《From the Moon: Home》


 Greg: Leap of Science

    "All systems Go? You ready to broadcast?"


    "Yeah, I think we''re good. Lemme run the checks, diagnostics..."


    "All greened up, let''s do this."


    On Earth, an announcer finished a dry joke and began introducing the next bit.


    "We''ve got something special for you guys tonight, a celebrity that''s garnered success akin to the famed Evel Knievel! Remarkably, this daredevil continues to rocket forward without a single crash. Whoa ho, someone knock on wood for me!


    But seriously folks, Mr. Gregory Alfred Baker, a plain-spoken man with beginnings in Motocross Races and Movie Stunts is the man of the hour. Raised in Phoenix, Arizona, he grew up in a family of four incredible people. Both parents are successful artists and his sister is a popular actress. Now, at the age of 32, the man will be attempting the longest jump in history..."


    During this last statement, the view pans and zooms on a display before merging seamlessly into a stylized representation of a trajectory shot, "From the Moon, Home! To the Green Fields of Earth!"


    The crowd goes wild, cheering, because now the intro graphics fade and show that still youthful face of Greg Baker, suited up and smiling, "Hey kids, kiss your ma'' for me." His voice is clear, a bit deep, "And hey world, ol'' Earth, how''s it going? Just thought I''d give a wave before my little trip. I figure you''ll be seeing enough of me over this week, so I''ll keep it short so you don''t get sick of my face."


    Greg winks, "Anyway, folks, don''t try this at home, or any of that nonsense; though I''d be surprised at how ya'' got the moon into your backyard if you did manage. A big thanks goes out to all the friendly helpers from NASA and the Taikonauts. The stay at Moonbase Orchard was great, don''t go batty up here. See everyone when I get to the ISS." He smiles, genuinely happy and carefree, and the feed cuts to a long-distance shot of the moon. It zooms, closer and closer, then settles with its focus on the launch track.


    It could still be called a motorcycle. It was precisely balanced, ran on two wheels, and had a finely crafted, heavily tuned engine. Other than that, it was kind of hard to determine what was going on with this machine. There was no open cockpit, and the wheels were train-like and track-based. Antenna clusters stuck out from the front and back with camera ports and sensory arrays that would make an MIT student blush. It was bulky, big, and looked like it should fit three or four people. It fit one.


    Gregory was a very cramped, immobile, and restless one. He could move his hands and upper arms a bit, but everything else was strapped or wedged in. Across his home world, viewers glanced at screens or stared outright at the gloved hands flipping switches. His ride jerked forward with the acceleration of God''s hot rod, electric engines in each wheel yowling like banshees. Beneath the "bike", a monorail dipped to the horizon. Earth would be coming into view soon.


    The g-forces were maddening but the aging stuntman smiled into his mouthpiece, "Alright kiddies, time to teach myself rocket science. Here''s that giant leap ol'' Armstrong was talking about." Ahead, the end of his "roadway" zoomed closer. The rail ended in a slight ramping curve. Earth was a brilliant blue in the starry sky. Greg felt his body pressed into itself for a brief moment of nausea... And then he''d broken free and was sailing into the void.


    Video feed cut back to the announcer''s slick smile, "And he''s off, folks! What you''re witnessing is history in the making, a rocketless jump from one world to another, a leap of faith and science! Space junkies will know that Mr. Baker only needed 2.3 kilometers per hour to escape the Moon''s gentle touch, but technicians worked out a perfect balance of speed and space so that Baker will reach his destination without too much of a wait and with a safety-net of food and air to spare. Over the next seven days we will check back in on Gregory Baker, interviewing his family and listening in as he speaks live to citizens of the globe. Until then, blue skies to you, Flying Ghost."


    . . . .


    The silence that followed was absolute. Even the flight over hadn''t been so quiet, so empty. On a ship there were vibrations and hums, little noises that kept you alive. The air vents might rattle and small beeps gave status updates. In the SpaceChopper, a name granted by net voting, there was nothing.


    Most viewers would tune in for two parts of the extended fall. They''d watch his departure from the moon and the riveting finale as Earth''s atmosphere gave him fiery wings. People wanted to see things happen, not a floating speck. For, that was what Greg had become. On the Moon he was one of hundreds, but he was human and had enough gravity holding him down to affect the world. On Earth he was one of billions, a fly amongst the masses of flies. But there, too, gravity allowed him to use his strength to accomplish and achieve.


    In space he was nothing but a speck. He had become helplessness, floating, falling toward the planet above. The chopper had no engines. It had no brakes. It was just a touch above being a coffin with cameras and radio-equipment.


    Only the science nerds would watch the whole stunt. They''d pour over live broadcasts with eager fingertips reporting anomalies and insights. They''d notice his blood pressure falling or his temperature rising. Someone would write about the folly of his team''s calculations. Someone else would post evidence that it was genius and perfection.


    Truly, the stunt was one of science and technology. There would be fire and there would be noise, but those were the icing on the cake. They made it look pretty, but the real substance was inside.


    Years of work had gone into this "jump." Architects and engineers worked tirelessly to calculate and plan. If the moon''s ramp had been even a millimeter off there''d be miles of change. Greg might end up landing in the middle of Kansas. If the bike wasn''t built with just the right amount of shielding he might end up burning alive upon reentry.


    He still might, at that. The thought made him laugh.


    Mission command came on over the radio, "Flying Ghost, Orchard. All systems reading nominal. What is your status, over?"


    A fingertip waggled and he heard the chirp of his mic, "Orchard, Flying Ghost. Status is gravy green, thank you. Just having a chuckle at expense of my thoughts. Over."


    Command buzzed back, "Flying Ghost, Orchard, read you lima charlie. We urge a reminder to vocalize said thoughts if worthy of the record. Out."


    Greg smirked, craning his head back. The Earth was a bright beacon of life hung in emptiness. The stars, in all their brilliance, were dim nothings in comparison. He spoke, not to the mic but to the records. Everything he said and did was being videoed and streamed and shared, "They have to warn you before you do this kind of thing. It''s litigation nonsense, like signing off against injuries when you go bungee jumping."


    Below him was the moon, unseen on the other side of the SpaceChopper''s body of titanium and steel. A ship had launched at the same time as Greg, he knew, and it was coming into view. It was a drone, a small cube of computers and fuel. It had a couple of cameras, and he wiggled his hand in a wave upon noticing its presence. The cube-drone would be his only companion, weaving back and forth for different shots.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Anyway," he continued, only barely remembering to continue his thoughts vocally, "They warn you about stuff. You might lose oxygen and choke. You might get too cold and freeze. There is risk of death and grievous injury. It''s amazing how paperwork can make anything banal and boring."


    "So, that stuff''s pretty normal for me. I''ve done a lot of jumps, a lot of stunts. Grievous injury is what I''m supposed to challenge. Otherwise, nobody would watch us extreme-sports types, right? We end up on those end-of-year compilations of cool things because, for at least a moment, we let people feel like they could do it too."


    The cube-drone shifted, started backing off, creating distance. Greg continued, "But, this time, the warnings were crazy. They were the stuff of science fiction and childhood ignorance. Do you know, Earth, that if my speed had been a kilometer too fast I might''ve spun into a death spiral? It''s true. It''s one of those clauses I had to initial by."


    His thoughts kept winding down that path but the showman in his mind replaced the voice, "But let''s not be morbid, no. Let me tell you what, though. This is beautiful. Space is beautiful. Honestly though?" Greg stared, neck arching back yet again, straining. The Earth was huge before him. Yet, it was so small and fragile and the entirety of that massive entity was also just a speck. "Let me tell you, buddy. All this everything is nothing compared to home."


    . . . .


    Days later there was an even greater gulf of silence. Halfway to Earth, Greg could''ve just as well been halfway to eternity. It meant nothing to the mind. A human can''t comprehend the vastness of space. Even a short trip from the Moon was incomprehensible to the naked eye.


    Sitting in the SpaceChopper, Greg felt motionless. It was like watching mountains on a highway, blacktop fading to the vanishing point. You could rev the engine all you liked, but everything seemed suspended in space. But, in the chopper, he really was.


    He was starting to feel a distinct paranoia in his isolation. The voices in his head were reassuringly calm, steady reminders of his connection to the worlds. When the voices went silent, the void encroached.


    The small drone camera floated by. Its little jets spun it around in a slow pan from the chopper around to Earth. Greg saluted the little robot, "Wish I had your boosters, chap. Speed up this ride and really scorch the atmosphere."


    Mission Command chirped over the radio, "Ghost, be advised, looks like some lively tectonic action is taking place on Terra, seems to be something volcanic. Over."


    Greg craned backward to look for the planet, as if he would be able to see anything, "Roger that Orchard, where''s this funky stuff happening at, over?"


    There was a long break of silence, but Command finally answered, "Yucatan peninsula, Gulf of Mexico. Houston may lose communications due to their proximity. Over."


    "Whoa buddy," said Greg, "That''s a pretty strange place for a mountain to be popping up. Well, I''m not going anywhere, so I suppose I''ll see them when I land." The news made him uneasy, but there was nothing he could do except float on.


    "Alright, we''ll be keeping in touch and assuming full operational control from here." The moonbase operator sounded a little distracted, hurrying on, "Orchard out."


    Greg stared into the speckled void around him, worried and feeling helpless.


    . . . .


    An erratic cacophony of noise and static woke Greg from a fitful doze. Pulsing sounds of shuddering bass and high-pitched blips mixed with a wavering white noise. It poured from the craft''s electronics.


    He keyed his mic, "Orchard, you hearing this?" Mumbling, he added, "Over."


    Command came through, faint compared to the vastness of the noise, "Affirmative Ghost, the signal is wide-range interference pouring out of Terra''s atmosphere, over."


    "Jee-sus," spat Greg, "Can''t you do something about that? Cancel it out or something? What''s Houston saying it is? Anything? Over."


    The reply came back slow, voice reluctant, "Houston has gone dark. We can''t cancel out a broadcast that strong. Advise you turn the systems down until issue resolves. Over."


    Greg looked upward, peered at the planet he was falling toward. It was larger, closer, looming. Earth had a blemish, a long tail of volcanic ash pouring from the Gulf of Mexico.


    In a daze, he eventually remembered to respond, "Wilco, I guess I''ll hope for the best. Ghost, out."


    He pushed his head back as far as it would go. The thick padding of his helmet made it tough, but he had to watch. From such great heights, the planet looked positively serene. Even the cloud of ash was just another kind of beauty.


    Outside, the little drone was doing a lap around the SpaceChopper. It paid no heed to the volcano. It''s AI was probably only programmed to move about and prevent collisions. It made it seem callous and uncaring to the drama of Earth.


    . . . .


    The timekeepers on board kept track of mission duration, checkpoint countdowns, and time since last radio contact. The contact counter was now at a full day with change. Mission Command had been unresponsive, each attempt met with the chaotic static.


    Still, Greg tried again. "Orchard, this is Ghost. Do you read, over?"


    Nothing. The pulsing sounds continued their electric dance across the airwaves.


    He sighed, watching Earth with a yearning resignation. There were more plumes of ash now, and the clouds were increasingly a dusky orange. The world looked like it harbored some vast wildfire. Lightning crawled across the dark cloud cover in flickering tongues of light.


    His orbit had begun changing, falling at a steeper angle. Earth''s pull was playing its part in the plan. Now the continents stretched out in front of him. He had a front row seat for his crash landing.


    But, that had always been the plan. Greg was just about to get to the good part: reentry. Hit the atmosphere just right and trail fire as a living-breathing meteor: as long as he didn''t spin to death, as long as he didn''t burn for too long, as long as a million tiny things went perfectly. Then the chutes would float him to rest.


    A voice whispered through the static, "Ghost, is that you? Ghost, this is Silver Station, do you read?"


    The marvel of human contact made Greg jump inside his skin. He fumbled with his glove, tapped the transmitter''s contact, "Silver Station! I read you, read you like the happiest man alive! How''s that ol'' space heap doing?" He turned up his radio, ignoring the static.


    "Ghost it''s damned good to hear your voice. We''ve been cut off from everyone for days. Terra''s magnetosphere is going crazy!" It was the International Space Station, a legend in its own right. It''d been expanded to a hundred times its original size, but some of those parts were antiques.


    Greg felt tears on his cheeks, "Aww, blast. I love hearing from you guys, but damned if I wasn''t hoping that only my radio was malfunctioning."


    The station''s caller sounded bleak after that, "Yeah, sorry, but it''s the truth. Orchard is too far to break through the interference. Houston is probably evacuated, but no one on Earth is responding. Nothing electromagnetic is coming out or getting in.


    "Well damn." Greg soaked in the news with silent brooding. He watched his drone companion do another flyby, the same pattern it''d repeated a hundred times. He thought of the Titanic''s orchestra.


    "Ghost, how is your ship doing? Everything still reading green?" Warbles of noise started picking up, the station was getting harder to hear.


    The question brought him back, and he glanced over his readouts, "Green as gravy." He paused, setting his jaw, "So, think I can hitch a ride with one of you guys?"


    His question was answered in the pause, or maybe he''d already figured it out unconsciously. Space flight was still expensive, rockets still rare.


    The station spoke slowly, "We sent our last tug to the moon two days ago. The other went back planetside after the first anomaly showed up."


    Greg peered into nothingness, "Yeah, I didn''t figure I would have to ask if it was available. Anything you want me to bring back after I touchdown?"


    "Just let us know what''s going on down there. That would be enough." The voice was more distant, the static more chaotic.


    "Anyway, it was nice hearing from you guys." Greg arched his head back, tried to find a speck that might be the station. It was no good, the planet was practically kissing him. He kept talking, "I enjoyed the visit too, you folks have some nice digs."


    "It was an honor," said the voice, almost incomprehensible. Several people talked at once after that, a jumble of well-wishes and hopeful words. Most was lost to the static.


    Greg stared ahead. The drone was beginning to burn. Reentry had begun.


    . . . .


    Total mission success. The entire operation had gone perfect. From his jump off the moon until splashdown, each checkpoint had a bold green checkmark to denote its success.


    The Flying Ghost had made another successful landing.


    The ocean rolled him back and forth, tossed him like a man being lifted by a crowd. Earth was congratulating him, welcoming him home.


    Yet the sky burned red.


    After hitting the water, the SpaceChopper had clipped the chutes and deployed a buoyancy raft. Now it floated easily atop an oversized bag of tough yellow. Greg was still safely tucked into the craft without a scratch. He sipped on the same meal supplement he''d used in space. There was no immediate danger to him or the craft.


    Yet the recovery ship had not come.


    Eventually he would hit land, probably before running out of supplies. Until then, the best option was to stay put. After all, maybe the rescue crew would still come. It''d only been a week since landing. Sighing, Greg turned the vents back off. It would''ve been so wonderful to get a breath of fresh air.


    The sky stank of sulphur.

