Deeper Into the Void (14 page)

The visor of the figure’s helmet is completely obscured in flames, yet Mendez can make out the subtle movement of the helmet. Mendez’s eyes grow heavy under the searing pain. She slips back into the windless sea of her unconscious mind; her thoughts drift away from her in this desolate expanse behind her eyelids. Hours pass, unmarked by intermittent time.

Chapter 14

Year 15, Day 40

T
he rising sun brings yet another morning; the dust-laden plains, surrounding the dome, fill with light. Rocks littering the landscape, untouched by human hand or design, draw long shadows behind them through the ever-changing sand-scape. The solar panels, in the array outside the dome, groan as they begin to turn toward the distant rising sun. This array appears most contrived in this natural wasteland of sand and rock.

The wind blowing over the ridge of the endless volcanic cauldron atop Mount Olympus can be seen blowing bits of the sublimating carbon dioxide ice as it vaporizes in the morning sunshine. Clouds of this gas surround much of the peak’s ridges. Driving winds leave their mark upon the clouds, a mark that can be plainly seen from the distant dome.

Outside the quiet confines of the dome, marks left by feet lay imprinted inside the rig tire-marks as they stretch out into the distance. Wind-driven sand slowly erodes these marks, erasing any evidence of their existence as the sand fills and shifts in the morning breeze. The evidence of a journey home the night before washes away into the endless sea of dust.

Echoes of voices once heard over the radio resound from cavern to hillside, from cliff-face to peak. The silent sound of memory rings through the dome, filling the dormitory building. A night fraught with tragic realities and terrible dreams has oppressed the four remaining, disconsolate crew.

Mendez sits silently on her simple bunk. Morning’s light casts her room into a deep, rich red color. Her arms are wrapped around her knees; she pulls them tightly against her chest. The red light within the room almost blends the swollen red blood vessels into the white of her eyes. She rubs her right forearm tenderly; a handprint pattern of burn blisters on her arm is carefully hidden beneath her sleeve from the morning light as it invades her room. Tears rush down her cheeks from distant eyes.

Lachrymose feeling flees her mind as sheer panic replaces its hold upon her. Her eyes fixate, once again, upon her small window. Recollection of the unusual memory last night returns in perfect clarity to her mind. The suit, she recalls well, was hung neatly on those hooks above the window when she had fallen asleep. She did not move them, of this she is certain.

Forgetting about all else, Mendez frantically searches the small closet space in her dorm room. She rushes to a kneeling position in front of her bunk. In the same frantic manner, she searches the footlocker underneath the bunk.

After taking a moment to breathe, and to try and calm herself, she realizes that she is still dressed in her work suit; she had fallen asleep in it the night before. She stumbles over to the sink in her dorm room. Time, it seems will reveal the whereabouts of her misplaced suit. Aberrant, misguided thoughts seep into her logical mind as she begins to stare into her mirror from across the room.

A single thought occupies her mind at present: “What happened?”. Her exhaustion does not make much sense to her. She had fallen asleep so quickly, and cannot remember anything from the night before, not a thing, save the bizarre nightmare that seemed so surreal. Memory of the dream rings clearly, begging the question: was it a dream at all? She looks down at her burns. She approaches her sink, and then turns the cold water on. Mesmerized by the nonsensical nature of her memory, she begins to run the water over her arm to quench the burning thirst of her skin.

She draws in a deep, cleansing breath before she reaches for her toothbrush, as if to carry on with her daily routine. “One bad night does not seem enough to justify a bad day too”, she has always said. A final inspection before leaving the dorm reveals an exhausted reflection staring back at her.

She stares for a moment into reflected brazen eyes. She watches her reflection blink. Mendez cocks her head to the side in disbelief.

In the mirror, her reflection moves right in front of her own eyes. The look-alike woman in the mirror begins to cough violently; her hands cover her mouth politely. Crimson blood appears on the thumb as it rubs up against the nose. A steady stream of the warm blood runs down the lips of the reflection, and drips down into the reflection of the sink.

As if to mimic her own reflection, she reaches up toward her lip and touches her nose with the side of her finger. The figure in the mirror does exactly that, as one might expect a reflection to do. Her reflected finger is well-covered in blood; her own, not at all.

