Offworld (34 page)

Mae didn't mean to spy. She just didn't like the idea of leaving
Trisha alone in such a frail condition.

Once she'd found the room Trisha had taken-a modest bedroom
with a single-sized bed and a vanity against the far wall-she took
up a post just outside the door, peeking through the crack where
the door hadn't quite shut all the way. There was something about
what Trisha was doing that Mae found herself quite unable to look
away from.

Trisha sat at the tiny vanity, examining herself in the mirror. Mae
couldn't see Trisha's face, which was blocked by the back of her head.
She didn't move for the longest time, and Mae almost wondered if
she'd dozed off while sitting upright. She knew people on the street
who could do that.

But Trisha moved again slowly, locating a hairbrush in the vanity's
drawer. Never taking her eyes off of herself, she unhurriedly stroked
the brush through her dark brown hair. Her hair was so disheveled
and unkempt, it made for rough work. Several times Trisha stopped
to pull out tangles. But she continued, slowly, methodically. It was a
ritual, Mae realized.

When she was satisfied, Trisha set the brush aside and rummaged
through the drawer again. Finding something Mae couldn't see, she
set it out but then rose to her feet and walked across the room to a
connected bathroom. Mae ducked out of sight in the hallway to keep
Trisha from seeing her as she passed by. When Trisha returned, she
had a wet terry-cloth washrag in her hands. She reseated herself at
the vanity and took a great deal of time scrubbing her face with the
rag. When she pulled it away from her face, Mae could see the dirt
that it had collected.

Next, Trisha took the object she'd earlier set out and stuck her
fingers inside it. They came out with a white cream of some kind on
them, and she massaged it across her face.

Trisha abruptly stopped what she was doing and stood. She
marched to the door and opened it. Mae was taken by surprise,
unable to conjure up an excuse.

Yet Trisha wasn't upset. There was a tired expression on her face,
but it was not unkind. Something that wasn't quite a smile flashed
across her lips, and she did something Mae didn't expect. She took
her by the hand.

Trisha guided Mae back into the room and gently pushed her
shoulders down until Mae was sitting at the vanity. Mae's eyes were
wide, her skin pale. She was expecting to be punished in some
way.

Trisha disappeared and then reappeared with another wet cloth.
She turned Mae to one side in the tiny chair and knelt before her. Mae
blinked and recoiled as Trisha traced the fresh washrag across the
features of her face. With attention to detail, Trisha carefully wiped
across Mae's nose, lips, around her eyes, her forehead, and cheeks.
She even washed behind her ears.

Then she stood and turned Mae to face the mirror again, standing behind her. Mae didn't give much thought to her reflection. She
never had.

Trisha examined the girl in the mirror thoughtfully. She wasn't smiling, and she hadn't said a single word since dragging Mae in here.
But her features lacked their usual hard edge, and she was looking
at Mae as if casually trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle.

She grabbed the handful of thin braids in Mae's hair and the small
charms hanging from their ends. Mae immediately put a hand up to
stop her, but thought twice about it, and finally relaxed, letting Trisha
work. Trisha pulled out the charms and then took the time to undo
her braids before picking up the brush and handing it to Mae.

Guiding her hand, she helped Mae coax the brush through her red
hair until all the kinks were worked out. Eventually she let her hand
drop away, and Mae continued working at it until the outer edges of
her hair fell across her ears, covering them in a pleasing way.

Trisha leaned over Mae's shoulder, looking closer at the reflection
in the mirror. She nodded. Mae didn't know what to think; she'd never
seen herself like this before. It almost didn't seem real. Something
about it made her heart rate increase, and she liked the sensation.

As Trisha was examining her work, Mae slowly reached out to
the container of face cream and picked it up. An innocence and
wonder on her face, she held the cream high enough for Trisha to
see it in the mirror.

For the first time since they'd met, Trisha offered her a lopsided
grin.

The stars shone down on the three men as they sat out in the
open on the edge of the lake, leaning back far enough to look up at
them. A strong odor of saline met their noses, Lake Anahuac being
unusually high in salt content; this also gave the lake a silvery sheen
that reminded Chris of Mae's eyes.

With no electricity in Anahuac, conditions were near perfect for
stargazing. The beacon of light emanating from Houston obscured a
significant portion of the sky, of course, but they could still see more
than enough stars to make out some of their favorite constellations.

Chris wasn't really sure how the three of them had ended up out
here together, sitting on the shore. His mind snapped back to their
last encounter with the void, how they'd found themselves trapped,
separately, inside a hollow, hot, desert world.

It left them so shaken, no one had managed to bring it up after
deciding where to try and hide for the night.

"What if nothing we're seeing is real?" asked Terry at last, his
voice echoing off the lake.

Chris slowly turned his head. "You think everything around us is
fake? Like holograms or something?" He knew he sounded incredulous, but part of him couldn't help thinking back to Mars, to that
three-dimensional image of the basement in his childhood home that
he'd seen and walked inside of there. It had been as real as anything
he'd ever seen.

"I don't know... " Terry replied. "I just -1 can't help wondering
if we're in somebody's idea of a test tube. And they keep throwing
weird stuff at us to see how we react. Or maybe their technology
has its wires crossed, and that's why we keep finding ourselves in
unreal places."

