10. Newark Airport, Terminal C
NEWARK AIRPORT, TERMINAL C
The first leg of the trip was behind them.
When the wheels finally hit the ground in Newark, the passengers broke out in applause.
The plane taxied to the gate, and Lucy, grateful they’d survived, helped her girls gather their things, wondering how Zoe had managed to spread out so completely on this short leg of their long journey.
Her barrettes, pens, book, and headphones were under the seats, and she almost left her iPad behind in the seat pocket.
After two sleepless nights, Lucy had thought she might pass out after the plane took off from DFW.
She should have known better. The twins had been delighted one moment to be on a plane and bored the next.
And toward the end of the flight, somewhere over Virginia, they’d hit turbulence, and Alice had gotten scared.
She’d cried and clung to Lucy’s arm every time the plane rattled and jolted.
When the crew stopped service due to the storm and strapped themselves into their jump seats, Lucy had turned to Jack across the aisle to give a weak smile.
He’d leaned toward her.
“Tell Alice not to worry,” he’d said. “Planes are engineered to withstand high winds and even lightning strikes. Our chances of dying are slim.”
Lucy had not passed his message on.
The plane parked at the gate, and Lucy wrangled the girls, their bags, and her tote down the aisle.
Jack had gone ahead with her roll-aboard and was waiting for them in the terminal, leaning against a wall with his head tipped down toward his phone.
Lucy looked around for a sign telling them where to go.
“The AirTrain’s that way,” Jack said, pointing down the concourse, “but our flight’s been delayed two hours.”
“Oh,” said Lucy. On the one hand, it was a relief to know they weren’t in a mad rush to make their connection, but on the other hand, she was itching to get on with it.
“Do we have to take another plane?” said Alice.
“Unless you want to swim,” said Jack.
“I’m hungry,” said Zoe.
This trip was not supposed to be punitive.
If anything, they needed to heal from the trauma of the last forty-eight hours.
“I’ve got an idea,” Lucy said. She needed to work during the next flight and be able to function when they landed, and that would not be easy after a night in coach.
The kids followed her to a customer service counter where she cashed in every mile she had and paid a small fortune to upgrade them all to business class.
By the time the transaction was complete, the storm had gotten worse, delaying their flight another hour.
But with their new boarding passes in hand, Lucy felt calmer.
The smell of French fries wafted through the air, and they spotted a restaurant a few yards down the concourse. There was certainly no hurry to switch terminals.
They got a table by the window where they could see the storm raging and dozens of planes grounded at their gates, their red lights blinking.
“Our flight might get canceled,” Jack said.
“Don’t even say that,” said Lucy.
Zoe was turned backward in her chair so she could watch the trucks and workers out on the wet tarmac, while Alice was playing a game on Lucy’s phone.
“I’m starving,” Jack said, staring at his menu, looking slightly dazed, “but I’m not hungry.”
Lucy understood; she too had had a stomachache for two days. But already, Dallas was receding into the past and their morning of packing up and clearing out seemed like eons ago. She was glad to be gone. And while Jack hadn’t said so, she was sure he was too.
“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” Lucy said, “Rosie came by this morning. She said to tell you she’s your best friend, no matter what, and she’d love to hear from you.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the list of burgers.
“Why don’t you send her a text?”
He shook his head.
“She was very upset,” Lucy said. “She just wants to know you’re not mad at her.”
“Don’t be mad at Rosie,” Zoe said, turning around to face the right way. “She’s the nicest.”
Alice sat up straight and gasped, staring at Lucy’s phone. “Guess what about Mia Yamamoto.”
“Who?” said Zoe.
“The botanist,” said Alice, her voice high-pitched and anguished.
Alice was obsessed with the who’s who of the ARC 6 biosphere; she had a picture of the Alpha Red Canyon team on her bulletin board and knew all kinds of trivia about the personal life of each participant, like Mia, the Japanese botanist who baked pastries in her free time, and Veronique, the French microbiologist who fixed up old car engines.
