39. The Oxygen Mask
The Oxygen Mask
On the Sky Deck, I see Cosmer at once. A silhouette against the sun, climbing the outer glass panels of the dome steadily towards the airlock.
With the rubber suction cups strapped over his boots and palms, he pulls himself up the glass one limb at a time, the way a starfish might navigate across a rock.
He has a mask over his face and a cannister on his back, and his hair and the fur coat he’s wearing are rustling wildly from the wind force that must exist at this altitude.
As a child, I used to regularly see him jump up walls and scale them with his bare hands. But this is somehow even more impressive. He looks like something from the future trying to get in.
I sling my cannister on my back and fit the mask to my face. My breath immediately fogs the goggles. By the time I reach the platform at the top of the wooden stairs, he’s almost at the airlock.
I stand by the outer door. He’s directly opposite me, by the inner one.
We look at each other through the glass and our masks. My goggles are distorting the scene, making it look even more otherworldly.
You’re almost home, I think.
And then I think, you came back. Even though you weren’t supposed to.
You were supposed to be free.
I’m furious.
I’m thrilled.
I was going to cheat the stars for him.
But maybe he’s cheating them for me.
He throws off the suction cup on his right hand – it’s swept into the abyss within a second – and points at the lever on my side of the platform. The same lever Ephraine had pulled to operate the airlock at Chapp’s trial.
I nod, understanding. After taking what feels like the deepest breath I’ve ever taken, I pull the lever hard towards me. I can feel the mechanism working. Clicking.
The glass panel slides left sharply.
Even from here, I can hear the way the wind rushes into the airlock. It’s an untameable sound. Panic doesn’t even do justice for what I’m feeling for Cosmer, out there in that wilderness.
He throws off the other suction cup and, now grasping the side of the airlock, drags himself across towards it.
He’s so close to me. I just have to wait until he’s safely inside. Then I’ll yank the lever to seal it behind him. It will all be over in just a few seconds.
He lunges. Almost touches his foot to the base of the airlock.
But something goes wrong.
The ship jolts, and suddenly he can’t get a footing, or the airflow is different – stronger.
All I know is, one second he’s virtually straight, about to make contact, about to come home, and the next he’s parallel to the deck, flat against the glass.
His knees slam into it as he scrambles to get the cups on his boots connected again.
The wind is ripping against him.
He loses one hand. He’s only hanging onto the airlock by the other.
He’s going to get torn right away from me.
I don’t think. Just swing open the outer door.
The roar of the wind is monstrous. I leap through the airlock and grab Cosmer’s wrist – just as his fingers slip from the edge of it.
I grasp an internal safety handle with my other hand, and keep to the glass so I don’t take the full force of the wind, which is still clawing at him. Trying to take him from me.
He locks his fingers around my wrist. Brings his other hand on top.
A small brass machine on the platform is flashing. An arrow within the pressure gauge is quivering. Oxygen is dropping, I realise. We’re putting the lives of everyone else on the ship at risk now.
My shoulder is wrenching. I hadn’t anticipated the strength this would need. I plant my feet. Grind my teeth. I can’t hear my heavy breaths, but I can feel them, drawing out harshly through my mask.
Time must still be passing, but we’re locked like this, me using all of my weight and strength to hold onto him. I’m sweating from the exertion, and very aware that if my palm clams up any more, I’ll let him slip.
Don’t let me lose him again, I beg the Sisters. Even though, if Old Mother is to be believed, they would be insulted by this love against them. Would feel crossed by me asking anything of them, when it comes to him.
And then I’m angry at them. Because they’re clearly not listening. Maybe this wind is the sound of their rage. Their spurning of me.
You have taken so much from me already today, I remind them. He’s all I have left.
Please let me have him.
Please.
And maybe they really do hear me. Feel something for me – even if only pity.
Because Cosmer kicks out, and the suction cup connects again with the glass. I could whoop, if I didn’t have this mask over my face. I no longer have the full weight of him on my shoulder.
He sort of swings himself, and his other foot catches the glass, too. I feel even more relief.
My heart could soar.
We’re going to make it out of this.
His hands still in mine, he moves painfully slowly towards me again.
And then he’s here. His mask is inches from mine.
I can pull him in.
But maybe the Sisters have changed their mind at the last second. Have decided to take him from me as quickly as they gave him back to me.
Because I watch through my goggles, powerless, as the strap over his left shoulder snaps. Before I can process what’s happening, the oxygen cannister slides off his back, and is lost.
He lets go of me with one hand to throw his now-pointless mask off.
Through my goggles, time slows down. I see him squinting through the wind at me. He’s apologising to me. I can see him, even now, straining not to breathe. His hair is still blazing. His face is white. Like he’s already a ghost.
But again, I don’t need any thought process to know what I need to do.
What I need to sacrifice.
My skin is already burning in anticipation of it. It’s like my magic is counteracting the wind. Pushing it away from me. Giving me strength.
I reach for the white light. Bring my masked face as close to his unmasked one as possible.
I speak a single sentence into his mind.
Take my mask from me and use it for yourself.
He must know what I’m trying to do.
Because he’s resisting me, wincing. His freckles distort as he shakes his head.
I push harder. Ignore the physical pain doing that brings on in me.
Take it! Take it from me!
A jerk in my mind – through his – and then…
A click.
My magic sinks back into me.
Taking the breath I know will be my last, I hold onto him tighter as he pulls my mask up from my face and then over his own. His gloved hand shakes the entire time.
The wind is like ice on my now-bare face. My hair is swirling around my head.
I offer him a smile through the tears in my eyes. They’re there partly from the stinging cold, and partly from knowing this is the last view I’ll ever get to see.
At least the view is of him.
And at least I’ll know I did what I could to keep him alive.
Even if I let go of him now, he’s still connected to the glass. The door is still open. He could still make it.
My lungs are desperate for breath. My hand is wet with sweat. My ribs are constricting.
I’m swaying.
Then I give into instinct. Inhale the nothingness through my nose. My fingers loosen from around his wrist.
This is how it ends.