Chris gave a weak laugh. "You've seen way too many movies."

"This is an impossible scenario," intoned Owen's baritone voice.
"Every man, woman, and child-and animal-on Earth has vanished.
The mind can go mad imagining the possibilities...

The three men were silent, reflecting on this.

"You met Roston in person. What's your take on him?" Chris
asked Terry, changing the subject.

"I don't know... " Terry sighed. "Smart. Focused. His men are
undyingly loyal to him. Why?"

`Just trying to get inside his head," Chris replied, "figure him out
a little."

Owen remained silent, only listening.

"Do you really think Roston's responsible for D-Day?" Terry
asked.

"You spent time with him," said Chris. "You tell me."

Terry's eyes wandered off to the surface of the lake. "I never heard
him say anything about it directly. He was more concerned with giving
orders to his men. They were very intent on finding you guys."

Another question came to mind. "How did he get you?" Chris
asked.

"I was drunk, wandering the streets of Baton Rouge for hours,
throwing things and breaking out storefront windows. It's not like I
was keeping a low profile."

`And?"

`And I stumbled-or thought I did-and landed face first on the
sidewalk. When I came to, I was in his jeep, and I realized I hadn't
tripped over my own feet at all; they'd stunned me somehow. I still
don't know if it was a dart or a Taser."

"Hmm," Owen mused. `Again and again he avoids killing us,
preferring merely to ensnare us."

"I don't find that terribly heartening, Beech," Terry replied.
"Imprisonment is just another form of death."

Owen paused. He turned to his young friend, examined him,
and smiled. "That's almost profound."

"Don't look so surprised," said Terry. "Hey, I have layers!"

Owen and Chris both filled the night with warm laughter.

Chris yawned. "I think it's about time to turn in, gentlemen. I
intend to reach that beacon tomorrow, and I expect Colonel Roston
will be standing somewhere between us and it. And I meant it when
I said this is war. So get some good sleep. Think I'll check in on Trish
before I hit the sack, make sure she's all right."

"Yeah, what's wrong with her?" Terry asked. "I saw she was moving kind of funny."

"She has some physical ailments she works hard to keep
unnoticed," Chris replied. "The real problem right now is her heart's
broken, and it's being made worse by all the loneliness. Beech can explain it to you; solitude can have profoundly negative effects on
the human body-"

"So convince her she's not alone," said Terry in a confused voice,
as if it were obvious.

"You make it sound easy," Chris said. "Paul's out of the picture.
He didn't wait on her to get back, he moved on. Without him, she
doesn't feel like she has anybody."

"She has you, Chris."

Chris blinked. "What?"

"Dude ..." Terry glanced at Owen in a playful way. "Were we
not supposed to notice the way you look at her? You're not that good
at hiding it."

Chris felt his ears burn red. So much blood rushed through them,
he couldn't hear the water lapping gently at the shore anymore.

He couldn't believe anyone had seen, had known, all this timemuch less Terry, of all people. He could remember feeling embarrassed
or self-conscious only a handful of times in his entire life, and now
he had a new instance to add to the list.

"I ... don't know what to say," he mumbled.

"That's because you're a good guy," Terry replied with sincerity,
though he was still chuckling. "You're so honorable, you wouldn't dare
act on your little crush while she was all beholden to another guy. I
get it. But everything's changed now. She's free, she's available. And
frankly-and Beech will agree with me on this, believe it or not-right
now, telling her how you feel might just be the thing that squashes
all that loneliness and pulls her back to the land of the living."

"I do find that logic hard to argue with," Owen put in.

Chris was silent. He looked away, thinking of Trisha and the last
time he'd seen her. She had an emptiness in her eyes, so very tired,
like no amount of rest or sleep would ever be enough.

"It's the most tired cliche of all time," Chris said, "but I really, truly
don't want to damage our friendship. We're under enough pressure
here. I don't want to complicate things more."

Terry smirked, shaking his head in obvious disbelief. "Look
around, man. It's the end of the world. If you can't he honest and
tell Trish how you feel, here and now ... you may never get another
chance. Why risk not being honest with her?"

Chris had no answer ready, but he was saved by a voice coming
from the ridge behind them.

"Don't y'all get tired of it?" Mae asked.

"What?" replied Chris.

"Staring up at space."

Chris rose to his feet, and Owen did the same. He smiled at her.
"We'd be terrible astronauts if we did. Here, sit. I was leaving... ."

He had to admit, somewhere along the way, he'd grown fond
of Mae. He felt like her older brother a little. Protective of her, even.
And he'd learned to just enjoy her company. She'd become part of
the crew.

Terry was giving him the evil eye for leaving now, but Chris
leaned over and whispered, "You'd better tell her how you feel. You
know, it is the end of the world after all."

Chris couldn't keep a smile off his face as he climbed the embank
ment, Owen at his side.

Terry wanted to kill Chris-though not for real this time-for
leaving him here alone with Mae. Terry liked Mae, he really did, but
the two of them were from different universes. He wasn't afraid of
sharing his feelings with her; he simply didn't know what his feelings
for her were, exactly.

He did a double-take as Mae seated herself on the bank next to
him. She looked different. Her hair was combed neatly, her face clean
for the first time since he'd met her, and she was giving off a pleasant
scent. She even had the slightest bit of makeup on.