 Lysa: Breathing Panic

    A rock had fallen from the sky. When all was said and done, that''s how simple it had been. Once upon a time, that had caused the end of the world.


    Lysa leaned against the tunnel''s rock wall to take a breather. She squinted toward the entryway and considered the too-bright landscape beyond. All of it had been underwater, once. So had everything. She reflected on the absurdity that the world was cycling back to a similar state.


    A trickle of sweat slipped down her brow. Lysa squeezed her eyes shut, wriggling her forehead in an attempt to disengage the bothersome tickle. She was wearing gloves, and the rough leather was covered in grit and grime. Considering her work environment, she didn''t trust her hands or sleeves to be clean.


    She turned at the sound of gravel-crunching footsteps.


    Danielle, a friend and colleague for the dig, gave a wave with one hand while shifting her shouldered burden. She was carrying a sack of mortar, heavy stuff, with the ease of an experience with labor.


    Grime covered the younger woman''s well-tanned skin, a testament to the length of their project. She''d hardly been a pale pink when they started. "Want me to get that for you?"


    "Oh yes, please. It''s driving me crazy."


    The other woman leaned forward and raised a scarf wrapped around her neck. Her bright green eyes caught the light. She squinted while wiping away the offending sweat and smirked. "I told you to get one of these. Or at least a headband or something. You''re just asking for gunk in your eyes."


    "I know, I know. I''m just terrible at remembering." Lysa grinned. "But thanks, Dani. How are things going down there?"


    "All done, just letting things set." Danielle patted the bag of mortar. "This one''s extra, so maybe I''ll build that barbecue I was thinking about."


    "Cool! Hopefully this means we can restart the bore tomorrow."


    That made Danielle wince. "Nawp, sorry. Liam said the inspector left for the day. Said he won''t be back until next week. Three-day weekend for him, I think."


    Lysa sighed. "Well, shit. That cuts things close. My permit expires on the fifteenth."


    "I mean, would he really notice if you dig over the weekend? He only cares about the supports."


    "Yeah, but I wouldn''t trust him not to check the site logs. If Iker sees fuel reports through the weekend, he''ll know we ignored our restriction. I can''t afford the fine."


    Danielle finally tired of holding the bag of mortar. Sliding it from her shoulder, she set it against the tunnel wall. Bits of the wall flecked away at the touch. The old mine was safe enough, but touching anything made it feel like the walls would fall apart.


    "Well." Danielle wiped her own eyes with her scarf. "And maybe I''m crazy for making the suggestion, you could take some time off? Relax?"


    "Eh," said Lysa, grumbling. "I should work on the write-up for this week. And send out invitations for next month''s workshop."


    "Come on, that''ll take you what, a few hours? You''ve got all weekend. Liam and I were gonna head into Prescott for supplies. You could join us, have a decent meal." Danielle grinned. "I know you hate that pre-packaged junk in the trailer."


    Lysa teetered on the edge of decision. She didn''t think the bore would take much longer to reach its final depth. Setting up monitoring equipment would take longer, but this would be the sixth they''d installed during the trip. They had practice, and were an efficient crew.


    Plus, she could finish most of the paperwork during the trip home. The drive would take several days, and her overnight stops would be perfect for catching up on documentation. "I guess I could do it on the road."


    "Oh yeah, plenty of time there. Here back to Colby, ugh, that''s five days? Four if you push yourself?"


    "Yeah." Lysa rolled her eyes. As if on cue, her stomach chose that moment to growl. Betrayed by her own body. She shrugged. "Okay, fine, you convinced me."


    "Yikes," said Danielle. "Don''t sound so excited."


    She smirked at her friend. "I am trying." She gestured toward the bag of mortar. "Need help with that?"


    "Psh, girl. Get your ass down to the dig and shut everything down. And tell Liam to hurry with those measurements. I heard your belly rumbling."


    "Okay, but don''t say I didn''t offer." Lysa turned away and turned on her headlamp. Back into the depths.


    . . . .


    Drilling could be dangerous work, and it was usually expensive and hard to protect. Do you buy a protective environment and seal away the dig site? How do you power your drill? What happens to the entry point after you leave? Does it get filled in so the next crew has to start from scratch?


    An abandoned mine could be a perfect solution to several of those problems. If previous owners had kept to the bare-minimum of safety standards, you had a pre-built environment for geological research.


    Plus, there were existing power lines running into the tunnels, and several of the mine junctions had pre-installed lighting. The dirty, half-working illumination was spotty at best, but it was better than working in the dark.


    But best of all, a mine meant they didn''t have to dig as far into the earth. That meant less money and less time.


    Lysa had managed to secure long-term research permits for six abandoned sites. Well, two were partially-abandoned, but the owners hadn''t cared about the dead-end shafts and were happy to get some return for their unrewarded hopes.


    That had taken longer than the permits. Funding. Sixty-some thousand dollars had been allocated for the entire trip, and eighty percent had gone to the mine owners. Or local governments. Or taxes.


    That had left little more than ten grand to fund equipment purchases, travel, and some form of lodging through the six-month trip.


    Lysa was tired, and she was nearly broke, but she had accomplished everything they''d set out to do. With any luck, the results would make for a solid paper on modern data gathering in critical zones. She''d certainly been impressed with the combined data from new techniques in RADAR, LIDAR, and sample analysis.


    Plus, long term they had new seismology stations added into the temporary network of sensors. With any luck, they''d prove reliable enough to serve as reference sources for the national seismic system. Lots of successes, lots of data to crunch, and good experiences with her colleagues.


    It had been a great trip, and she was sad to near its end.


    Her thoughts melted into a quiet state of calm as she continued through the mine. It wasn''t a short trip, the hike down to the boring equipment, but it was easy enough. The site''s original owners had put in rail and kept the exploratory shafts at an easy grade for walking.


    There was a lot of quiet along the way. And cold. It was noticeably chilly after the first hundred meters. She enjoyed the escape from Arizona''s heat.


    Rounding a final corner, she smiled as she saw Liam at work in the main cavern. The lights were better in the wide junction, and the ceiling was a meter higher than elsewhere. No looming threat of bumping your head. Lysa pulled her headlamp down onto her neck and waved.


    Liam didn''t see her, and in fact seemed entirely oblivious to anything except his work. He had the LASER rangefinders in a new configuration since last time. His darks eyes were narrowed in a concentrated squint behind heavily-rimmed glasses. The man claimed to have great vision, but you wouldn''t guess so by the way he leaned into every moment of observation. It was like watching Mr. Magoo peering at unfamiliar surroundings.


    "Liam, you almost done?"


    He didn''t hear her, of course, because Liam was also wearing his headphones. He was always wearing headphones


    Getting closer, Lysa could hear the tinny whisper of music. She waved in another attempt at catching his attention, but had already given up. She knew how much it sucked to be surprised after being alone in the dark caves. That, and she didn''t want to disturb him while he crouched over the system panel.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Accurate measurements were critical to getting the sensors accepted for future research and reference inclusion.


    So, seeing no reason to hurry, Lysa crossed her arms and watched. Liam was an expert with the measurement equipment, and seeing his process was a helpful reminder on procedure. He made an adjustment, then stooped over the readout, adjusted, stooped.


    A flicker of color caught her attention. Across the room, a status light went green to amber. That was odd. Circling around Liam''s side, Lysa walked to the boring terminal.


    They had already installed the seismic monitor. As part of their tests, they wanted accurate readouts on the boring unit''s seismic signature.


    The display showed a warning light.


    Lysa crouched and tapped the panel. She flipped through menu screens and went to the error logs.


    ''OOS: Tolerance failure.''


    "Out of synch?" she asked herself. "What the hell does that mean?" Sighing, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to the operating manual she''d downloaded.


    She peered at a section titled, "Troubleshooting Steps."


    ''OOS: Tolerance failure - The system is no longer synchronized with some or all of its external sensors. OOS faults usually indicate a significant increase in signal noise. Possible causes include improper grounding, loose sensor mounting, or faulty devices.''


    Lysa stood up with a grimace. "Well, shit. And we just got this thing calibrated.


    A hand clasped around her shoulder.


    She jumped to the side with a shriek.


    Liam stepped away with raised hands. "Sorry, shit! Sorry!"


    "Fucking, fuck, Liam! You scared the piss out of me!"


    He cringed. "Hopefully not literally. Sorry again."


    Lysa put a hand over her heart and let out a long breath. "Gods, you asshole. And I just did all I could to keep from surprising you while you got your readings!"


    "Oh, you''ve been here that long? Huh." He glanced toward the rangefinder array. "Yeah, those things are being a pain in the ass." His voice withered in volume. He was distracted.


    "Huh. What do you mean? They''ve been working alright so far."


    "Yeah, but it''s like they''re busted somehow."


    Lysa winced. "Dammit. That''s the last thing we need. Those are loaners. I can''t give them back broken."


    "Well, that''s what''s strange." Liam shrugged. "They don''t really act like they''re broken." He scrubbed a hand through his frizzy kinked hair. "Just. The readings aren''t right. Maybe the sensors got dust in them?"


    "Huh, I guess that''s possible." Lysa glanced toward the seismometer. "The seismometer is acting up too, but I thought we kept everything sealed during the installation."


    Her stomach suddenly dropped. A feeling like driving too fast over a dip in the road.


    Liam shivered. "Whoa, that was weird."


    "You felt that too? What just happened?" asked Lysa.


    They felt it again.


    And then, everything began to move. There was a terrible grumble that they could feel. The sound surrounded them, coming from every direction at once.


    The lights went out.


    Lysa shrieked out of some primal, pent-up fear beyond consciousness.


    "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," came Liam''s voice, and it grew distant and whispered and hollow with distance.


    Something cracked, and the grumble rose in volume until it was a vibration and then a terrifying shaking of the surrounding rock. Nothing so solid was supposed to move so quickly.


    "Liam? Where are you going? Where are you!?" Lysa held her hands in front of her, feeling, groping for something to hold onto, searching.


    The ground itself tilted, or maybe she tripped on something, but the dark was too absolute to tell. Too late, she remembered the headlamp dangling around her neck.


    Too late as she fell and tumbled across the quaking stone floor.


    Something hit her, sudden and firm and pleasantly cool. She felt a stinging slap on the side of her head, saw too-bright stars, and then blacked out.


    . . . .


    Lysa woke aching in the dark. She made an attempt to move, and it was a relief that her body responded. She sat up with a groan. Dimly, she remembered what had happened.


    "Liam?"


    At first, she hardly believed that her voice was working. Everything felt muffled. Unsure if her own eyes worked, she remembered the headlamp and slipped it back to her forehead.


    A flick of the switch bathed her surroundings in a blue-tint. She winced at the brightness.


    Then she winced at her own legs. One pantleg was ripped below the knee. Her calf was badly scraped, already dried with blood, and one of her tan leather boots had a gouge in the side.


    Around her, everything was dangerously close. Everything had collapsed. Lysa called out again, louder, "Liam?"


    Still, nothing.


    She felt something burning in her chest. It was a weight, heavy and with a thickness of pressure that labored her breathing. Closing her eyes, she sought calm.


    Panic would get her nowhere, she thought. Panic will get me dead, she reminded herself.


    Yet pain came with a rising calm. She felt aches and scrapes and bruises up and down her body. She would be sore for weeks.


    If you live, offered her mind.


    She shook her head and surveyed the miracle of her collapsed shelter. She was surrounded by boulder-sized shards of rock, but there were craggy gaps of shadow that might lead elsewhere.


    Hopefully, she could squeeze her way back toward the surface. That gave her pause. She tried not to think how far she''d hiked into the mountainside.


    Lysa really hoped the tunnels were still intact. She didn''t have the food or water to last underground for long.


    She crawled toward a gap in the jagged stone walls. Dead end. The next gap showed promise, but it was too narrow. Hardly wide enough for an arm.


    One by one, she checked possible exits. A few were feasible, but she only took note before checking the others. She had already resigned herself to the weariness of backtracking through a maze of crumbling paths.


    There were four choices at the end of her exploration. None looked any better than the other. Digging through her pockets, she pulled out a compass.


    She gritted her teeth at the sight of its dancing arrows. Something was interfering, so she had no idea which direction to take. "Shit," she muttered.


    Lysa sighed, rubbed a throbbing bump on the side of her head, and chose a random entrance toward more darkness.


    . . . .


    True silence, and true dark, were stifling absolutes. They pushed at the mind as if a physical presence. They wrapped Lysa in their emptiness. They stretched time and space so that each moment was an endless void of existence.


    The only distraction was pain.


    Lysa woke from the pain and tried to focus on the nothing of her surroundings. It took several moments to reorient, to remember, before she acknowledged her place in the world.


    Still under tons of rock. Still wandering through the dark in a half-known mountain.


    She flipped the switch on her headlamp and sighed from the relief of being able to see. Sleep had felt inevitable, but she had drifted off with nightmares of never waking.


    Tired, dehydrated, and aching, she used the light to look for her next direction. It had taken four attempts, but she thought she had found the right path. The night before, or period before sleeping, she had passed a section of cabling that implied she was in the main tunnel.


    Forward, then. Half-crawling, half-crouching, she moved toward a promising gap of collapsed debris.


    Lysa winced as she scraped her shoulder on something overhead. A glance up, squinting in the glare of reflection, proved that the ceiling was getting lower. She dropped to her belly, wriggling, neck craned up to see forward.


    The headlamp gave her a tiny slice of reality. The empty beyond was terrifying. It was hard not to imagine that all ended beyond the edge of light. So, she concentrated on moving forward toward the light that she projected.


    Something, somewhere, gave a groaning pop. A faint rumbling drifted through the ground, but it ended within moments of starting. Nevertheless, the sound was nerve-wracking. Lysa had just enough space to inchworm through the opening of rock. If the cave-in shifted-


    She turned her mind away from that thought. Instead, she focused on her knee and the sharp pain when it bent. She took note of the pulse of ache on her calf from the bruised scar.


    Then she blinked. She was seeing things. It was faint, but she could swear that there was light ahead. A small pinpoint of blue.


    Hopeful, she hurried ahead. Only to scrape both shoulders and knock her hip against an outcropping of rock. She hissed at the pain, but pushed past the obstruction.


    Yes, it was there. The blue was something unnatural, something artificial, but it was light. She was so close to something different. It could be some old machine, or maybe it was a left-behind sensor, but it was a change from the nothing of her collapsed surroundings. That was enough to inspire a burst of eager energy.


    One hand on the rough floor, one foot on the wall, she shoved herself onward. Twisted and rocked to escape the grasp of earthen fingers.


    Until she couldn''t.


    She squeezed herself together by pulling in her shoulders. Kicked as if she could swim through the tunnel.


    "Fuck," she whispered.


    She was stuck. It took everything she could not to scream. With anger and anguish and terror. She wanted to anyway, but breathing suddenly felt impossible. Could she take a full breath? It felt like her lungs were compressed. Like she didn''t have enough room to take more than gulp of air.