Alice had calculated all their ages in Martian Sols.
“What about her?” Jack said.
“She’s gone,” she said, looking crushed. “She went home.”
“No, she didn’t,” Lucy said. “Where’d you see that?”
“The NASA website,” said Alice, showing her the phone.
“Impossible,” Lucy said, reaching for her phone. “No one can leave .”
Alice shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Lucy skimmed the article, thinking Alice must have misunderstood.
But she had not. Mia, it said, had left the biosphere for personal reasons.
Lucy felt her heart racing. Sandra had just preached to her about the integrity of the project, the necessity of mimicking an actual Mars expedition, of being cut off from the outside world, and yet Mia had opened the faux air lock and walked out?
What was that, if not a total breach of everything the mission stood for?
And wouldn’t Mason leave too if he had any idea what was going on with Jack?
Mason was not a quitter, but in a crisis, he would choose his family over the project without hesitation; Lucy was sure of it.
There were a few new articles about Alpha Red Canyon that popped up on Google.
She found a style blog that gave a thumbs-up on the official uniforms they were wearing, complimenting the practicality, the modern, sporty cut, and the color combinations—tans and muted greens—of the uniforms. More surprising, there was a link to a profile in Time magazine about Ya?mur and Veronique.
Lucy scrolled through the article in which the brilliant Turkish doctor was asked about her role as chief medical officer and her background as a physician.
There was a picture of her at her home in Turkey with the strange musical instrument Mason had mentioned in his email.
And the young, French microbiologist Veronique was asked about her recent breakup with a lawyer named Dwayne Randall, a well-known legal expert who often appeared on cable news.
And then there was one more picture in the article that made Lucy’s breath catch in her chest. It was a group photo from their first day, and there was Mason, her Mason, looking relaxed and handsome in a fitted T-shirt with the ARC 6 logo.
Mason and five women, five young, smart, and attractive women.
He was wearing the new glasses she’d helped him pick out the week before he left and a pair of silly yellow socks she’d given him to wear with his regulation Crocs.
He was leaning back comfortably, a DustBunny drone sitting on the table beside him. He looked content and well rested.
Lucy, meanwhile, had chewed her fingernails down to nothing and was pretty sure her hair was falling out from stress.
“Look,” she said, turning her phone, “it’s Dad.”
Alice reached for the phone, knocking a water glass over with her elbow. They reached for their napkins and grabbed the sticky, laminated menus. The waiter came, but before they could place their orders, Zoe jumped to her feet, looking stricken.
“Fred!” she shrieked. “Where’s Fred?”
Fricking Fred . Zoe lost her stuffed rabbit so frequently they were all used to this particular brand of panic and started looking under the table and around their chairs.
The waiter walked away.
“Did you leave him on the plane?” Lucy said.
“I don’t know,” Zoe said, her voice high-pitched.
Lucy picked up Zoe’s backpack, rummaged through it, and then looked through her own tote. “We’ve got plenty of time,” she said, trying to assuage Zoe’s growing worry. “Jack, watch the girls. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll go back to the gate.”
“I want to come,” Zoe said.
“Fine,” said Lucy, taking her hand.
Lucy and Zoe retraced their steps back to the gate.
They had to wait in line until Lucy could talk to the agent behind the counter.
She showed her boarding pass and begged for someone to search all around the seats they’d been in.
The man was understanding and asked them to wait while he used his walkie-talkie to tell whoever was cleaning the plane to look for the stuffed animal.
Lucy turned around to scan the gate area, in case Zoe had dropped Fred as they were walking through the terminal.
Haggard travelers were camped out, some lying down on the floor, using their duffel bags as pillows.
Lucy had picked a hell of a day to flee town.
Through the constant stream of announcements about flight delays and cancellations, she tried to imagine how she would console Zoe if Fred was actually lost this time.
The agent was frowning; they’d searched the plane, he said, but a stuffed rabbit was nowhere to be found. And when Lucy looked down to break the terrible news, she was horrified to find that Zoe was missing as well.