Chapter 5 Jean
The escape pod whirls madly as it falls through the air. A few seconds ago when the padded harness came down around my seat, it reminded me of the safety bar on a roller coaster. Now I realize just how apt that comparison was.
I’m on the world’s worst carnival ride, and I want off.
My breakfast wants off too.
The croissant sandwich and latte are sloshing around inside my stomach, and it feels like they’re planning a revolt. I groan and clamp my mouth shut, struggling to keep everything down.
If I’m going to die, I don’t want to do it with barf all over my face.
“One moment, Madam,” Gerber says, frantically tapping buttons. “I just need to calibrate the pod to the planet’s atmosphere.”
What planet? I think.
What freaking planet?
I want to ask, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth, the contents of my stomach will come spilling out. So I keep it shut, and dig my fingers harder into the armrests of the seat.
After a few more seconds, the pod seems to stop spinning. I can’t be sure, since the porthole is showing me nothing but a soupy, gray fog. At least I don’t feel quite as dizzy as before, and my nausea is settling down, even though my heart is still thumping away like a jackhammer inside my chest.
Where are we? Where the hell are we?
As if answering my unspoken question, the fog in front of the porthole dissipates, allowing me to see the planet for the first time, but my attention is temporarily drawn to a closer and more terrifying sight.
The Scarlet Ship. I can see it out ahead of me, plummeting toward the ground like a giant, oblong meteor. The red hull is scorched and trailing yellow ribbons of flame.
I think of Mel.
Did she make it off in time?
We were closer to her room than mine when the shit hit the fan. That gives me a glimmer of hope, but it’s instantly buried beneath a layer of doubt. What if a tree fell on her in the garden? What if her escape pod malfunctioned? What if she got shot?
I’ve never been a particularly religious person, but I do believe in something.
The fact that there is good in the universe makes me think there must be at least a bit of good inside of whatever created it too.
At the moment, I can’t remember any of the prayers I learned in Sunday school, and I’m way too rattled to come up with one on the spot, so I just try my best to beam some positive energy in Mel’s direction.
Only problem is, I don’t know what direction she’s in.
And I’m running pretty low on positivity.
The escape pod turns, and the Scarlet Ship slides out of frame as the porthole pans to one side. I focus my attention on the planet that is now steadily rushing up from below.
It doesn’t look very inviting.
It doesn’t look inhabited either. At least not this particular region.
There are no structures I can make out from this altitude, just a sprawling expanse of charcoal-gray broken up here and there by random rock formations.
Way off in the distance, a dark mountain towers above the barren plain.
The shape on top of it could be a building, but it’s too far away to be sure.
“Where are we?” I murmur.
“I’m trying to figure that out,” Gerber answers. “It will take a moment to gather the necessary readings.”
I can see more escape pods falling in the distance, swirling down to the ground like sparks from a burning log. It’s difficult to judge the distance from up here, but it looks like the pods are getting scattered over a wide area.
Very wide. Like, hundreds of miles.
It’s also difficult to gauge the exact speed of our descent, but it seems like the ground is a whole lot closer than it was a few seconds ago.
“Um, Gerber… are we supposed to be falling this fast?”
The cherub turns and gives me a cheerful smile.
“Fear not, Madam. This pod is state-of-the-art and extraordinarily safe. The sensors will slow us down before we crash.”
I am not reassured.
A movement outside the porthole catches my eye. A pair of dark shapes moving across the sky. Are those birds?
Wait… no.
Oh Jesus, they look like freaking pterodactyls. Okay, maybe they’re not quite as big as pterodactyls, but they’ve got creepy, webbed wings and long, ugly beaks.
And they’re on a collision course for the escape pod.
One of the winged creatures manages to swerve just in time, but its friend isn’t so lucky. It lets out a piercing screech just before it slams into the front of the pod, splattering the porthole with thick, yellowish blood.
Red lights start flashing inside the pod. Alarms shrill. They’re not quite as loud as the ones back on the ship, but they’re even more frightening within this enclosed space.
“Oh dear!” Gerber cries. “Oh dear! Oh dear!”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“The impact has damaged the pod’s external sensors. I will have to attempt a manual landing…”
Oh God.
I turn my eyes forward again. The wind has pushed most of the pterodactyl blood away from the porthole, and I can see the dark landscape rushing up to meet us. I probably shouldn’t look, but I can’t tear my eyes away. Every single part of me, including my eyelids, seems to be frozen in terror.
Except my heart. That’s still going strong. I’m liable to have a heart attack before we hit the ground.
One way or another, I’m going to die.
Maybe that’s better than surviving on a dark, desolate world populated by pterodactyls and who knows what else…
No.
Screw that.
I can’t think that way. Surviving is better, regardless of where we are. I promised Mel I would find her, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make that happen.
Which, at the moment, means clenching my butt, holding on for dear life, and praying I don’t get turned into a grease spot in about five seconds.
The ground is really close now. I can see details.
Objects scattered throughout the dark sand.
Something that looks like a massive rib cage.
And something else that looks like the shell of a giant scarab beetle.
I’d say we’re a hundred feet up, maybe less.
If it weren’t for the harness holding me down, I would probably fling my arms up in front of my face—not that it would do any good.
The pod tilts.
We swoop, and my heart drops from my throat down into the pit of my stomach. For half a second, I see nothing but sky. Then the pod levels out, and I’m looking at the horizon. We start descending again, but we’re still moving like a bat out of hell.
“Gerber, slow down!”
“I’m trying, Madam! I’m trying!”
Something rushes past below us. More giant beetle-creatures like the one I saw a few seconds ago, only these appear to be alive and laden with huge sacks and crates. There are things around them that look like tents made of animal hides. And something else too.
Figures. Upright, humanoid figures.
Humanoid… but not human.
The scene shoots by so fast, I can’t be sure I really even saw it. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. After everything I’ve been through today, I wouldn’t be surprised if I started hallucinating right now.
Or dreaming.
That’s it. This is all just a bad dream. Any second now I’m going to wake up back in my bed on the Scarlet Ship. God, I never thought I would want to be back there.
But I know this isn’t a dream. It can’t be. My brain’s not that creative.
“Brace yourself, Madam!” Gerber shouts over the alarm. “We’re coming in for a landing!”
He’s right. We’re only a few feet above the ground now, but we’re still going way too fast. I open my mouth to inform Gerber of this fact, but all that comes out is an embarrassing noise that’s halfway between a whimper and a scream.
Then the pod touches down, and we start spinning again, skipping along the surface of the planet like a stone on the surface of a lake.