    "Lysa?" asked Liam. He was somewhere ahead.


    The voice almost made her scream anyway. She started to cry. She wasn''t sure if it was relief or terror. "Liam? Oh, Liam, please! Help help help!"


    That dot of blue stood up, and she realized what it was. His wireless headphones. Their little power light was going strong. There were footsteps, and then Liam entered the reach of Lysa''s headlamp. "Gods! Lysa, you''re alive! Thank goodness!"


    She tried to extend a hand, but found she couldn''t. She was wrapped up in wedged-together stone. Her elbows were pinned to her sides. "Shit, I''m so glad to see you. Help me! I''m so close to getting out of here!"


    He crouched and twisted to get a closer look. "Can you go backward at all? Maybe change your angle?" He paused, eyeing the mouth of the passageway. "Might be you could come through on your back."


    Lysa considered it, tried to feel where she could take hold. "One sec, lemme try." She shimmied herself away from the friendly face. It hurt, physically and emotionally, but it worked. She wanted nothing more than to burst through and give him a hug.


    Another meter back, she found that she was less constrained. Free enough to twist herself around. "Okay. Coming back."


    Knowing that she had a potential helper, she stretched out as much as possible. Extended her arms all the way forward. As if she could fly through the cramped space.


    "Okay," said Liam. "I''m ready. I''ll pull you out if I can."


    Slowly, painfully, Lysa rocked from side to side. Centimeter by centimeter, she wriggled back toward the opening. She kept expecting to stop. She kept expecting the walls to close together and squeeze her, trap her, forever.


    Then she felt Liam''s hands close around her fingertips. Fumbling, then taking her wrists. "Okay, keep coming."


    His help sped up progress exponentially. She still had to shift back and forth, but every bit of motion helped Liam pull her further into the open chamber beyond.


    Finally, she was free. She lay in the dark, breathing too heavily, staring at a ceiling that was thankfully at standing height. It was all she could do not to shake herself apart.


    "Hey, you okay?"


    Rolling onto her side, Lysa got up and fulfilled her need for a hug. She half-tackled him in the glaring light of her headlamp. "I thought you were dead!"


    "I thought you were dead!" He disengaged, carefully, and with a sigh. "But we''re not out of this yet." He pointed into the darkness.


    Lysa heard a detached defeat in his voice. Turning, she eyed a wall of stone.


    Liam murmured. "That''s the way out."

 Teal: Party Perfect

    Bass was best felt more than heard. Music in general was best when it was a pounding explosion of feeling that took over the body. There had to be at least some sense of being invaded by the sound.


    At least, that''s how Teal felt. And it was one of the best things about Earth so far. Noise discipline was practically non-existent. On a whole planet!


    Yet, that was a common theme. Discipline. The lack of discipline. An absolute ignorance that it was even an option. Teal would watch them, the Earthborn, and find little things that were a shock with every moment.


    It made for an excellent club scene at the very least, especially because of people that shared an interest in loud music and wriggling bodies. Teal was surrounded by others that shared those hobbies for nightly excursions.


    It was not a shared Lunatic trait. The other moonborn had left after the first thirty minutes. They talked about finding somewhere quiet. Relaxing. A coffee shop, probably, especially since Earth coffee was astronomically better than anything up in space.


    Teal tried to forget all that by becoming lost in the bass-driven moment. The departing group had been frustrating, had added an unwelcome tension to the evening, but alcohol had helped with the transition.


    Zie had plunged into the crowd to escape their pleading retreat. It hadn''t been enough for the other Lunatics to leave, they had been adamant that they stick together. So, Teal had fled, and now zie was dancing alone.


    But not really. There were at least a hundred people in the club. There had to be a few earthlings with an eye for rare gems.


    The song changed up, and dozens filtered off the dance floor to take a break or get drinks. Teal considered catching a breather too, but then zie met someone''s curiosity-laden gaze with a grin.


    Teal wandered over with a saunter that probably looked ridiculous, but damnit zie did it with confidence.


    The potential dance-partner was a young man with a pleasant face, a well-groomed beard, and styled hair that barely contained wavy curls. His skin was a light-brown, like Teal''s, but he had eyes that were a bright green rather than dark brown.


    Cute, in that softer, dense look common to people raised in higher gravity.


    Zie immediately wanted to kiss him on his plump Earthboy lips.


    He closed the gap as the music rose in tempo and volume. They exchanged smiles and began a back-and-forth of watching each other dance. The rest of the dancers melted into background. They slipped into a private show of admiring one another from a distance.


    And then closer. And closer.


    Until his hand pulled at Teal''s waist.


    Zie smiled, too wide, too happy, but the expression was met with an equally-wide smile.


    Luckily, the desire for a kiss seemed a shared sentiment. The man wrapped both arms around Teal''s back and they turned the rhythm into a personalized tempo.


    There was too much joy to be found on Earth. It was no fair.


    Teal had two weeks left on vacation. Two weeks of freedom. Two weeks away from responsibilities and a future that was gray and mostly sequestered away from all of life.


    Which, was nice, in its own way, if you were into that sort of thing.


    Quiet had a certain attractive ring to it.


    But, at least for the present, Teal wanted action and noise and a certain hint of violence. Zie wanted pleasure and the perfection of a hasty escape into something unrecognizable and unknown. Zie wanted freedom, whatever that meant.


    The young dance partner leaned forward and murmured in Teal''s ear, "Want to get out of here?"


    Zie could feel a pointed pressure from the earthboy''s groin. Excitement hummed through the heart and along the skin. "I''d love to."


    Taking the young man''s hand, they wove their way out of the club and onto the cool air of the street. There was a just-rained sheen on the road. A sweet-smelling breeze carried a hint of summer''s end. It was perfect.


    Two weeks.


    Teal was going to live to the fullest of every moment zie had left.


    . . . .


    "Whoa, check this out."


    Teal pushed blue-tipped gray hair out of zir eyes. A practical tomb of pillows covered the bed, so it took some doing to wrangle enough out of the way to see.


    Matias, the name of the cute boy from the club, was watching the hotel room''s video wall. He was still naked, they both were, and it took considerable effort to stop staring for long enough to focus on the screen.


    The moon, of all things, was shining in the void-black emptiness of space. Earth was a plum-sized companion on the opposite corner of the video.


    Someone was zooming in, slowly, on the space between planet and companion.


    "So, uh, empty nothing? I''m not seeing anything?" asked Teal.


    "No-no, wait. See that pinpoint of light. Right." Matias pointed. "See that? It''s a motorcycle!" He hesitated, clucked his tongue, and corrected with, "Well, kinda. It''s more like a rail-guided bicycle train thing, I guess?"


    "What." Teal sat up, scattering blankets and pillows, before feeling the biting chill of the room. Zie pulled blankets to zer chest and scooted to the edge of the bed. "Huh. What''s it doing?"


    "Falling. Or, they called it a jump. I dunno. I''m just catching up. They had some special while you were dozing. I flipped in halfway through, but I guess dude''s already been going for a few days."


    "Dude? There''s someone in that thing?"


    "Yeah, it''s like a really cool, oversized spacesuit." His face lit up. "Oh yeah, it''s that daredevil guy! Remember? He jumped between two drone platforms a few years back. Over one of those Hawaii islands."


    Teal shook zer head and flopped back onto bed. "I''m not awake enough for this. Sounds absurd!"


    "Aw, I was thinking we could go get something to eat."


    "You want food? At a time like this?" Teal grinned. "Besides, I thought we already ate?"


    Matias laughed. "I meant real food, but I''m for certa not discounting enjoying you." He blushed, which was a distraction when it tinged the young man''s chest with red.


    "Mm, well I hope not." Zie rolled zer eyes. "I had fun too." Teal hunched down in the blanket. "I just kinda, wanna stay in for now? Maybe the rest of the night? Or morning. Whichever it is now."


    "Oh, well, yeah, that''s cool too." The shift in his shoulders, the change in tone, told a different story. Matias looked back toward the television. He watched a series of pop-out diagrams pointing out features of the stuntman''s spacecraft.


    "Matias?" Teal sighed. "You don''t have to stay. I had fun, really."


    "Yeah." He twisted in place, glancing over his shoulder. "Me too." He gave a wistful grin. "Just doing as I do. Wanting too much too soon."


    "Wow, just jumping right into your feelings now?"


    Matias rolled his eyes. "Come on, don''t give me that. I''m just trying to be real." He stood up. "But, maybe you''re right. I''ll go."


    Teal smirked, admiring the highlight of wallscreen light on the young man''s body. There was definitely something to the effect of densely-packed gravity on a person of Earth.


    Natives of Luna City felt more loosely connected. Sometimes, they seemed as if half-floating, either spindly or in a perpetual state of dance.


    "Or?" He noticed zer roving eyes. "You trying to get me to come back to bed?"


    "Well I wouldn''t mind." Teal pursed zer lips with exaggeratedly raised eyebrows.


    Matias hesitated, still shining in the nude, an offer that wasn''t quite rescinded. Then he shook his head. "Nah, I should go. I''ve gotta get across city, and I''ve got work in the morning."


    Teal sighed and reached up to run a hand through zer hair. It took everything not to jump up and go with the young man. For all zer earlier thoughts of enjoying the loud, the brash, zie was hoping for a recharge. Quiet, maybe sleep, the soft moments of half-wakefulness in someone''s arms. And then more fun.


    Turning onto zer side, the wallscreen flickered over the bed''s uneven landscape of pillows. Zie watched, unfocused at first, while listening to Matias getting dressed.


    "So, uh, hey." He had pants on, some felt-like material that was sleek and form-fitting. Promising. His shirt was still unbuttoned. "Maybe we could catch up on another night? Try something a bit less. Loud?"


    Teal flicked zer gaze away from the man and back to the screen. It helped with concentration. "It''s probably for the best if we don''t." Zie paused. "I''ll be back on the moon in a few weeks."


    "The moon!?" The force of his shock drew attention back to his mostly-clothed form. He was shaking his head, fingers touching his parted lips. "Shit! That''s why you laughed earlier."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The question had been, "Do you live far from here?" Teal had laughed, shrugging, playing coy, but never quite explaining or giving details. It was fun to play with bits of anonymity.


    "Yeah, I''m just down on vacation. One of my last getaways before sailing into the promise of my career focus." Zie waved a hand across the room to emphasize the overly-dramatic proclamation.


    "So wait, so you weren''t kidding about your pants? They are assistive?" He stooped, shirt opening to bare chest-fuzz and a nipple.


    Teal shook zer head. Zie really had to focus elsewhere. Think about something else. Their romp''s earlier satiation had faded too quickly.


    Matias picked up Teal''s pants and rubbed his fingers over the fabric. He shifted his grip and examined the seam. "So cool! I''ve never seen these up close."


    Earth''s gravity was a pain in the ass, literally, when walking around a place with so much space. Everything was too far apart and public transportation was a nightmare. Hence, walking. Also hence, assitive mechanical fabrics in all of zer clothes.


    "Yeah, they''re the only reason I can even dance around here." Teal laughed at that reductive minimization of an entire planet. "Around here, you know, Earth."


    Matias didn''t speak. He was distracted.


    The screen flashed, twice, and then a bold red outline surrounded the display.


    "What? Tin-Man find a new star?" Teal glanced toward the television.


    They watched, live, as chaos erupted from the surface of a choppy sea. Low-light enhancements pushed the color and contrast toward the surreal. According to a news chyron, something was erupting off the coast of Belize.


    "Is that. A volcano?"


    Matias shook his head. "Can''t be! That''s insane!"


    Yet, there it was, boiling up and belching fire. Even without being there, Teal got a mental whiff of acrid smoke.


    Zie had experienced a terrible fire, years before, when a living module had been bombed by some asteroid miner. Something about the separatist movement, they''d found, but the smoke-tainted air had lodged into memory.


    "Is that-" zie had to think, tried to picture it in zer mind, but Earth was too big. "Is that near here?"


    Matias shot a look of stunned incredulity. "Near here? Teal! That''s right offshore!"


    "Oh."


    . . . .


    Strange, Teal thought, how the streets had seemed too big. The city too open. Everything too spread apart. Earth was huge, and everyone could just sprawl out wherever felt convenient. Or, it had felt that way.


    Luna City was the opposite out of necessity. Every square centimeter was carefully allocated for best use at the best place at the best time. Nothing was free, or easy, or happenstance.


    Then, suddenly, as if through spontaneous existence, the streets were too full. The city too crowded. The world too small. It was three in the morning and yet everything was bustling.


    Matias had insisted on getting Teal back to zer traveling group. Their hotel, the one where''d they''d seen the news, had been just right for a fling. A place to get away and revel in another person''s body.


    Teal and zer group had rented a house, a month-long deal, for their entire leg in Canc¨²n. It had four bedrooms, massive rooms, high ceilings, and was basically a palace compared to anything they''d have on the moon.


    Unfortunately, it was further north along the peninsula than where the group escaped for that evening. And, despite talking about keeping close through the trip, none of them had bothered to check in before heading back to the house after leaving the coffee bar.


    There had been dozens of messages after the news broke, messages from the moon, messages from mother and father, and messages from the rest of the vacationing moonborn. Everyone was worried and wanted the trip cut short.


    So much for two weeks.


    Teal continued tapping away on zer phone, frustrated, ready to cut it off and say it was out of charge. Zie had just barely convinced the group to stay indoors. Wait. Reschedule the tickets, the flights, the rocket, if they wanted to be useful.


    Coming after Teal would be foolish. Plus, zie really wanted more time with Matias. With everything being cut short, the connection felt more important. More real.


    But Teal only had an hour left with the last earthling zie would talk to for years. Zie hated it. It was selfish and stupid in the face of tragedy, but it was the truth.


    Luckily, Matias had his own car, too, which was helpful for both getting back and for spending time together. He leaned into the horn. "Pinche pendejo cabr¨®n! Fuck!" Someone wedged their car in the hint of a gap in front of them. "Sorry, this is gonna be. Difficult."


    "Seriously, I could just catch a ride from someone else." Zie would hate to, but would still offer. "You gotta get home too." Zie wanted to go home with him. Because why not.


    "I live just outside of the city, so this is on the way. Besides, you''re not catching anything in this chaos. People are freaking out."


    "Well rightly so. That is a fucking volcano!"


    "So? I mean, it''s not normal, but really it shouldn''t mean anything to us. It''s far enough from shore that we''ll just have a new island. We''re not in danger, and the ejecta isn''t likely to reach us." Matias had put on a pair of glasses once in the car. He had smiled to say, "They''re mildly corrective--, mostly informative." He''d been reading news and details while weaving through traffic.


    Teal stared out the window toward the volcano''s building plume of ash. "At the very least, we shouldn''t be breathing that gunk. But I bet it just makes more people come and gawk. This place is gonna be hell because of the fire and the crowding."


