston was
beckoning; there wasn't time for baby-sitting.

Wonderful.

Trisha stood in the center of Paul's living room, and stared.

She found what she was looking at to be harder to accept than
the disappearance of every man, woman, and child on Earth.

The house had been gutted.

All of Paul's belongings-everything from his favorite art pieces
adorning the walls to that hideous fish-shaped lamp that she always
teased him about-they were gone. The walls, the floors, the kitchen
cupboards. Everything was stripped bare. All but the curtains.

Trisha felt as though her knees were going to buckle, but she
dug in her heels and decided she wasn't going to go down. No, not
today. That would only lead down a pain-filled path to things she couldn't hide from the others. She would not let it happen. So she
focused on trying to compartmentalize.

She wasn't sure what she had expected to find, but it wasn't this.
Absolutely not this.

Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she and Paul met. He
was a technician contracted by NASA, working on the Ares' booster
rockets. She was in town doing press for the mission, which was still
a year and a half away.

Their romance had been the stuff of fairy tales, though they'd
been careful to keep it out of the press. He was smitten from the
moment their eyes first met; the next day he introduced himself, presented her with a single red rose, and asked her out. She hadn't been
interested in a relationship at the time-and she knew NASA would
frown on it, given her assignment to the long-term Mars missionbut she found that she couldn't resist him. He was charming, gallant,
handsome, and when she spoke to him, he hung on her every word
like a hungry puppy.

This place, this house she now stood in-she could remember the
first time he'd invited her here. It was their fifth date. He wanted to
cook for her. It was the first time in her life she could ever remember
a man cooking for her. And his cooking wasn't half bad. He'd burned
the dessert. Despite herself, she'd fallen for him. Hard.

This house was so familiar. It had been a haven for her. As a
career astronaut with years of experience, she was well known by the
media, and her PR duties sometimes were as physically and mentally
overwhelming as her training often was. It was endless and exhausting, but such was the price one paid for a round-trip ticket to Mars.

On the plus side, those same duties that brought her to Orlando to
speak to VIPs and give the press guided tours also brought her closer
to Paul. She would come here to his house at the end of a long day of
speaking engagements or personal tours of the Ares construction site,
and prop her feet up on his mahogany coffee table while he snuggled
with her on the couch and they watched an old movie.

This place that was once so familiar now felt like a violation. This
modest house was the closest thing she'd had in years that truly felt
the way a home should feel; it was inviting and warm, it expected
nothing of her, and it provided her with anything she might need,
whether that be comfort, solitude, or just a warm embrace.

The house was Paul.

But he had gone, and everything else about this place that made
it feel so inviting was gone too.

A shell. An empty, awful echo.

Paul, wherever you are ... I love you.

And I miss youu.

She took one last look around and wiped away the salty pools
that threatened to spill down her cheeks. A deep breath in and out,
and she swallowed the rising lump in her throat.

I guess a lot can happen in two and a ha f :years.

And all of her many random thoughts brought her to one, solitary conclusion. It resounded within her mind again and again and
again.

I should have said yes.

When he proposed, that night before the launch ... I should have
said yes.

Chris found Mae after half an hour of searching the neighborhood. She was walking down the street alone, several blocks away,
carrying a large duffel bag.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Scroungin'."

She was either unable to pick up on his displeasure, or it just
didn't matter to her. He couldn't tell which.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get back to the others."

They walked in silence for a few moments before Chris asked,
"What's in the bag?"

"Stuff."

He was growing irritated. "What kind of stuff?"

"Food. Towels. Shoes."

Chris considered this. It did seem like the kinds of basic necessities
a homeless person would collect. `And where did you get it all?"

Around. Figured they wasn't using it."

"So ... you know? You know that everyone's gone?"

" 'Course. All of 'em. Gone a while back."

Chris knitted his eyebrows together. `And that didn't seem strange
to you? Suddenly being all alone in the world?"

Mae shrugged. Always been alone in the world."

He had no idea what to say to that. "Okay. But no more wandering off by yourself."

When they got back to the vehicles, Trisha was already in the
SUV. Sitting, waiting, staring at nothing. Quietly. Owen and Terry
watched in silence from the truck.

"We need to get back on the road, we've got one more stop to
make," Chris directed Mae.

She climbed into the back of the truck again and dragged her
big bag up next to her. She was quickly filling up the truck's bed
with all of her "stuff."

Chris swung into the SUV's driver seat and glanced briefly at
Trisha. He couldn't tell anything about what she'd found inside Paul's
house from her appearance. She excelled at masking things. He knew
this fact about her better than most.

She was staring out her side window, refusing to face him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, tentatively.

"Mm-hmm," she replied.

She said nothing for the next twenty minutes as the two vehicles
made their way to another suburb, this one a historical district near
Lake Cherokee.

Filled with quaint older houses along a cobblestone street bursting
with ancient trees and shrubs, it was lovely, if a bit overgrown, and
much like Chris remembered it. He stopped the truck at the entrance
to the neighborhood.

He fingered his earpiece. "I just need a few minutes. Make sure
Mae stays put this time."

"Sure thing, boss," Terry replied.