She reaches over to her right, toward the door. Her hand strikes the door latch long before she had anticipated. With her head cocked sideways, she notices that the door is actually ajar. That door was clearly locked last night; the event of locking it is distinctly memorable. She looks out into the empty hallway; the sunshine illuminates the passageway thoroughly.

She turns back to her mismatched reflection. Her head darts back in surprise as she looks at the reflection of the back of the room. She looks to one side of the mirror and then the other trying to figure out why she is not visible in the reflection, the reflection that should be of her.

Cardiff stands just outside the doorway. She is clearly puzzled by Mendez’s side to side movement around her mirror.

Still rubbing her eyes, Mendez follows Cardiff into the hallway. Once again, she comes to a complete stop; Doctor Long is standing in the hallway right in front of her.

Cardiff continues to exit the dormitory, without Mendez. Mendez watches the captain leave for a moment before thoughtfully answering the rhetorical question posed to her by Long.

The short walk to the mess hall provides Doctor Mendez enough time to straighten out her faltering gait, and enough time to compose herself. Upon entering, Mendez notices Cardiff and Ghent, who are already seated and ready to eat.

Ghent looks up from the table and meets her watchful gaze. Mendez smiles at him and turns her head slightly to the side while raising her eyebrows. His eyes appear sunken into his flaccid face. Last night appears to have been equally brutal to the older man at the table.

Mendez gradually shifts her interest in talking about sleep problems to wondering why Cardiff is so dismissive this morning.

Hunger prevents meaningful conversation, everyone waits somewhat patiently for the food to be rehydrated. The simplest of thoughts occupy each mind, “Lawrence is gone”, “when will the food be done”, “what do I have to do today”. As the hunger pains wane in the act of eating breakfast, hunger gives way to a brief return of reason and logic; everyone seems to be thinking about the same exact thing. The tragedy of the prior day weighs heavily upon the somber group; Ghent feels less burdened than the others, but does not appear callused and hollow.

Aside from the conversation before the meal, no one is interested in speaking aloud. Thoughtful eyes seem to be wandering the table, looking at one and then the next, and so on. The sound of utensils on the plates provides a background noise that drowns out all other faint noises in the room. The light through the window shines onto the long table, which reflects the light back upward onto the ceiling and walls.

Doctor Long is the first to finish his portion, and quickly rises off of the bench to clean his plate. The gusto in which he moves provides a stark contrast with his behavior the past few days. He has a busy day planned; he will be examining the rest of the samples that he had managed to bring back.

Doctor Mendez finishes her reconstituted eggs and pushes her plate further into the center of the table. She looks on at the conversation with great interest. Cardiff sits across the table from Mendez, Cardiff watches her while she eats. Mendez’s expression remains unchanged on her face as she sits quietly, her hands rest on the table in front of her. After a quiet moment, Mendez returns her attention to the captain.

Mendez slowly nods to confirm the request made of her. Doctor Ghent quietly finishes his breakfast without saying another word to anyone. He finishes cleaning his dish, and leaves the mess hall. Work from the day before needs to be completed; the beehive down by the pond still needs to be setup. The bees haven’t been transplanted yet, and this work is important. It should have been completed the day before.

Doctor Ghent descends the two steps outside the mess hall and walks toward the center of the plaza, which is clad with terra cotta colored pavers throughout. He notices Doctor Long as he is pausing a moment to take a look at the company patch sewn onto his shoulder. While drawing in a large breath of air, Long appears contemplative.

This job is the first employment that he has ever had; he had been so focused on his own academic future and the prospect of finishing school that this is the first that he has thought of the larger picture. Is he expected to lay down his own life for the good of the company? Lawrence had been around longer and seemed to be confident in his role.

Doctor Ghent remains motionless at the bottom of the steps as to not alert Long of his eavesdropping on the momentary monologue.

Long’s internal monologue continues. How meaningful is this life of his, one spent with a hard-fast focus on self, despite the costs to others? On his last day, would he be able to look back on his own life, and say proudly that this was the life he lived? What does it really mean to be a part of something bigger than him, and what does he get out of it? The compensation that was awarded Long for his part on this mission is a very impressive amount. What would his employer expect out of him in return for that compensation? Sure, he is here, but how could his time here be most beneficial to those who have enlisted his services?