    "Says the tourist."


    "Hey, but I''m a tourist on all of Earth. That lets me off the hook."


    "It does? Huh! News to me."


    "Seriously! I don''t come with the baggage of other countries. I''m not part of their histories of shitting on each other. Plus, we''re no threat up on the moon. We''re far away, largely ignored, and we can hardly survive on this over-moisturized ball of phlegm."


    "Ball of phlegm!?" Matias cough-laughed. "Wow! I had no idea you were so mean!"


    "It''s not mean if it''s true!"


    "No," he retorted, "It''s especially mean if it''s true."


    "Oh please, see this is gonna get into weird eartherisms. You ground dwellers are so sensitive about facts. Like they''re more than just stating the obvious."


    "Uh, ground dwellers?" Matias eased the car into an alley to cut across between roads. He brushed them past an overfilled dumpster and honked at a bicyclist rocketing through from the back. "Last I checked, you lunatics live in the ground. You''re all basically dwarves, is what I''m saying."


    Teal scoffed. "What!?" Zie was having far too much fun with this conversation. The physical attraction had been great. The chemistry had been perfect. It was no fair that he was also enjoyable to be around. "If anything, we''re elves. Even our shortest people are taller than all of you combined!"


    Then, somehow, the world inhaled.


    It was an audible, physical change in the air. The clouds, reflecting city lights, shifted as one. As if nudged by an invisible hand.


    And then, having taken its breath before the plunge, the world exploded into fire.


    The ground shook in time with the shockwave of some unseen outburst. Every building around them gave off a sudden cloud of dust. Like rugs overdue for a good smack.


    Traffic stopped in the way it must in moments of shock. Vehicles slammed into one-another while others veered into buildings or onto sidewalks crowded with running pedestrians.


    Matias slammed on the brakes, still in the alleyway, and someone rear-ended them. His car twisted from the impact until shoved against the wall of the alley.


    Both walls wobbled, not from the impact but from the near-constant shaking that continued a rising intensity. One of the walls was brick, and it practically shattered before crumpling in on itself.


    The other wall, some mix of glass and steel, twisted as its grounding foundation buckled beneath the pavement.


    Matias, still frozen after the crash, was holding the sides of his head. "We have to get on top of something!" Blood trickled down his forehead from bits of windshield. His hands were covered in white-powder from the airbags.


    Teal struggled to unbuckle zer seatbelt. Everything suddenly hurt. Zie, too, was covered in flecks of blood and glass and dust. "Ugh." Zie could hardly think. "Out of the alley. Things are falling."


    "No, climb up, up there!" Finally, Matias began to move. He pushed his door, shoving with both arms and a leg, until it opened with a grating pop. "Up the side of this building.


    The metal-glass building had fallen over, mostly intact, but the ground was cracking beneath them. Everything was still shifting, moving more.


    Sirens, deep, all-encompassing, blotting-out-thought, erupted into a sonorous wail.


    "Whatever just erupted, we have a tsunami heading here like now!"


    Teal coughed, shoved zer own door open, and tumbled from the vehicle. "Shit." Zie scrambled after Matias for the twisted side of the building. "Shit, shit, shit."


    Vacation on Earth, zie thought. Once in a lifetime opportunity, zie remembered hearing. Zie felt shards of the windshield biting into zer hands while climbing up the side of the wall. Zie really wanted to like earth, but now it felt like all the naysayers might be onto something.


    . . . .


    Hours had gone by, but it wasn''t getting brighter. If anything, the sky seemed to grow darker. Closer.


    The clouds felt like they''d fall at any moment.


    Teal wrapped an arm around Matias'' shoulders. He kept coughing, so it was uncomfortable, but as least it let them share warmth. The day, if you could call it that, was staying depressively chilly.


    "How long before the water recedes?" asked Teal.


    An older woman, gray-haired but pacing with energy, glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe, eh, two, three, hours, but, uh, es dif¨ªcil con seguridad, Delan?"


    A younger man, one that shared the woman''s features, shrugged. "This isn''t like some usual flood, no. The ground has changed." He shrugged again. "She is right, maybe three hours."


    "What''s it matter though? If the water goes? You said it yourself. The earth itself is collapsing. Look!" Matias gestured with his still-bloodied hand.


    A nearby hotel, a twenty-story behemoth, a block wide, a block deep, was sinking into the grime-coated waters. As it tilted, enough weight shifted so that half of a wall caved in. They could hear the newly-crafted rubble crashing into the flooded streets below.


    "Everything is washed away," mumbled Matias, "and what isn''t will be swallowed by this hole into hell."


    Teal grimaced. "Someone has to have some boats. There are ships out there, too." Internally, zie hoped similarly for the rest of the lunatics. The townhouse was two stories. Surely, they would''ve gotten on the roof. Please, she thought, the building survived the initial quakes.


    "Whatever might happen, hasn''t happened yet," grumbled the old lady. She crossed her arms and walked to the edge of the rooftop. The building had crumpled to one side, so the structure was tilted at an angle, but it seemed to be holding up.


    As long as the ground didn''t swallow them whole.


    "Sorry I couldn''t get you back to your friends," muttered Matias.


    Zie rubbed his back, up and down, up and down. "It''s okay, hey, it''s fine. You tried. Tried your best." Zie thought it was absurd for him to apologize, to take any of the blame. He had no control over a wondrously ridiculous planet.


    "We should try and sleep," Teal offered.


    They heard a distant grumble.


    Looking toward the sea, back where the plume had been, they could see a rising glow. "Shit. Is that thing still going?"


    Thunder, and then lighting crackled across the sky.


    "Look, we need a plan." The gray-haired woman glanced between the three of them. What appeared to be her son, or grandson, a scrawny moonborn, and a local man still shaking in shock.


    "What can we do?" asked Teal.


    "First, some of us must swim."


    The other young-man nodded. "I could probably make it to the marina. Go from one building to another. There''s bound to be a few boats."


    "Why not just wait for the water to recede?" Matias raised his head. "Then we can grab a vehicle and head inland."


    "Not happening, lindo ni?o. The roads were already swamped before the water came." The old woman shrugged. "And we cannot leave. We must stay here, to help those still trapped. But we will need boats to do that."


    Teal felt zer eyes bulge. "I''m sorry, what!? You want to stay here? This place is actually in the middle of exploding!"


    Matias squeezed zer arm with a sigh. His face was showing extra stubble, extra lines, from the long night. He looked exhausted. "No, she''s right. This is home."


    "Will one of you come with me?" The other man stood, brushing off his knees. He was covered in grime from the damp dusty air. Flakes of ash had been falling for hours.


    "Can''t swim, myself," said the woman. She raised her hands in a long shrug. "I never did like the ocean."


    Matias frowned. "The most I would do is slow you down, or put you in danger. I''m no swimmer, and that''s on a good day."


    "How about you?"


    Teal winced. "I mean, I only ever swam in wave pools or the submerged domes." Zie glanced at the wide-eyes of zer new companions. "Oh. Right. I''m from the moon."


    Matias sighed. "What the hell is a submerged dome?"


    "Well, we need the biome diversity, so-"


    The old woman raised a hand while shaking her head. "While very interesting, it isn''t the time. Please, it sounds like you can help, moonborn."


    Zie looked away, toward the red-tinted horizon. "It''s Teal."


    "Hm?"


    "My name''s Teal. Teal Dyltissoni. And this is Matias Gutierrez."


    Matias waved. "Hey."


    "Georgina. Call me Georgi. This is my grandson, Nicolas."


    "Nic."


    Georgi rolled her eyes. "Nicolas." She gave her grandson a soft smile. "I love that name, cari?o." Her gaze flicked back to Teal. "So, you will go?"


    Teal gritted zer teeth and took a breath. "Yeah. I guess it''d be for the best. Take care of him." Zie glanced down to Matias. Kneeled beside him. "I really like him." Zie kissed him on the cheek.


    Then they shared a proper kiss.


    Georgi sighed. "A splendid time to find love. Now we just must live for it to grow."

 Greg: Oceanic Astronaut

    "Houston, this is Flying Ghost, over."


    Static. Static and wind and the faint lapping of gentle waves. An occasional bursting screech, that bright noise that might be interference and might be unheard speech, broke up the soothing mix of white noises.


    "Cape, this is Flying Ghost, over."


    But Greg heard wind, mostly. The static only came when he turned up the radio, and the ocean had been so slight, so at ease, that its sounds were hardly real. It was a lucky streak, he knew, because one bad thundercloud would throw him halfway back to the moon.


    He stared up toward the golden glow of morning sky. Too golden. Glowing too brightly. "Flying Ghost," he muttered, to himself more than the radio, and then he sighed. "More like Floating Wreck."


    The dumbest thing, or so he had decided, was that he had no unofficial means for communication. No phone. No satellite MODEM. No internet connection or video chat. Everything, during his so-called space jump, had been routed through some part of mission command. To keep his communications controlled and sanitized. Of course.


    And, normally, it wouldn''t have mattered. Normally, he would''ve been picked up within hours of landing. There should''ve been ships racing to meet him. Reporters buzzing the sky with drones and helicopters and eager cameras.


    None of them had come rushing forward.


    He was all alone on the open sea.


    The sky still stank, and the clouds kept building in the distance. The whole eastern horizon was a wall of dark purpled-red haze. Fire and sulfur.


    As far as Greg could tell, the chopper had landed where it was expected. Not far from the Bahamas. Every instrument appeared to be working correctly, and they pinpointed his splashdown at about 450 kilometers east of San Salvador. Far enough from land to be safe, but close enough for an easy pickup.


    It seemed impossible that he should see a disturbance at all, let alone something that was apparently centered on the far side of the gulf. How was it spreading?


    He wondered. What exactly had happened?


    His food was going to run out soon. He wondered what he should do next. It was apparently time to begin planning. It had been easy to imagine some delay, some hiccup in plans, for the first few days. But no hiccup would last nearly two weeks without an iota of communication.


    He stared at the dial on the SpaceChopper''s dashboard. He thumped it with a finger, as if that kind of thing worked anymore.


    Digital dials didn''t care about wishful thinking. They didn''t jump just enough to give some hope that they were misreading.


    He spoke, just vocalizing his thoughts, without knowing if the systems were still recording. How much time did they have for voice? For video? Would there be a full documentary of his time lost at sea?


    "Not sure who might hear this anymore. If anyone still hears it. But, I''m still out here. Day, uh, thirteen? After splashdown. Can''t say it hasn''t been relaxing in its own way. Luckily, the weather''s been nice, though I am more than ready to jettison this suit."


    He paused. Staring at the too-red sky. "Starting to stink something awful in my own juices. Thinking maybe the system''s cleaning gizmos are fed up wiping me down."


    Something, suddenly and unexpected, fluttered into view with a flurry of bright motion. A gull landed on the nose of the SpaceChopper.


    The creature didn''t look well. Its landing had been sloppy, a thump rather than alighting with avian grace.


    Greg stared at the bird and glanced back toward the sky. "I am," he began, but then stopped. He was struggling through a sudden rise of confused emotion. "I imagine, if you won''t mind an idle thought, that Noah must''ve felt something like this when he saw one of those damned birds return. Never been more than vaguely religious, but the stories do stick around."


    He watched the gull for a long while. In quiet. Waiting to see what might happen. He knew the bird didn''t actually mean anything. He had never been superstitious, but it took a moment to reconcile with the presence of other life. Some part of him had fully expected the world to have ended after his fall from the sky. After arriving into a different sort of seclusion.


    Plus, a gull meant he might be close to land. His instruments insisted that he was still miles out at sea, but maybe they were off. Or, maybe gulls had a wider range than he knew of.


    Whatever its reason for arrival, the bird was breathing too quickly. Didn''t seem to be doing more than sitting and trying to catch its breath. Maybe confused. The ash cloud, the unknown disaster, might be playing horrendous tricks on natures'' navigation systems.


    "Well, I suppose it''s time to start paddling."


    He would have to figure out what to paddle with, but the decision was enough to give him direction. He needed to do something, and any attempt would be enough to prod him toward progress. The first step is the hardest and all that.


    Leaning forward to reach, he released the overhead hatch.


    The outside stank worse than before. A scent like rotten eggs was constant, though there were crosswinds that were fresh and briny.


    Slowly, fighting through the aching stiffness of sitting in one place, Greg began clambering out of his suit. It was not easy. A team of technicians had bolted him together like some circuit-injected knight. It nearly dislocated his arm to reach some of the straps. Some of the pins.


    But, finally, he was in nothing but his Nomex undergarment. The form-fitting suit wasn''t all he had to wear. The chopper also had emergency clothing, but he would avoid that until closer to shore. He didn''t want to chance ruining the pajama-like jumpsuit, and it would be more presentable than his current clothing. He might need to be presentable on shore.


    The thing was, he kept tripping over the continued radio silence. It was so absolute. It honestly freaked him out. It led his mind to form a list of required consumables, supplies, and other necessities he''d need to survive after hitting land. His brain had already decided that life had become a matter of desert-island survival.


    He hoped he was wrong, but the looming clouds only amplified his budding paranoia.


    The last step, unfortunately, was detaching the suit''s health and waste-management systems. He wrinkled his nose while pulling out tubing that stank enough to make his stomach turn. Exhaustion swept over him as he removed his catheter.


    He really wished the team had picked him up. They could''ve put him out when they did all his medical review processing. Pulling out your own urethral catheter had never been on his bucket list.


    But, finally free, he climbed atop the SpaceChopper and took a seat. Legs dangling over the edge. It was freeing, and for a moment he almost forgot to worry.


    The gull, still sitting, breathing wrong, did little more than scoot further toward the nose of the spacecraft.


    "Just you and me, buddy." Greg ran a hand over his beard. "But let''s see about changing that."


    . . . .


    Jumping to Earth without an engine had been a fun idea. A technical feat for both the equipment and the physics involved. And an impressive record for all of history. A never-to-be-copied stunt that would be an eternal marvel.


    Greg would''ve thrown all of that away for even the tiniest outboard motor. Just something, anything, that might putter him along in some discernable direction.


    Of course, preferably toward shore.


    Though, at least he could see the shore. It was a smudge of dark on the horizon. Under the smudge of still-building cloud cover. He marveled at that. At this rate, the whole world was going to be overcast.


    Greg dipped the spacesuit arm back into the water and continued paddling. It was not very efficient, but it was better than nothing. He had spent time trying to detach part of his seat, trying to unfasten panels, but that had proved impossible without a screwdriver.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    He found himself grumbling to the gull at times. He was a social creature after all. "I should''ve insisted on some kind of toolkit. At least a multi-tool of some kind."


    The gull wobbled as it moved several inches to the right. As if attempting to avoid the conversation. As if insisting that it really did want to leave, if only it could muster the energy.


    Greg nodded. "I''d do the same, myself, if I could. Wish I had your wings." He paddled several times, a motion that was tiring but hopefully helping, while thinking in quiet.


