Page 102 of The Lottery

“Sex tentacles?” I try to imagine what Azalea is describing, but the image refuses to take form, probably for the better.

She giggles. “See you tonight?”

I nod, then kiss her. In the open. For all to see.

She tastes of honey and cinnamon and all the sweet things in life.

When she pulls back, it is with a content grin on her face. “See you later, Marek Volkav,” she says, her voice husky, her eyes staying on mine even as her body turns away. We would spend every moment together if we could. Our love feels too new to not feel the sting of regret whenever we part ways. Still, when I consider that every night we will come home together. That every morning she will be the one I wake to… it is enough to look forward to.

* * *

I head to the rover and race back toward camp, as though driving faster will somehow speed up the upcoming hours.

Alas, our colony will not take care of its own needs without guidance. Besides the pressing issue of feeding our people before rations run out entirely, I must address the couples who split in the last few days. Already I am working with Metis to arrange new sleeping quarters for those who have made those needs known. These issues would not command my interest under normal circumstances, but when each person on this planet plays a role in the survival of our species, I cannot consider myself above any matter.

I hope Azalea can plant those potatoes soon, because the amount of vodka consumed this week alone has put a dent in our supply.

Once I return to the ship, hunters update me on their survey and present a plan for herd trimming and meat storage. Robert is finally well enough to meet with builders and shares with me his vision for the actual layout of our community. I am grateful to see that he has already drawn up plans for several smaller cabins where newly single citizens can reside, accounting for the shift in our coupling structure.

To my surprise, relatively few problems arise. The passionate flare ups from when I first made my announcement have passed, and the removal of Buddy Fischer has yet to incite a mutiny. More people are at work, enjoying the purposefulness that comes with progress.

I have always had faith in this mission, and confidence in myself to see it through. Nevertheless, watching it all come to fruition takes me by surprise.

We will survive here.

We may actually thrive here.

I am lost in these thoughts, the setting sun painting the land gold and the sky purple, when Astrid approaches me at the edge of the wood. She steps past a handful of carpenters, busily roughing support beams from felled pine trees.

“You see Zae around?” she asks when she arrives at my side.

“No. Not yet.” But soon I will be finished with my work and in her arms once more for the night.

“Hmm.” Astrid bites her lips. “She headed back to the ship early and…” she shakes her head. “Anyway, when you see her, let her know Declan’s already found sulfur deposits near one of the volcanoes. It was a brilliant idea.”

I smile. “I will tell her.”

“Thanks,” she runs off, snow crunching under her boots.

I finish filling out a report on my tablet, and my heart flutters with thoughts of Azalea. If she returned earlier, she must be in our room, and there is nothing to stop us from being together.

I walk back toward the ship, nearly breaking into a run for the final stretch.

I cannot contain myself. Waiting to see her physically pains me.

Every moment I am with her is the best moment of my life.

I enter the ship and reach the gravity lift in seconds, then I am out the door and down the hallway in no time at all.

When I reach the door to our suite, I stop dead in my tracks. The jet-black palm reader is smudged with something dark, and a crimson trickle runs down the wall to the floor. Fear rises in my throat as I hold out my hand and the door opens.

My body begins to tremble.

“Azalea?” I say softly. “Zae?” I say more loudly.

The small glimmer of hope that she might still be in the room fades.

It is only me.

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