    His last messages from the ISS had mentioned the Yucatan Peninsula. That was across the Gulf of Mexico, not more than, maybe, a thousand kilometers? He had memorized a good number of locations, distances, and shipping lanes before the jump. In case the stunt had gone wrong. He could''ve landed anywhere. Could''ve ended up crashing into Kansas.


    Would''ve served Kansas right.


    But it was important to have a good mental map of the world when in an uncontrollable crash onto the planet.


    Yet, surveying his mental map, he had to admit that the situation looked bleak. There weren''t a lot of reasons for clouds to spread across the entire gulf, but Greg could make some guesses. An impact event was unlikely because the space nuts would''ve tracked that. It left volcanism as the likely culprit. He was no scientist, no researcher beyond engines and speed, but he''d picked up bits and pieces over decades of life.


    "No," he grumbled to the Gull, "An all-tool wouldn''t really fix the bigger problem." Lower, to himself, not the gull, he added, "Though if this is what I think it is? What will?"


    He kept paddling.


    . . . .


    Luck was probably a better aid than the spacesuit-arm paddle. Currents led Greg in a roundabout curve inland. He had never sailed, or even thought of sailing. It was too slow, but he imagined some oceanic scientist nodding at his oceanic journey.


    They would point at a map with vague gesturing. "Yes, see here? You fell right into the great go-thataway tide of the Atlantic Ocean. Very fortunate. A few klicks east and you would drift like a mermaid Sisyphus. Out-of-place spacecraft rather than boulder, of course."


    The gull was not amused by this imagined story. Greg stared at his avian friend. It had been four days since the bird took up its roost. It was moving less than before, something that hadn''t seemed possible. It was probably on the verge of sliding into the ocean.


    He had tried feeding the creature, bits of puree from his suit feeder, to no avail. Whatever was wrong seemed beyond his capability to fix.


    It was frustrating to feel so useless. The world was burning around him. The ocean was sending him in whatever direction it chose. And he couldn''t save a dying creature within arms'' reach. Fate was happily reminding him of his worst critics. Greg was only good at avoiding death, but most people did that better, while also living productive lives.


    Something drifted into his hair. He reached up to brush it out and raised a brow at the soft fluff-quality of its touch. He inspected his fingertips.


    Like dust, but mixed with talcum powder. There was a certain grit to it despite feeling almost insubstantial. Like it would disappear if someone coughed.


    More caught in his hair. Bits of gray added to brown hairs returning to their hidden gray streaks. Not that dyeing his hair would be important at the rate the world was going.


    Hundreds of the gray flecks, then thousands more, settled onto the swelling waters around his chopper.


    Greg looked up.


    It was a near whiteout. The air was filled with fluff floating from a dimmed yellowing sky.


    "Ash," he muttered.


    He shook his head. What kind of eruption would send its plume all the way to the ocean?


    His gaze swept the water''s surface. Things were already getting cloudy. Like a dirty bathtub.


    He was close. He could hear waves whispering against the shoreline. "I suppose I should get going."


    The gull stared at him. It looked sleepy.


    "Glad I could offer you a good place to rest, but we should probably be going." He should leave the bird, he recognized, but it was something. He was very close to having nothing, and it seemed foolish to fight for nothing.


    Hunching over, he moved to the edge of the cockpit''s entrance. Sliding onto his belly, he reached past his spacesuit. It was empty and armless, but it still mostly looked like a person. Comfortable in the reclined seat. He gave it a pat of thanks.


    Then, rocking forward, he grabbed the emergency pack nestled along the seat''s armrest. He''d already gone through the supplies, bits and pieces of dried foods, packets of drugs, bandages, and sorted through what he would actually need.


    Then he pulled shrink-wrapped emergency clothes from a thin box on the wall. It was a navy-blue jumpsuit with "NASA" stenciled on each shoulder. The package included a pair of rubberized slippers, but he hoped to find proper shoes somewhere on land. He stuffed the bag into his emergency pack. He would change on shore.


    A final glance told him what he already knew. There was noting left to salvage. Not that he could take without better tools. It seemed a waste, leaving so much, but he had little choice. Leaving meant a better chance for survival than sticking close to an empty husk.


    Reaching once more into the suit, he opened to transmit. "Any station on this net, this is Flying Ghost."


    He paused. Waited. Hoped. Yet, still, there was nothing. No response. No chatter. Nobody listening?


    Greg shook his head. "I am departing the SpaceChopper, time now, to seek out shelter. The nutrient slurry, tasty as it was, is about empty. Plus, ash has started falling, and I don''t know if the currents will take me any closer. If I wait, they might sling me back out into nowhere. No sense waiting longer."


    There was a sudden burst of static, a whine on the chopper''s speakers, but it faded into a subtle crackle.


    "Well. If that was someone, I didn''t understand a thing. Just heard noise." He took another moment to wait for a response. The static didn''t change. "Well."


    He waited again. Hope could be a poison. It wouldn''t hurt to wait another hour, right? Noise on the radio might mean someone was getting closer, right?


    Greg shook his head. He had made up his mind. He cleared his throat. "Ghost out."


    "Alright, bird." He stood and shrugged the pack onto his shoulders. "Hope you aren''t a real pecker." He laughed at his own joke.


    The gull didn''t respond.


    Greg wrinkled his nose as he turned to the water.


    It definitely resembled a dirty bathtub.


    Walking to the nose of the SpaceChopper, he sat on the edge and let his legs dip into the water. "At least it''s kind of warm."


    Then he slipped into the tropical waters. His weight took him plunging beneath the surface, and he let out a breath to clear his nose while submerged. It felt good, and he wondered why he hadn''t taken the time to bathe.


    He didn''t have soap, but he could''ve at least scrubbed away some of his sweat and grime.


    Breaking the surface, he turned to face the SpaceChopper. "Phew. Really does stink up here."


    Kicking with still-tingling legs, he moseyed closer to the gull. "Now don''t make this difficult."


    The desire was stupid. He acknowledged it again. But the thing would get nothing out on the ocean. The water wouldn''t be safe for fish, and that meant the bird would need uncontaminated food to have a chance at recovery.


    "What are you really?" he asked. Greg was not someone that knew birds. He could recognize a parrot, mostly, or sparrows. Though, he wasn''t sure if there were differences between sparrows and finches.


    His ill companion was fairly large, with a fading black-cap and a bright orange bill. Its wing tips were black, fading abruptly to white as if they''d been singed. "Well," decided Greg, "Whatever you are, hop aboard." He turned to offer the top of the pack for a perch.


    The gull didn''t move.


    "Oh, don''t be stubborn. You know, I could''ve already left."


    It didn''t budge.


    "Shit. What the fuck am I doing."


    Greg grabbed one of the craft''s external handholds and pulled himself out of the water. Splashing forward, he wrapped a hand around the bird''s back and fell back into the ocean.


    The bird wriggled, lamely, and spread its wings as if ready to get away.


    But the effort was weak enough that Greg could keep hold while kicking to keep himself above water. He reached back, craning his neck away from the creature, and set it on top of his pack.


    It situated its wings and wobbled in an attempt to stay upright.


    Greg settled a hand on its back to keep it stabilized while spitting to keep murky ocean out of his lungs. "Careful, there. I''m sure you can swim, but it''s probably not great for you."


    The ash couldn''t be great for either of them. It was collecting in floating clumps.


    Then the gull settled down and folded its legs beneath its body.


    It wasn''t going anywhere.


    "Great. Glad you''re settled."


    The bird cocked its head, breathing too hard, looking bewildered.


    "Well. Off we go then."


    Turning his gaze away from his passenger, he spread his arms and began paddling for shore. It didn''t look far, but he felt like a minimal-energy stroke was safest.


    Slowly, bird in tow, he left his stunt craft behind.


    . . . .


    Land.


    Sweet glorious land.


    It would''ve been better if the sun were still out.


    If the beach wasn''t mostly covered in gritty gray ash.


    But Greg had made it ashore. He crawled halfway up the beach because he didn''t trust his legs. He didn''t want to stand and fall over, especially considering Gull.


    It was a stupid name, but he couldn''t keep calling it bird.


    He kept expecting it to fly away, or fall overboard, but it had clung on, even when waves had swept over the both of them. Maybe there was still some want of life left in the creature.


    It continued to hang on even as Greg pushed to his feet on the graying beach. He had landed on some forested part of the landmass, and there wasn''t a clear indication of promising directions to take. Good thing he''d studied maps.


    The chopper had made him fairly certain that he was near San Salvador Island. If that were true, he only needed a short walk through the woods to find a road. He knew there had to be trails. People lived on the island, and vacationers had visited the area for years.


    "Okay," he muttered. He was feeling tired, but he didn''t want to sleep on an unprotected beach. Not with evening coming quick, and not with the building cover of ash. He wanted shelter and the promise of food.


    He also knew that stopping would be difficult to overcome. Stopping would mean he''d have to find the energy to start.


    So, he began trudging down the beach.


    He never had gotten around to visiting the Bahamas.


    "As good a time as any," he noted.


    Gull said nothing, but shook its head free of gathering ash.

 Lysa: From Dust to Ash

    Scraping, skittering, crumbling rock. Weight shifted, and there were moments of clattering sound. Something groaned, distantly, and there was a repetitive muffled tap.


    Tap. Tapping. Scraping. Clunk, clatter, and a rumbling scrape.


    More rumbling thumps.


    Lysa blinked herself into proper wakefulness, though it did nothing to help see her surroundings. She remembered, just barely, that she shouldn''t see anything.


    The first few times, she had woken in a panic. Groggily convinced that she''d gone blind.


    An absence of light had created an absence of time that made it easy to forget. The absence of time led to an absence of space. Existence itself seemed sucked in by the all-encompassing darkness.


    Lysa took a moment to count herself through a breathing exercise. She made an effort at reassuring herself that she was conscious. She was alive. The emptiness could easily be a dream. Maybe she was just floating in the nothingness of sleep.


    Yet, she could feel Liam leaning against her side. The slow rhythm of his breathing was a touch of sanity. An external reassurance that the rest of the world existed.


    They had decided to huddle together through an unspoken agreement. It had made sense, for warmth, for peace of mind, but it hadn''t been a conscious process. The darkness had pressed them together with the gentle inevitability of gravity. A millennium of fears pushed them to seek comfort and companionship in the face of hopelessness.


    Fumbling around her neck, Lysa found the switch for her headlamp.


    Click.


    A cone of sanity revealed the truth of her nightmare. The rock still surrounded them. The cave-in had not disappeared.


    Scrape. Scrape. Clatter.


    Yet, the noise had not been a dream. Something was moving. Something was happening beyond their confines.


    "Liam?"


    He stirred against her side. "Mmm?"


    "Do you hear? Something? Please tell me you hear something."


    "Uh, I think-"


    "No, wait. Don''t tell me. If you don''t hear anything, I don''t want to know. Let me believe I''m still sane."


    Somewhere, beyond the cave-in, there was a muffled thud.


    Liam sat up straight. He blinked in the light of Lysa''s headlamp. "No, no. Don''t worry, we''re probably as sane as we''ve ever been. I hear it too."


    "Then, what in the world?" Lysa squinted as soon as she asked that question. She must''ve been imagining things. "Liam. Do you see? Something?"


    There was a hint of light. That, or something was reflecting from her headlamp. She switched it off.


    "Oh, whoa! Now I sure as hell do!"


    Somehow, some of the rocks were outlined in the featherings of an external light. Toward the mine''s entrance.


    Lysa turned the headlamp back on and sprang to her feet. She shook her head. "There''s been nobody up here except us these last few weeks. That has to be Danielle."


    "Oh shit! The tractor! I bet she drove the tractor in here!"


    That would be absurdly dangerous. The site had a little miniature backhoe, small enough to look like a toy, that had belonged to the mine owners.


    "Dani!? Danielle!? Is that you!?" Lysa yelled as if any sound would make it through the noise of machinery and a meter of rock.


    There was no response, just more noise. More of a grumbling grinding rumble.


    "Oh wow, I hope it is her," said Liam. Then he winced. "But maybe we should get back some? Away from the potentially-deadly pile of debris?"


    "Yeah, probably a good idea." Lysa held out her hand. "Come on."


    Liam used her help to get to his feet. They both retreated to the far end of the chamber.


    The light from outside got brighter. Showed in more cracks and gaps in the rock. They watched, and Lysa felt proper hope flutter in her chest. "Oh, gods, please let the ceiling not cave in."


    There was an especially wrenching sound, a groaning growl of metal on stone, and then something gave. The wall blocking them in broke apart in a tumultuous release of pressure. A boulder-sized slab of basalt tumbled into the center of the room. Scrabble and chunks of the old ceiling scattered where the two had been sitting.


    They coughed in the sudden influx of dust and debris. Lysa waved the air in front of her face as she choked on the vile cloud of ground earth.


    Four brilliant beams of light cut through that cloud. Headlights, on the front of a small digging tractor, filled the cave with shadows.


    A figure hopped down from the vehicle. She was shouting. "Oh hell! Yes, yes, yes. Yes! Lysa! Liam!"


    Lysa stumbled forward, feeling faint, and ran into Danielle''s arms. "Oh, gods, you saved us!"


    Liam joined in the sudden group hug. "Oh, Dani, you absolutely marvelous woman!"


    Danielle coughed and rubbed at streaming tears on her cheeks. "Oh, fuck, am I glad to find you two. Let''s get this hell out of this dump!"


    Lysa nodded eagerly. "ASAP for sure!"


    . . . .


    "It felt like we were down there forever!"


    "I literally lost all track of time."


    "You could''ve checked your phone!" Danielle laughed. She rubbed her eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes. They''d all had an emotional afternoon, and it seemed like tears sprang up for the silliest reasons.


    Lysa shook her head. "My phone died after the first few hours. I should''ve put it on airplane mode or something, but I was so hoping I''d get a moment of signal. Or just something to get a message out."


    "Mine was almost dead even before the earthquake. Was listening to music all day." Liam shrugged. "Hell though, that was wild."


    "What has the news said? Heard anything about how bad it was? It felt too strong to be localized to this ridgeline." Lysa bit the side of her tongue. "It was so freaky."


    Danielle''s face stiffened and wrinkled into a scowl. "Not a damn thing. My phone signal was always bad up here, but now it''s just dead. I''m getting nothing."


    "Hell, but what about the radio?" Liam looked up from his own phone, still charging, as he chewed on a granola bar.


    "There''s nothing but static." Danielle glanced to the southeastern skies. "Ever since that started springing up, really. Whatever hit us was big."


    "Hit us?" asked Liam. "You think, like, an asteroid?"


    Lysa cringed. "Well, shit, I hadn''t even thought of that. I sure as hell hope not."


    They all looked to the southeast, and for a moment they shared a silent contemplation of what could be. Their horizon was incredibly close because of a sinewave line of hills covered in scrubby trees. Above those hilltops, the world was growing dark.


    A darkening swath of clouds was spreading into the brilliant blue of Arizona sky. The cloud front was distant, but that made it into an unnerving beauty. What could cause such a towering cluster of ejecta?


    Lysa shaded her eyes as closer, normal-looking clouds, moved from blocking the sun. She shook her head. "That can''t be an asteroid impact. Or anything from space. It''s growing, right? That''s not just my imagination?"Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "I mean, it''s so far away," said Liam, "but I guess it could be volcanic. But the nearest faults are, what, bottom edge of the North American, Caribbean, and, ah?"


    "Cocos," said Danielle. She rubbed her chin, staring at the ground with the look of someone lost in thought. "But that''s two, three thousand kilometers from here. If that''s volcanic, it''s beyond big."


    "How long did you say it''s been?" asked Liam.


    "Almost three days, now. So, it''s been going for a while."


    Lysa turned west and squinted as she faced the sun. "And that one''s been building since the same time?"


    "I think so, but it''s closer, so it could''ve happened first." Danielle shrugged. "That''s why I first thought impact. Like maybe something huge entered orbit, broke up, and we''d see a few minor meteorites and one major."


    "But if this is volcanic? A shifted plate and a bit of a chain reaction? But then one must''ve triggered the other." Lysa glanced at Liam. "Didn''t you work with Berkeley once? Got any contacts over there?"


    "Yeah, if my phone was working." He swiped through a screen as he spoke before pulling up a compass. "Though I can almost guarantee that they''re busy with all this shit." He glanced at the heading, then flipped to a map. "That''s definitely south California. Somewhere between San Diego and the Gulf."


    "Fuck, this is a nightmare." Lysa shook her head. "Well, we can''t do anything more here. We''ll have to call this site a loss."


    "Maybe we''ll get signal back once we''re in town. Could be one of the towers got messed up in that quake." Danielle nodded. "Yeah, that''s probably it. All the relays through these hills are bound to be shit for months."


    "Alright, well lemme get my equipment from the shack. I left a few rangefinder parts, and my pack of snacks."


    "Ah! I''d wondered where you hid them," grumbled Lysa.


    Liam scowled. "You kept eating my fruit rollups!" He started toward a small metal building on the side of the lot. It was a storage shed, but there hadn''t been anything interesting left inside.


    "Well, it can''t be healthy, you eating them all alone."


    "So you''re a thief out of kindness?" asked Danielle.


    Lysa smirked. "Aren''t all the best ones? Anyway, I''m gonna pack too. Let''s hook up the trailer."


    "I''ll park the tractor. Damned glad they left that thing."


    That sobered Lysa and punched away her good humor. "Yeah. Saved our lives." She smiled at Danielle. "You saved our lives. Thank you."


    Danielle blushed. "I had to. No fucking mine is taking my friends."


    . . . .


    The team drove away from their site with more relief than any kind of satisfaction. In fact, Lysa felt a strong sense of failure deep in her gut. It was absurd, but she hated that their near-death experience robbed them of a success.


    If the world was going to fall on their heads, she at least wanted something productive to come of the catastrophe.


    Instead, they were rumbling along the ridgeline roads with little to show for their last site visit. They had lost one of their LASER rigs, the crushed sensors would never be useful, and it was uncertain if other sites had lasted through the quake.


    There was an extra kick of anxiety over that fact. Their entire trip might be made pointless by one of Mother Nature''s fits. That wasn''t entirely unexpected, but the inevitability of natural disasters didn''t lessen their sting.


    Danielle hit a particularly wicked rut in the road and the three of them were jogged from side to side in the truck. The truck could take the punishment, but it hurt.


    "Gods, did you even try avoiding that one?" Lysa winced. "I still ache all over."


    "Oh come on, don''t blame the shitty roads on me," said Danielle. She grinned despite her claim of innocence. "I am trying though, honest." Her tone made that honesty suspect.


    "It is a bit insane to call these roads." Liam repositioned in the back seat of the extended cab. He was almost lying down and had slipped himself under both sets of the back-bench''s seatbelts. "They''re trails at best."


    "Trails, roads. They''re shitty versions of either. You really can''t expect me to give you a smooth ride when none of this has been maintained in years."


    "We''re taking the long way, right?" asked Lysa.


    "Yeah, we''ll be at 89 soon. I don''t trust going down the switchback after an earthquake. Half those roadways were already crumbling when we came up."


    "Huh, skies are clearing up to the south." Liam had his head propped on his backpack as an uncomfortable-looking pillow. "That should be a good sign. Maybe it''s blown itself out."


    "We can only hope. I bet they''re living a real nightmare down there. Best case, they''ve got a new island. Worst case?" Lysa shook her head. "Too much can go wrong."


    "I''m just hoping Prescott has some open restaurants. I''m tired of granola and that dehydrated garbage." Danielle wove the truck around several boulders in the road. They had certainly not been there before.


    Then they rounded a spur of the hilltops and reached an overlook to the highway below.


    They stopped.


    Liam sat up. "Shit."


    Their trail of a road ended in three-hundred meters. A whole chunk of the hillside was missing. No, it wasn''t missing. It was perfectly clear that it had simply moved.


    Below them, highway 89 was covered in rubble and debris from what used to be a hill. They saw bits of highway peeking out, but there was a large swath of missing road.


    "So, westbound looks mostly clear," noted Lysa. She could see the highway continue interrupted after a kilometer of the slide.


    "Eastbound is in shambles though." Danielle slipped the truck into reverse. "Oh, I hate backing up with a trailer."


    "Have something in mind?" asked Liam.


    "There was a fork in the road about two klicks back. We can make our way to the highway west of here."


    Lysa groaned. "Which means we''ll have to go through Wilhoit. All of our stuff is in Prescott."


    "That''s okay. Once we get into the valley, we''ll head north and try to get around all this shit. Iron Springs is a better road. Not so winding."


    "Okay, well, let''s hope," mumbled Lysa.


    Danielle leaned over and squeezed Lysa''s shoulder. "Hey. We''re okay. We''re alive. That''s worth a lot. I''m just so happy that you two are okay."


    Liam chuckled from the back. "Dani, you are such a softie."


    Lysa smiled, but she rubbed her shoulder. "She might be, but damnit, you really need to remember how strong you are. I think you left a bruise."


    "As if you''ll notice one more among the rest we got."


    "Would you two hush," grumbled Danielle. "I''m trying to concentrate here."


    The three of them shared a laugh as they made slow progress turning the all-wheel drive truck and trailer to head back up the trail.


    . . . .


    It felt marvelous to be on a proper road again. They had their windows down, there weren''t constant bumps jarring their organs every five seconds, and they could see city lights in the distance. Though, Wilhoit was hardly a city. Town was appropriate, though even that was generous.


    Danielle drummed on the steering wheel as they sped around the final curves out of the hills. The radio had, in fact, returned once they got out of rough terrain.


    It was just one A.M. station so far, but it was music, and they weren''t being picky at the returned sign of humanity.


    "Did y''all still want to eat?" asked Liam. He glanced up from his phone. None of them had gotten signal to return yet, but he was trying. He would probably drain his battery pack before nightfall at the rate he was going.


    "Yeah, I think so." Lysa glanced at Danielle. "You?"


    "Oh definitely. Food sounds so good right now. I am famished, and I''m really look forward to a shower. Maybe we should hole up somewhere?"


    "Does Wilhoit even have a hotel?" asked Liam.


    "I really don''t think they do." Lysa looked out the window. She stared toward the clouds to the west. They were still looming, growing. It had to be an eruption.


    Yet, like Liam pointed out, the southern clouds seemed to be breaking up. It could be caused by weather patterns, wind currents, but that seemed unlikely. That would''ve dissipated the dark ejecta earlier if it was just wind.


    "Well," she cleared her throat, "Maybe things will calm down now. The big one really is clearing up."


    "The big one?" Liam started sitting up. He stared out the window as they entered town. Looking for someplace to eat.


    "One to the south?" asked Danielle. She slowed as they hit the city speed limits. Her eyes swept back and forth as well. "Oh yeah, there''s this Saloon place."


    "Yeah, the one to the south," agreed Lysa. "It''s further away, so it had to be enormous for us to even see hints that it existed. And sure, this place looks fine."


    "We went here when we first got to the mine, actually." Liam smiled as they pulled into the parking lot. "They have good beer. Shitty food, but still better than what we''ve been eating."


    Danielle maneuvered them along fencing to the side of the metal-sided building. It was small and one-storied, with wood trim and cinderblock placements for an awning''s wooden pillars. A hand-painted sign proclaimed it to be the, "Burro Saloon Bar -n- Grill."


    "Quaint little place," said Lysa. She raised a brow at a gathering of bikers in front of the main door. "Guess that''s a good sign. They must have power and something to serve."


    The truck quieted as Danielle cut the engine and put it in park. "Look, they could have nothing but water and nuts and I''d be happy. I need a bit of normalcy to settle me down. That drive was nerve-wracking, and that''s after the cave-in."


    Lysa winced. "Right, no, you''re right. Thank you for driving too. I love you for that. Those roads are terrifying."


    Danielle smirked. "Don''t say what you don''t mean, girl. Now come on, drinks are on me."


    They walked to the bar entrance and Lysa gave a polite wave toward the bikers.


    Most of them didn''t look away from their discussions, but a few nodded or turned to watch the newly-arrived group.


    One, a gray-bearded bald man, raised his chin by way of greeting. "Where you folk coming in from?"


    Lysa paused to answer. "Just up 89, one of the mines halfway to Prescott." She waved toward Danielle and Liam. "You two go ahead. I''ll be in soon."


    The biker looked at her friends, then looked back to Lysa. He seemed confused. "You three came through that shitfest? The roads are all blocked. We''ve been riding round trying to find survivors, but we haven''t seen anyone come in from anywhere around here."


    "Survivors? Was the earthquake that bad?"


    Another biker turned his head. "Lady, we got pounded by that thing. You''ll see inside, but half the damned west coast is sinking or in flames it seems. What with that Gulf of Mexico nonsense and the Salton Sea fucker? Damned near the end times."


    "Salton Sea?" Lysa winced at the name. She recognized one of California''s geothermal sinks. "So, it was a volcano?"


    "Huge fucker," chimed in another biker.


    Apparently, she had garnered the whole of the group''s attention. "And the Gulf of Mexico? That was a volcano too?"


    "Fuck, even worse. They''re calling that thing some kinda super eruption. There ain''t much news direct from them, but it''s looking bad. A few of us are being recalled to go assist, National Guard, but that''ll take a while."


    "Oh gods," mumbled Lysa. She heard herself give a nervous giggle. "Well. I suppose things could be worse here then."


    "Yeah, that''s very true," said the gray-bearded bald biker. He had a large patch on each shoulder, it seemed, and everyone quieted down more when he spoke. Their leader, perhaps. "But you three stay safe. Okay? There''s not many places to stay here in Wilhoit, but we can talk around and see who has free rooms to set you up."


    That caught Lysa''s attention. She had been about ready to turn away and go inside. "Set us up? We were going to head around to Prescott."


    "Oh, not for some time you won''t. Sorry. Whole damned valley is covered in slides right now. We''re pretty much penned in right now."


    Lysa felt herself getting dizzy. She reached down even as she felt her legs giving way. It wasn''t pretty, but she managed a controlled descent to sitting on a concrete curb. "Shit."


    "Yeah, that about sums it up," grumbled the biker.

 Teal: Swimming Lessons

    For Teal, swimming was just about the only thing that was easy to do on Earth. Water was a second home because of Luna City''s muscular strengthening requirements. Plus, water made it easier to lug around the body''s mass in Earth''s ridiculous gravity well.


    Things really had no right being so heavy. It seemed absurd that anyone chose to live with such pressure. The benefits of Earth¡ªopen spaces, green everywhere, the lack of vaguely worrying about cataclysmic system failure¡ªhardly seemed worth the extra weight.


    Zie tried not to think too hard about that pressure. Zie was sure that gravity would pull zer down like a rock during even a moment''s pause. Teal had heard horror stories, had read horror stories, about the depths of Earth''s oceans that could crush a human body if you went far enough down.


    The thought sent a shudder running down zer spine. Now, especially, zie could feel the truth of that possibility. Teal didn''t think swimming would be one of zer future Earth activities. Though, with luck, zer future Earth activities would only involve leaving it behind.


    At least Nic turned out to be a steady swimmer. It was cause for less worry anyway. He paddled beside zer with a consistent speed that was easy enough to keep up with. He seemed to have good endurance, thought it was a slower pace than Teal would''ve taken alone. But that just meant Teal could stay beside him without straining. Combined, they were keeping a constant pace to the marina.


    They ended their latest jaunt by climbing onto a roundabout that had turned island. It was the easiest way, hopping from one island of debris to the next, to get anywhere.


    Nic pointed out a bit of rippling water ahead of them. "That there? Muy peligroso. Caution, yes? We will go around."


    Teal nodded. "Okay, I''ll take your word for that." Zie had never dealt with currents before, not really. Everything on the moon was a controlled environment. Every pool, every underwater chamber, was specifically designed with exacting parameters. You always knew what you''d be getting into. Zie had no idea what the water held on Earth.


    Nic, on the other hand, seemed primed with hidden knowledge about the water. He pointed toward an area of serene calm near a building. "Also, there. Stay away. Deep, oculto, ah, hidden danger."


    "How can you tell?" asked Teal. Zie saw nothing but a spot that would be easier to swim through. Zie had actually been considering heading in that direction.


    "See along all of the street?" He waved his hand to indicate most of the avenue-turned-river. "Agitadas, rough. Much closer to the surface. Water can be seen over these."


    "Huh, guesso. But couldn''t that just be a dead end? You know, where the water doesn''t have a way out?"


    Nic shook his head. "Maybe, but even then, could be, trapping. Hard to get out. All current pushing you in."


    Teal nodded. "Oh, right, no that makes sense." Zie sighed. "This planet has too many problems to avoid."


    "That is true," said Nic. He smirked. "Okay, we will go."


    They jumped back in, and Teal made sure to avoid those bits of danger Nic had identified. Zie still treaded close to the becalmed spot, but then there was a sucking sensation that tickled zer legs. The tug of the warned-threat zie hadn''t believed.


    Zer begrudging acceptance shifted toward being properly glad to have Nic around. Zie probably would''ve gotten stuck in there if not sucked down by some terrible underwater surge.


    #


    Even with their combined advantages, the swim for a boat was tiring work. And it turned out to be a longer journey than expected. They stopped several more times to rest their limbs and catch their breath. Teal wished for food, but it didn''t make sense to stop and find any. Not while the others were waiting. Not when everything could go to shit at any time. Nevertheless, a day with little sleep and minimal food was wearing zer thin.


    At least the roads made it easier. That, and an endless supply of mostly-submerged busses. They made for consistent places to stop, though Teal tried not to look in the windows. Zie didn''t want to see if someone hadn''t escaped. The rising waters had arrived suddenly, and it was delusional to think everyone had found refuge.


    Atop one such bus, Teal flopped onto zer back and let out an exasperated shout.


    "Very frustrating. Yeah." Nic nodded. He''d been reserved at first, distant, but that had already changed. The combination of stranger and moonborn couldn''t make acceptance easy. Perhaps Teal''s swimming ability brought him around, but maybe it was just their combined misery at their task.


    "I just. Can''t believe I''m stuck swimming around in all this muck. On a planet that isn''t mine. Next to a volcano that''s probably going to kill us all."


    That made the young man grit his teeth. "Ah, well, could be worse."


    Teal propped up on one elbow. "Yeah? Please, how could this be worse?"


    He pointed beneath them. "Bus is not empty."


    That made Teal scowl, both at herself and the situation. "Hooray, we''re alive for a little while longer than them."


    "Much longer, I hope." Nic gave a tight-lipped smile. "Must hope, anyway."


    "Yeah, well I''m not gonna quit just because I''m hopeless." Teal sighed and stared up at the gray sky.


    "Not hopeless at all." Nic sat down beside zer. "I know area and swim good. You are very good swimmer. We both live. Have plan."


    "A plan that I still don''t understand. Everyone wants to stay here. That''s insane to me! Won''t this thing explode again?"


    "The volcano is bad, yes, but so it is done. See?" He pointed his chin toward the sky. The clouds were looking a little more cloudlike and less ash plume. Maybe the volcano was settling down. "But," he continued, "El agua de mar, er, the sea will withdraw. We will have a new island and move on."


    Teal sighed. "I hope you''re right."


    "See, there, you have hope. Good. Thought you would be a problem."


    That made zer smirk. "Well, I mean I am, but not in that way."


    Nic laughed, "Okay now. Enough, must keep going." He stood up and waved his hand. "Before hope is not enough." Walking to the front of the bus, he dived back into the gray water for the next watery hop.


    Surprising to Teal, the talk eased zer mind. It made the continuing journey easier as they made more progress across the city. It wasn''t suddenly easier, but it was at least manageable. Zie could, in fact, hold onto that hope. It wasn''t perfect, but it was something.


    #


    Teal made it to their next preplanned stop using the last of zer enthusiasm. None of their struggle had been fun, or exciting, not in the way adventures were supposed to be. Films always made them seem that way, exciting, but the whole ordeal had been nothing but miserable.


    Zie climbed on top of a bus stop roof and collapsed on zer side. Nic was still in the water, and Teal watched his slow progress from one object to another. He was using road signs to navigate through a treacherous area of rapids. There were cars, lots of them, just under the surface. As long as you were careful, you could kind of walk on top of the vehicles. Still, little tugs of current were quick to pull your feet out from under you.


    Finally, he made it to the bus stop. Teal stood up to give him room, but something seemed off.


    Maybe he was more tired than zie thought. His body shook as he pulled himself toward the rooftop.


    Then, without warning, his fingers slipped as he reached for the roof''s edge. His body swung back as the waters pulled him away from the hard-won perch. The roof was at least a meter higher than the water level, so most of his body was still in the murk. Holding on one-handed, he kicked to attempt regaining his grip.


    Teal dropped onto zer belly and grabbed his shirt with a panicked yelp. He probably would''ve been alright, probably would''ve been able to swim back, but he also could''ve been swept away. It wasn''t worth the risk. After dealing with currents and swim-skipping from dry-clump to dry-clump, they were both nearing exhaustion.


    "Hold on!" zie shouted. It was too much. The stupid gravity well was too deep. Zie hated Earth.


    But, using zer grip for stability, Nic managed to climb up.


    They both collapsed against each other as zie helped him the rest of the way. There wasn''t a lot of room, so they leaned into one another for support, and to stay away from the edge.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    For minutes, neither spoke. It was all they could do to catch their breath. To tamp down the panicked energy burning in their chests.


    Teal rested zer head on Nic''s shoulder. "That was too close."


    "Yes. Too close." He shook his head. "I am sorry."


    "No, don''t be. We''re doing as best we can."


    "Hah. Your turn to pep talk me?" Nic gave Teal a weary grin. "But, you speak the truth. This is all we can do. Is try."


    Teal sighed, and not for the first time wished the whole situation was just a case of bad dreams because of late-night munchies. "Wish I could just wake up."


    "Me too," muttered Nic. "Very much."


    They lapsed back into silence, and for a while it was enough to share in the companionship of making it through another struggle.


    Finally, breathing returned to normal, Teal took the time to look around.


    Atop the bus stop, they could survey the way toward the marina. It seemed that their job difficulty would multiply, and quickly. Nic had taken them north, along some main avenue, and now they would have to head east along a road lined in trees. There were less cars, and there weren''t any buildings. A lack of busses, a lack of places to rest, made the stretch look daunting, and they were already tired.


    "This is gonna suck," muttered Teal. Zie twisted around and let zer legs dangle over the edge of the red metal rooftop. Zer feet dipped into the water. "This might be our last stop for a bit. Look at that."


    It was somewhat precarious, but Nic twisted around and let his own legs swing over the side. They leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder, while surveying the way ahead. "Hm, yes, expected this, but always looks further now. All is so far when swimming."


    Teal squinted, as if that would make things clearer, in an attempt to see into the mud-colored water. "What was this place?"


    "Fancy area. Golf courses, clubs, through the pillars," said Nic. He tipped his chin toward a distant hotel. "Boats, there." He swept his arm north, along the road. "Past here, ah, el desag¨¹e?"


    "Des, ah? way?" Teal shook zer head. "I''m sorry, I don''t."


    Nic sighed. "Water, going through? No, down?"


    "Through. Down? Water going down?" Teal raised an eyebrow. "Drain? The water is draining?"


    A smirk tugged at Nic''s lips. He nodded. "Yes, that. Drain, there." He pointed between four apartment towers on the right side of the road. "For buildings, to keep them dry. A strong current will pull."


    Teal nodded. "Alright, so this is going to really suck."


    Nic raised a brow, but then he chuckled. "Yes, yes it will."


    "Well." Teal looked back toward their destination. "At least we''re in sight now, right?"


    That said, the distance was several times further than any they''d covered before. After leaving the rooftop, they had been able to stop after every ten or twenty meters. The next buildings were at least half a kilometer away. The big hotel, where the boats were, was at least twice that.


    "Will the distance be a problem for you?" asked Teal.


    "For me? I worry for you, moonborn. Does the gravity tire you more?"


    "Well, yeah, but it tires you too, right?" In truth, Teal was probably less likely to be tired. The assistive nature of zer clothing was extremely helpful at easing any activity.


    "Yes, this is true," admitted Nic. He smirked. "Anyway, we should go."


    "Right." Teal nodded. "No time like the present." Zie wasn''t ready.


    "Alright, together?" Nic nodded. They both shifted to the edge of the bus stop''s roof. "Uno, dos."


    They leapt forward and dove into choppy water.


    Those were the moments that really terrified Teal. Underwater, zie could feel the overwhelming push of weight on all sides. It was partially imagination, zie knew that, because of course even the moon''s pools had pressure differences. It was partially the sudden proximity to the unknown. Who knew what lurked in the deep? What unseen objects were waiting to grab a foot? To slash a leg? There was also a very real possibility of being grabbed and pulled under by the disaster''s surging flood.


    But they both surfaced a moment later, and the fear only served as a shot of adrenaline to push Teal forward. They both broke into a modified front crawl stroke. Neither of them had goggles, of course not, and it didn''t seem wise to keep dunking your face into floodwater. Who knew what substances would be polluting the area? And that was before you took the volcano into consideration.


    So, they swam with their heads out of the water, and they occasionally switched which side they favored to balance out the strain.


    The first few hundred meters went fine. The water actually calmed as they got across the submerged boulevard. Then, as they maneuvered around the stone pillars of a plaza, they felt the pull.


    It started shifting them to the left, and so they pointed themselves away to compensate.


    Further along the tree-lined road, the pull got stronger.


    Teal had figured that there would be extra currents, because of the nearby storm drains, but knowing something didn''t equal understanding. However, as each stroke became more difficult, Teal began to realize the danger of their situation. Though, had zie known the full story, that realization may have transformed into terror.


    Cancun had a network of drainage systems to stop storm surges and flooding during the rainy season. Major developers were especially interested in keeping their property dry, and the nearby apartment complex, the four towering buildings, were no exception. Manmade drainage was everywhere around the streets. Nature, of course, also had some additions to that complexity.


    #


    Of course, a storm drain can only process so much water at once. And, if everything''s covered with water, then the water has nowhere to go. The drain is just another cave filled with water.


    However, some of those drains were decades old, and they had been sluicing runoff underground through storm after storm. Over time, pipes had sprung leaks and concrete had crumbled. In a place like Cancun, on the tip of the Yucatan Peninsula, a leak was almost always the originator of some underground chamber.


    This is because the Yucatan Peninsula is made up of limestone, and dolomite, and other water-soluble minerals. Most peninsulas are, after all, raised bits of seabed that are largely porous, and the area around Cancun was no different. So, with a combination of the forever-march of time and the gulf''s constant ebb and flow, Cancun''s surroundings were ever changing.


    More importantly, at least in this case, is that Cancun''s underground was also ever changing. In fact, the entire peninsula is dotted and pocked with an always-shifting array of caves and sinkholes. A limestone bedrock, interacting with a mix of rainwater, seawater and groundwater, breeds missing chunks of land. A natural erosive process has changed all of the Yucatan peninsula into a fractured region of porous land, a karst, full of unseen pockets of air and water.


    As a benefit, this has always meant a quick absorption of floodwater in the region. Usually, Cancun''s high waters hardly rise past the shin, if even the ankle.


    However, it can also mean an abundance of new sinkholes when the season is especially wet. Further, it can mean that manmade drainage systems might begin emptying into unseen hollows buried under the streets.


    In such a case, being pulled beneath the water might lead to disappearing into the earth.


    #


    They had nearly reached their next stopping point. Teal was gasping for air, clinging to a tree, and staring across a break in the tall palms. There were short, decorative trees, but they were just short enough to be obstacles. Mostly dangerous because they were mostly hidden.


    The current hadn''t gotten much stronger, but it was constant. Everything was pulling them north, probably back into the gulf, and it was wearing them out completely. They were no longer just swimming, they were fighting for progress.


    Zie glanced across the street toward Nic. "Are you okay?"


    He nodded, slowly, but it was still a nod. "Yes. You?"


    Teal nodded. "Yes. Ready?"


    His eyes closed for a moment. His teeth were chattering. "No, but what choice is there? We cannot cling to trees forever."


    "Right. Let''s go?"


    He nodded again, and he squirreled himself on the side of the tree. His body contorted so he could press his feet on the trunk. Then he sprang forward and began swimming toward a lightpost.


    Teal mimicked his actions, though he had practice with that sort of bodily gravity manipulation. Zer leap into the water was hardly more than a plop.


    Struggling to gain momentum, zie swam toward another tree. It was almost too short, but it was something. Zie could at least kick off, or wade through its branches if tall enough, to give zer arms a rest.


    Then they crossed into open water, hardly more than two swimming pools in length. Normally a distance that would mean nothing, but after so much exertion, it was everything they could do to keep their heads above water. At a point, Teal had to stop watching for Nic. It was hard enough to keep track of zer own progress.


    Luckily, they never faltered enough to fall backward. That would''ve broken Teal''s heart. Zie didn''t think it would''ve been a recoverable loss. The image played in zer head, reaching out, missing just enough, scraping zer fingernails to grab at a tree, and then being swept away toward a watery death.


    Luckily, they reached the next clump of trees so they could take another break.


    "Almost there," called Nic. He was wrapped around a tree by hugging it with his arms and legs. He looked terrible. "Almost there."


    Just ahead, a four-story building stood amidst the murky waters. Teal eyed it and cursed as zie saw an outdoor staircase. That would be perfect. They could walk right out of the water. "Almost there," zie repeated. "Ready?"


    "Fuck no," shouted Nic.


    They plunged back in anyway.


    #


    Teal could not breath. Zie felt like zer lungs were literally non-existent, dysfunctional, and that zer chest was too heavy and too painful.


    Everything hurt, but zie was nearly safe.


    The current had picked up. The storm surge was receding. The flood was draining back, withdrawing, into the gulf. There were meters, ten at most, between zer and the outdoor stairway. The four-story building was right overhead.


    They were both almost safe.


    Nic had made it ahead, and he was already climbing out onto a dry surface. He had chosen a path that went around to the right of a nearby roadway. He had picked his way along the top of a soggy hedge. Moving further upstream, he jumped in from further ahead than needed. He had let the current pull him back toward the building.


    Teal, on the other hand, had chosen the left side of the road. There was a wall, fully submerged, but it had been easy to keep zer feet planted on its broad top while paddling above water. However, the wall had stopped abruptly. Probably for a parking lot entrance.


    Now zie would have to make a mad-dash sprinting swim the last few meters.


    "Fuck," muttered Teal.


    Nic turned around, looking for zer probably, and then he waved. "Come on!" he shouted. Or, that''s what it sounded like. Looked like. It was half reading lips and half wishful-thinking.


    The waters were beginning to churn, and the current was growing noisy. White noise surrounded them.


    "Okay," zie grumbled to zerself. "Come on."


    Zie just needed this last burst of energy. Then zie could rest. Zie could get out of the water for a little bit. Maybe even take a nap.


    No, not that. If Teal went to sleep now, it would last for days. They still had one last stint, four hundred meters at least, before they truly arrived at the marina.


    How the hell were they going to do that?


    Teal didn''t know, but zie would have to take things one step at a time.


    Swaying back, then forward, and then back again, zie surged forward and stretched zer arms as far as they could go. Teal kicked and threw all of the effort possible into making it to the stairway.


    But zie was ripped to the side like a twig caught in a river. Like a fleck of seafoam thrown under crashing waves.


    Zie had forgotten one of Nic''s lessons. The surface just ahead of zer had shown a constant rippling. The surface to the side, where a parking lot was, or had been, was deathly still.


    Maybe, Teal thought, he hadn''t said ''Come on.'' Maybe, zie thought, he had said, ''Go around.''


    Zie swam with all zer might, but the current was wickedly fast. It pulled zer under, and zie spluttered after what felt like a minute of being submerged. Teal took as deep a breath as possible in that moment. Zie knew it would pull zer under again.


    And zie was dragged down. Something below was creating a whorl of force that was inescapable. Every attempt at kicking, or paddling away, hardly slowed the descent.


    So, already too tired to think, Teal did all zie could. Zie balled zerself up and went with the draining waters.


    Zie disappeared into a sinkhole and let it swallow zer whole.

 Greg: Staying Grounded

    -- Greg --


    Walking, thought Greg, had started out pleasant enough. It had been nice to get on dry land. It had been nice to get out of the cramped cockpit of the SpaceChopper. It had been nice to be alive.


    Kilometers later, he really wished he had a car. A truck. Some form of transportation other than his two feet.


    One, he did not have the footwear for a long trip. Two, his legs were sore. Ankles. Sore. Calves. Sore. Knees Sore. Hamstrings. Sore. Ass. In pain.


    Three, he wanted to hurry somewhere with a shower. The grime of baked-on ocean salt and falling ash was beyond uncomfortable.


    Gull woke up, and, startled, tried to fly away. The bird spread its wings and sprang off Greg''s shoulder.


    Now, Greg considered himself a solid man, decent in muscle mass for his age, decent in build for any age, but Gull was also large. For a bird. The damned creature pushed just hard enough to set him off-balance. That, and the sudden flutter of wings, sent him sprawling.


    He tumbled, rolled on the road''s pavement, and settled to a stop on his back. He rested there as a cloud of ash settled from where he''d stirred it up. His lungs were probably going to hate him in the coming years.


    Lying there, he considered his aches old and new, and began to laugh. "You damned, stupid. Hah! Squawker."


    Gull, on the other hand, managed little in the way of flight. The bird fell, not with any discernable style, and hopped along the gray-powdered pavement looking bewildered.


    Greg watched while still lying on his back. "Well I hope you accomplished what you set out to do. Yeesh. Gonna knock us both out."


    The bird made a chirrup of sound and tucked its legs beneath its belly. It settled on the road and eyed its savior.


    "Right. I''m talking to a bird." Greg sat up and rubbed his hip where he''d rolled.


    Faint enough to be imagined, he heard the whirr of tires on the road. He looked up the two-lane highway. Something was kicking up a moving cloud of ash that billowed and mushroomed into a kilometer-long tail.


    After a few moments, the vehicle in question emerged into view. It was a lime-green truck heading Greg''s way. It was one of those nearly-nonsense vehicles that looked more for fun than business. It had no doors, was devoid of fenders or a windshield, and it was decked out in goggle-eyed lights on a raised rollbar. Nubby tires were the reason for its loud whirring approach.


    Greg stood up as the vehicle got closer. He was sure the driver had seen him already, but there was no sense in risking being run over. He walked over to Gull, stooped, and attempted to scoop up the bird.


    It made a feeble attempt to get away, so he did his best to dance it toward the side of the road. Feathers on the back of its neck puffed up in what looked like irritation.


    "Sorry bud, I''ve decided to keep you safe or something."


    The truck''s driver honked their horn as they pulled up. Hardly pausing to let it stop, a young man slid from the driver''s seat and turned to grab something from behind the seat.


    He was a dark-skinned stranger wearing bright blue shorts, a neon green shirt, and a backward-facing blue ballcap. The thing from behind the seat was a hunting rifle.


    Greg supposed he was really the stranger in their situation. He raised his hands toward the sky. "Look, I don''t-"


    "Where did you come from? The island''s closed," said the man.


    "What?"


    "Island''s closed. Get back in your boat and go away."


    "I didn''t-"


    The man propped the rifle on one hip. "Look, maybe you didn''t get the word, but the flood being gone doesn''t mean we are safe. This weather means you tourists need to head on home." He gestured toward the sky. He kicked a toe through the layers of ash covering the ground. "You want to poison yourself or what?"


    "Uh, I''m not a tourist. I kinda just... Washed up."


    "Washed up? The man squinted. Were you on a ship?" Some of the stiffness eased from his shoulders. "Was there a wreck?"


    "Well, not really? Jeesh, this is gonna sound crazy." Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. "I''m Gregory Baker, the guy doing, uh, that did, a jump from the moon." He spat out the words, quickly, for fear of being interrupted. Or shot. "I''m really not a tourist."


    "Jump from the moon?" The local glanced toward the seagull as if just now noticing its presence. "Uh." He shook his head with eyebrows arcing high and a grin that was mostly bemused.


    "I know, hard to take, right? But, do you think I could get a ride? Somewhere where I could make a phone call?"


    The man dropped the rifle barrel toward the ground. Then, he shrugged the sling and let the weapon swing onto his back. "Well, perhaps I will regret this, but I don''t suppose you would make up such a crazy story. I am Zhivargo Rolle, member of the Caicos Police and chief officer on this island. Come on then, I can''t have some random man wandering the Queen''s Highway."


    "Queen''s Highway? Where am I?" Greg, stubbornly, crouched in another attempt to pick up Gull. This time, the bird seemed too exhausted to resist.


    "San Salvador Island," said Zhivargo. His face was screwed up in a mix of disgust and amusement. "Why do you have a seagull?"


    "Ah, good, I thought so." Greg was happy that he''d estimated his position properly. It made him feel a little less like everything had gone wrong. "And uh, this is Gull, I guess? It landed on the SpaceChopper while I was drifting over here."


    "SpaceChopper?" Zhivargo shouldered the rifle back behind his seat and climbed into the truck. "You really came from the moon?"


    Greg climbed into the passenger seat while keeping a hand on Gull''s talons. "Yeah, wild, right? I know it must sound insane."


    "Yes, it does." The other man started the vehicle with a silent turn of the key. Its wheels hummed as they took off in the same direction Zhivargo had come from. "But not so much. I have a sister that joined the colony. But please, tell me your story. I''m interested to know how your moon trip landed you on my island."


    "Well, I''m happy to share. But I gotta know what the hell happened down here. Have I landed in the apocalypse?"


    "We will share our stores, then. We have some time until Cockburn Town."


    #


    "Moon-man! Really!? You''re telling me that you flew all the way down here watching shit hit the fan?" The speaker was an older man with pale skin and a feathery mop of white hair. He laughed with a roar of amusement that filled the small bar.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    They had stopped at the bar for food and so the police chief could check in. He had met with a brown-skinned woman in a t-shirt, beach shorts, and hiking boots. She also had a pistol on her hip. She had nodded to some quiet instructions and taken off to complete Zhivargo''s patrol.


    They were in a one-roomed building that had just enough room for the bar, a pool table, and seating for a dozen people. It was comfy enough, if you didn''t mind the smell of old spilled alcohol.


    Greg''s newest fan continued with another laugh. "Well shit, man, if your luck ain''t fucked then I don''t know who''s is. You best not do anything risky for a while." He took a swig of his beer.


    Greg winced. "I guess I can''t argue there. Despite all our planning, that stunt turned out to have pretty bad timing."


    Zhivargo clucked his tongue. "Calm down now, Jeremy. Go back to your table and give the man some space."


    "Haha! Space!" Jeremy tapped his temple with another barking laugh. "I see what you did there! I do! But hell, man, you''ve had enough space too, right? You just spent some god-awful number of weeks up there! Shee-it!"


    "Well, it wasn''t all bad." Greg made his best smile, and fortunately he had practice with smiling for an audience. It helped make it look authentic no matter the situation. "Sometimes a bit of quiet is nice, and it was certainly safer up there than here from what I''m hearing."


    "Now go on, please." Zhivargo stood up and tugged on Jeremy''s shoulder to lead the man back toward a booth with three onlookers. "Enjoy the rest of your evening in peace. I will buy you another round, okay?"


    "All of us?" Asked one of Jeremy''s friends. An older woman, cute and probably around fifty, winked at Greg from around Zhivargo''s side. "You know you can come party with us if you need to find your earth legs."


    Greg chuckled. "Well I appreciate the offer, but I really have to get to a phone. Gotta check in with about a hundred people that were responsible for me."


    "Woop, well then there''s more to your shit luck!" Jeremy called across the room from his seat. "Phone lines went tits up after the flood, and half the world seems up their ass to help out ol'' Mexico right now."


    Zhivargo, on his way to the bar, turned to give an expressive shrug for Greg''s benefit. He paused at the bartender with a gesture toward Jeremy''s table.


    One of Jeremy''s friends, another gray-haired man, but this one without a shirt, seemed to think Mexico was a suddenly great topic. He took up a rant about people helping themselves, something about recipes for more refugees, and began mixing in something about climate change.


    Luckily, the rest of the group seemed engaged in the discussion. Their attention turned away from Greg.


    Greg slouched down in his chair and let out a long breath. He''d been sucking air with the shallow unease of worry, and he needed to get himself relaxed. For someone that had spent years entertaining other people, he still wasn''t so great at interacting with them.


    At that moment, all he wanted to do was go out into the bar''s storage shed to check on gull. The bird was probably fine, but it would be quieter out there. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.


    Zhivargo announced that he was sitting back down with a sigh. "We have a dozen left over from the island''s club, not far down the road, that could not evacuate. It was safer to bring them here, near the station and airport."


    Greg nodded. He kept his eyes closed and rolled his head from left to right. "Ah, makes sense. Still waiting on the next run?"


    "No flights have come back for days, so yes. We''re hoping they''ll return within the week, but over radio we are warned that we are not priority. Andros was already hit by heavy storms before the surge, so there is cleanup to take of there."


    "Oh, jeez. Talk about bad timing. Did the whole world go to shit during my little stunt?"


    "Unfortunately, you were not the most exciting thing happening between our worlds." Zhivargo sighed. "But here we are, still alive at least. That means I can still go home to my family, and you can still go home to yours."


    Greg opened his eyes at that. He raised his head to meet Zhivargo''s eyes. "Married?"


    The other man nodded. "Yes, happily now for eighteen years." He grinned. "And not so happily taking care of two terrible children that I miss greatly."


    That made Greg smile. "Yeah, I can imagine. I hope you get back to them soon. They on Andros?"


    Zhivargo shook his head. "New Providence, which is a blessing. The big island sheltered them from most of the damage. Though they still get to see this wonderful false snow we''ve been gifted."


    "Yeah, something else, right? That must be some volcano, shooting out ash all the way over here."


    "Hey, Moon Man!" called Jeremy. "You were in space. Can you really see the Great Wall of China up there?"


    Greg pushed to his feet, chair scraping back. He put his best smile back on his face. "Oh? Uh, yeah, yeah! But only if you take binoculars." He nodded to the police chief. "You said you have a working radio? Any chance I can use that?"


    The police chief nodded and got to his feet. "A good idea. Hopefully you got enough to eat?"


    "Yeah, my guts gonna hate me for all the fat after the space food, but damned if I didn''t miss a good cheeseburger."


    #


    San Salvador Island was, astronomically speaking, a speck. It was roughly 25 kilometers long and 10k wide. At 250 people, it had a permanent population that was less than most large offices. Its primary industry was tourism, and on San Salvador that was mostly through the local Club Med. They didn''t own the island, not outright, but you wouldn''t be mistaken to think they acted like they did.


    It''s main highway, The Queen''s Road, circled the island in a scenic route that led nowhere. It had an international airport, but any airport that accepts planes from another country is considered international. Most of the flights in were to visit Club Med or some resort destination package with a cabin on the beach.


    It was probably a lovely vacation destination. It was far from anything that would be intrusive to a person''s attempts at relaxation. Yet, it was far from anything, and it had little in the way for resources for outsiders.


    Greg probably would''ve been better off floating for a little longer, but the ocean currents hadn''t really offered much of a choice. The Antilles Current was fickle and could''ve sent him to the United States or into the Gulf of Mexico. But it had split the difference and sent him drifting right in the middle.


    So, he had some traveling to do. He really hoped he could at least contact someone. Barring that, he hoped he could catch the next flight to one of the bigger islands.


    Greg followed Zhivargo from the bar after picking up Gull. The bird seemed slightly more alert, but still didn''t seem wary enough to fly or otherwise escape. He''d left it a few small fish from a live bait tank across the street, and the minnows were gone. That seemed promising.


    "Why do you have that bird?" Zhivargo seemed more perplexed each time he looked at the seagull. He shook his head and led them away from the bar toward a trail in the forest. "Is it your pet?"


    "Uh, not really. I just, don''t want it to die." Greg followed, stepping carefully, because he was still using his temporary footwear. He hated asking for replacements as the police officer had already given so much. The food had been overwhelmingly good.


    "But, it is a wild animal. Many have been dying through this whole storm. Through this whole eruption." Zhivargo glanced over his shoulder. "Many, animals and people, will continue to die."


    Greg sighed. "Yeah, you''re not wrong there." He reached up, absently, and stroked a knuckle along Gull''s side. The bird startled a bit, but at least it didn''t jump away.


    "I will never understand rescuing a creature when human lives are at stake. But, I have to say, I am curious what will happen with this creature. I''ve never seen one on a person''s shoulder that was not trying to steal food."


    Greg jogged along behind Zhivargo up a short flight of metal stairs. "Yeah, well, me neither. Trust me, I feel pretty stupid for carrying this thing around."


    The police chief stopped at a windowless metal door. He chuckled and nodded toward Greg. "You do look pretty stupid. And with that jumpsuit? Like some space pirate. A NASA space pirate, except you have a seagull instead of a parrot."


    Greg laughed at that image. "Well, that''s something I''ll remember forever now. Thanks."


    Turning back to the door, Zhivargo pushed it open and waved at a woman and two men sitting inside. "Hello! Did you get Salamishah''s report?"


    The young woman stood and raised a hand toward Greg. "Indeed we did! Gregory Baker! I''m sorry to meet you in this way."


    Greg smirked and shook her hand. "Yeah, feeling about the same right now. Were you following the jump?"


    One of the two other men jumped up. "That''s the man you found!?" He waved both arms toward Greg. "That is the Flying Ghost! You told Salamishah it was some random white man crashed at sea!"


    "Well, he is some random white man, just one that you happen to know," agreed Zhivargo. He waved his hand dismissively. "Please, give him space, Christina. Chigozie. We need to use the radio."


    Greg waved sheepishly. "Sorry, didn''t mean to interrupt. Just trying to get in touch with someone at NASA, or someone who can talk to them."


    "I''m sure they''re worried sick! We all lost contact with your chopper after it passed the space station."


    "Christina! Please. You can talk with him after we are done. I would like to get out a message before nightfall. We don''t know who will be listening after dark other than emergency personnel."


    "Aren''t we all emergency personnel now?" The third man, who hadn''t gotten to his feet, and actually in a full uniform, sighed. "Go on, children, psh. Stars in your eyes for no reason."


    "Sure, Marlon. Don''t try and play it too cool. You were listening to the broadcast with us."


    "Would you all just go?" grumbled Zhivargo. "Go check on the airport, and the docks. Make sure the moorings are tight, and that the hangars are secure."


    "Oh, uh, yes. Right away, sir." The three managed some gradual uniformity in their response before hurrying out the door.


    Except for Marlon. He paused on the stairway landing and spun around. "Uh, why do you have a seagull on your shoulder?"


    Zhivargo and Greg exchanged a glance. Greg shrugged and ran his knuckle along Gull''s wing. "I''m a space pirate."